by John Sladek
This was a cotton poplin jacket with a smooth nylon lining. Hip length, with a two-button tab collar and slash pockets. Set-in sleeves with one-button adjustable cuffs. Elastic insert at waist sides. Nylon zipper. This was in navy blue, medium size with about a 34 inch arm.
Finally the man had worn smooth leather-upper sports shoes with sueded split-leather reinforcement at toe. Ventilated vinyl tongue with laceholder was padded for comfort. Padded collar and peaked back. Rubber toe guard would help protect toe area against wear. Sturdy moulded heel counter. These shoes were white with royal blue vinyl stripes, and featured moulded rubber sole with crepe rubber wedge, sole having ribbed tread for traction. Size 9.
The patrolman had written nothing down, and now he closed his notebook. ‘A description like that could fit anybody,’ he said. After lingering a few minutes to flirt with one of the waitresses, he swaggered back out the alley door.
Within a month, the police would arrest Allbright, who was short, dark, bearded, had a clear if grimy complexion, and wore greasy denim work clothes, the only clothes he owned.
VI
The cold weather was here, and with the drop in temperature came a drop in Roderick’s fortunes. The two were connected:
Fur coats were coming into the dining room regularly now, and poodle sweaters. Somehow the sight of all these creatures keeping themselves warm irritated him. He was reminded of pictures of the first Thanksgiving: all those roundheads and featherheads sitting down to eat food. Where would a robot be at that banquet? Waiting tables? Out in the cold?
Though technically he needed no special winter garments, Roderick wanted something cosy. Ma and Pa would have understood, being cosy small-town folk themselves. Ma would have said, if you’re undecided about doing something, do it big.
Roderick went into an exclusive sporting-goods store, bought himself a very fine red wool stocking-cap for two weeks’ wages, and wore it to work.
Unfortunately, he forgot to take it off while waiting tables. Though some patrons only laughed, one complained to the management. Mr Danton was happy to fire him.
‘Son or no son,’ he said, ‘you’re out in the fuckin’ cold.’
‘Sonnenschein, initial D?’ asked the hospital receptionist, touching her keyboard. ‘Yes, and your relationship to the patient, Mr Wood?’
‘I’m his – I’m his lawyer. And I demand –’
‘Certainly, sir.’ The machine hummed and produced a red ticket. ‘Take this pass, so you can get out again. It’s Ward I8G, express elevator to the eighteenth floor.’
On the eighteenth floor he handed his pass to a nurse manning another computer terminal. ‘I like your cap,’ he said, ‘Unusual.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ She read the pass and tapped keys. ‘A lot of people seem to like our caps.’
‘No I meant yours in particular. Unusual.’
She looked wary. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well I just noticed, all the other nurses have them folded left over right, but yours is right over left.’
‘Is it?’ she laughed. ‘Well you’re the first person to notice that, anyway.’
‘Well I only noticed because the cap itself is a variation on an ornamental dinner-napkin fold called The Slipper. I remember seeing a picture of it in Mrs Bowder’s Encyclopedia of Refinement.’
‘Really?’
‘I read that a lot when I was a kid. The language of flowers, too, like that vase on your desk there, yellow chrysanthemums, they say –’
‘Fine, fine. You can see Mr Sonnenschein in the visiting room, second door on your right. If you’ll just wait he’ll be in in a minute.’ She seemed very busy and not inclined to look at him. But when Roderick reached the door to the visiting room he looked back: she was staring at him.
Red cap again. He pulled it off and jammed it in his pocket, damn it.
This was a sunny room overlooking the river. It was furnished like a large, comfortable living room, with a TV corner, a music centre, a writing desk and a small library – all separated by yards and yards of soft chairs and sofas. No one else was there except an old man in a striped bathrobe and paper slippers. He sat turning the pages of a book of Mondrian reproductions. Now and then he found one that made him chuckle.
Roderick tried to watch TV, but the controls of the set were locked. He settled for a newspaper.
