The Goodbye Man

by Jeffery Deaver

  Shaw glanced at those who’d accompanied him. The two AUs who’d opened the door for him had watchful eyes and were, Shaw supposed, bodyguards. Also, there was a woman in her mid-forties with auburn hair. She too wore a white tunic, and her amulet was purple.

  Entering last was a young, diminutive balding man, about Eli’s height, in the standard blue Foundation uniform. He too wore a purple amulet and carried a thick notebook—leather bound, not like the ones the Companions had been issued. Eli paused and turned to him, whispering. The man drew a pen and jotted in the opened book. He had eager rabbit eyes.

  As Shaw scanned the crowd, the differences in the reactions among those present as they looked the leader’s way were intriguing. Most of the Novices were curious about the man to whom they were paying $7,500. Those with purple and red amulets gazed his way with adoring eyes and some seemed to puff up, in hopes of being seen by the man. Those with the silver necklaces, the Inner Circle, didn’t look at him at all but studied the crowd, as if gauging their reactions.

  Shaw took in the bodyguards. One was broad and dark, not particularly tall. The other was angular and well over six feet and had the stern, lined face and gray crew cut of a former drill instructor. It was impossible to imagine either of them smiling. Shaw named them Squat and Gray. Like the AUs, they wore gray tunics and no amulets.

  Why protection? There’d been the metal detector, the safety of the checked luggage and car searches, facial recognition. How much danger could a self-help guru be in?

  Eli circulated, smiling and pausing at tables, leaning down to speak with various Companions. Once, he gave a hearty laugh. Later he picked up a woman Apprentice’s notebook and read a page, while she blushed.

  He moved on. Shaw heard him say in response to a question, “I came up with that myself! No, really. It was my own idea.” Then: “Nobody else could figure out how to do it. It wasn’t easy, but I did.”

  As Eli looked their way, many of the Companions offered the shoulder salute. Sometimes Eli returned it, though usually he just nodded—the way a military officer chooses to respond to an enlisted man’s salute or not. Shaw’s impression was that the dining hall was an off-duty area and there was less formality here than during the daytime.

  The auburn-haired woman who accompanied Eli was attractive, with high cheekbones and carefully tended brows. She wore purple lipstick and foundation makeup. Her posture was good and her walk studied. A former model maybe.

  Eli would whisper to her occasionally. She’d give a smile or offer a reply.

  A voice in Shaw’s ear: Walter’s. “That’s Anja.”

  “His wife?”

  “Don’t know about that. Nobody gives away very much here. But whoever she is, she supposedly helped him found the place.”

  “And the bald kid?”

  “Journeyman Steve. Personal secretary, keeper of the details. I’ve never seen him without that notebook. Carries it around like a mother with her baby.”

  Shaw would have to be careful. He felt a tendency to fall into his real identity around Walter; he liked the man. He couldn’t afford to trip up.

  When Eli came to Victoria’s table, she grew nervous and animated. Her face radiated a very different self, one of adoration. She could look his way only for a few seconds without breaking eye contact, and she seemed breathless. Her face was flushed. While Shaw sensed she was taciturn by nature, now she engaged Eli in a nonstop monologue, as if—should she fall silent—he’d escape.

  Steve whispered to Eli, who silenced him with a wave of the hand and continued his conversation with Victoria. She wanted to show him something she’d written; she held her notebook out. He read the passage silently, then bent close and spoke to her. She beamed and saluted; he did the same. Victoria seemed deeply moved by this. Her adoring eyes followed him as he left.

  I prefer another name for brainwashing: menticide . . .

  Then Eli moved toward Shaw’s table.

  “Greetings, Novices Walter and Sally, Abby, John and Todd. And, Novices Henry and Carter—welcome on your first day here.”

  Impressive. He knew them all.

  They all mumbled various forms of hello. Shaw gave the shoulder salute, which brought a smile to Eli’s face. “Novice Carter, in our expedited program.”

  “That’s right, Master Eli. I was surprised. I didn’t exactly excel in school. I’ll do better here. I promise.”

