The Wooden Sea (15 page)

"No. But you can give them stuff that makes them learn things.

Like how to sing or say certain phrases."

"Jesus! Why would you do that?"

"For fun. I don't know. I hate dogs."

As a kid I used to eat as fast as I could. My parents would say slow down, slow down or you're going to throw up. But there was always someplace important to go or someone to see and food was only fuel to get me there. As a result I often ate so fast I'd get a stomachache that lasted hours. Sitting with Susan on that bench in Vienna, in a world where Rottweilers sang Aretha Franklin and people passed with bowling balls on their heads I had the same feeling; only this time the ache was in my head and not my guts.

"I wanna go home."

Susan nodded and sighed. Little did she know to what home I was referring.

"When did you and I get married?"

Wrong question to ask. She didn't answer and only when I turned did I see she was crying.

When she finally spoke, her voice was bitter. "I thought everything would now finally work out.

Stupid me, eh? Stupid me! Do you realize I have loved you my whole life? My whole damned life you've been stuck in me like a piece of meat between my teeth I can't get out. But finally _finally _I thought we were home free. I waited my whole life for you. I fought and I was patient and I never gave up hope because I just knew one day I'd prevail. I honestly believe life makes sense if you're patient. And I was, Frannie! All those years I waited for you like the girl in a corner waiting to be asked to dance. When you asked me to marry you--"

"I _did?"_

"Yes you did, damn it! Please don't tell me you forgot that too. I think I've been humiliated enough for one morning. When you asked, I thought: fifty years too late but why the hell not?

I've loved the idiot all this time so why not

finish the party with him? One great last hurrah before...

"I'm going back to the hotel and lie down. Go to a pharmacy or whatever they call them here and ask for Tapsodil. I'm sure they'll have it." She stood up and rubbed her arm some more.

"Don't go, Susan. Let's have this day together and be happy.

Everything's my fault and I apologize. We'll do the town." I moved to stand up but my lower body promptly reminded me I was an old geezer.

My legs were uncooperative. Cursing quietly, I rocked back and forth twice to gain momentum and only then was able to rise. "I'm not good at being old."

"You still look pretty cute to me, husband. And I want to tell you a secret.

Do you know what made me love you most of all? I always had a thing for you, sure, but the thing that really hooked me?"

"Tell."

"How wonderfully you cared for Magda when she was dying. I'd never seen that side of you, Frannie. I never thought you had it in you."

Hearing those terrible words, hearing that my Magda died was as bad as if it had just happened.

What immediately came to mind was the conversation I'd had with George when I told him I had never loved anyone enough to fear losing them. But now, in this strange no-man's-land time, I realized I had never been more wrong about anything in my whole life. Knowing Magda would die before me was unbearable.

"When, Susan? When did she die?"

She made a worried face and moved to go. "We have to get you those pills."

I stepped in front of her. _"When?"_

"On my forty-eighth birthday. I'll never forget it."

Magda would be dead in less than two years.

What happened next almost saved me and the rest of my life a lot of trouble.

Almost. We found an _apotheke _and Susan bought some of the Alzheimer's medicine for me. I didn't watch the transaction because I was too busy looking around the place, trying to familiarize myself with a world thirty years my senior. This drugstore looked pretty typical except for some futuristic gadgets on display that did God only knows what to repair and improve human life. If they'd spoken English there I'd have asked, but my German vocabulary consisted solely of _ja _and _nein. _Walking out of there, we almost bumped into another Pod Person-- this time wearing white.

"All right, what the _hell _is he learning with that thing on his head?"

"White is for memory recall. It allows you to relive any part of your life that you choose in perfect detail. It's mostly used by psychologists in therapy; and by the police in criminal investigations."

My mind went _hooray! _I'd hit the mother lode, the bull's-eye, and the way home with one question. I could barely keep the excitement out of my voice.

"You put that thing on your head and you can remember your life? The whole thing? Everything that happened?"

"Yes. But I wouldn't want to do it."