LUCKY LEGS’ KILLER STRIKES AGAIN
Former poet held
Only 30 days after turning up a severed leg in a Downtown alley, police have unearthed a second leg Downtown. The two legs are from two victims, according to the medical examiner. ‘Each is a woman’s left leg, amputated at the knee,’ he said, ‘possibly with an electric carving knife. Both legs were removed after death.’
The first limb turned up in an alley off Junipero Serra Place. The leg was wrapped in newspaper and dropped in a garbage can at the rear of Danton’s Doggie Dinette. Wendell Danton, the proprietor, said, ‘Someone is out to get us, but it won’t work. All the meat used in our canine cuisine is genuine U.S. Government inspected Choice or Prime cuts. I have the receipts to prove it. My kitchen is always open, and anyone is welcome to look it over, anytime.’ Police agree that it is unlikely the leg came from Danton’s.
Today a second grisly package was found in a litter basket on Xavier Avenue, near the newly-opened cat boutique, Pussbutton.
Former poet A.L. Bright, picked up for questioning in an alley where he was drinking wine, admits being in the vicinity of both legs, but claims he does not remember murdering anyone. Police say Bright fits an exact description of the ‘Lucky Legs’ killer, given by a Danton’s dishwasher.
A door opened and a tall, untidy man blundered in. He was all out of proportion, like a child’s drawing: arms and legs too long for his thin body, head too heavy for his thin neck, face too big for his head, hair a dark 6B scribble.
‘You’re my lawyer?’
‘Don’t you know if I’m your lawyer?’
‘I don’t – sometimes things surprise me. They feed me a lot of uh medication.’
Roderick was a little disappointed. ‘Are you Dan Sonnenschein?’
‘Yes. And you’re my lawyer.’
‘No, I just said that to get in. See it’s very hard to get in to see you. Like you were in prison. I’m not your lawyer I’m your – I’m Roderick.’
‘Well for lunch we had, I remember that okay, we had hot roast beef sandwich, salad with thousand island, banana cream pie.’ He looked at Roderick. ‘Didn’t we?’
‘Maybe you did. Dan, I’m Roderick. You created me, remember?’
‘Look, I’m having a hard enough time remembering what I had for lunch.’
They sat there in silence for some time, staring at the black-and-white tiles of the floor. Now and then the old man could be heard laughing quietly at Mondrian.
Roderick was very disappointed. So this was Dan? This was the genius who first thought of him?
‘So you’re not my lawyer?’
‘For the last time, no. I’m Roderick. I’m the robot you spent four years building, remember? And then finally you sent me to live with Ma and Pa Wood? Your stepfather and stepmother? They raised you, you must remember them!’
‘Yeah, maybe.’
‘And when you sent me to them I was just a little lumpy machine on tank treads. But Pa Wood got all these parts from the artificial limb factory and rebuilt me like this. So when I came to the city I thought I’d look you up.’
‘Why?’
‘Why? Well like just I guess maybe – how do I know? Okay you think I shouldn’t have come. Okay I made a wrong decigeon – decision. I just thought you might want to see how I turned out. I thought we might get to be pals or something. I thought when you got out I could help you with your work.’
‘My work!’ Dan blinked. ‘My work got me in here. You know how I got in here?’
‘No.’
‘I had this idea there were people after me. Very high up conspiracy, see, to prevent anybody ever building
a robot. So I was very careful, very careful with Project Roderick. I never published anything, I kept a low profile. And when the robot was finished, I sent it away, somewhere they’d never find it. And I destroyed my notes. Like whatsisname in that movie about a forbidden planet, Walter Pigeon, he buries his book and gives up robots, or maybe that’s some other movie – but I destroyed my notes. That’s how they got me, see?’
‘No.’
Dan held up a finger; Roderick noticed how badly bitten the nail was. ‘Since I was working for a University project, those notes were not my property. I was destroying University of Minnetonka property. And this property might be worth billions and billions – if I really had built a robot. So that was a very antisocial act, so they put me in here.’
‘To cure you?’
‘No, to keep me from building any more robots. And to find out if I really have built one already.’
Roderick said, ‘I don’t understand. They want the robot because it’s worth billions, but they don’t want you to build it?’
