Sullenly, Herne handed Hicks four printed cards.
“Watch this,” said Hicks. Savagely, he tore all four cards into the tiniest bits he could manage, then threw them into an ashtray. “Now, maybe, we can get something accomplished.”
But nothing further was accomplished. When the session was over, the staff went back to a conference room, while Vano followed Herne Hill down to the first floor. Like a shadow, John trailed behind, making his sightless way down the stairs by hanging onto Herne’s apron strings.
Hill took out a plastic MCI card and began to ply it in the locked door of the print room. “I think we need to have a talk, mi amigo,” he said to Vano.
Vano didn’t answer. In medium hooommm, he read the large red sign on the print room door:
ABSOLUTELY NO ADMITTANCE
Herne was deft with the credit card. The door swung open. As soon as he turned on the lights he said, “I’m going to need the resources of this print room while I’m here.” He began opening cabinets.
Vano suggested, “Maybe it’s not wise to be here without permission. If you get caught there could be serious consequences.”
“More serious than being locked up in the puzzle house? Here—have a card.” He gave Vano one of the heavy water cards. “If it makes you feel any better, we’ll put John here at the door. He’ll be our lookout.” Saying this, Herne led John into position at the threshold.
Eventually, when words came, Vano said, “But John is blind. Do you think he’ll make an effective lookout?”
“He may be a little shaky at his post, but he’ll have fun. I’ve cut the pockets out of his pants so he can have direct access. He’s going to be into some ball and chain, big time.”
“I see.”
Hill gave it a wave of the hand. “Have no fear, amigo. I doubt if the staff here can find their ass with both hands. Anyway, we need to talk about your thing. Your hoom.”
Vano followed Herne to the paper cutter. If people insisted on saying it wrong, it was okay with him. “I’ve tried to explain hooommm in our group. I can’t think of much more to say about it, but I’m willing to try, if you’d like.”
Herne Hill said, “I’ve heard enough to tell you this: I think you’ve been contacted by the Federation.”
Vano’s vibrations intensified as if a switch had been thrown in his brain. He finally asked, “The Federation?”
“That’s what I’m sayin’. Either they’ve contacted you or you’ve contacted them. However you put it, it’s the same result.” Hill was stacking expensive stacks of bond flannel paper next to the cutter. It took Vano several moments to find his tongue:
“But I don’t know what the Federation is.”
“It’s a group consciousness thing. It’s made up of these thousands of beings who are on a very high plane. They’re highly evolved. They don’t need words to communicate. Some people are lucky enough to enter their flow of vibrations. I think you might be one of them—that’s what your hoom is telling you. Here, have a look at this.” Herne was showing Vano a sketch of a small building flanked by standards with large circles. It looked like a futuristic fast-food restaurant, but Vano was located in so deep that it took several moments to absorb any of the building’s particulars.
“This is the prototype of the Arcane Express,” Hill explained.
Vano wasn’t ready to shift gears. He asked him, “Who are the beings that make up the Federation?”
“Some of them are flesh and blood people, walking around on earth. But most of them are spirit beings who live in another dimension. If you get into their flow, you can feed on their vibrations.”
Vano felt swallowed up by the rich, orange vibes. “Do you think this is the meaning of hooommm, then?”
“I thought so from the first time I heard you speak of it, Amigo. In fact, it may be that you’re already a Federation member. I’ve heard tell that some people are in it for quite a while before they even realize it.”
Vano remained silent while Hill showed him some more drawings. “The Arcane Express is going to be a franchise business which I intend to start as soon as I get out of here.”
“You mean like McDonald’s?”
“In a way, but we’ll be doing readings and charts instead of burgers and fries. You see the circles here on top of these standards? Each one of these is going to be a marquee yin and yang.”
“It looks real nice,” said Vano. “Does the Federation have a purpose?”
“Since the Federation is on a higher plane, I think they work to uplift the human condition.” Then Hill began speaking of business cards and letterheads, but Vano was removed to a zone so remote he heard very few of the details.
