“Try what? This is just my program manager, there’s not even any application active. God knows what all we would need; probably a password and maybe even a user ID.”
Arnold was now a blip. Vano could hear him, but just above a distant muffled roar like a constant stormy ocean. After another lengthy pause he said, “Please use the key number. The computer will ask us questions and we’ll see if we have the answers.”
“Have the answers?”
“I mean maybe the answers will come to us.”
Arnold shrugged his shoulders. “You want me to type words on a program manager, not using any application. Okay, Buddy Boy, just check this out.” But to his amazement, Arnold discovered the letters he typed appeared on the screen, clear and bold. First, he shook his head several times in disbelief, then he went ahead and typed Access Fileserver Entrada Reg. 1 on the monitor.
“What’s that?” Vano asked.
“That’s the access code to the mainframe,” Arnold informed him. When the new instructions appeared on the monitor, Please Enter User Identification, Arnold’s disorientation escalated; he couldn’t fathom the first development, so how would he come to terms with this one? “This can’t be happening.”
“I think we should enter opposable thumb,” said Vano.
“Opposable thumb? Why not macaroni and cheese or coney dogs with onion? I mean, this is all nuts anyway, it can’t be happening.”
“I think it’s important.”
“No offense, Vano, but you’re talking to a program manager and getting answers! That’s not the way it works. I could tell you about the user ID problem and the password that’s probably involved, but none of this makes sense in the first place!”
Vano was sorry to see his friend so nonplussed. He smiled patiently before he said, “Please enter it, Arnold; can it do any harm to try?”
“Okay, okay, it can’t hurt to try. Just remember, I’m only doing this to make you happy.” Arnold typed Opposable thumb on the screen in crisp Helvetica letters. A few moments passed before the screen delivered a response:
Thank you.
Arnold Beeker shook his head before he got to his feet. “I have to go to the john,” he said.
He was gone for a few minutes but when he returned, he was still shaking his head. “I don’t understand any of this, Vano; this is downright scary.”
Vano smiled. He couldn’t feel any fear. Laughing out loud, Robin approached again to share another cartoon. This one showed dinosaurs behind the barn, sneaking cigarettes. “This is how the dinosaurs became extinct; get it?”
“I get it,” Vano said. Then he told Arnold, “I think you should run the program now.”
“Vano, you can’t do this. This is not how systems work.”
“Would you please try it, Arnold?”
Arnold gave up and tried. He typed Run Starpul.
Vano asked, “What’s that?”
“That’s the name of Crevecouer’s program.”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s the kind of thing I know, Vano; you might give me a little credit.”
At this point, Please Enter Password appeared on the screen.
This was Vano’s prompt to say, “I think the password is hooommm.”
A password can’t just be the first thing that pops into your mind. Besides that, nobody knows about hoom but you.”
“Actually, I’m not the first person to locate in hooommm. Not by a long shot. The particle people were quite clear about that.”
“But I’m trying to tell you how these systems work.”
Looking up from his cartoon collection, Robin interrupted: “Goddamit, I’m tryin’ to concentrate here. Do what he says, or I might have to coldcock you.”
Arnold swallowed before he said, “Okay, already. I’ll enter it.”
“Please be sure you spell it right,” Vano cautioned. “That’s three o’s and three m’s.”
“I’ll remember,” Arnold said meekly. He entered hooommm. Immediately the screen responded:
Loading Starpul
“We’re in,” Arnold announced. “I’m sorry, but I can’t believe what’s going on here. Vano, where do these things come from?”
“I think they don’t come from me,” Vano replied. “It must be that they come from the particle people.”
“Scarier and scarier,” Arnold declared. “It’s like you have a pipeline straight to God or something.”
Vano took the time to remind him, “Don’t forget what the particle people teach about God. The kind of God most people perceive doesn’t exist. There is the universe expanding and contracting. There are the waves and there are the particles.”
“This is no time for theology, Vano. I’ve spent years thinking up theories and then calculating the probabilities. One of my best theories is how the earth is actually an egg. Have I ever told you that one?”
