The Cocoon Trilogy

by David Saperstein

  As the blue faded to yellow he spoke to Amos Bright. “I have a…a girl friend. She lives with me. She is going to wonder where I am.” Amos thought for a moment and replied, “You will have to call her. Use your radio phone on your boat. Tell her that the charter will be out for a week. That will give some time to think of how to deal with her.” You’re a clever spaceman, Jack thought. He agreed to the plan. They had been in the room for a half hour. The food was more than he’d expected. Steak with french-fried potatoes, salad, wine, and coffee. If that was a sample of the treatment he would receive for his services, Jack felt better about his situation.

  The room moved to a pale orange as Amos stood. “I think we can get to work now. The processing area is prepared.” He motioned Jack to precede him through the door and, without thinking why, Jack turned left and walked down the hall to an orange door where he heard a faint hum coming from behind it. Amos and Jack were then joined by the two men who had been wearing the copper suits earlier in the day. They were still wearing the suits, and on close inspection Jack saw that the fabric was made of tiny hexagons fitted together without any obvious stitching. The fabric was a deeper red than copper, but definitely metallic.

  Amos opened the orange door and they entered a large room that resembled a modern health club. Along the left wall were metal cabinets the shape of the cocoons. There were twelve of them. They looked like tall steam cabinets. A misty vapor rose from ten of them. The order in the room was sweet and pleasant, like the mild perfume that Judy had worn at his brother’s wedding. He put her out of his thoughts and concentrated on the rest of the room.

  There was a large, square table in the center of the room - about eight feet by eight feet. Above it loomed a large conical lamp. Harry and Hal were standing at the table. They nodded at Jack, smiled, and then moved toward the first metal cabinet. The far wall was partially hidden from view by the center table, but Jack could make out what appeared to be a row of cots with blankets and pillows. Above the cots were smaller versions of the large center lamp. On the right side of the room was a huge viewing screen. It took up the entire forty foot wall, and ran from floor to ceiling. Cinemascope, Jack mused. A noise from the back left hand corner of the room got his attention. Through the mist he saw that two commanders, James and Bill—Shiny White and Shiny Black—had entered the room. They were met at the center table by the copper men. Although there were no words, Jack sensed that they were communicating. Amos touched Jack on the shoulder and guided him to a raised chair halfway between the wall screen and the center table. Jack climbed into it. “You can watch from here. Please don’t interrupt. Any question you may have will be answered later” The silent conversation continued at the center table. Hal and Harry were in the mist near the first metal cabinet, intent on whatever they were doing. Amos Bright joined the others in the center. Jack felt as though he was on a movie set, sitting in the director’s Chair, only he had no idea of the script or what the actors were going to do. He had been on a few movie set. Judy was an actress and lately there had been several movies shot in Florida. She had had a minor role in a low-budget film last month. Jack had come to the location to pick her up one day. They were working late and he was allowed to hang around in the background until they finished. He had been interested at first, but after watching take after take, he realized how boring the process was. They were doing a scene in a bar and Judy was playing the part of a hooker. Two men were jockeying for her attention and the director wanted to play the scene in one long take from the time the second man walked into the bar until the fight between the two men broke out. It was about three minutes of dialogue. It required a tough bit of acting by Judy. She was very good. Jack watched and was proud of her and her talent. But after they had done the scene seven times, Jack could see the actors were getting tired. The last two takes had been lost because the camera had bumped into a table once and into an extra who forgot to get out of the way the second time. As those takes were spoiled the cameraman had yelled “Cut!” The director went through the roof and chewed out the grip – the man who was pulling the camera dolly. The cameraman interceded on behalf of the man and told the director to shove it up his ass because it was an almost impossible shot and move and they were doing their best. The grip was then forgotten as the confrontation between the director and the cameraman and grew into a screaming match. Suddenly, the director spun away from his adversary, yelled, “Wrap it for the day!” and walked off the set.