It was shortly after lunch when Vano’s father arrived at the Arbors to meet in conference with the three staff members. The meeting opened with the congenial accoutrements of tea and cookies, but it didn’t take long for Vernon to get pissed.
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am for all you’ve done for Vano,” said Mr. Lucas. “I’m so grateful that he’s well now.”
Dr. Burgemeister registered a nervous smile before saying, “Well, we aren’t saying that he’s well per se, but we think he might do better at home.”
“If you’re sending him home, he must be well.”
“Well, not precisely.” Burgemeister swallowed before continuing, “We believe Vano has suffered from some kind of trauma which has manifested itself in certain elements of schizophrenia and certain elements of catatonia. Much of it seems to be on the subacute level.”
“What is that gobblydegook supposed to mean?” demanded Vernon.
Dr. Hicks explained, “What Dr. Burgemeister is getting at is that we have no idea what’s the matter with your son.”
“No idea you say?”
“Not the foggiest.”
Mr. Lucas stiffened his back. “I think you should know,” he said, “That I’m a very busy man. Strictly speaking, I’m retired from my corporation, but I have a large investment portfolio to manage. Furthermore, I do consulting work with CEOs in various parts of the country, which puts me on the frequent flyer roster. In short, I don’t have a lot of time to waste on Vano’s mental health. How do you evaluate his blow to the head?”
All three staff members exchanged blank stares. “Blow to the head?” asked Burgemeister thoughtfully.
“He got hit in the head by Jose Canseco’s bat!!” shrieked Vernon Lucas. “What in hell do you think this is all about!?”
Burgemeister chewed his pen. While he was trying to formulate an answer, Vernon escalated: “Vano was the greatest pitcher alive! He might still be again! He was hit in the head by a baseball bat, which knocked him into a coma! What do you think this is all about?”
The long, embarrassing silence which ensued was finally broken by Nurse Cubbage who said, “He never wants to talk about the past.”
“That’s right,” said Dr. Hicks. “According to your son, there is no such thing as the past. There is only the present moment.”
Burgemeister extended the pensive mode which claimed him by ruminating aloud: “Actually, that’s not quite it either. The present is only the transforming instant when future becomes past.”
Vernon was flabbergasted. “What are you, a bunch of idiots?! What am I paying you for? Jesus Christ!” But he was out of breath; he fumbled for his pills.
Noting the scarlet condition of Vernon’s scalp, Nurse Cubbage expressed concern for his health: “Are you on medication, Sir?”
“Yes, yes, I’m a heart patient. Never mind that. Does he want to go home? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I asked him that this morning,” replied Hicks. “I asked him if he didn’t think it was time to return to the real world.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘places are places.’”
Vernon groaned as he covered his face. “Places are places,” he whimpered.
“Would you care for a glass of water?” the nurse asked him.
Vernon ignored her. He sa
id to the group, “So tell me: if you have no idea what’s the matter with him, then what’s to be done with him?”
Burgemeister took over again. “We’ve tried a number of therapeutic techniques, and we have tried Vano on medication. None of these efforts has produced quite the result we might have hoped for.”
“Of course,” sighed Lucas Senior.
“There is much important research being done in San Francisco and other places in the area of brain chemistry and synapse dysfunction. There are several neurological tests which might be worth a try.”
Hicks broke in to say, “What Dr. Burgemeister is trying to say is that we have no idea what should be done for your son.”
Mr. Lucas’ back stiffened again before he said, “Let me tell you a little history. When Vano came along, it was just one of those accidents people have to put up with. My wife was in the hospital for appendicitis. When she came home, she had an infant with her. That infant was Vano. She found him in the hospital lost and found. She felt sorry for him, so she brought him home.”
“Oh my,” said Nurse Cubbage. “You mean he was just in with a bunch of scarves and gloves and car keys?”