"I would! Right now! Where can I get one?"

"Frannie, if you take these pills you'll be fine in a few days. Your memory will return, I promise."

"I don't want an old man's memory--I want my whole life! Where can I get one?" I couldn't believe my good luck. All I had to do was strap that stupid-looking ball over my head and I'd have all the answers I needed. Then when I was sent back to my time I'd know exactly what was going on and what to do.

"They sell the white ones at Giorgio Armani stores."

_"Armani? _The fashion designer?"

"Yes."

"They sell a machine at a clothes store that brings back your memory?

Why there?"

Susan thought, shrugged. "I don't know."

"This is a weird-ass time! Maybe memory's considered a fashion accessory. Who cares--let's go."

With lots of questions, shrugs, and hand gestures, we eventually found someone who spoke English and knew the way. They directed us to a small side street off one of the main drags.

There, behind a door guarded by two men in what appeared to be Kevlar vests, was the Armani store.

"Are those guys cops or private security? Why are they wearing protection?"

"There have been so many attacks and bombings, Frannie. I didn't think it would be as bad here as in America. You take your life in your hands when you go shopping. Forget going to a mall anymore. Those are war zones. Remember what happened in Crane's View?"

The guards came to attention as we approached. Susan lifted her arms from her sides like wings and gestured for me to do the same. One guy ran a wand around our bodies like security people do at an airport when your pocket change sets off the alarm. I couldn't believe it. All this because we wanted to shop? When the electronic frisk was done, Susan took what looked like a credit card out of her pocket and handed it over. One guard inserted it in a small black box he wore at his waist. At once a small peep peeped. He moved out of the way, allowing us to enter.

Once inside I kept staring at them through the window. They were not your typical rent-a-cop chubsters. Both men looked fit enough to wrestle alligators and win.

I was about to bombard Susan with more questions but a saleswoman came up to us. She spoke perfect English and actually bowed slightly when asked if she had a "Bic white."

I waited till she was gone before asking. "Bic white? That's what they're called?"

"Red, white--you ask for the color."

"But it's really Bic, the makers of the cheapo pen? The throw-away razor?"

"Yes, it's the same company."

"Is it disposable too?"

"No. They cost about a hundred dollars." Susan wandered off to look at clothes. I watched the guards through the window. Brave New World.

Brave cheap world. Here you could resurrect a whole life of memories for the same price as a good floor fan in my time. While I pondered away on that one, something bumped my foot.

First I kicked it away, and then looked to see what it was. A small brown machine like a round hassock moved off without a sound.

It took a while of staring to realize it was a robot vacuum cleaner. The damned thing was terrific.

I wished there were some way I could bring one back to Magda, who absolutely hated cleaning the house. That thought brought back what was going to happen to her. I shuddered. Wasn't there anything I could do to stop it? Take her to the hospital as soon as I returned and have them run every test...

But by using this mind machine, I was about to have all of my memories back.

I could learn what actually happened to my wife. Maybe knowing the details would help me to figure out what to do.

I was thinking about this and watching the vacuum cleaner whiz around when the saleswoman said, "Have you ever used a Bic before, sir?"

"What? Oh, no, I haven't."

"It is not difficult, but you must try it on. This is a large. Perhaps it is best if you sit down?"

After I sat in a nearby chair she handed me the helmet. It was strangely light. "What do I do?"

"Put it over your head and say `face focus.' The computer will create the adjustments if they are necessary."

"It has a computer in it?"

"Yes, sir. Just put it--"

"I heard you, dear." The moment of truth had arrived and, sure, my soul gave a small shiver.

What would happen to me in the next minutes?

Unlike the drowning man, the life I was _going _to lead was about to flash in front of my eyes.

But I didn't hesitate because too much was at stake.

Slipping the helmet over my head, I was pleased by what felt like the softest leather sliding across my cheeks. I could see nothing at all.