  “When I created the Process, I decided we needed to make special arrangements for some of our Companions. I have every confidence in you.”

  This comment drew murmurs from the nearby tables. Eyes turned on Shaw. Some seemed impressed and pleased for him. But there was jealousy too.

  Shaw himself was troubled that he’d drawn attention, the last thing he wanted. He noted Victoria looking his way.

  Eli glanced at the picked-over dinner plates. “I hope you’re finding the meals acceptable. Remember, the fulfillment that the Foundation promises is emotional and psychological, not gastronomical.” Drawing gentle laughs. “Good luck with your training. I’ll see you tomorrow. You’re going to love what I’ve got in store for you.”

  The entourage moved on.

  A young redheaded woman nearby called, “Thank you, Master Eli. For everything. I’m so . . .” Concluding words eluded her.

  “It’s Apprentice Andi. Am I right?”

  “Yes . . .” The redhead was breathless. She mouthed, “Thank you.”

  “Thank you for being a part of the Foundation family.”

  Shaw whispered to Walter, “He’s memorized everybody’s name.”

  “Not exactly,” the older man said. “Gets prompts from his shadow.” A nod toward Steve.

  Eli and his entourage left via a side door, and conversation within the dining hall resumed immediately. Many of the Companions seemed to be dissecting what Eli had said and to whom.

  Shaw looked toward Victoria. Her head was down, as she jotted notes.

  The lights dimmed, simultaneously with the loudspeaker tones outside, then the keeper of the clock’s melodious voice: “The time is eight p.m. Dinner is concluded.”

  The Companions rose, bused their own dishes into gray bins and ambled out the doors. Shaw did the same.

  The sun was down and a faint iridescent blue glow filled the sky. Bright stars radiated, visible because of the muted lamplights. The air, steeped in pine and wood smoke, was bracing.

  Shaw paused just outside the door, looking about, as if to orient himself, though he knew exactly where he was and in what direction his dormitory lay. He was looking for Victoria. His excuse to speak to her would be to apologize for getting her into trouble because of his breaking the rules.

  After a few minutes, though, the hall was empty of Companions; only the cleaning crew remained. She hadn’t passed him.

  Then Shaw spotted her, walking up the steps to her dorm, across the central grounds from his. How had she gotten there? It had to be via the side door, the one that Eli and those with him had used, even though doing so meant a longer walk. It was almost as though she’d been intentionally avoiding Shaw.

  28.

  June 16

  After breakfast the next day, Shaw strolled across the grounds as the brilliant rising sun poured over the landscape.

  He’d planned on eating quickly and then approaching Victoria afterward. But he’d arrived late. He’d had to return to his dorm for his notebook; an AU had noticed him barehanded and reminded him of the rule that you kept your notebook with you at all times. “You might,” the man said, “have an insight.” As if speaking of finding a pot of gold.

  By the time he was back in the hall, Victoria had left. Only ten minutes? Maybe she’d forgone the steam-table food—understandable—and had picked only juice, coffee or tea.

  The tones of “Ode to Joy” filled the camp.

  The angelic voice: “The time is
nine a.m. All Novices please report to the Square for Master Eli’s First Discourse.”

  A command, Shaw noted. The word please didn’t mitigate.

  A moment later: “All other Companions who wish to hear Master Eli may attend as well.”

  The Square was a fifty-by-hundred-foot clearing in the portion of the camp near Eli’s residence. At the south side was a broad stage, whose backdrop was a purple banner with the words in dark gold: YESTERDAY, TODAY, TOMORROW, the same as the wrought-iron gate topper. Above the middle word was a large infinity symbol, also gold.

  The stage was about thirty feet across and bare except for three armchairs at the far right. Anja sat in one, Steve in another. The chair closer to center stage was higher. A throne.

  Shaw looked for Victoria. He couldn’t spot her in the crowd, which numbered maybe eighty or ninety people. Some of the Companions were chatting, some were silent and serious, some had smiles on their faces. In the center were the Novices, Apprentices and Journeymen. On the outskirts were the Inner Circle Companions, about two dozen of them. They were arrayed in fact in a circle.