“That’s about the size of it. Nobody ever did claim him. I was 55 years old at the time; I was not inclined to be a parent and god knows not interested in learning how. I said to my wife at the time, I said, ‘You found him, you can raise him.’ She said that was fine with her, she took care of all parenting, but then she died when the boy was only eight. We’ve had housekeepers ever since that time, and whatever parenting needed to be done, it was their job to take care of it. I’ve tried to throw enough resources Vano’s way to give him a comfortable lifestyle. Am I getting through to you people?”
“Certainly, Sir.” Nurse Cubbage assured him.
“Even more than you realize,” added Dr. Hicks.
Vernon rubbed his eyes before he continued. He looked as if he might begin crying at any moment. “He was the greatest pitcher alive. He might still be again. The time he’s spent in here will cost me a small fortune, but you people are telling me you have no recommendation what to do with him.”
“I can give you a recommendation,” said Dr. Hicks.
“Okay, let’s hear it. What do I do?”
“Do nothing,” answered Hicks.
“Do nothing?”
“Do anything. Do with him what you would have done if he’d never come here.”
“Well, what the hell. It would be cheaper to send him back to Entrada than it would be to keep him here. He’s not going to spend his time hanging around the house, I’ll goddam guarantee you that.”
Dr. Burgemeister approved with a broad smile. “That sounds fine. Send him back to college, just as if none of this had ever happened. The real world may be just what he needs.”
“You should’ve been there,” said Lucas Senior. “Vano blew away every Oakland hitter like it was little league. The 20 million signing bonus was right there on Rakestraw’s clipboard, where everyone could see.”
All three staff members had to wonder by this time whether Vernon’s fantasies weren’t perhaps even more enchanted than his son’s. The one thing Hicks knew for sure, though, was that there was an opening to conclude the meeting: “Vano is on a field trip with the other members of his unit,” he said to Lucas Senior. “You could pick him up tomorrow at about this time.”
Chapter Six
All 32 patients on Vano’s unit participated in the field trip to the zoo. Nurse Cubbage was the staff person in charge. After spending a brief period of time looking at the grizzly bears, the group made its way to the primate house.
In the primate house, they happened upon Professor Revuelto, who was convening his cultural anthropology class in front of two chimpanzee cages. Robin Snook, Mary Thorne, and Arnold Beeker were among the students Vano recognized immediately.
“I know these people,” said Vano to Herne Hill. “Two of them are my roommates at Entrada. This is my anthropology class.”
“Hot damn,” said Hill. “Life’s a beach, ain’t it?”
Professor Revuelto was mounting a rostrum to gain some height. He wore a maroon beret at a rakish angle, and a paisley neck scarf. He didn’t recognize the group of mental patients standing in such close proximity, but he did enjoy any contingency which might increase the size of his audience. He raised his arms for silence, then began to speak:
“Today we examine the phenomenon of the flexible thumb, and its crucial contribution to the development of our species. What more appropriate backdrop could there be than that provided by these great apes, who stand here as vivid reminders of our long evolutionary process?”
Revuelto paused long enough to wiggle his thumb at the members of the class. “A flexible thumb is something we take for granted,” he noted. “We never give it a second thought.”
Before he could continue, Revuelto was approached by a zoo man. The man asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Revuelto replied, “I am a professor from Entrada College. These are anthropology students. We are here to study evolutionary process.”
The name Hank was scripted in yellow thread above the zoo man’s left shirt pocket; he wore a navy blue cap that looked like a policeman’s cap. “I’m not sure you can do this,” he said. “I’ll have to talk to my superiors.”
“Madre de Dios!” exclaimed Revuelto. “I conduct this lecture here every year! I’ve been doing so for 20 years.”
“Like I say,” Hank repeated, “I’ll have to talk to my superiors. I’ll be right back.”
During this exchange, Robin Snook moved closer to Vano, clapped him on the back, and asked him when he was getting out of the looney bin.
