Perfidia’s eyes narrowed. “I think the operative word is ‘god,’ my dear. Or goddess.”
“What are we waitin’ for, then? We gotta follow Dumbo right now, so’s he brings us to your zombie hubby!”
Perfidia held up a hand. “Watch.”
She picked up the phone and punched REDIAL.
Five rings, and a machine engaged. “Hello. Priscilla Jane is pulling wheelies on a skateboard ramp right now. If you want to leave a message—”
Slamming the phone down, Perfidia rasped, “That cutesy-poo secretary twat of Felix’s. If she thinks she’s going to get anything out of my pigeon—I’ll kill her!”
Rowdy reached inside his chauffeur’s jacket and removed a wicked-looking Intratec nine-millimeter semiautomatic pistol.
“No, babe, let me. I always did like shootin’ people more’n dogs.”
4.
Legs were really quite amazing things.
After ten years without them, Priscilla Jane found that the whole notion of personal mobility resembled some of the farther-out concepts of robotics experts. The hinges, the tendons, the flexing toes, the constant shifting of one’s center of gravity—the process seemed like something scribbled on Marvin Minsky’s dinner napkin.
Luckily, her body had not forgotten how to manage things quite well by itself, without the intervention of her shocked mind. How could it have? This was not her thirty-year-old untoned carcass being forced to walk. This was her original nineteen-year-old frame restored to her, complete with all its ingrained somatic routines.
Right now, Priscilla Jane lifted up the hem of her shirt for the umpteenth time and looked at the crimson welts on her midriff. She remembered quite well how she had gotten those: some roughhousing at a beach party, where she had lunged into the water without looking and scraped her belly across some barnacled rocks.
As best she could recall, the wounds made eleven years ago had about another two weeks to heal completely.
Dropping her shirt, Priscilla Jane looked toward Felix, where he sat on her couch.
Her reborn employer had gotten involved with her cat. Priscilla Jane had watched as long as she could before turning away. Some of the changes Felix was putting her pet through were just too unsettling to witness. She was pretty certain he was doing no permanent damage to poor Peabrain. On the other hand, a man who would encourage his own murder for intellectual reasons was perhaps not bound by the same ethical strictures as others.…
At this moment, Peabrain—who had started out wearing one of the morphic bracelets around his waist—now crouched in the middle of the charmed circle of links, which had dropped off as he altered. The body her cat now possessed, Priscilla Jane surmised, must have been one of the feline’s distant ancestors, a small shrewlike creature. (What Felix had done with Peabrain’s extra mass, she did not know. Obviously, in the process of experimenting on the cat he had found some way of storing it.)
“Why doesn’t it run away?” asked Priscilla Jane.
Felix looked up. His expression, a familiar one, told her he had forgotten anyone was with him.
“I’ve shut off its gross motor-activity fields. But there’s no point in keeping this antique critter here any longer. I’ve learned all I can from your cat.”
Felix tapped some keys, and good old Peabrain reappeared, none the worse for its regression. Felix removed the bracelet from the cat, which scampered away. He stood.
“As you might have guessed, Pee Jay, I’m trying to refine and extend the range of my temporal searching abilities, with regard to living things. It was one of the major projects left unfinished at my demise, and finishing it is imperative. But I find I need a different class of subjects. Is there a zoo nearby?”
Felix’s question unnerved her. “Why, sure, a private one. The Southside Wild Animal Farm. But Felix—do we really have to go there? Shouldn’t we be doing something more practical? What about bringing your wife to justice?”
Felix smiled. “For what?”
