Dodd was showering after coming home from work. Sheila, pale and thin, was in front of the TV and hadn’t moved much from the position she’d been in when he’d left for work that morning. Four days had passed since Sunday, four days that Dodd had watched the world around him with suspicious glares and long thoughtful looks.
There had been no Rapture. There had been no terrible plague. The world had not, as yet, ended. Bob Recent still showed up late for work. Toby still prayed for his missing daughter. Sheila still lie comatose in front of the Travels sphere.
His shower finished, Dodd towelled himself off and walked down the hall to his bedroom, shutting the door to cut off the Travels music. He dressed in clean, nice clothes, deciding not to dress down to the anarchists. That last time he’d tried to imitate them, and that was probably the reason they’d taken him for a Narco.
When he was finished dressing, he used the bedroom phone and called Toby’s house.
“Hello?” It was Toby’s wife, her face filling the screen.
“Hi. I’m calling to see if you’ve heard anything about Savina.”
“No Dodd, we have not. But that boy who raped her, now, he’s gone to euthanasia.”
“What?”
“He’s had himself put to sleep, and may Jesus have mercy on the boy.”
“He went to the euthanasia center?”
“Yes, Dodd, he chose that over his sentence. I do feel bad for him, now. But we prayed for him, and now it’s in God’s hands.”
“Yes, I guess it is. Well, I’m still praying for Savina.
Goodnight, and tell Toby I called.”
“Thank you Dodd.” She rang off.
He killed himself, Dodd thought. I can’t believe it, the kid killed himself. He stood up, walked across the room, walked back.
He felt frustrated. What was I supposed to do? he thought. Go to the police and turn myself in, and explain to them why I know the kid was innocent? I might have ended up in jail myself.
True. But maybe the kid would still be alive.
Did I tell him to commit himself to euthanasia? No. Did I tell him to turn himself in for rape when he was actually innocent? No. Then why do I feel so goddamn responsible?
Dodd abruptly decided he needed to take a walk. He opened the door and walked down the hall, past Sheila in the front room and out the front door. Dodd turned to look at her once before closing it. She looked like absolute hell, dark circles under her eyes like she’d been punched, stringy hair, wrinkled clothes that she’d had on for days. Urine smell from the couch. Goddamn it, he thought. You’re next. You’re going to sit there and die.
Dodd stepped back inside, closing the door behind him.
“Sheila!” he yelled. “SHEILA!!” She didn’t respond.
Goddamn it, he thought. Goddamn it! If I want to go out and save somebody, here’s somebody right here in front of me. Dodd walked over to her, standing in front of the TV and looking down at her. What a mess, he thought. You’re a zombie. Dodd reached down and shook her violently, and her head lolled to one side and her eyes closed. She had passed out.
Dodd took a step back, staring at her. Then he turned and went down the hall to the bathroom and started filling the large round tub with water using the temperature Sheila had preset for herself long ago. He put his hand into it, swirling it around; she liked it cooler than he did. Dodd contemplated the tub as it filled, then went into his bedroom, removed his clothes, and turned and walked naked out to the front room and turned the television off.
Getting Sheila’s clothes off was a little difficult. It was a good thing she didn’t wear too much clothing. He carried her limp, nude body into the bathroom and carefully stepped into the tub, and then lowered her into the water. She stirred. He stroked her wet skin with a soapy wash cloth, washing off her long legs and her pelvis and her stomach. She was semi-conscious when he reached her breasts, and made a low M sound, “mmmmmmmm …”
“Feels nice?” Dodd said.
“Mmmmmm-hmmmmmm.”
“Sheila?”
“Hmmmmmm?”
“We have to have a serious discussion.”
“Mmmm.”
“You’ve been going days at a time without food.”
“Mm.”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“I’m hungry,” she said vaguely. Her eyes flickered open, and she took a deep breath. “How did we get in here?” Her eyes closed again. “I don’t remember … getting in …”
Dodd was rubbing his index fingers over her nipples. “Do you remember the last time you ate?”
“It was a few hours ago,” she mumbled.
“It was a day and a half ago.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
She didn’t say anything. She was enjoying him rubbing her nipples. Dodd abruptly stopped. “Let’s wash your hair,” he said.
Later, when they were drying each other off, Dodd said, “I’m worried about you.”
She blinked, glancing at him. It had registered in her mind, but she was still half-asleep. Her movements were clumsy, her voice vague. He continued drying her as she slowly dragged a brush through her hair. Her body was suffering; it was getting thin and sallow, and she’d developed a rash on her behind and between her legs. Dodd applied some MultiSpec creme on it, hoping that would do.
“Do you know why I’m worried about you?” he asked.
“… no.”
“Do you remember anything about Jesus returning?”
She stopped brushing in mid-stroke. “Yes.”
“Do you?”
She looked at him uncertainly in the mirror. “It’s in about a week, isn’t it?”
“Try four days ago.”
Her head jerked. She woke up! he thought.
“Four days ago?”
“Yes, four days ago. Do you understand why I’m worried?”
“Jesus didn’t come four days ago. You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying. Go pull up a calendar. This is the nineteenth.”
“No.”
“I’m not lying, Sheila. You’ve been watching Travels all this time.”
“No, that’s … weeks.”
“It has been weeks. Do you understand why I’m worried, yet?”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well then, Sheila, go look for yourself. This is the Thursday after the Second Coming. You’ve been going days without food, you’ve been pissing and shitting in your pants … Sheila, you’ve got a problem. You’re going to have to face it.”
“I feel sick.”
“You’re starving.”
“I am hungry-feeling. I don’t have any energy.”
“You’re starving, Sheila. Starving.” He took the brush from her hand and finished brushing her hair for her, then took her robe off the back of the bathroom door and put it over her. “Let’s go fix you something to eat, and we’ll talk about it.” He put on his own robe and lead her out the door.
On their way to the kitchen Sheila paused, looking into the living room at the blank TV screen. “No Travels right now, Sheila, you have to eat.” She wordlessly followed Dodd into the kitchen and sat at the kitchen table. He started the autochef going, then called the apartment manager’s computer and ordered a robot maid to come down to dry-clean the couch and gather laundry. Within a few minutes Dodd had a simple, wholesome soup made and he served two bowls of it. He put one down in front of Sheila with a spoon and then sat across from her with his own as she began hungrily slurping it down. She finished before he’d eaten a forth of his, and got up and served herself some more.
The robot arrived and began cleaning. “What is the date, today?” he asked the robot.
“Today is Thursday, June nineteen, twenty-forty-two,” it replied without pausing in its duties.
“Do you think I programmed the robot to say that?” he asked Sheila.
“No.”
“Then you believe me.”
She swallowed a spoonful of soup, and took another. “Yes,”
she said finally, “I believe you.”
“Do you agree that there is a problem?”
She was silent, staring at a spot on the table in front of her.
“Look, Sheila, I don’t want to do this, but I’m worried. I think there is a very big problem, here. I’ve tried alerting you to it before but you’ve either been ignoring it or you’ve been unable to understand it. I’ve decided I’m going to have to be tough with you. You’re going to either have to face this or you’re going to have to get out of my life.”
Sheila was still silent, but fear shone in her eyes. This gave Dodd some hope. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?” he said.
She nodded slowly. Her eyes were starting to tear up. “You think that, that, Travels … you think that Travels is doing something to me?”
“Yes, Sheila. I do. It effects me, too, if I sit down and watch it. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t against you, this is against Travels. I’m going to fight Travels because I don’t like what it’s doing to you. Understand? And I want you to fight Travels too, because if you don’t, it won’t matter shit what I do.”