Weirdbook 31

by Doug Draa

  On the other side of the revolving door, Daniel hesitated long enough for Murray to arrive at his side. “Good kid, Link. He’s one of our graduates.”

  Murray looked over his shoulder, trying to imagine what a man like Link would have learned at Mind Expansion Enterprises. But, when he turned back Daniel was disappearing into a restaurant off the lobby. A few minutes later they were seated in a booth, each with a heaping plate of salad. Murray spread Italian dressing methodically over his and began cutting the salad into bite-sized chunks. Daniel dumped a couple of ramekins of bleu cheese dressing onto his mountain of greenery and shoveled a generous forkful into his mouth. He washed it down with iced tea and said, “Okay, so what is it exactly you need to learn, Murray?”

  “Chinese.”

  “That’s easy enough. Which dialect?”

  “I don’t know.” The question made Murray self-conscious. “I guess I thought you’d tell me which one I needed. Whatever they speak in Beijing.”

  “Beijing Mandarin. Easy. It’s not like you need to learn brain surgery or advanced physics. That’s good. Those things are a bit harder, more expensive.”

  Murray stared at the man across the table, a mouthful of salad stabbed on the end of his fork. “You mean you could teach me those skills if I wanted to learn them?”

  “Of course. Just a matter of acquiring the sources.” Daniel stared at Murray as he chewed enthusiastically on another mouthful of salad. After he’d swallowed and gulped more tea, he said, “The more common a skill, the easier it is for us to plug you in. Fortunately for you, there were several billion Chinese-speaking individuals last time I checked.” He allowed himself a short laugh, then picked at a bit of lettuce between his teeth. “How much exactly did Harrison tell you about our method?”

  “Nothing really. I suppose he thought you’d explain it to me.”

  “Okay,” Daniel set his fork aside and leaned back in the booth. “Tabula Rasa. Good. Let me fill you in. First, you might not think it to look at me, but I have a PhD in Psychology.” Murray nodded, nipping salad from the end of his fork. “I’m well-versed in the academic models of modern psychology as they are currently taught. I know what they have to say about brain as opposed to mind, et cetera. I can tell you this,” he jabbed an emphatic finger toward Murray, “most of what they’re teaching in universities today is not at all aimed at helping the individual excel. Rather, it is more of a classification scenario aimed at helping the psychologist to label and control those placed under his scrutiny. Modern companies do not want a workforce full of individuals operating at their maximum potential. That sort of thing is far too intimidating for upper management. What they prefer are convenient ways to herd cattle so management doesn’t have to worry about competition from the ranks. You follow me?”

  Murray sipped his tea. “Yes, I believe I do.”

  “The Mind Expansion Enterprises origin story goes like this; one day,” Daniel deftly continued explaining and eating, both with admirable speed, “as I was driving along in my car, listening to NPR, I heard a report that forever changed my outlook and my life. It seems there was a young man attending a pool party. After a few drinks, he carelessly dove into the shallow end of the pool and sustained a serious head injury. He was rushed to a hospital and in time fully recovered. But, there was an unexpected kink in this particular case. Even though he’d never had a single lesson or so much as expressed interest in learning to play the piano, the young man found he was suddenly able to perform like a concert virtuoso.” Daniel stared at Murray letting his words sink in.

  “How?”

  “Exactly the question I asked. How could a man acquire previously unknown skills, skills of a very specific and highly developed nature, simply as a result of a head injury?” Daniel smiled thoughtfully, as if enjoying the recollection of his quest to find the answer. “I started with science. I interviewed every authority I could. Want to know what I learned?”

  Murray nodded eagerly.

  “Nothing. Zip. They couldn’t tell me a damn thing. The paradigm under which they are operating doesn’t allow for a guy to get conked on his noggin and suddenly play classical music on the piano like he’s been playing since the age of three. They said it’s impossible. But, we knew it wasn’t impossible, because it had happened. They couldn’t be bothered with the facts. They’d already made up their minds. I interviewed the very guy. Got a sworn affidavit from him. I heard him play the fucking piano! Beautiful! It was no hoax. My major breakthrough occurred when the guy told me when he was playing the piano, he sometimes felt as if someone else was using his body, his hands and fingers.”

