Counting Up To Infinity

by Allen Fleishman

  Phyllis: I need a few more minutes. How’s your dad doing?

  David: No idea. Hold on.

  David pulled up the different point of views from his father’s cameras and eyes. At first it looked blurry, but then he realized that his father had just been repositioned along a foreign road, Chee’our’i's doing. David could make out some squalid houses and then he saw a classic Chinese-type home. Martin was standing on a dirt road flanked by field which must have been rice. In the distance a woman, an older woman was pedaling toward Martin. On the back of her bicycle was a set of trays tied onto the rear fender. Martin lifted up a hand. The oriental, probably Chinese woman slowed as she coasted to a stop. David could see that she appeared to be in her late-sixties. However, she might be younger due to a hard life. Her face was partially hidden by a pair of sunglasses and a straw hat. Her face was tanned and well lined, no doubt from working in the sun. The woman absent-mindedly mopped her forehead and pushed the hat back onto her shoulders. David noticed that the temperature was registering in the low 50s. She was dressed in many layers. It wasn’t possible to see how Martin was dressed. All David could see was the sleeves of a white shirt.

  David heard Martin say in Chinese, “Grandmother Meiling, they say you sell the best fish and fuzzy melon soup in the province.”

  The woman cocked her head ever so slightly, “You speak Chinese perfectly.”

  Martin shook his head in agreement, “I’ve been practicing. You can understand me?”

  “Yes. Where are you from, this road is a long way from the City.”

  “Oh, I’ve been doing a lot of traveling. May I buy a bowl of soup, please?”

  The woman got off her bike and removed a top tray. Under it was a tray filled with plastic bowls of a watery broth with a few pieces of vegetable and white shards of meat. Martin looked down into his hands and David saw a wallet. Martin took out a twenty dollar bill. “I am out of Yuan. Will you accept American money? It’s worth about 140 Yuan.”

  The woman took the money and her eyes grew suspicious. Finally, she reached to hand it back. “I can’t take it. I charge only a single Yuan for a bowl.” David estimated that the bowl of soup would cost about fourteen cents. David guessed that the twenty dollar bill was equal to her entire sales for the day. No, he recalculated, four days. She looked at the money carefully. It was likely that she had never seen an American bill before, she was probably wondering if it were real. Martin hadn’t moved his own hands. “Well maybe you can help me first. Do you know of a farmer call Chenfu Yee?”

  “Yes, he lives up the road about two kilometers from here.”

  “I was told he is a very skilled and creative farmer.”

  “That was before the accident.”

  Martin asked, “Accident? Can you tell me more?”

  Meiling shrugged, “He made a pump for his fields and irrigated his land. It went well until the water proved to be full of the chemicals the tanners used. His pregnant wife on eating some carp from the ditches got sick then died three weeks ago. She would have had a son. He is pitied by all in Huizhou village. I haven’t heard anything more about him lately. I think he was too smart for his own good.”

  “Surely Grandmother, one can’t be too smart. From what you say, his problem was that he trusted his neighbors not to poison their own lands. The same water which has quenched the thirst of all his ancestors was poisoned by a few greedy men.”

  “Perhaps. That is the way of things.” The old woman again shrugged her shoulders.

  “Maybe I have a way for you to accept my money. Without a wife to feed him, he could use a good meal. Could I ask you to bring him some soup? This way I could have one also. You can keep the rest of the American money for your time.”

  The money was still gripped in her fingers. She looked down at it and then at the untouched soup still in Martin’s hand. She nodded. Martin lifted the bowl and took a long sip. “Delicious.” He then slowly finished it, eating the morsels of melon and fish with his fingers. “That was delightful.”

  Martin handed the empty bowl back to the woman and did a slight bow. “May I accompany you?”

  “I would be honored. Are you an American?”

  “Yes, originally from New York City, many decades ago.”

  “You left when you were a baby?”

  ‘Many decades ago.’ David knew that Martin would look like a teenager. Martin did not answer as she finished tying the trays back onto her bike. She started to ride slowly back in the direction she came from. Martin jogged alongside easily. “So Grandmother, are you married?”