  The entire camp appeared to be here, even though attendance was mandatory only for Novices.

  Synthesizer music suddenly filled the air: this time the entire “Ode to Joy” theme from Beethoven’s Ninth, a more rousing and, yes, joyous composition could be found nowhere in the classical repertoire. The ICs began clapping in time to the music, and Shaw realized that the meter was that of the clapping from last night. Everyone, including Shaw, joined in.

  For a minute or so the musical notes echoed through the valley, then they ended abruptly—though the clapping did not. The ICs kept it up, encouraging—requiring—the whole assembly to do the same. Finally Master Eli strode onto the stage, arms raised, radiating a smile. Anja and Steve were on their feet too and slapping their palms together like everyone else.

  Not all of the ICs were participating, though. Some held tablets and from time to time made notes or took videos of Eli and the crowd.

  Voices in the audience would yell “Master Eli!” There were cheers and impassioned cries whose words Shaw couldn’t make out because of the cacophony.

  Eli would occasionally point to someone in the audience and smile or give the shoulder salute.

  Then to everyone: “Greetings, my dear Companions!”

  Some in the audience cried out in response. The Inner Circle began calling, “Greet-ings, greet-ings!” lifting their arms and clapping in that 4/4 meter slap of palms. The ICs would make forays into the crowd to make sure the other Companions kept up the recitation. This rally-esque frenzy set Shaw on edge but he played along and kept a ridiculous smile plastered to his face as he recited the word over and over.

  Eventually the clapping and chanting petered out.

  “What a gorgeous group you are! Gorgeous!” Eli walked closer to the edge of the stage, which was about six feet high, unnecessarily lofty; though he wasn’t tall, he could easily have been seen from the back of the square if the platform had been half as high.

  “Welcome to my Discourse. First one. First time’s always good, right? You’re going to love it. I guarantee you that. All you Novices out there . . . you’re going to love it.” He looked to several Journeymen near the front of the stage. “Aren’t they going to love it?”

  The men and women seemed delighted to have been singled out. They nodded and beamed.

  “Sure you are. See? I’m telling you.”

  Clapping. Shaw’s hands were already stinging. He’d grow calluses if this kept up. His eyes met John’s, and the man gave a faint smile and flapped his hands, as if they stung. Shaw nodded back.

  Walter and Sally approached Shaw. He was surprised when Sally said, “Morning, Novice Carter.” That she’d retained Shaw’s name clearly pleased her husband.

  “What’ll this be?” Shaw asked, glancing toward the stage.

  Walter said, “Introduction to the Foundation and the Process. Meet the master. It’s for the newbies but, well, if you didn’t guess, Eli likes big audiences. I heard they take note about who doesn’t show up.”

  The infamous They.

  “It’s not a bad idea to sit through it again, though. The Process can be a little . . . ungraspable at first. If that’s a word.”

  “Ought to be, if it isn’t.”

  Eli walked slowly left to right, every eye following him, then he returned to center stage. He wasn’t in the sun, yet his face and white tunic glowed. There were no obvious stage lights but looking back Shaw saw several large halogens half-hidden in trees. There was no sound or light booth; it appeared that the beams were operated by a computerized system that followed him automatically wherever he moved onstage.

  Eli began speaking in a soothing baritone. “The Today that we live in is so brief. In the whole scheme of the Universe, it’s fleeting. A blink. You know what I mean?” He snapped his fingers. “There. Uh-oh. Missed it. Here, then gone. That’s why we can’t waste a second, not one single second, on regret, unhappiness, sorrow, anxiety, depression, mourning. Not one damn second. All those bad things that plague us. Can’t waste time.”

  Murmurs of agreement.

  “Nobody’s immune. They’ve plagued me, troubles have, I’ll tell you that.” He repeated slowly, “Bad things. Oh, the stories I could tell you about my past, my youth. Everything I’ve been through. Nobody’s been through harder times than I have. I know you’ve checked me out some. I know you’ve Googled me, right? Of course you have!”