  Murray noticed his mouth was dry. He sipped his tea. “If not a hoax, what was it?”

  “A transmission.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Sounds weird, doesn’t it? It was what I call a transmission. Talk to any old school Tibetan about it and they’ll totally agree with me. You see, the human brain is not the source of consciousness, nor even really the storehouse of information. Basically, it’s like an antenna. Through this antenna we can receive and transmit information. I became convinced that the injury to the subject’s brain enabled a transfer of skill, most likely from a disembodied entity.”

  Murray drew in a sharp breath. His expression clearly conveyed disapproval of the turn the explanation had just taken. “Disembodied entity?” His tone was desperately incredulous; something akin to fear appeared in his eyes.

  “Before you get your panties in a wad, remember you don’t pay a red cent unless we can transfer the desired skill, in your case Beijing Mandarin, to your conscious mind.” Daniel swigged his tea, emptied the glass and signaled for one of the waiters to refill it. Turning back to Murray he said, “And don’t worry. We don’t have to bust your head to accomplish it. Relax. Let’s finish our salads.” With gusto, Daniel attacked the food before him. In a somewhat more timid fashion, Murray transferred salad from his plate to his mouth, glancing up to receive a reassuring wink from his host.

  Back at Mind Expansion HQ, Daniel parked the Mercedes and led Murray to the front door. As he unlocked the door, Murray said, “Mind if I check on my car. No offense, but the neighborhood’s a little sketchy.”

  “No offense taken. But, your inspection’s unnecessary.”

  “I don’t know. There were some kids just hanging out when I parked.”

  Daniel placed a firm hand on Murray’s shoulder. “No one in this neighborhood will ever touch the property of one of our clients. Trust me.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “They know better. For the moment, you’ll have to take my word for it. But, I think you’ll understand completely very soon now.”

  Daniel led the way to the end of the hall which turned to the right and ended at a set of double doors. He rapped on the door and a female voice answered, “Come in.” Opening the door, he gestured for Murray to enter. The room was a large office full of furniture, an Oriental rug, brass and ceramic religious icons from all the world’s major religions. A haze hung like morning smog over the chamber, swirling in mysterious eddies as they entered, rising in a serpentine column from a bowl of sand in which five or six sticks of incense were burning. Murray blinked, his eyes instantly irritated by the airborne particulates.

  Seated on the sofa was an old woman smoking a cigar, her skin a leathery brown, her eyes dark and shining. A blue cloth was wrapped around her head; a long, colorful skirt draped her bony legs. She did not move, but stared intently at Murray. None of them spoke for a moment which threatened to go on for ever.

  “What’s she supposed to be?” Murray whispered to Daniel.

  “She’s not supposed to be anything. She is a gypsy and possessed of a very specific skill set from which you will soon profit.” Daniel pushed past him and plopped down on a recliner. “Come on in, Murray. Murray this is Gloria. Gloria, meet our new client Murray.”

  Wa
ving at the smoke, Murray moved to the chair on the opposite side of the rug.

  “Yeah, the atmosphere’s a little heavy, Gloria. I’m going to circulate some air.”

  “Suit yourself,” said the gypsy. She eyed Murray and mashed her cigar out in a large ash tray on the coffee table at her feet.

  “We gotta breathe,” Daniel said, hopping up and going to a wall-mounted thermostat unit. He pressed a couple of buttons and a fan kicked on. Within a matter of seconds, much of the smoke had been sucked from the room. “Better?” he said, breathing deeply and looking to Murray for his approval.

  “Thanks,” Murray said, his eyes glued on the gypsy woman.

  The woman leaned forward, placing her elbows on her bony knees, clasping her shriveled hands together. “You are Murray Gebhardt. You work for Gelco International and you want to acquire the ability to speak Beijing Mandarin.”

  “She’s good, huh?” Daniel prompted.

