Oh! The Orfy Guy got to bring his wife back—but he wasn't allowed to look at her!
But it doesn't work. He sees her through a mirror in the car and she disappears.
Maybe it was good that there weren't any mirrors in the house.
But there was more to the story. Things work out—he tried to remember how, but there was so much other stuff—and he was too excited by the idea that Dio could be brought back. He could!
Axel kept pacing. He reached the end of the room, turned around, and paced back the other way. He remembered how Dio helped him put together Rotomotoman, how he let Axel ride on his back, picked him up and let him look through all the books on all the topmost shelves.
"Gotta help Dio! Gotta think! Gotta do something!"
As he reached the far end of the room, near the door, for what might have been the hundredth time, he found someone waiting there for him.
Geraldine.
She was smiling, but not in her usual way. Usually, she smiled as if she were plotting something you sincerely didn't want to know about. Now, her smile seemed to convey a kind of sad serenity. It was a smile held to the face of very harsh realities.
Axel waited for her usual greeting, but she didn't ask him, “Are you stupid?” She just kept looking at him with those tiny eyes and that tiny smile.
"Geraldine,” said Axel, “are you sad too? About Dio?"
She nodded.
"Do you miss him too?"
She nodded again.
"We've gotta help Dio!” Axel gestured outward with his forepaws. “You gotta know something we can do to bring him back!"
Geraldine, her smile a little sadder, simply shook her head.
"But—you know all sorts of stuff about time and space and shooting Death Rays at the bad guys outside.” Axel held out his forepaws as if waiting to catch something falling from the ceiling. “You can do stuff! When Guinevere walked into Tibor's castle and I got my head caught in the doorway, she came out of your lab!"
Geraldine nodded.
"And—and there's nothing you can do?"
She nodded again.
"But—"
"Time doesn't die,” she said.
"Ohhh."
Axel nodded slowly, straightening to a posture Agnes would have found highly unsatisfactory. He looked upward, eyes moving from left to right as if he might see some clue flying around like a moth. Then he looked at Geraldine again.
"Are you going to tell me what that means?"
Geraldine shook her head.
"You mean, I've to figure it out for myself?"
She nodded, then repeated, “Time doesn't die."
"But—but time is like part of space, and space is what the universe is in. It's all—it's all together. Like Reggie taught me once: ‘Space and Time and Time and Space. The universe is one big place!’”
She nodded and said it one more time: “Time doesn't die,” then quickly moved off on her little legs, disappearing into one of the darker corners of the sleep room.
As Geraldine slipped away, Agnes returned with the little ones and Oliver from the litter room. With them was Tibor, looking somewhat flustered and embarrassed, with his green hat tilted on his head.
"Kincaid thought he saw something,” Oliver said to Axel. “He screamed, and suddenly Tibor ran out."
"Tibor did not run!” said Tibor, who always referred to himself in the third person.
"He must have been really frightened,” said Oliver. “He ran straight into Agnes. She nearly bopped him with her tail."
"Tibor was not afraid!” His expression returned to its usual Beethovian scowl. “Tibor was in deep contemplation and startled by the screams. Tibor raced to the rescue of Kincaid!"
"You were running the other way."
"Tibor was mistaken."
"Oh, shut up!” Agnes said. She must have been tired—her back plates were drooping. “Just—forget it! Try to sleep!"
"Agnes wasn't afraid,” Kincaid whispered to Axel, holding his forepaws to his light blue chest. “I thought I saw the Shadow Guy but Agnes wasn't afraid."
"There's no Shadow Guy,” Agnes said wearily. “If there was a Shadow Guy it wouldn't look like a piss-yellow sauropod in a stupid hat!"
"Tibor's hat is not stupid!” said Tibor.
"It fell in the litter hole,” said the orange theropod named Buster.
"Tibor rinsed his hat!"
"Will you—” Agnes raised her voice, then let it go and slowly walked over to Sluggo. “Try to sleep."
