He paused and sniffed the wind. The air was heavy with an acrid, burnt smell. “It's not a bad world here, once you get used to the darkness. Cloud cover makes it very gloomy. Rather like being in a glass case somewhere—except for the monsters. Here, they are inside with you, not on the outside.” Monkey cocked his head, listening. “And if I'm not mistaken, another one is coming up the hill. I'd take shelter, if I were you. Beware caves; you never know what lurks in the darkness.” He smiled ... then turned and vanished.
Dr. Djusky leapt after him, but there was just empty air. He slithered on the shale and nearly fell again. The sound of footsteps was getting louder. He turned towards the sound, his heart pounding. Coming over the crest of the hill, just behind him, was small shaggy pony.
His shoulders sagged in relief. “My God, it's a horse."
The pony opened its mouth. Needle-sharp teeth gleamed in the half-light. Its eyes glowed red.
Dr. Djusky started to scream.
* * * *
Back in the sending room, all the lights suddenly went out above Dr. Djusky's head.
Laurel couldn't hear the shrieks coming from the doctor's throat, but she could see his body convulsing. She screamed hoarsely, her palms pressed against the glass. Then she started battering the window, drumming her hands upon it trying to get someone's attention. Why had they all left? Where had they gone? What was happening with Dr. Djusky?
Mitch and Sally came running. Andrea dropped her papers and sprinted towards the noise. Digby, who'd stepped out of the room for a quick cup of coffee, spilled it down his lab coat. He rushed into the sending room and started ripping the electrodes off Dr. Djusky's head.
Monkey sat up from the next couch and started peeling off his own electrodes. He carefully unhooked his IV, pulling it out of his arm and wincing a bit. He took his shunt and wound it around his fist before stuffing it in his pocket.
All the while, Dr. Djusky screamed, thrashing blindly, his eyes open and unseeing, his hands pushing, clutching. Then suddenly he was silent. His body became limp. His eyes rolled up in his skull and he slumped back onto the couch.
* * * *
"What in the hell happened?” cried Andrea, sweeping into the room. She stopped suddenly, all color fading from her face. “What are you doing awake, Monkey?"
Digby's mouth opened then closed. “How did you wake up? Tell me what happened, Monkey."
"No.” Monkey got up off the couch and rubbed his arm where the needle had been. Then he went to peer at Dr. Djusky. Seemingly satisfied, he turned to Andrea. “You can put him in my old case. Or in M-19's case. He will never wake up. He'll need to be hooked up to intravenous and electrodes. Don't worry, though. He'll never die, unless it's from old age."
Andrea watched him walk out of the room. Laurel made as if to go after him, then stopped. Her eyes met Andrea's. The two women stared at each other. Then Laurel's hand dipped into her pocket and she pulled out her light pen. “It's over,” she wrote.
Andrea closed her eyes. “Maybe not."
* * * *
Carlos and Laurel walked through tall grass. It whispered all around them, but only Carlos could hear it.
They could both see the sand dunes and the pewter water. Dolphins rose and fell in the bay, water sliding off their shining black skin in sheets. A small wooden house stood near the shore. In front of it, a dock reached out into the water. Tied to it was a sailboat, its sails neatly reefed and a picnic lunch packed and waiting under the tarp.
Inside the house, there were bare hardwood floors, scrubbed nearly white and smooth as silk. It had a small kitchen, a living room, and a porch that overlooked the bay. Upstairs was a wide, white bed with linen sheets and mosquito netting hanging like a fog around it.
Gulls wheeled overhead, screaming. Carlos's fingers tightened on Laurel's arm and she looked at him, her eyes shadowed.
"Do you miss the Center?” Carlos asked her.
Laurel looked startled then shook her head.
"When do you think Andrea will be able to open it again? Damn Monkey. He's set us back decades."
Laurel wrote with her light pen. In the evening air, the words were pale lavender. “It's not his fault. It was Dr. Djusky's fault. He got what he deserved. I only wish I hadn't been there to see it, that's all.” There was a spark of something in her eyes. Anger perhaps, or a sort of fierce joy. She turned her face to the setting sun. “He got what he deserved,” she wrote on the sky, and then, inexplicably, she started laughing.
* * * *
Andrea and Tony cuddled under the blankets, the fire casting a red glow on their faces. Cocotte was curled at their feet, her silken ears perked for noises in the desert night.
A coyote howled, and Cocotte answered with a little growl, sounding more like a kitten than a dog.
"Will you still be in charge there?” asked Tony, taking a lock of her auburn hair and twirling it gently around his fingers.
"I don't know.” Andrea looked at him and he was glad to see her face had gotten some of its old arrogance back. “But I'm not worried. I'm perfectly happy here, in the desert with you,” she answered. “I don't ever want to go back to the city."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know.” Andrea gave a wry laugh. “I'm no longer Andrea Girt, president of Virtual Tours, or president of anything. I'm Andrea Girt, soon to be Mrs. Tony Perrini, and we're camping in the desert while the FBI and the CIA make a decision about the Mutant Center. But I'm not worried. Sonia Andrews is there, and she'll do her best to keep it open. I've decided to consider this an extended vacation. I'm happier now than I've ever been.” On her hand, something sparkled. Her diamond.