“No, Arnold, I don’t think you ever have.”
Robin Snook groaned. He was eating from a large bag of pretzels. “I think what Vano meant to say is we’ve heard that theory before.”
Arnold ignored him. “The earth is a huge egg, and what we call the atmosphere is reallly an enormous membrane. It will take some cataclysmic event, such as nuclear war, to crack the membrane. That’s how the egg gets hatched.”
“It’s a real nice theory, Arnold.”
“That’s too brief a summary to really do it justice, but here’s what I’m saying to you: theories are theories, but what you’re doing is too real. It could even have real consequences. Do you see what I’m getting at?”
If he listened very carefully, Vano could hear Arnold’s voice where it penetrated his field of orange vibrations. He looked at Arnold down the long orange tunnel before he said, “Since we’ve come this far, maybe we should start running some data.”
“We might as well,” Arnold admitted. “It seems like we’re in the program.”
Then there was a knock at the door. Vano opened it to find Herne Hill standing on the threshold with John in tow. “Llllllll,” said John. Herne was carrying his french horn beneath his arm. “Hot damn, amigo! So soon we meet again!”
Vano said, “This is a pleasant surprise, Herne.”
“Life’s a beach, ain’t it?” Herne Hill entered the room. He gave Arnold Beeker a whack on the back, then exchanged a high five with Robin. He gave Vano the good news: “I’m on a roll, compadre! I’m here for an interview with your president so I can teach a course in astrology. Besides that, the Arcane Express is off the ground. I got ten thousand bucks through the mail for start-up money! Am I on a roll, or what?!”
Vano smiled. Robin asked, “Who gave you the money?”
“I’m not sure,” said Herne. “The letter wasn’t signed. It was written on Salvation Army stationery, so I guess it must’ve been them.” Then he announced that he had five thousand fliers printed up for advertising. Robin wanted to know how he intended to circulate them.
“I ain’t got a clue.”
“You leave those babies to me,” said Robin. He took a look at his watch, which had a calendar. “My suspension is up in just a few days. I’ll leaflet your fliers from the sky.”
“This is outrageous!” exclaimed Herne. “When you’re hot, you’re hot!” Robin offered Herne some pretzels and a cold can of Coors Light.
Arnold was tearing off segments of computer printout, inspecting them, then tossing them into the waste basket. With his mouth full of pretzels, Herne asked him what he was doing.
As briefly as he could, Arnold summarized the project.
“So how’s it going?” asked Hill.
“So far, not too well. I don’t have the right framework in place yet. I’m still in the preliminary stages. This is going to take a lot of gray matter. I can only hope I’m up to it.”
“Have you accounted for harmonic convergence?” Hill asked him.
Arnold drew a blank. “Have I accounted for what?”
“Harmonic convergence. You can’t really ta
lk about gravitational deviations without including the energy caused by the alignment of the planets. Know what I mean?” Herne stuffed six pretzels into his mouth, then washed them down with a long swallow of brew.
“I’m not exactly sure what you mean,” said Arnold. “Please continue.”
Herne belched loudly before he said, “On August 16, nine of our planets were aligned in a configuration called a grand trine. This phenomenon resulted in major energy all over the globe, which converged and harmonized with itself.”
“That’s interesting,” said Arnold politely, “but that was three months ago.”
Herne opened a second beer before he continued. “True, it’s too late for the grand trine, but there are elliptical trines. There will be elliptical trines from time to time throughout this calendar year.”
“There’s not much of the calendar year left,” said Arnold. “Where would I find the data?”
“It’s all in a book by Arguelles called The Mayan Factor. He’s got it all calculated, even down to the details in the Aztec and Mayan calendars. If I had my copy with me, I’d be glad to loan it to you.”
This information accelerated Arnold Beeker’s enthusiasm. He turned to Vano, “You know what, Vano, what Herne is saying could be crucial to our project. With Revuelto’s manuscript and Crevecouer’s program, what we’re targeting is place. Herne is pointing out that we need to establish the time factor as well.”