"If there is a Shadow Guy,” Kincaid whispered, even more softly than before, “he'd be afraid of Agnes."
Axel nodded, then turned around and paced back to the other side of the room, near the big bay window. He was still thinking about what Geraldine had said.
Time doesn't die, he thought. Why doesn't time die? Does that mean space doesn't die? Or the universe? And what does it matter if time can't die but Diogenes can? He still couldn't understand what Geraldine meant.
He looked to his right and saw Hetman's bed. It was usually placed near the sleep pile, but with no sleep pile to speak of it looked lonely and forlorn, just sitting there. He climbed up the side, bent his head over the railing, and looked at Hetman. He lay on his back, his eyeless head directed upward.
"Hetman! Hetman!” Axel whispered. “You asleep?"
"No one is asleep,” he said in his hoarse, gentle voice. “I can hear everyone's breathing and it hasn't slowed down. I don't think the night has ever been more restless."
"I think everybody's afraid of the Shadow Guy.” Axel pulled himself over the railing and sat down next to him.
"Shadow Guy? Oh. Yes. The Shadow Guy."
"Are you afraid of the Shadow Guy, Hetman?"
"The Shadow Guy and I have been too close for me to be really afraid of him, Axel. Though I can't say I care much for him."
"Geraldine was saying something funny to me just now, and I don't know what it means. She said, ‘Time doesn't die.’ Do you know what she's talking about?"
Axel listened carefully, but Hetman didn't reply right away. He shifted a little under his blanket and made a rasping, humming sound as if clearing his throat.
"Perhaps,” he said, “she means that all of time is like a big book—all the words are there, bound together from first page to last page, but we can only read one word at a time. All of time is here—from the beginning to the end, eternal—but we can only experience it from minute to minute and second to second. The limitation is ours. That may be what she means."
"Then—it's all there!” Axel stood up, excited, straining to keep his voice at a whisper. “It doesn't go. We go. Time isn't moving—we're moving!"
"But only in one direction,” Hetman said, “and at a pace which time sets for us. Which may be just as well."
"Why?"
"Some moments you may never want to relive. Other moments you may never want to leave. If you could choose to remain in just one moment, how would you ever finish designing your Exo-Cyborg creation?"
"Yeah!” Axel's voice rose with excitement. “That's right! The Exo-Cyborg! I was going tell you all about this new stuff Reggie was showing me, with all these things that could hook up with optical nerves and you could get, like, super-sight and see in all sorts of ways better than with regular eyes! But then Dio—Dio—"
"Maybe our purpose,” said Hetman, “if we can presume to have any, is to fill time with marvels and stories—to make the universe the greatest adventure of all."
"Yeah!” Axel lay down next to Hetman and stared up at the ceiling. “The greatest adventure!"
But as he closed his eyes, imagining himself riding on Hetman's back as he trotted along on titanium legs, tail raised, forearms outstretched, gazing miles ahead with his super-sight, he thought of Dio, trapped within the boundaries of his temporal existence, and how he would have wanted to see his old friend moving again and able to see—to read—for himself. Axel and Hetman were moving on where Dio couldn't follow, the distance between
them growing farther.
And Axel wanted—wanted so much it hurt—to go back.
* * * *
Breakfast was ruined by the sound of the backhoe outside, operated by Miss Wonderleigh's partner, digging deeply into the earth before the crape myrtle tree.
Tom and Dr. Margaret brought the saurs back to the sleep room while the coffin was moved down to the library. They didn't want the saurs to see, but they heard everything. Tom brought a portable video upstairs, and though nearly everyone watched the gray and white images darting across the screen, no one could really pay attention.
Agnes slipped out and watched as Miss Wonderleigh and her partner carried the coffin down the stairs.
"Hey!” she called out, her voice making them jump. “Watch what you're doing!"
Miss Wonderleigh's partner, Carolyn, shouted back, “Who the hell are you?"
"None of your business. Just watch what you're doing! That's my friend you've got there!"