"I'm glad.” Tony kissed the tip of her nose. “I often wonder about Dr. Djusky."
"Shhh.” Andrea put her hand over his mouth. “Let's talk of nice things. Did you hear what happened to Frank Dinde?"
"He was fired,” Tony said. “The CIA is talking about prosecuting him."
Andrea kissed his mouth. “Let's drink a toast to the CIA."
"Shall I open the bottle of champagne?” Tony asked, nuzzling her neck.
Andrea felt a shiver of pleasure. “Of course,” she whispered.
* * * *
Mitch and Sally stared at the letter. They had been trying to decipher it, but the ink had faded as soon as light had touched the words and now they were looking at a blank piece of paper.
"Lemon juice?” Mitch murmured.
"Here's a candle.” Sally held the flame with care and the words slowly reappeared.
Dearest Mitch and Sally.
I think of you every day. I hope you are both well and have found peace where you now live. I am very well, thank you, although I still have trouble sleeping. Perhaps this will pass. The people you sent me to visit were gentle and kind. Sally, I really appreciate your mother. She is a lovely, mysterious person. She has a friend named Deer, although I didn't get to meet him while I was there. Perhaps I will go back and visit again. You were right; they were just what I needed. How did you know that, Sally? They gave me back some of my self-esteem, not that I had very much to start with. Digby is still with me, still complaining when it rains. I love the rain. He has shown me how to make invisible ink, so I am writing with that now. Tomorrow we will get on a train and visit a place called Yellowstone. I am looking forward to seeing real bears and buffaloes. Our tent is very cozy and I am quite proficient at making fires. I will let Digby finish this letter. As your mother would say, Sally, Nirvana to you guys.
Monkey
* * * *
Dear Mitch and Sally.
Monkey told you most of the news. I always wanted to travel, and the world is vast. After Yellowstone, we will head north towards Alaska. Monkey wants to pan for gold and I want to see the Arctic. We will keep in touch. Someday, perhaps, I will find a room and plug myself into the Net once more. Perhaps I will try to talk Monkey into coming with me, to show me his wonderful world. For now, though, he won't let me even speak about it. Perhaps it is too so
on. Don't worry about him. I will keep my promise to you, Mitch. I will never leave him alone. When he's better—you know what I mean—I will try to bring him back to you. Andrea writes often. She's still waiting for the verdict. She seems to have confidence in Ms. Andrews. I guess I will wait and see what happens. I'll have to think about taking my old job back, although I really loved working in the Mutant Center. I suppose it will all depend on Monkey. He's still hypersensitive, but I think that will fade in time. Until then, take care.
Digby.
* * * *
They stared at the letter a moment, then the flame strayed too close and it caught fire. Sally gave a small cry, but Mitch just held the paper until it had almost entirely consumed itself. Then he let the black ashes drift to the ground.
"Will we ever see him again?” she asked.
"I think so. With each day that goes by it gets easier to think about. Someday I might even be able to call Professor Toutbon and ask how Dr. Djusky..."
Sally clapped her hand over his mouth. “Hush. Don't even say his name, I beg you."
* * * *
M-6—Mahler
The Mother Tree shimmers and sparkles in the lustrous moon. At her roots, the dark sea is as smooth as obsidian. I sit here for longer and longer periods now. There are no more commands; the scientists leave us alone. Only Professor Toutbon is left. He and I talk. I enjoy his conversations.
We wander as we like in our own worlds now. The outside world has been cut off from us. There is not the slightest whisper of regret from any of us.
Perhaps I will end up taking root like the tree and grow branches. The wind will whistle among them, waving them, and I will sway at the will of the wind. I do not know what will happen. My world is vast, but since Monkey came and left, it seems empty. I wonder if I will one day receive a visitor. Will one of my own kind grow lonely and seek me out? I hope so. There, I said it. Monkey, will you please come home?
There has not been a sign of him since Dr. Djusky disappeared.
Epilogue
There was a child went forth every day,
And the first object he looked upon and received with
wonder or pity or love or dread, that object he became,
And that object became part of him for the day or a certain
part of the day ... or for many years or stretching cycles of years.
... Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop some where waiting for you.
~Walt Whitman, Song of Myself
* * * *
Professor Toutbon sat at his desk in minus fifteen. He'd moved his desk to that room after the Center closed. All around him was dimness. In their cases, the mutants floated within thick clouds. There were still nineteen cases. Dr. Djusky had been put into Monkey's old case, wires attached, feeding tubes and shunts put into place. He wouldn't have survived in a hospital bed. He was in a virtual world now, a world that existed only in his mind, but paradoxically, was controlled by the computer in the Center. Professor Toutbon went to see him sometimes, but there were never any signs that Dr. Djusky would ever come out of his coma.