  There was a moment of silence and then the assistant director had yelled, “Wrap! Seven tomorrow. We are in the same place.” The lights started to go out and as he left with Judy they passed the assistant director talking to the bar owner about what it would cost to close the bar for the night so that they wouldn’t have to move the equipment and lights. All Jack heard was the assistant director saying, “Five hundred bucks? Shit! You don’t do five hundred bucks a week here...”

  Judy was a pretty girl. She was not beautiful or exotic, but sweet, pretty and smart. She was a child of the seventies - serious about her career and herself. The only vestige of the sixties that she carried was a mild interest in rock music. She dressed fifties and her hair and makeup were forties. These days she had a permanent and wore deep red lipstick.

  The thought of that lipstick color jolted Jack back to reality, if what was going on in this room could be called reality. He was suddenly aware that the screen behind him had turned a deep penetrating red color. It bathed the room in red light. The conical light above the large center table was also glowing red.

  From the corner where Jack had seen Hal and Harry working, there came a screech like the sound of chalk on a blackboard, then a loud hiss. Red, steamy mist shot out of the first metal cabinet as it opened, The two blond men rolled a jitney to it, removed a cocoon from the cabinet, placed I ton the jitney and moved it briskly toward the center table.

  CHAPTER TEN - THE ACTOR, THE AD MAN AND THE POOL

  Art Perlman and Bernie Lewis stood clapping as Ben approached. Joe Finley continued shuffling the cards. He had been at the meeting that morning when the final confrontation took place in the manager’s office.

  In a few moments they would all sit under the gold-and-white umbrella with the Antares logo shading them from the bright Florida sunlight. They would play their ritual gin game until lunch. Today would be different, however, because the gurgling sound of the pool filling would serenade them while they played. Yes, Joe thought, it is a sweet sound. He knew what it represented was winning. For Ben, it was as though he had closed a big advertising account and for Joe it was as if he had landed a juicy part in a Broadway show. For each of the retired men this morning had been a triumph.

  Joe Finley had been an actor, a bartender, a salesman, a taxi driver, and an elevator repairman. He had done many other odd jobs too many to remember. And he’d served eight years in the army from 1941 to 1949. He had seen combat in Europe but never spoke of it. He thought of himself only as an actor. That was his love and the only joy he could remember besides being married to Alma. His first wife, Dotty, had walked out on him after sixteen years of marriage and two kids. They had lived in Boston, and although they hadn’t been poor, life had been without many of the luxuries that Dotty saw on television every day. It finally became too much for her and she succumbed to what Joe liked to call “Her American Dream.” She met a Widower. He fell in love with her. He had money and was willing to support the kids and send them to college. Most important, he was eager to give Dotty all the material things that she hungered for. Joe and Dotty had had so many fights about money that when she came to him and told him she wanted a divorce Joe just nodded and said, “Okay.” That was too easy for Dotty, so she proceeded to tell him every detail of her recent adulterous life with Mr. Moneybags and outlined every detail of her future life with him and the kids. But Joe just didn’t care anymore. Their life had been a struggle and arguments. All Joe could think of was Martin Luther King’s epitaph. “Free at last ... free at last ... oh, my
God, I’m free at last.” He had no remorse about his two daughters leaving him, either. He loved them, but they were carbon copies of their mother. He knew that someday they would make their husbands miserable, harping on them for material possessions and luxuries.

  After the divorce Joe moved to New York and rented a small studio apartment on the lower West Side of Manhattan. He drove a cab during the day and joined a small off-off Broadway theater group that met at night. He was forty at the time - a handsome man with dark hair, graying slightly at the temples, and steel-gray eyes. He was in good shape physically, and even at the age of sixty he jogged five miles every morning. But now, in Florida, couldn’t even walk one mile without tiring. His present wife, Alma, came along when he was fifty-one. He had a supporting part in a long-running off-Broadway show. He managed to save a few thousand dollars and had built a pension plan in the Screen Actors Guild and AFTRA. He was good, working journeyman actor whose future was always going to be in acting. When he turned sixty, he’d been married to Alma for four years, and he wasn’t thinking of retirement. They were making plans to go to Hollywood and try for some television parts. Joe’s hair was graying and his face chiseled. His eyes were penetrating blue. He had developed his craft to an extremely professional level. He was a good TV type, and he was starting to get some solid TV commercial work, too. Alma...his dear Alma, had noticed it first. “Are you feeling all right, Joe?” she would ask. “You seem tired.” Joe would say that it was just her imagination. She knew she was right, and loving him deeply, bothered him and pushed him to the doctor’s office for a checkup. Few days later, the doctor’s words fell on Joe like a lead weight. “Mr. Finley? You said you wanted it straight. Okay. You have leukemia.” Joe felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach.