  “An old woman like me. Who wants an old woman with bad legs?”

  “Did you always have bad legs?”

  “No, only in the last few years.”

  “Chee’our’i says they will be able to fix bad legs.”

  The old woman turned her head to stare at Martin. She held his gaze for a number of seconds. A car passed them as she shifted to face the road again. She said, “That is the way the God pronounces his name. You must have practiced.”

  Martin nodded then said, “Yes. So tell me, besides being smart what can you tell me of the Farmer Chenfu?”

  “They say he gets moody often.”

  “When the God spoke to us, it said that such problems will be cured next week. Are you looking forward to being reborn? A new life? A husband?”

  The old woman smiled. “Who would want an old fat woman like me? Please don’t tease.”

  “Tease, tease? Were you old and fat when you were 20? You were probably slim and healthy then, full of live and vitality, with legs which could walk all day long.”

  She looked again at the man who was easily keeping pace with her. “You really believe what it said is true?”

  “Oh yes. I know people who were treated by Panacea. It is true. When you awaken, you will be young again.”

  They traveled on in silence for another five minutes when she stopped. Martin stopped as well. She was studying his face very carefully, when she asked, “How old are you?”

  “62.”

  “Years?” Martin shook his head affirmatively.

  “You didn’t meet me by accident then?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Chenfu Yee will die in two days without your broth. He hasn’t eaten in six days. He hasn’t wanted to live since his wife died. He knows nothing about Chee’our’i. If you bring him the soup he will live. Otherwise he dies.”

  “Why?”

  “Some deaths can be prevented by writing a note and telling a driver to take a left turn on a road. Other deaths can be prevented by a simple drug administered by a light touch to the lips. Other deaths can be prevented by a delicate maiden’s soup, a held hand, and kind words.”

  David saw that Martin was looking directly into her eyes. Meiling blushed. She then asked,

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you to be prosperous and happy. In a few years, your husband will tell you of a crazy-wild idea to bring a farm to the stars, actually the Mars asteroid belt. Tell him you think it’s a good idea and assist him in every way.”

  “My husband? But”

  Martin brought a finger to his lips and said “Shhh. I don’t think you should tell anyone about me until you’re in space. However, as much as I’d like to go the rest of the way, I need to make a few more stops this morning.”

  The last image of China was of a wide-eyed old woman bringing her hands to her mouth. The view of the flat farmlands of China was replaced by a blurry, then sharp mountainous backdrop. Martin was in a valley surrounded by mighty peaks. Twenty feet away was a small sod hut. Dark steam rose from its chimney. A thin crust of snow was between Martin and the door. A dog started barking.

  David: Great job Dad.

  Martin: Oh David! You startled me. Were you watching?

  David: Yeah. What’s next on your list?

  Martin: One second, I need to review it. Oh y
es, prevent a man from committing suicide by killing his rich uncle. He’ll become the mayor of this village then a governmental assistant, who would have figured?

  David: Have fun dad.

  David: Speak to you later.

  David shifted around in his chair. David checked his clock. It was after nine.

  David: Dad’s saving lives. Phyl about ready?

  Phyllis: Yes hun. Meet me by the elevator.

  David left his office and started for the elevator. Its door opened as Phyllis met him by it. The C H Enterprises building was close to empty at this late hour.

  Phyllis asked, “So were you busy too?”

  David replied, “Yeah, I called up 8,108 people on the list that Josh gave me. And you?” They walked through the atrium door; the guard was watching something on the monitor.

  Phyllis said, “Only 24. And each one was a joy, a precious joy.”

  Phyllis thought back to her hardest telephone call, a woman in England. “Hello, Shahira?”

  “Yes, who is this?”

  “My name is Phyllis, I was asked to speak to you by one of Chee’our’i 's avatars.”

  In an indignant voice Shahira said, “Excuse me?”

  “I was asked by an Avatar for your help in saving a very precious life.”