“Why, for your murd— Oh.…”
“Absolutely correct, Priscilla Jane. There’s no way my coming forward could not make matters worse. If I’m accepted as the real Felix, then there was no murder committed, and nothing to prosecute Perfidia for. Perhaps charges of attempting to defraud the life insurance company are even brought against me. On the other hand, if I’m declared an imposter, then my own motives are questioned, and I might end up in jail. And the worst possible scenario is that someone thinks to run DNA tests on both me and my corpse, and the results show we’re identical. Everyone knows I have no twin brother. Imagine how confused my poor mother would be by all the questioning. She always said I was as much trouble as two kids. Maybe she’d end up agreeing that I was twins. Mom always was highly suggestible. No, I don’t want to put her through that quite yet, so soon after I made it necessary for her to attend my funeral. And I’d probably get locked up in some government lab as a freak, subject to the moronic questioning of lesser scientists. In all cases, though, nothing is accomplished and much valuable time and freedom are wasted.”
“But how can you stand to let that, that murderess walk away with everything you and I built over the years?”
“Wren BioHarmonics was a mature company, Pee Jay. It wasn’t fun anymore for me. I’m much more interested in this new technology. I believe it has many interesting possibilities, perhaps even some market potential.”
Priscilla Jane snorted. “Bringing anyone who ever lived back from the dead, repairing any kind of bodily damage, and Lord knows what else— I would say that your talents for understatement, Felix, have survived your death intact.”
“Thank you, Pee Jay. A good scientist always resists hyperbole. I take it you have transportation available for our trip to the zoo…?”
“My van.”
“Let’s have a look.”
Felix and Priscilla Jane left the house by the gashed front door.
Her customized van boasted a wheelchair lift operating out the side cargo door. Clamps on the floor in the drivers position allowed her wheelchair to be secured in place of the missing fixed seat. All traditional pedal controls were mounted on the steering column and were hand-operable.
After studying the setup, Felix said, “Well, let’s haul your wheelchair out here so we can get going—”
“No! I refuse ever to sit in that contraption again!”
“But Pee Jay, you’re being quite unreasonable. The chair is an integral component of this well-designed vehicle.…”
Felix tapered off. He studied Priscilla Jane’s glower for a moment, then said, “I’m forgetting emotions again, right?”
“Right.”
“Thanks, Pee Jay. I need you around.”
“Don’t mention it. Now help me with a kitchen chair.”
They had finished settling the captain’s-style kitchen chair into place behind the steering wheel, and Priscilla Jane was seated in it, testing visibility and ease, when a dented Ford Escort pulled into the drive.
“Uh-oh,” said Priscilla Jane.
“Who is it?”
“The policeman in charge of investigating your death.”
Felix stepped back into the shadowy interior of the van and removed a bracelet from his pocket. He began programming its crystal, while whispering.
“This is not someone who can be expected to understand our situation, Pee Jay. If we can’t talk our way out, I’ve got something in reserve.”
The car stopped adjacent to the van, and Detective Stumbo emerged.
“Miss Farmer—”
“Yes?”
“I need to speak with you. About an hour ago you received a call—”
Stumbo froze. “Where’s your wheelchair? How did you get out here on your own?”
“Um, I—”
The detective’s holstered pistol hung above his right hip. In an eyeblink, it seemed to leap into his left hand.
“Get out. You and whoever’s in there with you. And take it slow.”
Priscilla Jane swung her amazing but shaky legs to the ground and stood. Felix emerged from the open side door. They both took a few steps closer to the stunned cop, then halted. Recovering, Stumbo sized them up, then nodded sagaciously.
“A crippled secretary who’s not crippled, and her dead boss who’s not dead. It’s not what I expected, but I can see how it fits. You two and the other two were in it together for the insurance.” (Felix bestowed an I-told-you-so look on Priscilla Jane.) “Then someone got greedy, and there was an argument. You decked Staggers—though I don’t see how a pipsqueak like you could—frightened your wife, then took off with the dog.” Mentioning the dog made Stumbo nervous; he swung his gun in measured arcs. “Where is it anyhow? I hear it’s a killer.”
“Tosh? He’s not here—as such. And in any case, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Oh, he hates my wife and chauffeur, but that’s only understandable, since he realizes they murdered me.”
“Oh, come off it, Mr. Wren. The jig is up. No one’s going to believe in a talking dead man.”
