Little Doors (6 page)

Billy’s mother dropped the spoon. After her heart stopped racing, she managed to say, “Why, Billy—you’ve learned to talk.”

“That’s obvious, isn’t it, Mother?” said Billy.

Billy’s mother was so mesmerized by the sight of his moving lips that she failed to notice that the squawky voice was emerging from the top of Billy’s head. Of course, it was the parrot speaking while the rat and the spider in concert caused Billy’s lips to move with expert probes into his primitive gray matter. The trio had been practicing for some days past while alone, and now had complete mastery over Billy’s body.

Billy now picked up the fallen spoon from the tabletop and began to feed himself. Without visual feedback, the controlling trio made a mess. Still, to his mother the achievement was miraculous.

After eating, Billy said, “I’d like to go out now, Mother, but I need a hat.”

Billy’s mother found an old fedora of her husband’s and placed it on Billy’s head, without looking in.

“Thank you. Have a good day at work, Mother.”

Billy’s mother left the house in a stupefied way.

When she was gone, the rat chewed two small holes in the hat so the parrot could look out to guide them.

“Left, right, around the chair, grab the doorknob, now straight ahead down the walk!”

The adventurers in their stolen puppet set out to explore the world.

Downtown, the trio walked Billy up and down the commercial district. They found it vastly stimulating to masquerade as a human. They felt instantly superior to all their kind, having gained entry to the world of humanity.

The two animals and the arachnid found themselves after some time outside the very hospital where Billy had been born. They stopped to contemplate the building, feeling some strange kinship with it, though they had no idea of its true significance.

At that moment the Doctor who had delivered Billy—and given him yearly examinations since—stepped out the door.

When he saw Billy standing there, he scrabbled at his chest and fell to the ground.

People began to scream and cluster around the Doctor. The parrot got nervous and said, “Quick! We must go back to the house!”

They hurried home.

When Billy’s father met his wife at the door that evening, he was soon informed of the startling change Billy had undergone. News of Billy’s delayed maturation did not seem to alarm Billy’s father as much as it had his wife. Perhaps this was because he was learning of it secondhand.

“Well,” said Billy’s father, “I guess we were mistaken when we said our son would never turn out to be anyone special.”

“It appears we were,” agreed Billy’s mother.

“Where is he now?”

“In his bedroom. He’s been there since he came back from his walk.”

“Well, let’s bring Billy out to share supper with us. We’re a real family now.”

The table was laid, steaming food was brought from the kitchen, and Billy was summoned.

The inhabitants of Billy’s skull had been hiding with Billy in his room ever since their precipitous return from their first excursion abroad. They had been rather alarmed by the human world, especially the confusion at the hospital.

Now, though, they mastered themselves enough to bring Billy’s body to the table when called.

“Hello, Father,” said the parrot from within Billy’s head. Its voice was somewhat muffled by the fedora through which it peeked.

Billy’s father did not seem to care or notice. He looked inordinately proud. “Hello, Billy. I heard you gave your mother quite a shock today. But that’s all water over the dam. Let’s eat.”

The rat and the spider manipulated Billy’s synapses, causing him to sit. With the parrot issuing directions, the trio was able to feed Billy more efficiently than earlier in the day.

(The parrot’s commands to his compatriots, of course, were uttered sotto voce in his natural language. Therefore all Billy’s movements were accompanied by a low series of trills and whistles, which Billy’s parents chose to ignore.)

After their meal, the family retired to the living room to watch television.

The animals knew all about television, from having inhabited human households all their lives, and enjoyed watching it when given a chance. Now, with Billy sitting undemandingly, they could take turns at the hat’s eyeholes. (The rat and spider were already beginning to feel a little put-upon, forced as they were to labor over Billy’s brainstem in the dark beneath the hat.)

The local news was on. The lead item was about Billy.

First, the Doctor appeared. He had survived his heart attack. He explained that he had been shocked by Billy’s appearance in public. An old photo from the hospital’s files was shown: baby Billy’s empty brainpan. The Doctor claimed that if Billy had really regenerated enough brain tissue to become aware and move about, then it promised great hope for solving all sorts of neurological disorders.

No sooner had the doctor faded from the screen than the phone began to ring in Billy’s house.

It didn’t stop all night.

Around three in the morning, Billy’s father turned to his wife and said, “Well, it seems as if our little Billy is on his way to becoming famous.”

Billy’s mother sipped some coffee. “I hope it’s for the best.”

“We’ll soon see,” replied Billy’s father. “But I’m afraid it’s out of our hands now.”

The spider, rat and parrot, at first confused by the ruckus they had caused, were soon enamored of their new status, and began to discuss how best to exploit it.

By morning, they had a plan.

The first person to arrive was the Doctor. He was barely recovered from his mild heart attack, but insisted on being the person to examine Billy.

Soon the Doctor was alone with Billy in the boy’s bedroom. Like everyone else, after the initial shock he seemed quite accepting of Billy’s new abilities.

“Now, Billy, if you’ll just let me have a look beneath your hat …”

“All right, Doctor,” squawked the parrot.

While the Doctor’s back was turned in the process of taking an instrument from his bag, the rat, spider and parrot quickly scrambled out and hid behind furniture.

The Doctor, lifting the battered fedora, was given pause by the unchanged poverty of Billy’s mental equipment.

“Why, there’s nothing but an old spiderweb in here! This is an even greater miracle than I suspected.”