  “Come on, Daniel,” Murray said, relaxing into his chair. “Let’s get serious. She could’ve been listening to everything we said over lunch. If you want me to be impressed, you’ll have to do better than that.”

  “The man wants to be impressed,” Daniel said to Gloria, his eyes still on Murray. A smirk that suggested gloating formed on his lips.

  The old woman closed her eyes. “You were born in Peoria. You attended Francis Busbee Elementary School. Your second grade teacher’s name was Mrs. Holden. You had a crush on her. Your first real kiss was with a girl named Rebecca Downes at summer camp on Lake Watchobee. You lost your virginity to your next door neighbor’s wife when you were sixteen. That’s something you never told anyone. You’re divorced, in a financial hole and you think the only way out of your money problems is to apply for the position in Beijing. You love your daughter Hannah and want to make sure she gets a good education.” Gloria stopped talking, opened her eyes and scratched the back of her neck with one finger.

  “Impressed yet?” Daniel asked.

  Murray looked stunned, his mouth open, his eyes a bit glassy. He did not respond.

  “Hello, Murray…” Daniel waved. “You still with us, bro? Or do we need to adjourn for a while until you come back to planet Earth?” He and the gypsy exchanged a knowing glance.

  Murray nodded. “Okay. You got my attention.”

  “Good. Down to business. Gloria I’m sure Murray wants as unobtrusive a passenger as possible.”

  “Passenger?” Murray asked, weakly, still staring at Gloria. The woman returned his gaze with undisguised disdain.

  “Yeah. That’s what we call them, for want of a better term. Whatcha got, Gloria?”

  The woman closed her eyes again. “I have a Buddhist monk. He just wants to be able to sit quietly and meditate on a daily basis.”

  “That sound okay to you, Murr?”

  “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “Yeah,” said Daniel, “I forget. This isn’t always obvious to everyone. Okay. The disincarnate entity who can help you speak Chinese is a Buddhist monk. In return for his services, he wants to be able to sit, in your body, for a certain amount of time each day and meditate. How’s that sound?”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  “Come on, Murray. It doesn’t get any better than this. Some of these guys want the moon. Believe me; you don’t even want to know some of the negotiations we’ve made. I guarantee you; this is the easiest deal you’re going to make.”

  “He also wants to visit a cherry orchard when the trees are blooming. Not every year, but as close to annually as possible,” Gloria said, her eyes still closed.

  Murray stared silently at the woman, then at Daniel. His head shook slightly from side to side. He looked confused.

  “Listen, buddy,” Daniel said, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh, “We can’t move forward on this deal without your approval. Do you accept the terms or not?”

  “I don’t know. I just…”

  “Look. Let’s make this simple. How much is this deal worth to you? How much more money can you make if you get this job?”

  Murray did not like discussing his personal finances with anyone.

  “Come on, dude. Or do you want me to have Gloria pluck it out of your head?”

  Oh. Yeah. He’d forgotten about that. “An extra hundred grand a year. Maybe more.”

  “So the question is; are you willing to let your passenger meditate daily and visit a cherry orchard once a year in exchange for that kind of money? Seems like a no-brainer to me.”

  “All right,” Murray said at last.

  “Good!” Daniel clapped his hands together and grinned like a madman. “Gloria, do your thing!”

  The gypsy rose from the sofa and began muttering something, too low for Murray to make it out. He couldn’t even say for sure if it was English. Still, it had a familiar ring to it. She tapped each of his shoulders as she circled his chair, saying her special words. After a minute or less, she took her seat on the sofa, picked up her cigar and lit it. With a sly smile she eyed Murray before blowing a silvery blue smoke ring toward the ceiling.

  “Done deal.” Daniel rose from his chair. “Thank you, Madame Gloria.”

  Gloria nodded, acknowledging his thanks.

  “Come on, Murr. Just got some papers for you to sign.” He placed a hand on Murray’s shoulder and coaxed him up out of the chair. Murray moved like a man in shock, like maybe he’d just witnessed a terrible auto accident or had been informed that he only had six months to live.