  “Leukemia? Isn’t that was a kids disease?”

  “No, Mr. Finley. However, when we find it in people of your age we are able to treat it. I can assure you that you have many, many good years ahead of you. As a matter of fact, I believe we can keep you going indefinitely.” Joe wondered what that meant. Life was not indefinite.

  He didn’t tell Alma for two weeks because the doctor was going to try a new medication. If it worked, the doctor said he could almost guarantee that Joe would be all right. But there were qualifications that went along with the treatment. “You can’t push yourself,” the doctor told him. “You should think about retiring to a quieter life, if possible.” When the tests came back, the new medication had some effect. The doctor was optimistic. Alma met Joe at the theater that evening after the show. They went to a quiet French restaurant on Forty-Ninth Street. They ordered mussels and a good white wine. After a while, he told her what the doctor said. He had been upbeat and positive, but she could see that this dream of Hollywood was fading. She reached across the table and touched his hand. “I love you,” she said. “So very much.” From that day on she was all that mattered to Joe Finley and he to her.

  Watching Ben Green approach to the sound of applause brought Joe back to from his reminiscing to own performance this morning.

  They early at Ben’s apartment. Mary Green made breakfast for them. She sat at the table listening while they went over their plan. Joe brought all the props. He was wearing the pinstriped suit, a white shirt and rep tie. His wing tip shoes were polished to a dull shine. His hair was trimmed and neat.

  He had even trimmed the hair in his nose and ears. His nails were manicured and buffed.

  Ben had the attaché case, the I.D., and the papers. It was amazing that Ben was able to get it all done so quickly. Ben had a friend who owned an ad agency in Miami. The guy owed Ben a favor. He never said what the favor was, but it must have been a biggie because there was a messenger at Ben’s door at six A.M. that morning with the papers.

  They rehearsed one more time, finished their coffee, and shook hands. Ben left the attaché case on the breakfast table and headed for Shields’ office. Joe waited five minutes and followed. When Joe arrived at the office, he found Ben waiting in the reception area.

  Joe gave no sign of knowing Ben. He spoke to the secretary. “Good Morning, I’m Mr. Bonser from the Attorney General’s office. Is Mr. Shields in?” He flashed the I.D. that Ben had given him earlier. The woman became very nervous. “Well, sir, uh, Mr. Bonser, uh, let me just check. Uh, will you have a seat?”

  Joe started to sit and then said, “In case he forgot, we have an appointment.”

  She smiled and made her way to the back office. Ben Green leaned forward to peer into the office as she opened the door a crack and slithered inside. Both men had trouble controlling their laughter.

  When the girl returned, Joe got up and went over to the desk. “Can he see me now? I’ve got a very busy schedule today.”

  She spoke to Joe, but was looking at Ben Green. Her voice was only a whisper. “Mr. Shields says he doesn’t recall having an appointment with you. Could you make it another time?”

  Joe’s voice boomed. “You tell Mr. Shields that either he sees me now, or he sees me in federal court.”

  With that, Ben Green jumped up and rushed to the desk, yelling, “He’s in there, isn’t he? Goddamned son-of-a-bitch! I’ll kick his ass all over this goddamned office!” Before the girl could stop him, Ben rushed into Shields’ office. Joe followed and stood in the doorway. Shields was backed against the wall of his office underneath a large mounted tarpon. Ben loomed over him, threatening to stuff Shields down the fish’s mouth.