The Doctor left the room, and the three squatters returned to Billy’s skull.

A crowd of cameramen and reporters from various media was assembled on Billy’s front lawn. The Doctor held an impromptu press conference to explain his findings. The reporters clamored for Billy, but the Doctor, being shrewd, denied them. He explained that Billy would be making his first scheduled appearance on a national morning television show that had paid a lot of money to have him.

That same day, Billy and the Doctor and Billy’s parents left for New York.

The secret inhabitants of Billy’s skull reveled in their new role. They enjoyed being the center of attention, and fooling all these dull humans who fancied themselves better than other species. The three anticipated much fun, and began to hatch many schemes.

For starters, knowing it would disconcert the humans, they made Billy drink several glasses of liquor. Naturally, this had no effect on the real masters, who maintained the semblance of a startling sobriety in their puppet. Emboldened by their success, the parrot directed the rat to have Billy insert tidbits of food under the hat when no one was looking. All in all, they had a splendid flight.

Soon they were in New York. A waiting limousine whisked everyone to a hotel. Billy’s party spent the remainder of the day sightseeing, then retired early, since they had to be up around four a.m.

Almost before they knew it, they were onstage. The talk show host was a very pleasant young woman in a pretty dress who shook hands politely with Billy. After some chitchat, the cameras came on.

The woman explained about Billy’s history, and his amazing post-pubescent changes. At one point she said, “We wish we could show you Billy’s empty head and undeveloped brain, but the network standards forbid it, since it is quite repulsive-looking.” The Doctor spoke up then, testifying to the minuteness of Billy’s brain. His air of authority was very convincing. Billy’s innocent looks—his face blank as cheese, his placid green eyes—and his unnatural voice, lent further credence to the miracle of his being.

Soon the show was over.

Billy’s parents breathed a sigh of relief.

But it was only the first of many telecasts.

Over the next few weeks, Billy appeared on every show of consequence. The culmination of his television career was the
Oprah Winfrey Show
. Ms. Winfrey assembled the parents of other anencephalics—whose children had of course all perished at birth—to accompany Billy and his folks in a discussion of the problems related to having such children.

It was not long after this that a disturbing fad began to manifest itself.

Teenagers were seeking to emulate Billy and his mystical serenity through surgical procedures.

It was uncertain who first conceived of the operation. All that was known was that initial attempts were not successful, resulting in death or total catatonia. However, after some experimentation, surgeons learned just how much of the brain they could safely excise to leave the patient in a prelapsarian condition of mental diminution that approached Billy’s state.

Part of the conversion involved leaving the top half of the skull off, so that the person’s newly diminished brain would enjoy the atmosphere just as Billy’s did.

Sales of the type of hat Billy wore also skyrocketed. So did the sales of a special antibiotic ointment for anointing the wounds.

At first this phenomenon caused much parental concern. Parents fruitlessly forbade their children to spend their allowance or discretionary income on the operation. Campaigns were started to outlaw it. Preachers and role models spoke against it. However, all the anti-Billy sentiment could not contend against the real desires of youths to emulate their new hero.

Clinics specializing in the operation opened to accommodate the swelling demand for “Billyization.” More and more people—not just the young—signed the consent forms allowing the removal of their gray matter. Recognizing the futility of their fight against the tide of disavowal of sentience, all but the die-hard protestors gave up.

Two years passed. Hundreds of thousands of Billys had been artificially created. Billy himself turned eighteen. The parrot, rat and spider, fat and confident from two years of high living, embarked on the next step of their master plan.

Billy announced that he would run for the House of Representatives to become a voice for his people. He established residency in a district where anencephalics were a majority. He won handily.

In the next few years, Billy, under the direction of his cranial riders, managed to push through much legislation granting special privileges to anencephalics, claiming that they needed extra dispensations due to their unique disability, self-administered though it was.

Many people began to envy the anencephalics their easy lot. However, unlike elites of the past, it was easy to gain entry to this class. Billy’s final legislation in the last year of his first term was to establish public clinics where anencephaly was produced free of charge.

Billy did not neglect his parents in this busy time. Like a good son, he brought them to Washington and established them in a luxurious Georgetown house, where they arranged entertainments that served to advance Billy’s career.

Billy won re-election to his seat easily.

At the end of his second term, Billy stepped down to campaign for the presidency. He had previously succeeded in lowering the minimum age for that office.

Billy had his own political party now, the Decorticates.

The campaign was very grueling, more so than the three creatures inside Billy had anticipated. The parrot was kept busy making speeches, and found sometimes that he had to talk faster than he could think. The rat had improved his synaptic manipulations to the point where he no longer needed the spider to assist him. This freed the spider to sit in her web and plot the details of the campaign.

It was touch and go in the polls right up until election eve.

But when election day itself was over, Billy had won.

On inauguration day, the celebratory cortege featured a squad of a hundred Billy-boys and Billy-girls, newly decorticated for the occasion, attempting precision marching. They blundered into each other, and the parade had to be stopped while they were untangled.

Billy’s career had reached its apex.

One day well into his third term, Billy sat alone in the Oval Office.

He had removed his hat, so that the inhabitants of his skull could enjoy light and fresh air.

The parrot was fat as a pigeon and had developed the habit of continually puffing out his chest feathers and preening.

The rat was sleek as a guinea pig, his cheeks always bulging with food.

Only the spider, being something of an ascetic, retained her old proportions, albeit in a self-satisfied manner.