"Listen, you almost made us—” Carolyn shouted back, but Miss Wonderleigh interrupted her.
"We know. We'll be careful. I promise."
"Well, you better be!” She peered at them as they cleared the bottom of the stairs and was about to follow them down when Tex, one of the saurs who had been listening to her lecture the day before, pointed to the humans.
"They're using two legs."
"Yeah. So?” Agnes looked at the blue-green parasaurolophus.
"That's how they carry the coffin."
"I can see that!"
"Not on four legs."
"Of course not! If they had it on their backs it might slip off."
"You couldn't carry a coffin."
"What are you—?” A growling noise came from deep in her throat. “I don't have to carry a coffin! That's what humans are for!"
"You couldn't carry a coffin."
"Shut up! Go back to the sleep room! I'm busy!"
Instead of waiting for the lift to take her downstairs, Agnes took the steps hastily, grumbling all the way down about idiots not understanding anything.
In the sleep room, Axel looked out the window at the hole dug by the backhoe, and the pile of earth next to it.
Preston joined him on the window ledge. He looked up at a small patch of white clouds and said, “It's going to be a beautiful day."
"Why are they going to put him in the ground?” Axel asked, still looking down.
"It's a human thing, really. They're creatures of nature and the earth represents nature. They came from the earth, in a way, and so they return to it. Not that they all do it like this."
Axel shifted his head slightly, taking in the backhoe more than the grave. “We don't come from nature. We come from a lab."
"Well, we come from nature, once removed. Everything in the universe is nature."
"I wish we came from space.” Axel looked up. “I wish we came from the Space Guys."
"The Space Guys are part of nature too.” Preston smiled a little, as he did every time he found himself saying “Space Guys.” He had no idea what they looked like—he couldn't get past wondering what they looked like to Axel.
"They are!” He looked at Preston as if he were also hearing something in the distance, something he hadn't heard in a long time. “We're in space! So space is nature. And we do come from space! Everything does! Space—and time! Like Reggie said—Space and time and time and space! The universe—"
"—is one big place.” Preston knew the words almost as well as Axel did.
"Wait!” Axel bent his head down so that his forepaws could embrace it, just at the base of his lower jaw. “Wait wait wait wait wait wait! I know! I know what I can do!"
He paced to one end of the window ledge, then paced back to Preston. “Can I use your computer?"
"Of course you can. What do you want to do?"
"I gotta talk to the Space Guys again!"
Preston was about to ask him why, but Axel had already hopped down from the window ledge and was running to the door of the sleep room.
* * * *
By the time Susan Leahy arrived, the coffin had been placed in the center of the library on a very short portable stand. In front of the stand was a ramp, set up for any saurs who wanted to take a last look at their friend.
Tom placed a video screen next to the coffin. It displayed the site Preston had put together, with still and video images of Diogenes. Most prominent was a picture taken of Dio wearing the sort of paper hat that employees of fast-food restaurants used to wear years ago. The hat had come free with a box of steaks Jean-Claude and Pierrot ordered from the Idaho Steak Ranch. Tom made them send the steaks back, but they kept the hat. Dio wore it for a week, then he put it in a narrow drawer of the library worktable.
The hat was now placed in the coffin, along with several other things the saurs thought of putting in with him: a favorite blanket and pillow, some game pieces, plastic figures, a picture of the house and some other pictures the saurs had taken of themselves.
Hubert suggested they place with him a copy of his favorite book: a sturdy leather-bound edition of Les Misérables. Tom at first wondered if Dio might want the book kept in circulation but decided he could find another copy without too much trouble.
Dr. Margaret helped Bronte and Kara pick some mums and asters from the garden in the front yard. They weren't much at that time of year, but they added some bright yellows and oranges to counteract the austerity that any coffin brings to a room.
Ms. Leahy wore a dark blue dress and black armband. She greeted all the saurs, many of whom she had known for years, warmly and respectfully.
Tom said, “You really didn't have to come all this way."