‘Look, I know all this is confusing.’ Dan started to chew an already dilapidated fingernail. ‘What I mean is, the University people own any robot built using their money. But somebody a lot higher up wants to put a stop to all robots. Don’t ask me why – a paranoid schizophrenic doesn’t have to give reasons for the plots against him. I’m nuts, see? Or if I’m not, the world is so dangerous that I’d still rather be treated like a harmless nut.’
‘I’ll get you out of here, Dan. You’re not nuts.’
‘Why should I leave here? Here is as good as anywhere, now. And safer.’ He stopped chewing the nail and looked at it. ‘I tried leaving for awhile. I got a nice little crummy job, a nice little crummy apartment. But right away people started following me. A car tried to run me down. My apartment had this fire.’ He folded his hands. ‘Here is safer. Here they can watch me, so they don’t have to destroy me.’
‘Okay then I’ll visit you all the time.’
‘No. It isn’t safe for you, either. If you are Roderick, they must be looking for you. Better stay away.’
‘Can I at least send you something? Books? Food?’
Dan hesitated. ‘Peanut butter. For some reason, they never let you have enough peanut butter around here.’
The door slammed open and a nurse marched in. Her cap was folded left over right. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Wood, but there’s been some kind of mix-up. Mr Sonnenschein isn’t supposed to have any visitors at all. You’d better leave, right now. Come on, Mr Sonnenschein, I’ll get you back to bed.’ Though Dan made no resistance, Roderick noticed how she took a firm grip, one hand on his wrist, one on his elbow.
‘But I’m his lawyer.’
‘No you’re not,’ she shouted back. ‘We’ve phoned his lawyer and he never heard of you. You’d better leave!’
Roderick stood a moment, watching the old man, who was weeping over Broadway Boogie-woogie.
‘God damn it,’ said Roderick, and put on his red stocking-cap.
*
‘God damn it is right,’ said the man seated before the monitor. ‘We lost the whole damn conversation there, all we get is a great shot of a guy in a stocking cap going out the door. You shoulda checked the tape before you went out.’
His partner said, ‘You implying I don’t know how to do my job?’
‘I’m not implying nothing.’
‘Look I always go out to get the coffee at three. Okay, sure, maybe I was a little late back, but only on account you wanted a chocolate doughnut, they was out downstairs. I hadda go all the way over to Thirteenth to that new place, Mistah Kurtz.
‘Anyway what the hell’s the difference, we know the guy’s name from the hospital computer, you wanta check him out?’
‘Let’s review this next visitor, this Franklin guy. He talked to Sonnenschein for an hour, can we run that?’
On the screen the vacant features of Ben Franklin registered shock. ‘Who was here? Who was here?’
‘… must of just about met him. Roderick. He was wearing a red stocking-cap …’
‘I did meet him! He came out of the elevator … Dan, God damn it, we were face to face …’
‘God damn it is right,’ said the viewer again.
The Church of Christ Symmetrical was just a derelict store in a rundown neighbourhood. Roderick almost passed it without noticing, for it was marked only by a dusty mirror set up in an even dustier window, with a small sign:
CHURCH OF CHRIST SYMMETRICAL
You are looking at the person who controls your destiny!
And that person is looking at you!!!
Inside it didn’t seem much like a church, except for the emptiness. There were a dozen rows of folding chairs (some set up facing backwards) but only four were occupied: Four ragged men sat hunched over, each quietly consulting his pocket mirror.
Having no pocket mirror, Roderick went to the front of the church, where the place of an altar was taken by a table of reading matter. He removed his red cap but, seeing others wearing caps, put it back on.
One pamphlet showed a photo of a Byzantine plate, decorated with a picture of the Last Supper. The picture clearly showed two Christs, one giving bread to six disciples, the other giving wine to the other six. The spidery handwriting beneath said, ‘The Last shall be First!!!’
Another pamphlet outlined significant passages in the Bible (‘thy breasts are like two roes that are twins’) and pointed out Biblical symmetries: Two tables of the Law, Solomon offers to divide a child equally in half; 72 books in the Old Testament and 27 books in the New, four evangelists having initials M, M, L and J, and so on. A donation was requested, to help with the great work of preparing the Bible in mirror-writing. Roderick contributed a symmetrical I I cents, this being all he had in his pocket.