  Joe moved toward the desk and took out the I.D. card again. “Mr. Shields, I’m Mr. Bonser, ADA from the Attorney General’s office. We spoke the other day regarding a complaint from a Mr. Green.”

  Ben spun around. “I’m Ben Green. Goddamn, I’m glad to see you. Now we can put this rat in the slammer.” He loosened his grip on Shields and moved over to shake Joe’s hand.

  “I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Green,” Joe said. “We don’t want our new Florida residents to think that just because they are new to the state we don’t pay attention to their complaints. A senior citizen is still a citizen and a voter.” Joe smiled the politician’s smile that he had used in The Last Hurrah, when he had played the mayor of Boston in an off-Broadway production. He then sat down and opened his attaché case and took out the papers they had prepared.

  “Mr. Shields, I hope we can settle this matter amicably.” Shields moved slowly back to his desk and sat down. Joe handed him the papers. As he read, a defeated expression grew on his face. Ben and Joe knew they had won.

  What they didn’t know was that Shields was under strict orders from the “owners” to keep the people in Building A happy. They didn’t want any publicity, and they certainly didn’t want to get involved in federal court. Hell, Shields thought to himself. I’d take this old fart to the Supreme Court before I’d fill the pool. He put the papers down on his desk and looked up. The ADA Bonser wasn’t a young man. Shields would get no sympathy from him. He decided to make it short and sweet. “Mr. Bonser, I’m sorry for the confusion. I’m sure Mr. Green here just misunderstood. Actually, we are filling the pool today ... yes, today.” He buzzed the secretary on the intercom and told her to find Wally Parker immediately and have him come to the office.

  A few moments later, when Wally walked into the office, he moved to the opposite side of the room from Ben.

  “Wally, you know Mr. Green. This is Assistant District Attorney Bonser.

  I want you to begin filling the swimming pool right now.” Wally looked confused, but he said, “Okay.” He turned to leave. Joe Finley stopped him.

  “Just a moment, Mr. Parker. Mr. Shields, I’m sure you don’t mind if I go with Mr. Parker and observe. Just for the record. I’m sure Mr. Green would like to come along, too.”

  Ben Green looked at Joe Finley, then at Shields, then at Wally, and said, “You people all give me a pain in my ass. Don’t patronize me, Bonser. Just get out there and do your damned job. I have to take my nap, but when I get up, that damned swimming pool, our pool, had damned well be filled or I�
��ll blow the freaking thing up!”

  Then Ben left the office.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN - ROSE’S TEARS

  Rose could see the four men from her terrace. Bernie and Arthur were applauding Ben Green as he approached their table. She noted that Joe Finley didn’t applaud. Seeing the card table brought back a vision of her daily bridge game at Sunset Village and thoughts of the friends she left there. She would adjust. She always had. Early in her marriage she had been unhappy. Her mother, who had come from Russia, told her daughter that happiness was not a right in a marriage. If one had it, then one was lucky. A woman had to adjust to a man’s ways. Well, she mused, Mama was certainly right. My marriage to Bernie Lewis has been just that, a series of adjustments.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the phone. She left the terrace and took the call in the kitchen. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mom, it’s Craig. How are you?”

  “Wonderful, darling. And how are you and Beth and the children. How are the children?”

  “Just great, Mom.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “How’s Dad?”

  “He’s fine, dear. He’s out by the pool playing cards with his cronies.”

  “It sounds like you really are settled in there. I can’t wait to see the place.”

  “Yes, dear, and we can’t wait to see you. Just two more weeks and three days.”

  There was a pause on the phone and then Craig spoke again. “Well, uh, that’s why I called, Mom. There’s a problem. I won’t be able to get down this time. It’s business. I won’t bore you, but we have to redo some of the fall line, and then I’ll be at the factory after that to set up the run...you know it’s all the details and...” His voice trailed off.

  Rose was crying.

  “I’m really sorry, Mom. We were looking forward to the trip. The kids are really disappointed. I’m tempted to send them without me, but I know after a day or so they would drive Dad crazy.”