Everything was pitch-black. It was like putting my head inside a leather glove. How could anyone see out of it? How could you walk down a street and not bump into everything? Maybe when the thing turned on--

"Now what?" I asked.

"You say `face focus'--" Her voice came through clear as a bell, which was reassuring.

"Oh yeah, right. Okay. Face focus!" I felt my hot breath spread back across my face when I spoke.

The helmet came on with a fast click-click. Next there was a whirring sound.

It stopped. Then a pause. Then a big green flash and something inside the helmet exploded, knocking me out of the chair onto the floor. Onto the vacuum cleaner rather, which tried to drive away with me lying on top of it. But valiant little fellow that it was, I outweighed it by a hundred and fifty pounds so it could only jiggle beneath me making desperate noises. I flailed at my head trying to get the helmet off, petrified by a nasty smell of burning metal inside.

"Help!"

"Sir, sir, please wait, sir." `

"Get it off me!"

Someone pushed me over, quickly undid the helmet and pulled it off with a pretty hard fucking jerk. The first thing I saw was the vacuum cleaner lying on its side nearby. One of the security guards held the helmet and looked at me with a big smile in his eyes but not on his mouth. The saleswoman stood next to him wringing her hands.

"This has never happened before! Never!"

"Lucky me. What the hell happened?"

"I don't know, sir."

"You don't know. You sell a product diat microwaves my head, then tell me you don't know why? Face focus, my ass!"

"Frannie, are you all right?"

Before I had a chance to answer, Susan's wristwatch beeped. She bit her lip.

"That's the emergency. I should answer it-- something must be wrong."

"Yeah, my head!"

She raised her wrist to her mouth and mumbled something. While she spoke, the saleswoman meekly asked if I would like to try again with another Bic. I glared at her. Later I realized the whole catastrophe was my fault. The helmet blew up because my brain shorted out the computer's circuits. How could the Bic restore memories of a life I hadn't lived yet?

"Frannie, it's Gus Gould. He says Floon is wild that we left.

Apparently he had a big surprise he was going to give you at breakfast but then we disappeared."

While she spoke I warily touched my eyebrows and discovered both were badly singed. "We disappeared because he's an asshole.

I don't want any more surprises."

"But it's _George. _Caz found George Dalemwood and brought him here.

He's at the hotel waiting for you."

I looked at my fingertips, which were sooty-black and covered with tiny bits of eyebrow. But hey, tomorrow a motorcycle was going to kill me. Who needed eyebrows?

"How old am I, Susan?"

"Seventy-four." Her face showed only love and concern.

"How did Magda die?"

"A brain tumor."

"Jesus God!"

"Frannie, Floon specifically said to tell you he found Vertue. He has it with him, whatever that means."

"I know what it means. Let's go."

I couldn't wait to get back to the hotel, but there were no taxis around and my fossil legs could only go so fast. Thirty years after mysteriously disappearing, my best friend turns up in Vienna with a resurrected dog hundreds of years old? Damned right I couldn't wait to get back. And the way he phrased it: "He had found Vertue" led me to believe there was more here to be reckoned with than just man with old dog.

On seeing the hotel I felt my spirits lift. This was it. I only had to somehow brush Floon off and get George alone in a corner. He would answer my questions. I might even tell him exactly what had happened to bring me here because George would understand. Where had he been for thirty years? What had he been doing? What had made him leave Crane's View and disappear for eleven thousand days? And had he really found the dog?

These questions and so many others took off and landed in my head as if it were a busy airport. I didn't know what to ask first. I wanted to know everything at once. There was the hotel.

Walk faster, old man. Somewhere inside was George Dalemwood and the answers.

It wouldn't be long now!

The street was jammed with people so it was not surprising that I did not see him as he approached. Susan had already asked me twice to slow down but I paid no attention. George might even have an idea of how I could save Magda--

"I'm sorry, Mr. McCabe, but you can't go to the hotel."

"Astopel! Why are you here?" I looked around to see if Fran-nie Junior had accompanied him.