"I wouldn't have it any other way.” She looked around the library. “Dio was starved and half-crazed when we found him. He had marks on his neck from the chains his owners used on him. And through it all he had the sweetest disposition. When we brought him here I remember how he couldn't stop looking through the books."
She stood before the coffin and bent her knee as if to curtsey as she looked down, placed the two fingers of her right hand to her forehead, then her heart, then to her right shoulder, then her left shoulder.
"Sorry. Old habit. Haven't been in a church in over twenty-five years."
She looked around the room again and asked, “Where's Axel?"
"He's up at my computer,” said Preston. “Sending another message to his Space Guys."
"Space Guys again.” Ms. Leahy took off her shoes and knelt next to Preston. “I was worried this would hit him hard."
"When he sends his weekly messages to them, it's usually a public performance.” Preston stared upward. “But he's there now, talking so quietly you can hardly hear him."
"I won't bother him until he's finished. It must be ‘important stuff.’”
She hugged him and moved off to where Doc sat on his plastic cube.
"It's good to see you,” said Doc, “in spite of the circumstances. I hope you are well."
"It's all of you I'm worried about.” She took his forepaw and embraced him gently.
"We're a sad lot here, aren't we?” Doc looked up at her. “We are wounded, but healing."
He pointed to Ross, holding a sheet of paper and sitting by Alphonse's radio. “He received a mail this morning from the traffic reporter he listens to every day. ‘Thanks for listening to my reports. You must be on the road a lot. I'm so sorry to hear of the passing of your friend. My prayers are with you both. Best, Abby.’ I have it memorized because he's shown it to me ten times already. I suggested he print it out if for no other reason than to free up a computer screen."
"That reminds me,” Ms. Leahy said, raising her head and looking at Doc askance. “You wouldn't happen to follow the stock market, would you?"
Doc betrayed an embarrassed smile. “The dear woman who last owned me left a small trust to cover my expenses. I think it included a few stocks, but I know little about such things."
"Not even with a little coaching
from Reggie?"
Doc cleared his throat. “Good Reggie keeps me in touch with the firm of Moore and McCabe, but he's been quite unsuccessful in teaching me much in the ways of finance."
"Then I suppose it wouldn't interest you to know that the SANI Corporation's bid to purchase Biomatia fell through early this morning.” She inclined her head and gave him her complete scrutiny. “A few small interests managed to buy up enough shares to block a takeover."
"A temporary block, I'm afraid."
"So you do know about it."
Doc thoughtfully touched his chin with the two digits of his right forepaw. “Reggie informs me whenever the firm of Moore and McCabe are mentioned in the news, and it appears they were one of the interests involved. But—as the mysterious gentleman who called Tom yesterday pointed out—I am a mere toy. What can I know of such matters?"
Ms. Leahy seemed to smile in spite of herself—a chuckle would have been inappropriate in a house of mourning. But she put her hand on Doc's head and gave it a gentle caress.
"You are good,” she said in a quiet but firm voice.
"When it comes to my friends, I do what I can."
* * * *
The “service” began with some music Doc had chosen: a Chopin étude, the Debussy “Nocturnes” and the adagietto from the Mahler Five. They reflected Doc's tastes more than those of Diogenes, but they provided an appropriate backdrop for the saurs who wanted to view their friend for the last time.
The “glazing” Miss Wonderleigh had performed was discreet. If anything, Diogenes looked almost too natural for many of the little ones, who shuddered and fled from the open coffin.
Others were puzzled but impressed. The caskets for Bick and Runyon had been much less elaborate and were closed. But then, this was Diogenes, whom everyone knew and relied upon. They viewed him in the coffin, some making quiet remarks to their companions—some to Dio himself—and moved on.
When Charlie the beige triceratops hobbled up, with Rosie at his side, to view Dio, he turned to Tom, who was standing nearby.
"When I go,” he said, “I want you to get this lady who did the job on Dio. She's all right."
FSF, September-October 2010 Page 13
