Chapter 14

“Is it just me or do you - should I call you Virgil? - is your mind a little fuzzy?” Mahmoud announced. They were now waiting, anxiously, for Bob to appear, and had seated themselves in the guest chairs, angled around, in front of Oswald’s desk, so that they would greet Bob as soon as he appeared. Oswald had made the suggestion to situate themselves that way, to give Bob his usual impression that he was the most important person in the room, as he was used to, only this way he’d know they were doing it mockingly. Mahmoud found it a little curious, but she played along, probably to humor Oswald.

“My…mind is fine,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“You mean other than because my own mind is a little fuzzy? I wanted to mess with you,” Mahmoud said. “You don’t feel it?”

“I suppose I don’t,” Oswald said. “Then again, I’ve had storm clouds in my head for the past few weeks, so it’s not very likely I’d be able to tell if there was something else wrong up there. It’s like I’ve been seeing the world on a rainy day. It’s the same world, but it’s different, and it’s hard to distinguish anything. It’s all just rain and dark skies, and the ground changes. That’s how I distinguish it from something akin to snow. Snow covers things, makes everything different on account of new dressing. Rain, however, warps things, so that it’s not just something entirely new, but something that’s entirely the same, only not. It’s very confusing. Do you follow me at all?”

“Since I’ve lived with this my whole life, I’d have to lose it to see any differently,” Mahmoud said. “But I think I know what you mean. You’ve put on a pair of sunglasses.”

“Exactly,” Oswald said. “Only these don’t come off very easily, which is what your experience must be. As for your fuzzy mind, can you explain that a little more?”

“Since we’re doing that,” Mahmoud said, “I guess I can try. The French have a term, deja vous.”

“Yeah, we use it too,” Oswald noted.

“Then you’ll understand,” Mahmoud said. “It’s as if I’m in possession of knowledge I cannot remember gaining myself, like seeing something and knowing, or at least thinking, I’ve seen it before. With these thoughts, my head becomes--”

“Fuzzy,” Oswald said. “Right. I gotcha.”

“Then you understand,” Mahmoud said.

“Yes,” Oswald said.

“Then you also have a fuzzy head,” Mahmoud said.

“Well,” Oswald said. “I don’t know. It’s like I was saying earlier.”

“We have screwed up minds,” Mahmoud concluded.

“Exactly,” Oswald said. “I’ll agree to that, wholeheartedly. We have screwed up minds. Which could apply to anyone, but we‘re cornered the market on this one. I‘m wearing sunglasses, and I guess you‘re wearing glasses as well, and they‘re the tinted kind. You‘ve walked out into bright sunlight, wearing your glasses, and your glasses tint on you. You just weren‘t expecting sunlight.”

“I was expecting rain,” Mahmoud said.

“Which is perfectly normal for you,” Oswald said, “and getting there for me. You expected rain, but found sun penetrating the rain, or maybe you came out just as the rain ended.”

“Let’s stop trying to analogize it,” Mahmoud suggested. “It is giving me a headache.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Oswald said, “but I’m actually anticipating Bob’s arrival. Why isn’t he here yet? I actually want him to be here. Now it’s conclusive. I really have gone insane.”

“Don’t say that,” Mahmoud said, playfully knocking him on the shoulder as she laughed. “You’re cursing us!”

“Usually Bob would be a curse,” Oswald said. “Plus, he curses a lot, so we’re full of curses here. Maybe that explains our, uh, rain.”

“Do you know how Gerald views our rain?” Mahmoud mused.

“Who’s Gerald?” Oswald said.

“Gerald,” Mahmoud repeated, “You know, Do-little. The person you’ve previously been in contact with.”

“How did you know his name?” Oswald said. “I didn’t know what it was, and I‘m the one who‘s actually talked with him, let alone knew who he generally was before you walked into this office. I’m still expecting a follow-up conversation with him, in fact.”

“You won’t need one,” Mahmoud said. “I think I might have an explanation for the fuzz. The deja vous belongs to Do-little. To Gerald. I can’t explain any further, but that’s what it is. I believe we’re telepathically connected.”

“Not to make things any weirder than they already are or anything,” Oswald said. “I’m somehow becoming less comforted by the minute, and I can’t imagine way…”

“Bob will come in handy,” Mahmoud said. “I now know how you’ll come in handy, too. If you give it a little concentration, you’ll be able to distinguish what the fuzz is, what‘s being said, or thought.”

“Bearing in mind,” Oswald said, “that I can’t even find this fuzz you’re talking about, let alone recognize it, how am I supposed to fine tune it?”

“You’re a mess,” Mahmoud said.

“Tell me about it,” Oswald said.

“Actually,” Mahmoud said, “I could.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” Oswald said. “And now you’re going to say, ’you could have, if you could work this mojo out in your mind.’ Right?”

“But you still can’t,” Mahmoud said. “Can you?”