“Sometime soon,” Vano said. “I’m not exactly sure when, though.”
This information pleased Robin, so he gave Vano another whack between the shoulder blades. Vano introduced Robin to Herne Hill. “It’s nice that the two of you can meet one another,” he said. “It may be that you have a lot in common.”
Robin and Herne exchanged a high five.
Using a loud voice, Revuelto reasserted his control of the class. “Pay no attention to the interruption,” he advised the students, “impertinent though it may be. The development of the flexible thumb was a crucial event in human evolution. Walking upright, with a flexible thumb, homo sapiens found a greatly increased capacity for gripping and balance. This quite naturally led to an increased capacity for hunting, making tools, using tools, and making weapons. Neither the phenomenon of man as hunter nor man as farmer could have occurred without the development of a flexible thumb.”
Robin Snook said to Vano, “What he’s saying here might be important.”
Vano was very deep in, but he managed to reply, “It might be very important.”
Revuelto continued, “Most of what we call human progress could not have happened without the flexible thumb. The things we think of as simple, such as washing dishes, baking bread, building a house, whittling a stick, even our sports and games. We could never have had these activities.”
“Now I know this is important,” insisted Robin Snook.
Hank the zoo worker returned to inform Professor Revuelto, “I couldn’t find my immediate superior. I’m going to have to take this straight to the top; it could take some time.”
Robin asked Revuelto if there could be football without the flexible thumb.
“Of course not,” answered the professor. “None of our modern games which require gripping, or throwing, or catching, would be possible without the flexible thumb development.”
“I was just thinking,” said Robin, “But couldn’t you play the line without a flexible thumb? Of course no way could you play the backfield without one, but you might be able to play the line.”
Revuelto smiled indulgently in Robin’s direction before saying, “Mr. Snook, you are missing the point. Our modern sports and games would not even exist without the flexible thumb development.”
“Don’t get me wro
ng, I don’t mean the defensive line, I’m just sayin’ the offensive line. See, in the offensive line you can’t use your hands anyway. When you block, you have to keep your hands in here, like this.”
“Mr. Snook, trust me on this.”
“Of course you couldn’t play center, I’ll grant you that. The center has to snap the ball and no way to do that without a thumb. What it boils down to is you could play offensive guard or tackle without a flexible thumb.”
Revuelto’s patience was wearing thin. “That ought to be more than enough discussion of football, I feel quite sure.”
Herne Hill spoke up: “I’m with you, Bro. What I’d like to know is, could you whack off with no flexible thumb?”
“Madre de Dios!” bellowed the professor. “I order you people to clear out immediately! This is an anthropology class.”
The chimpanzee behind Revuelto and to his right had achieved a semi-erection; he began to wave his pecker. John, Herne Hill’s little buddy, was standing next to Nurse Cubbage. He unzipped his pants and began to wave his own pecker.
John had a substantial organ. When the nurse helped him return it to his pants, she extended the procedure longer than necessary. She declared to no one in particular, “We’ve always assumed that John was completely blind. If he’s mimicking the chimp, it could mean that he has some partial vision. We’ll have to review the possibility at the next staffing.”
John said, “Llllllll.”
Recognizing the urgent need to recover control, Revuelto repeated his clearing-out order. He might have been successful in this attempt, but the larger of the two chimps got a firm grip on his scarf, gave a forceful yank, and twirled the professor in the direction of the cage. Pinned against the iron bars and crimson faced, Revuelto began to squeal for help.
“I think this lecture is over,” said Robin to Vano. “Why don’t you just come back with us?”
Vano was deep in. The long delay came before his answer, “I haven’t been released from The Arbors yet.”
Robin pressed him. “What difference could a few days make? You might as well come with us.”
Vano tried to think of a reason not to comply with the suggestion. “I might as well come with you,” he repeated numbly. He said goodbye to Herne and rode back to Entrada in one of the vans.
The Flex of the Thumb Page 12