  In a chipped English accented voice the middle-eastern woman said, “An avatar! Chee’our’i! I do not believe in all that hogwash.”

  Phyllis said, “It doesn't matter if you believe in Chee’our’i, or the existence of its avatars, but it is important for you to know that Chee’our’i and the avatars know the past and the future unless the future is changed. We all have free choice, by knowing the future you can change it. To expedite things, so you can believe me, why don't you ask three questions that only you would know?”

  “Uh, OK, What did my father call me when I was a little girl?”

  “Little Princess.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “Like I said, the Avatars know the past.”

  “What is my ...”

  “Favorite food? Pomegranate stew with goat. In fact, you were just thinking about your mother cooking it at the Festival of Sacrifice last year.”

  “Who did I have a crush on when I was 13?”

  “An Algerian boy who lived up the block on Hall Street. You never told him. Like I said I was told you were going to ask these questions and was told the answers. Chee’our’i feels that it is up to the humans to save themselves. Outside of his law on forbidding murder, what people do is up to themselves. They can suicide by acting to kill others. We want you to prevent such a suicide. Your brother will drive a van near the Israeli Consulate, and attempt to push a switch, arming a bomb, and then drive into the building, while most people are undergoing the Panacea transformation. When you awaken, you will be told about your brother's van parked, out of gas. The doors will be locked and nothing but a burnt-out gold cigarette with two inches of ash will be found in the driver's seat. You will find explosives filling the entire back of the van. He never gets to press the arming button. Your brother will be smoked.”

  “My brother, my brother? I spit on that man. He tried to kill me. I have a three inch scar on my chest. No thanks to him, I lived. He said I was a cheap whore, and blackened our family name. Why? Because I love my non-Persian fiancé. I slept with my husband-to-be. After my brother almost murdered me, he got my family, my mother, my father and three sisters to disown me. I am without a name, without a family, and without honor. You want me to save that man?”

  Slowly Phyllis said, “Yes. Yes, what he did was horrible … despicable … repugnant. However, you are going to live for thousands and thousands of years. You will be married and your family in Iran will eventually accept you and your Irish husband, even if you let Abdul suicide. They won't know you could have saved him. In fifty years, you will feel tremendous guilt for letting him die. On the other hand, if you so choose, you can save Abdul. You two will be best of friends, your best friend. He will help you get re-integrated with the Persian community. He will convince your family to reunite. Like I said, the choice is yours. Your physical scar will be healed in five days, in any case.”

  “You want me to save that hypocrite, that murderer? Do you know he is sleeping with two women himself? He frequently touches liquor. Yet he still quoted Sharia rules to me. He almost murdered me. In my eyes, he is dead. Dead. He deserves what he has sown. Insallah.” As Allah wills.

  Phyllis quickly said, “Remember Ibrahim.” Phyllis heard the phone slam down on its cradle. Ibrahim was the leader of a bunch of older boys who mercilessly teased Shahira when she was a physically mature thirteen years old, until her younger brother heard of it. The much smaller Abdul had launched himself at the taller, older, and heavier boy. Abdul was beaten up and expelled from school for a week for the attack. However, Ibrahim never bothered Shahira after that.

  Dee had run the numbers and it was 80% likely of success. Phyllis was still waiting for a reply from Dee, if she were successful or not.

  “Yeah,” said Phyllis, “some were harder than others. To change the topic somewhat, have you sensed anything odd with the wunderkind?”

  They exited the building into the darkened street. The street was quiet and empty at this late hour. The only other person around was the guard still sitting inside the vestibule of the building, visible through the thick Plexiglas walls. David had extended their hours for the next week. David stretched and took a deep breath of the spring air. He said, “Not really unusual. They've been talking to me a bit less than usual. Thirty-six percent. They cut back on some of my Sentient training, but they're particularly busy now-a-days.”

  Phyllis said, “Not just the amount of time they spend talking, but how they talk. More distant?”

  David said, “Do you think that they want to distance themselves from the mundane, commonplace folk who used to run the world?”