Vano was in deep and comfortable. He said, “I think it sounds real nice.”
Arnold found this remark inadequate. “Is that all you can say?”
Vano added, “I could check the Arguelles book out of the library if it would help.”
“You probably could, but we may be on the verge of a monumental discovery here. At least you could show a little enthusiasm.”
Vano smiled before he pointed out, “Conventional enthusiasm is not a part of hooommm. It’s a very level place.”
“That’s what you always say.” Turning back to Herne Hill, Arnold asked, “Do you suppose you could stay for a few days? If I’m going to run harmonic convergence data through this program, I could use your help.”
Herne was mellowed out completely. He said, “John and I have no place to hang our hat, we’d be honored to bunk in with you for a few days.”
“You hear that, Vano? What do you think?”
“I think it would be very nice.”
Just then, Sister Cecilia entered the room, carrying a basket of laundry.
Although he had never met her, Herne Hill recognized her immediately. “Hot damn! You must be Sister Cecilia! At last we meet!”
Since Sister had never seen Herne before, she was confused, even as he began pumping her hand vigorously. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Little Lady, especially those glorious tits of yours!”
Sister recoiled, clutching a stack of folded tee shirts against her chest. She turned to Vano for solace, “Vano, listen how this man is speaking to me!”
“This is Herne Hill, Sister. He means no harm; it’s just his manner of speaking.”
Hill continued to address her: “I have a mental image of your body burned into my brain. It couldn’t be more permanent if it was put there by a branding iron. The first time I heard your tits described, I damn near had to leave the room so as to take a few off.”
“Vano, can’t you do something?”
“He already has,” Herne informed her. “His inspired description of your torso will cause a thousand wet dreams, or I’ll eat my Harley buckle.”
Sister began to dab at her moist eyes with Arnold’s Kleenex. “Vano, did you tell about that night?”
Vano was deep, deep in, but he remembered. “I’m pretty sure the answer is yes.”
“You told about that night!”
“It’s true,” he had to admit. “They wanted to hear about my first experience in deep hooommm.”
She turned to Herne Hill for solace: “How could he do such a thing?”
“Think nothing of it, Little Lady. In the puzzle house, they hold nothing sacred. They drag everything right out of you.”
“Is this true, Vano?”
“I believe it to be true.”
“They scrape out your innermost secrets,” Hill added, “And then try to convince you it’s all for your own good. Vano had no choice, believe me.”
Robin interrupted to say, “Let me make a suggestion. If Herne wants a better look at Sister’s boobs, he’ll just have to get up early and shower with her. The same as everybody else.”
“I ought to be able to commit to that,” said Herne. “Tell me what time the showering commences.”
“About 7:30,” said Robin.
“I’ll be there,” said Hill.
Vano was patting Sister Cecilia on the shoulder. “Do you feel better now?”
“Yes, I do.” said Sister. “Thank you, Robin.” She dabbed her eyes again before blowing her nose. “I don’t mean to be a pill,” she explained, “It’s just hard being one of the boys sometimes.”
Arnold said, “I have another suggestion. Since you’re both musicians, why not play something together?”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” said Sister Cecilia. She took her trombone from the case while Herne moistened the mouthpiece of his french horn. The smell wasn’t lost on John. “Llllllllll,” he said.
The two of them played three hymns together, the last of which was When the Roll is Called up Yonder. They cobbled their separate styles together surprisingly well. Their encore was a rousing brass arrangement of Dueling Banjos.
It wasn’t until a couple of days later that Herne got his invitation to interview with President Rose. He invited Vano to come with him.
“I think I would enjoy coming with you,” said Vano.
As they were passing the main desk, Mrs. Kuetemeyer asked Herne if he could really play the French horn.
“You damn straight.” To demonstrate, he blew a few bars of the Marlboro Man theme.
“Go ahead, then,” said Mrs. Kuetemeyer.
