The customers that had been behind him at the pharmacy appeared out the exit one by one, all giving him dirty looks before continuing on their way. One, an older woman, saw him standing there and came walking toward him. Saul fidgeted, feeling trapped, but he refused to run away from a wrinkled old bat with a bouffant hairdo.
“I heard what you said!” Her voice was dry and brittle, softened by a slight lisp. “You work for Travels!”
“What about it?”
“I love it!” she said, clenching her frail fists and shaking them for emphasis. “I love Travels!”
Saul let his shoulders relax, and let out a breath. “Oh, well …”
“But I hate it!” the woman said. “It robs you of time. It’s a devil’s tool.”
“Lady, I don’t think you–-”
“A devil’s took! Last night my husband and I were out shopping, and we had an overwhelming urge to buy Russian vodka. We hate vodka! But we couldn’t resist, it was on sale so we bought it, and later I said to my husband, I says ‘I bet it’s that Travels station. I bet they’re using that subconscious advertising stuff – and I was right! I saw it! On a billboard in the background during a really exciting part–-”
“Pardon me,” Saul said with relief, “this is my taxi.”
“You’ve got to repent for this!” she said with genuine concern. “You can’t keep it up – you can’t get away with it! The Savior is coming!”
The cab pulled up, one of the big box-like ones with a scratched and almost opaque sunroof, and Saul snatched the handle of the big sliding door and gave it a yank – but the door was auto, not manual. There was a big warning sign on the glass that read: HANDLE IS FOR EMERGENCY USE ONLY – BUZZER WILL SOUND. It did sound, loud and angry. Saul let it go, flustered, waiting for it to close and reset itself. “No savior is coming!” he yelled at the old woman. “It’s nothing more than a JTV media event!”
The old woman crossed herself. “Blasphemy!”
The door to the cab cycled open and he jumped in, inserting his moneycard in the appropriate slot and stating his home address to the grid. The door shut him off from the shocked, accusing stare of the old woman, shut him off from the rest of the world.
The vehicle rolled forward, video eyes alert and watching for traffic and pedestrians. Within a few minutes Saul was home.
He stepped quickly through the front door, his mouth drawn into a tight unhappy line. No Mataphin, he thought. I still have to go get my Mataphin. Behind him the door slid shut and he stopped, rubbing his face with his hand. Where’s my Mataphin license anyway? He stood there a long moment, trying to remember, feeling that he should know. It was strange that he couldn’t remember.
I’m too shook up, he thought. I can’t concentrate. Damn – I need my dose! As he stood there something else occurred to him: why was the house so quiet? Where was Mirro? He stood there, listening. There was no TV, no music … no baby crying. Nothing … yet there was something. The silence was not absolute.
Saul walked quietly down the hall into the west-wing, listening to his own breathing, slowing as he neared his daughter’s room. He had a strange feeling that something was not right. Maybe, he thought, it’s the lack of Mataphin. The air itself seemed strange; it felt damp. His skin felt clammy.
Standing outside his daughter’s door, a terrible thought occurred. He listened. There were no sounds from inside, no gurgling, no monster snores. No mindless babbling like when she found the strength to play with her fingers. Saul stood outside the door, feeling his clammy skin, wishing for his Mataphin. There was something going on, he could feel it. Maybe, he thought, trembling, maybe this is the feeling you get when someone in the house has died.
Oh my God, he thought. Maybe she did?
Saul reached out to open the door but hesitated, freezing.
What if she was dead? What would he do? Hundreds of pounds of dead daughter lying there, impossible to move, impossible to … to what? What would he do? Stand there and stare at her? Start crying? What if he couldn’t cry? He’d have to find Mirro and with dry eyes tell her that their daughter was dead. Mirro would blame him – maybe even accuse him of killing her. He had been wanting his daughter dead for over 14 years and here she was, dead, and Saul not crying, not even sad … only guilty. How could he possibly face Mirro?
Saul put his hand out and touched the smooth surface of the door with his fingertips, slid them down to the handle. This is ridiculous, he told himself. Getting myself worked up like this … there’s nothing wrong. How could I know something’s wrong?
And even if there is, even if she’s dead, I can go to a sink and apply some tears before I go find Mirro.
Saul pushed the door open and stepped in.
There his child lie, puffy, bloated, freshly changed and fast asleep, her head tilted back on a self-adjusting pillow that kept her weight from breaking her own fragile neck. Her mouth was open and a healthy river of drool ran down the side of her face. With a mixture of relief and sadness Saul turned around and left the room, closing the door behind him.
His Mataphin license, he remembered, was on his bed stand.
Saul remembered it with a surge of disgust – why had he forgotten? Where else would he have put it? Letting out an angry grunt, he walked down the thickly carpeted hall toward the master bedroom; the door was partially closed, and he pushed it open while silently cursing himself. Why did I leave without it in the first place? he thought. Why didn’t I pick it up when I got my moneycard?
Saul was halfway across the room before he noticed his wife and Vicky. He stopped in mid-stride, his mouth dropping open, his face feeling hot as it flushed red. He felt like running, felt like getting out of there and hiding before they could see him.
Saul didn’t move. He stood and watched, his breath caught in his throat. The two women were oblivious; they didn’t notice him at all. Saul didn’t know what to do, what to think. He didn’t know how to react. He knew his wife was bisexual, he knew she’d been seeing an awful lot of Vicky lately – she had never bothered to keep it a secret. Saul had even come to think of it as necessary considering his sexual problems. But to see her like this? With his assistant from work? They weren’t even facing each other! This was making love? Love?
Saul crept across the room to his bed stand while holding his breath, his feet padding silently on the carpet. There was his Mataphin license, a plastic rectangle with a laser-encoded strip and a holographic head and shoulders shot of himself. He bent down and lifted it off the smooth wood, moving slowly, slipping it into his shirt pocket. He was so careful about being quiet that every movement hurt. He turned and crept back toward the door, stepping easily, watching the two lovers to make sure they didn’t see him–-
–-and suddenly Vicky opened her eyes and was staring directly into his, her’s growing wide, her motions coming to a dead halt. Mirro’s gasping slowed and stopped; her eyes flickered open and she turned and looked at him, gaping, motionless.
Saul ducked his head in shame and embarrassment, treading quickly out, shutting the door behind him. From there he ran through the house to the garage, pulling the charge cord from his personal car and yanking the door open. He threw himself in, switching it on, and accelerated out of the yard. Saul drove like a maniac up the coast to a drug store where he rushed in and bought his Mataphin, immediately tearing open the package and swallowing a triple dose.
11. TELEVISION
It was the 3rd of June, but it was beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Dodd expected advertisements to start saying “Only 12 more shopping days until the Second Coming!” So far no one had dared, but he thought it was only a matter of time. The United Church was suggesting that the Second Coming should be celebrated much the same way Christmas was, with an exchange of joy, goodwill, and presents. There was a lot of emphasis on “presents.”
Dodd wondered if June 15th was going to replace December 25th, or were they going to keep both?
That morning he awoke early, finding himself alone in bed again. Sheila was still at the television – he could hear Travels down the hall. This is getting psychotic, he thought to himself. He’d called the cable company yesterday morning to have them send a man out and physically disconnect Travels from his apartment. They had promised a man would be out there that day, yet when he got home from work Travels was still going.