“No, I can’t,” Oswald said. “And it’s probably better that way.”

“It probably is,” Mahmoud said. “Besides, it’s probably unnecessary.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean? I’m just along for this ride--” Oswald started, and then followed the thought for himself. “I’m responsible for the ride. I’m the chauffer. How wonderful is that? Not very, that’s what I say. I am not amused.”

“I don’t think you’re required to be,” Mahmoud said.

“If I’m understanding any of this by now,” Oswald said, “you don’t serve any purpose at all. How does that feel? Crummy, isn’t it? To know this Gerald, this Do-little, is more important than either of us. He’s got a cat helping him out, for pete’s sake. He’s the big banana in all of this. The punk.”

“You’re poor wounded ego,” Mahmoud said, “Mr. Astronaut. Nice action figure, by the way. What does it come with, a footstool?”

“Ha ha,” Oswald said. “The manufacturer either has a really good imagination or a really bad one. It’s a robot, and I was thinking of calling it Pliny, just so you know.”

“You gave up on the comic strip,” Mahmoud reminded him.

“Out of my head!” Oswald exclaimed.

“Afraid I can’t do that,” Mahmoud said, giggling. “Here’s another blow to your ego. I’m probably here to help you out.”

“Very funny,” Oswald said.

“I thought so,” Mahmoud said. “Now, where’s Bob?”

“My thoughts--” Oswald started. “Not funny.”

“What?” Mahmoud protested, innocently. A knock at the door interrupted any further reply she might have been formulating. It was Bob Taliaferro, and he showed himself in without waiting for admittance. He eyed the room for a minute, and betrayed nothing of his reaction to the two persons who had obviously been engaging in a lively conversation before his entrance. He closed the door and began looking at a sheet of paper he’d taken with him.

“You’re ready?” he muttered, without taking his eyes from the sheet, and then handed it to Oswald with his eyes training on him now. “You’ll want to sign this waiver. I see you’ve met Padma. I don’t know what else to call her so I’m just going to use her first name.”

“Very informal of you,” Oswald said, accepting the waiver and turning around to sign it, not acknowledging Bob.

“Charming,” Mahmoud said, training her own eyes on Bob.

“I try to be,” Bob said. “Try, but fail. What’re you gonna do about it? Throw an intervention? Be ready for the test, or both of you can kiss my ass. I mean that in the kindest way possible.”

“As you always do,” Oswald said to Bob’s back, as he left the room, leaving the door open behind him. Oswald realized he still had the waiver. “Figures. He wants me to go to his office. And he’s in one of his moods. Maybe I should be thankful, and maybe I’m going to roast for what I’d like to do to him all the same.”

“I wish you wouldn’t actually think it,” Mahmoud said.

“Sorry,” Oswald said.

“If only,” Mahmoud said. “He’s coming back. And he’s got someone with him.”

“Great,” Oswald said. “Wait a minute, maybe this isn’t so bad.”

“What isn’t so bad?” Bob said, walking into the office again, accompanied by a gangly twenty-something male. “You’d better be able to explain this kid. He came into the premises half an hour ago, and claimed he needed to see you, and claimed further that he’d actually walked here so he could.”

“It’s true,” the man said. “I walked here.”

“Shut it,” Bob said. “Give me the waiver, and if the boy proves a security risk, it’s your ass.”

“He apparently cleared security already,” Oswald noted, as Bon snatched the waiver from his hand.

“Smart ass,” Bob said, and left the office again, with the door in the same condition as before. The three people left in his wake shared a solemn moment to celebrate.”

“Gerald,” Oswald said.

“That would be me,” Leopold said. “I see you’re up to speed on the voodoo aspects.”

“Unfortunately,” Oswald said. “You know me, I guess, already. This is Padma.”

“Padma Mahmoud,” Mahmoud said, extending her hand. “Proud member of this society.”

“I guess that’s what it is,” Leopold said. “Do I know you?”

“In a way,” Mahmoud said.

“You’re absolutely right,” Leopold said, the meaning dawning on him. “In a way. Then I guess you know your boss there wasn’t shitting when he said I walked here. I…walked here. It didn’t take as long as I thought it would. Where is here, exactly?”

“Generally speaking, Florida,” Oswald said. “This is a R&D facility, and I get to engage in the next step in that process. They make exciting new crafts, I take them for a spin, see if they’re hazardous or not. I feel very secure when I come to work.”

“And I’m here to help him,” Mahmoud said.

“You don’t have to be so enthusiastic about it,” Oswald said.

“You’ve got a sub today,” Leopold said, “Don’t you?”

“I’m beginning to understand,” Mahmoud said.

“You’ve said that already,” Oswald said. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Depends,” Leopold said.

“On what?” Oswald said.

“On whether you want to find out what the point of our little society is,” Mahmoud said.

“Honestly,” Oswald said. “Right now? I don’t know…”