  Back in his office, Daniel said, “Its okay man. A lot of guys react the same way. It’s a lot to get used to all at once. A whole new world. You want a drink? Might settle your nerves. I have some scotch.”

  Murray said nothing, just stared into space breathing slowly, his mouth hanging open. With a sudden movement, like a televangelist slapping the forehead of a petitioner, Daniel shoved him into a chair.

  “What the hell?” The jolt aroused Murray from his stupor. He eyed the man standing over him with incipient anger.

  Smiling, Daniel seated himself on the edge of his desk. “There’s Murray. How you feeling, sport? Welcome back. Now, do you or do you not want a sip of scotch?”

  “No. It’s much too early.” Murray stretched his arms nervously, tugging the cuffs of his shirt out of his jacket sleeves.

  “Early, yes, but certainly there is cause for celebration. You, my friend, have a new skill which is going to increase your income by more than a hundred large. Sure you don’t want that scotch? Might settle your nerves for the drive home.”

  “No…well, maybe.”

  “There you go! Wise decision. Just what the doctor ordered? Right? After all, you have undergone a significant change here.” Daniel turned and opened the top drawer of his filing cabinet. From the drawer he withdrew a fifth of scotch whiskey and a couple of short glasses. “In an amazingly short amount of time you have had your world view radically altered.” He poured a shallow pool of the amber fluid into each of the glasses. “It takes time to adjust.” Daniel handed a glass to Murray and raised his own. “To the profitable and distinguished future career of Murray Gebhardt.” He emptied his glass. Murray sipped, then cradled the glass close to his chest in both hands. “I’m concerned, Murr. Are you all right? I don’t need to call an ambulance or anything, right?”

  “No,” Murray managed a mildly indignant response to the request. “I’m fine. Just give me a minute.” He sipped again, letting the scotch burn some warm comfort all the way down to the pit of his stomach.

  “Take all the time you need, my friend.” Daniel circumnavigated his desk and plopped down into his chair, heaving a sigh and opening a drawer. He shuffled papers for a moment, then dropped a couple of stapled documents on the desk top, spinning them around to the proper reading position for Murray. “Look these over, if you like. A copy for you and one for our files. The standard agreement.
It’s all pretty straight-forward. You can read it here or at your leisure when you get home. Feel free to call if you have any questions. I’m easy to reach.”

  Murray wet his lips with the scotch once more, leaning forward and taking his reading glasses from his coat pocket, he slipped them onto his nose and began reading. Daniel poured himself another splash of liquor and leaned back patiently. The plants on his window sill caught his eye, prompting him to rise from his chair and pluck a couple of unhealthy leaves from one of them. He dropped the leaves in his waste basket and resumed his seat, this time leaning forward over his desk, hands clasped, his face a mask of smiling, benevolent expectation.

  Murray looked up from the document. “There’s nothing here about what happens in the case of a default by either of us. There’s nothing about location of jurisdiction governing the agreement.”

  Daniel couldn’t suppress a laugh. “Murr, nobody defaults. The deal is done. Whether you sign the paper or not you’re on the hook. You’ve been granted the ability to speak the Chinese language. In return you will pay the amount of money specified. We won’t default; we’ve already given you what you want. You won’t default, because you’re a stand-up sort of guy. Right?”

  Murray nodded nervously. “Sure, but…”

  “No buts. Murray, if by some bizarre stretch you decided to not pay us, the matter goes to a higher court than you can find on this planet. It’s automatic. Like I said, the deal’s done. These papers are just to maintain some sense of the familiar for your benefit. We can toss them in the trash if you like. Makes no real difference.”

  “How do I know I can speak Chinese? I don’t feel like I can.” Murray shifted in his chair and raised the scotch to his lips.

  “Good question. With languages it’s a matter of becoming acclimated. Usually it kicks in when someone speaks to you in the other language. Find someone who speaks Beijing Mandarin and you’ll be chatting up a storm before you know it. Pretty soon it’ll seem like you’ve been speaking it all your life.”