Herne Hill had his motorcycle parked at the curb, an imposing blue and white Harley-Davidson Electra-Glide. “A little of my startup money is invested right here,” he told Vano. “When the cash starts rolling in, I’m going to have a stereo and a miniature TV installed in this panel here.”
“That sounds real nice, Herne.”
Vano climbed aboard behind John, who was getting in place behind Herne. Owing to these cramped conditions, John’s unruly thatch of brown hair was nearly flush with the tip of Vano’s nose. Vano could see several tiny, pale insects maneuvering along the scalp.
They whisked away to the administration building on the huge, sleek Harley. Mrs. Askew showed them inside, where the threesome stood in front of Reggie Rose’s desk. Herne Hill introduced himself first, then John, and finallly, Vano.
“Vano Lucas?” President Rose repeated the name. “Do I know you?”
From his ultra deep location, Vano was able to observe, “I don’t think we’ve ever met.”
“I’m sure your name sounds familiar, though.” But Reggie was too unsettled by the appearance of Herne Hill to give the matter any further attention. He took a long look at Herne’s leather vest and trousers, his bushy beard, his Harley accessories, his French horn, and his feral eyes. God in Heaven, Reggie thought to himself. Is this to be the teacher? When the president finally found his tongue, he asked, “Why is John here?”
“John is blind in this right eye, and 90 percent blind in the left one. He is deaf and dumb. And I do mean dumb, for his IQ is located somewhere in the range known as profoundly retarded. He’s also emotionally disturbed. I usually take him wherever I go; it wouldn’t be safe to leave him alone and unattended.”
John said, “Llllllll.”
“I can see your point,” said Reggie Rose, “But what does he do?”
“I’ve taken John on as my business associate,” Herne explained. “He doesn’t have to do anything except sit where customers can look at him. He has a cer
tain mystical quality which is good for business. In fact, if you take a close look at this eye here, you’ll see how it looks like a miniature crystal ball.” He was pointing to John’s cloudy right eye.
“I see,” murmured the president, fearing he was firm in the middle of a terrible mistake.
There was at this point in the conversation a protracted lull. Vano was in so deep that he could view this meeting along the far edge of the horizon. Taking advantage of the lull, Vano said to President Rose, “I’m a student here. I’m a friend of Herne’s. If you prefer, I can leave.”
Reggie wasn’t sure how to respond. His mood was essentially upbeat, because Bertie Kerfoot was visiting her sister in Palm Springs.
It turned out not to matter. Herne Hill took up his French horn and said, “For my first number, I’d like to play The Wayward Wind, an old hit from the fifties by Gogi Grant.” He proceeded to play the number without a single mistake.
Reggie brightened. “That’s very good,” he had to admit. Mrs. Askew appeared briefly from her own work area, but long enough to close the door.
“Thank you,” said Herne Hill. “The French horn repertoire is rather limited, as I’m sure you know. But The Theme from Robin Hood is always a favorite. That will be my next number.” This second number was so flawless in its appointment that Reggie was truly impressed.
“My final selection is one I’ve been working on lately. It’s the theme from Dallas. Here goes.” The theme from Dallas was even more inspiring than the first two offerings.
With a rush of enthusiasm, Reggie Rose jumped to his feet. He came out from behind his desk and began pumping Herne Hill’s right hand. “Egad, you can play that horn! I’m so glad I didn’t judge you based on my first impression. The job is yours!”
Vano, Herne, and John returned to the dorm. Herne announced to Robin and Arnold, “Buddy boys, I am in. I am now a member of the faculty.”
Robin gave him a high five and a cold beer. Hill said, “When you’re hot, you’re hot! If you boys are ever lookin’ for a stone cold A, you just sign yourselves up for Astrology 101.”
Then Herne broke open a large box of individually-wrapped Twinkies. He and Robin put their feet up. Arnold Beeker might have participated in the giddiness of this euphoric moment, had it not been for his immediate computer agenda. “Please sit down,” he said to Vano. “I have to show you this printout.”
The Flex of the Thumb Page 16