‘Thank you,’ said a small, red-nosed man coming up the aisle with a large mirror in his hands. ‘I see you appreciate the urgency of our work.’
‘I’m not sure I even understand what your work is.’
‘Aha! You will, you will. My name is Amos Soma, by the bye, and I’d like to shake your hand for Christ.’
Roderick could hardly refuse so civil a request; he spoke his name and shook the man’s hand. As they did so, Mr Doma held up his mirror: their images shook left hands.
‘Of course my name has not always been Soma. I took it because of its wonderful symmetry: Soma, the Vedic drink of ecstasy, and Amos, the greatest of prophets. Now, Mr Wood, if you’ll find a seat, our meeting can begin.’
Roderick took a seat near the back. Two well-dressed men came in and sat still further back.
‘First,’ said Amos, ‘I have a few important announcements to make. There has been another calumnious attack on us in the church press. As usual, they accuse us of “Mirror worship”, of saying the Lord’s Prayer backwards, and of so-called black magic. Frankly I don’t feel lies like these are worth answering, so I’ll drop that subject. I also have a positive announcement: our Bible translation is ahead of schedule, and we have now finished Sudoxe.’
A man in a parka, sitting a few rows ahead of Roderick, turned around and said to him in a loud whisper, ‘You aren’t spying on me or anything?’
‘No.’
‘I didn’t think so.’
Amos began his sermon: ‘I want you all to reflect tonight on the cross. Notice how symmetrical the cross is. Right and left reflect, but not top and bottom. Why is that?
‘It is because the cross is shaped like a man. But why, you might ask, is man symmetrical? He could have been made any shape at all. God didn’t need to make you with one eye on the right side of your nose and one on the left. Oh no, God could have made you like one of those modernistic paintings, with an eye on your chin and another on your forehead!’
Amos paused for laughter. There was none. ‘No, God made man symmetrical because He made him in His own image. God Himself is symmetrical. He has a right and a left. Everybody knows that Christ “sitteth on the right hand of the Father”, so
the Father must have a right hand.’
The man in the parka turned around again. ‘You sure they didn’t send you to watch me?’
‘No.’
‘No, I don’t suppose they’d bother.’
Amos went on, discoursing for some time on left and right – the hemispheres of the brain, magnetic ‘handedness’, whirlpools, political leanings, Lewis Carroll – and why God made mirror symmetry. God meant for us to meet our mirror images face to face (how else?), to talk to them, and to bring them to salvation.
The parka turned around again. ‘You impressed by this bullcrap?’
‘Yes I guess I am.’
‘Me too. Funny, because I think I know what’s wrong with old Amos.’
‘What’s that?’
‘He’s just ambidextrous. He can write with both hands, that means. So the thing is, he doesn’t know if he’s right- or left-handed. He doesn’t know which side of the mirror he’s living on, and it drives him nuts. He wants to convert everybody on both sides, just to play it safe.’
Roderick said, ‘Then you don’t believe.’
‘Oh I don’t know. You have to believe in something. Every week or so I try some new religion or some new political movement. And the thing is, I always believe.’
At the end of the meeting, the man introduced himself as Luke Draeger. ‘I was thinking about going to the bar on the corner, you know it? The Tik Tok Club. Figured I’d sit there and stare at myself in the mirror – till I get double vision. You might as well come along and spy on me.’
‘The name is Roderick Wood, and I’m not a spy. And I don’t drink.’
‘Rickwood, everybody drinks. Especially spies. Come on, you need a drink.’
The two men in the back got up and left.
‘But I really don’t drink. All I really need is a job. Before I become – well, a beggar, like this old guy.’
The old man he meant wore a long black overcoat, almost to the ground, which somewhat resembled a cassock. He had produced a cracked saucer from one pocket and was pretending to take up a collection.
‘Howdy doody, gents,’ he said, approaching. ‘Spare a little contribution for the mm-hmm-mmf …?’