  Which wouldn’t have done much good, since your minions acid-washed your presence right off the web.

  Eli pointed to the crowd. “You’re smart, you’re the smartest! You’re gorgeous!”

  “We love you, Master Eli!”

  Applause and cheers. He calmed them with a smile and a palm-down gesture, the way you’d still a jumping dog.

  “‘Googled’! How’s that for a word? In my day, we didn’t say, ‘I encyclopediaed somebody.’ Or ‘I libraried them.’”

  The crowd laughed and Colter Shaw, who had grown up in a tech-free home, decided that at last he and Eli agreed on something.

  “So. Fellow Companions, for those who don’t know what Google is, I’m going to tell you a little bit about Master Eli. My parents passed when I was young and I endured a series of foster homes. It was a difficult time for me, terrible. Abuse, deprivation. Living on the streets. I was beaten, I was robbed.”

  The hushed pedal tones of sympathy rose from the grounds.

  “Some of you may not believe it, looking at me now, but I was in bad shape. And—you’re my friends so I’ll share with you—I have no trouble sharing. So I’ll share with you that there were some bad people who took advantage of me. Some very bad people. The worst. They forced me to try drinking, try drugs. Oh, I stopped that. I knew that wasn’t good for me. I could do that, I could stop. It took strength but that’s one thing I have. Oh, I’ve got strengths you wouldn’t believe.

  “I can tell strong people. I can tell by looking who’s strong and who isn’t. I can see you’re strong too, aren’t you? I can see it. So I stopped all that bad behavior. I woke up one morning and said, ‘This isn’t right.’ And I kicked all the bad things out, the bad people. Nobody was going to get anything over on me ever again. I used my willpower and, bang, kicked all the bad stuff and bad people out.

  “I turned my life around. I graduated from high school in three years, valedictorian. I was captain of all sorts of clubs and teams. Football. You like football? I see the men out there, I’m looking at some players, aren’t I? I can spot you. And I’ll bet you ladies like to go to a game too now and then, right? Sure you do. That was my sport, football. Quarterback. Track and field too. I have a hundred trophies.

  “I got a business degree from one of the best colleges in the country, graduated at the top of my class. Summa cum laude. I started companies, a dozen of them
. They all did great. I made a ton of money, hired a ton of employees. Successful! All my companies. They were perfect, they were gorgeous! I made money hand over fist!”

  Shaw scanned the crowd. Mostly adoring faces. But some perplexed expressions too, among the Novices. Shaw finally spotted Victoria, in the back. Like everyone else, her notebook was tucked under her arm, freeing her hands for the clapping. Her face gazed at Eli with adoration.

  “But all the time I was leading the team to championships, a dozen championships, two dozen, all the time I was running my companies, the loneliness and depression were always there.

  “My life was loneliness, sadness. Missing my parents, missing my fellow foster brothers and sisters—I’d bond with them and then I’d be taken away from them. You know what that’s like, don’t you? Losing someone? Sure you do. You know how that stays with you, like a headache that just won’t quit. Like that splinter in your finger you just can’t get out.

  “And it wasn’t just me in pain. It was everywhere: people being discontented. In business, in their marriages. I didn’t know what to do about it. I tried that therapy stuff. You ever try that?”

  Bobbing heads.

  “Doesn’t work so great, does it?”

  Mutterings of agreement.

  “Like everybody else, I muddled along. I did the best I could. I made money. And I kept thinking I’ll just have to live with it. But I felt so helpless, right? You know that, don’t you? Of course you do.”

  “But then . . .” Eli eased closer to the edge of the stage. He looked his parishioners over, catching one Companion’s eye, pausing, then another’s. His next words were whispered. “But then something happened. Something big. It was a day in June. Very much like today. I can picture it now. I can see it perfectly. I was with some business associates driving to a meeting at one of my factories in the countryside.” He held his right hand up, palm out. “And in a flash . . .”