  Phyllis shrugged, “It’s probably just their jitters about the first Rapture. There are so many things that can go wrong. I guess I’m at edge too.”

  “If anything goes wrong, they'll know who or what did it. If it’s serious, they will correct it. By the way, I asked Le Chef to cook us something light tonight, a lentil soup with ham, a crusty peasant's bread and a salad.”

  “Light, Hmmph, you don't know the meaning of that word. What do you say I cook tomor ...”

  David heard a crack. In a fifth of a second, he identified it as a high caliber gun shot. He looked at Phyllis and saw a red stain starting to appear on her right side. It was spreading. “Phyllis, turn your force field on.” David shouted. He barely jumped back in time as Phyllis’ force field activated. The completely reflective bubble was buried nine inches into the concrete sidewalk. Estimating the direction of the shot, David scampered behind the force field.

  David: Phyllis has been shot. Uhhh, about the fourth intercostal space. The gunman is still out there.

  As if the gunman heard him, David heard a second shot fired.

  David: Please hurry, send an ambulance and police.

  Joshua: Don’t worry David. Help is on the way.

  David: Tell them where she was hit.

  David activated the rooftop monitors and the swarm of ‘eyes’; he turned them in the direction of the shot. He also pulled in the nearest flying bricks and directed them to the estimated direction at maximum speed. Hilda and Hansel were also on the way. Three seconds later David identified the infrared signature of a sharpshooter, prone on a hillock 400 yards away. The man was wearing camouflage, which was completely ineffective to infrared. David directed the brick to impact the man’s side. David turned off the stealth mode for the last two seconds of the descent of the brick. The sharpshooter tried, ineffectively, to roll to one side.

  David: I see a sharpshooter. Only one. Send the police.

  Dee: Help is on the way. Don’t worry David. Things are under control.

  David heard a siren in the dista
nce. The sharpshooter, nursing his side attempted to stand, but was tripped by a second brick, as it flew into the man’s leading foot. David could hear a curse, as the man attempted to rise again. He took a short few steps but was driven to the ground by a brick hitting the back of his knee. Attempting to stand the third time, he came face to face with Hilda as she put her muzzle around his throat. The gunman made an ineffective attempt to swing his rifle around to hit the dog, but it was blocked by a second dog, which had grabbed his right arm. Hilda dragged his body forward as he saw two bricks on either side of his head. They were quickly moving a foot toward him and then back, threatening to crush his head in. The dogs were growling very menacingly. He made one more attempt to rise when the dogs tightened their grip and the bricks flew within a fraction of an inch of his head. The sirens were louder and the flashing lights were now apparent. The gunman cursed as he laid down, not moving. David looked around and brought a third and fourth brick into range. The only infrared image was himself, the dogs and the gunman. No, he corrected himself, a car was left running two blocks away on the side of a public roadway. A very quick check indicated that the license didn’t match any employee.

  David: I found his car. He was alone. Tell the police to do a paraffin test on his clothes and hands.

  Joshua: Don’t worry David, he won’t get away. We can promise you that. I’m so sorry about Phyllis, David.

  David: What do you mean – sorry. She’s bleeding to death, Phil is dying. You did nothing. I can’t free her.

  The guard exited his vestibule, running. David patted his pockets then said, “Quick, give me your phone.”

  The guard handed David his phone. David took it and pounded on the force field. He didn’t hear anything. David moved his mouth to an inch of the sphere and yelled, “Phyllis, turn off the field. Turn off your field.” David pounded again with the phone. The battery fell out and the screen cracked into many pieces of plastic.

  David: Dad, she’s been shot.

  Martin: I know.

  David: I don’t know how long she’ll be in there. She’s bleeding to death.

  Martin: Can’t you turn it off?

  David: Only from the inside.

  Joshua: Think David. Calm down and think. When did she last recharge it?

  David thought for a moment.

  David: Last Wednesday.

  Joshua: Run some simulations and determine how much charge would remain.