Professor Toutbon's eyes strayed back to the circle of light on his desk and the white paper it illuminated. He wanted to finish his report and get some sleep. He reread what he'd written, nibbling on the tip of his pen. Sonia Andrews wanted a full report from him, and he was agonizing over it. It didn't help his nerves that the FBI and the CIA both had agents in the Center. The men and women were polite, seemed capable, and so far, had remained open minded about the whole thing. What bothered them the most—what bothered everyone—was the fact that no one could wake up Dr. Djusky.
Professor Toutbon sighed and went back to his report, but before he could put pen to paper, the elevator door opened and Sonia Andrews strode out. Her pale hair glittered in the halogen light. “How is Dr. Djusky?” she asked.
"Dr. Djusky is in perfect health. However, unlike the mutants, he cannot or will not communicate through the console."
"Ah.” She nodded. “And the others?"
"M-1 through M-17 are cut off from the outside world. They create their own worlds, from what Mahler tells me. They don't seem to mind, but then again, I have no way of confirming this. I have noticed, however, that once in a while the clouds around the mutants take on a faint hue, sometimes blue or green, and once or twice I have seen small flashes like electric sparks."
"Oh? What can that be?"
"I have no idea, but Mahler says it is of no importance. He says that as the mutants’ worlds become more complex, small exterior signs escape."
"How can virtual worlds let anything physical escape?"
Professor Toutbon shrugged. “Good question. Mahler says the brain is the most powerful computer in the world, and if we didn't exist, the universe would not exist. He and I discuss philosophy. Our favorite theme right now is the tree falling in the woods where no one can see it.” He paused and rubbed his chin nervously. “Excuse me, I digress."
"You digress.” Ms. Andrews smiled and perched on the edge of his desk. It was so out of character for her that Dr. Toutbon felt his mouth fall open. He snapped it shut.
"I've been reading your reports,” she began, her hands crossed on her lap. “They all start with M-20. Do you know what really happened that day?"
He shook his head. “Not really. For a long time, I puzzled over three things: what M-20 had wanted to say the day she was freed from her cage, who killed her, and why the men watching her became so aroused by her presence."
"Having accessed some of the CIA and FBI records of the event while sorting everything out, I believe I can answer at least two of those questions,” Sonia said.
Professor Toutbon gaped. “They showed you their records?” He hoped his voice sounded normal.
"Of course. The first question is impossible to answer, but the second question is easy. One of the FBI agents shot M-20. Her orders had been to protect Dr. Tergiversates. When the mutant threw the doctor against the wall, she opened fire."
"She?"
"Yes, she. Women can be bodyguards too, you know."
He felt his face get warm. “I didn't mean that. It confirms my theory, that's all."
"Which was?"
Professor Toutbon hoped he wasn't blushing “That no man could have fired a shot at M-20."
Sonia nodded slowly, her pale eyes thoughtful. “You're probably right, but we don't know why. The third question pertaining to the men's reactions upon seeing M-20 is hardest to answer. I have a hypothesis that will have to suffice for now. The mutants evolved in a vacuum. Their emotional needs were never addressed, so they developed their own ways of meeting these needs. M-20 needed love. As you quoted Mahler, it was the human being trying to overcome the machine. Monkey inspires a strong, protective instinct in all who come in contact with him. They feel the need to look after him. This, I believe, will fade after a while, through contact with the outside world. Madeline was desperate to find her sister or someone to replace her loss. Failing that, she mistook physical pleasure for emotional fulfillment. In the virtual worlds, she was as strong and as beautiful as she could make herself. The mutants have nothing to compare themselves to except their own imagination. No limits. None of the laws of physics apply in the virtual world. We learned that too late."
Professor Toutbon looked at his paper. The writing seemed to mock him. “And the result of all this?"
"The result is that we have to cut off all communication between the mutants and the outside world permanently. As you know, Monkey helped. It was his punishment, and his redemption. It was his freedom in exchange for the imprisonment of all the others. They are now locked in their own worlds while he is free to go wherever he likes."
"Yes, as Mike Palo. The FBI gave him a new identity. Will the Center open for business again? Will Ms. Girt come back? And what about you? What will you do?"
Sonia raised her eyebrows. “Of course the Center will
open again. Ms. Girt will have to decide if she wants to take the responsibility, but I think she will.” Here she paused and smiled. “As for me, I'm to be the new Net president. You're the first person I've told."
"Why me?” He couldn't suppress a sudden surge of pleasure.
"Because I like you, professor.” Sonia Andrews leaned over and kissed the professor on the cheek. She rose gracefully and smoothed her skirt. “I'm going to the cafeteria. Would you like to join me for dinner?"
"Of course. Of course I would.” Toutbon stood, knocked his chair over, grabbed at his desk, scattered his papers and dropped his pen. By the time he'd picked everything up, Sonia had gone.
Professor Toutbon grinned and scratched his head with the tip of the pen. Dinner with Sonia? How amazing. Humming, he went to the elevator. In the reflection of the mirror-bright doors, he straightened his tie and rubbed at a spot of ink on his temple.
Behind him, pinpricks of halogen light illuminated his desk and the mutant's glass cases. He glanced at the silent cases where they floated. What worlds were they creating now? What were they like? What rules governed them? A surprising longing tugged at his mind. Wouldn't he love to be able to see them?
THE END
* * *
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