Felix sounded impatient. “But it’s true. I’m only here conditionally. My renewed existence is quite precarious, just like Pee Jay’s new legs. Old legs, rather. That’s what I’m trying to fix now. If you could just see your way clear to allowing me a few more hours freedom, I’m sure I can wrap things up efficiently. Then I’d be happy to turn myself in and explain. It won’t take long, I promise. First, you see, I have to visit a zoo. Pee Jay assures me there’s one nearby that’ll do fine. Then, assuming I’m successful—and I generally am—a quick trip to Mount Shasta—”
“That’s enough. I don’t have time for your crazy bullshit. I’m taking both of you in, and putting out an APB for Staggers and his wife.”
Bafflement washed over Felix’s face. “You don’t mean—? You do. That faithless woman. She didn’t even wait until my corpse was cold before remarrying. Now I’m really angry! Well, I’ll give them a piece of my mind, should they dare show up again. But right now, your case interests me. When did you lose that arm?”
Stumbo answered automatically. “’Sixty-eight.”
“Thank you.” Felix began tapping the keys of his laptop, which was still cabled to the bracelet.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing? Stop that! C’mon now, bring that stuff over here.”
Felix closed the distance between himself and the cop. “What should I do with these?”
“Put the computer under my stump.”
Felix complied, and Stumbo clasped the laptop under his armpit. “What about this lovely bracelet? I took it from my lab. It could be evidence, you know.”
“Drop it in my coat pocket.”
“You’re sure?”
“Quit joking and do it!”
“All right.”
Felix detached the computer cord and deposited the morphic crystal in Stumbo’s jacket. Then he began to count aloud. “Ten, nine, eight.…”
Stumbo backed off. “What’s going on? The thing can’t be dangerous, you and the girl are wearing them. You’re bluff—”
“… one,” said Felix, and Stumbo crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Bending over the detective, Felix retrieved his laptop.
“Standard morphic field for human sleep patterns. It’ll shut down in sixty minutes. By then, we should be far away.”
On the edge of hysteria, Priscilla Jane giggled. “It’s not a morphic field then, it’s a ‘morpheus field.’ “ She pulled herself together. “We’d better get going, Felix. Before anyone else shows up.”
Behind the wheel, with Felix in the passenger’s seat, Priscilla Jane put the van in drive and was just releasing the hand brake when a pickup truck pulled into the fenced yard.
“Who—?”
“It’s my gardener’s truck,” explained Felix. “They must have decided the limo was too slow and conspicuous.”
The truck blocked their exit. Perfidia and Rowdy emerged. The chauffeur held a gun.
Felix was busy programming another crystal. “Drive toward them slowly, Pee Jay. I need to get within throwing distance.”
The van crawled forward. Perfidia and Rowdy moved off to Felix’s side of the drive, standing by the trucks front bumper. When the van’s nose was a few feet from the truck, Priscilla Jane stopped. Perfidia spoke.
“Felix, dear, we need to talk. I realize you’re a tad upset over our recent, um, misunderstandings. I imagine your death was not pleasant, despite its temporary nature, and I hope you’ll be big-hearted enough to accept our sincere apologies for any inconvenience we might’ve caused you. But surely you can see that its best for all of us to cooperate, now that we know all about your secrets.”
“Yeah,” chimed in Rowdy. “Get your asses outa that van before I cooperate you both fulla holes.”
Felix craned his upper body out the window. He held a bracelet. “Perfidia, I don’t mind particularly about my murder. I realize that you acted out of sheer animal instincts. But what I do object to is your disgracing my good name by consorting with this ape. Blinded by your glamour as I was, I doubt I ever really knew you, but I certainly can’t count on you now. Just be glad I’m not the type to indulge in petty revenge.”
Tossing the bracelet into the bed of the truck where it landed softly atop a sack of manure, Felix retreated inside the van. “On three, Pee Jay, gun it. One, two, three!”
The pickup truck turned into ping-pong balls.
For a millisecond, the thousands of celluloid spheres maintained the shape of the truck. Then they collapsed in an avalanche whose closest edge skittered under, over and between Rowdy and Perfidia, upsetting their footing and tumbling them to the ground.
Out on the street, Priscilla Jane made a hard left that nearly overturned her makeshift seat. Shots rang out behind them.
Smiling, Priscilla Jane turned to Felix and said, “Mister Moose, I presume.”
“It’s something everyone of our generation should get to do at least once in their lifetime.”
5.
Rowdy lowered his gun and kicked vengefully at a herd of innocent ping-pong balls.
“That bastard’s startin’ to really piss me off!”
Perfidia was casting frantically about. Spotting Stumbo’s car, she said, “Quick, this way!”
At the car, Rowdy yanked open the driver’s door. “No fuckin’ keys!”
“There’s the cop! Looks like Felix knocked him out somehow. I bet the keys are still on him—”
Quickly, Rowdy was beside the recumbent Stumbo. He stuck his hand in the detective’s coat pocket, a look of blissful peace softened his coarse features, and he collapsed atop Stumbo.
Perfidia made an instinctive move toward her unconscious partner, then stopped herself.
There was no telling what curse Felix had left here, or whether it would affect her if she touched the two men. Chances were, however, given Felix’s benevolent sentimentalism, that the effect was both harmless and temporary. The two appeared to be merely sleeping; doubtlessly, they would awaken within some reasonable period.
Gritting her teeth, Perfidia sat herself down on the lawn to wait.
To her surprise, she found herself speaking aloud.
“The cop might’ve learned something we don’t know. It’ll be good to take him along. Felix and that bitch can’t escape. They’re too innocent, too naive, like children. And when we catch up—well, whatever Felix knows is probably on that computer of his. I can work it as good as him. If he doesn’t want to play along—”
A look of utter bloodthirstiness that would have sent a Maori warrior fleeing in retreat contorted Perfidia’s beauty. “He died once, he can always die again. Only this time, very, very, very painfully.”
* * *
Priscilla Jane was curious. As she tooled down the highway, she found herself full of questions.
“If you were to shut off that bracelet you tossed into the gardener’s truck, Felix, would the truck reappear?”
Felix was looking idly out the window, like some
one who had never ridden in a car before. Like a dog, actually. Priscilla Jane felt that she loved him more than ever. If only—
“No,” her employer answered after a moment. “But only because the original mass of the truck is too dispersed to be reactivated by the nascent truck fields. Just like your front door. When I restored its natural fields, the rip remained, because I had created gross macroscopic disorders while it was altered. Morphic fields are not magic, Pee Jay, though they might look that way. There are some constraints. For instance: suppose I were to alter your bracelet so that all your haemoglobin turned to cyanide.”
He said it so matter of factly, that Priscilla Jane shivered.
“You’d die almost instantly, in a quite horrible fashion too. If I tried then to reimpose your original template on your corpse, it would be futile. That vital spark of entelechy would be gone from that particular lump of protoplasm. So you see, there are limits to what can be done with morphic fields.”
“Let’s talk about something more pleasant.”
Felix redirected his guileless blue eyes on her. “Pee Jay, you brought the subject up—”
“I know, I know. And I’m sorry I did. Tell me, Felix— What kind of plans do you have for these fields—assuming we survive?”
Immediately, Felix exhibited a contagious excitement. “Well, first of all, I don’t intend to start bringing people back from the dead left and right. It’s too unethical. Every such instance would mean the effective cancellation of some other organism’s right-to-life. Look at how I’ve had to usurp poor Tosh’s existence. No, it just won’t do. Every individual gets their stay on earth, and then must make way for newcomers. And although one’s disembodied personality fields are not ‘running,’ so to speak, in the same way they are when one is alive, I seem to have vague memories of a quite satisfying postdeath existence. It seemed to me as if I were still participating in things, through the other members of the species. So, that’s just the way life is. I don’t quite agree with the setup, but I don’t intend to change it—at least until I do some more thinking.”
Fractal Paisleys Page 16
