Corrigan looked back at her long and hard. It was obvious. “No reason at all,” was all he could say.
He slumped back in his chair and spread his hands, indicating that he had nothing more to say. Then the desk unit buzzed. Corrigan accepted, and Judy’s voice came through. “It’s Tom.” At once, Hatcher’s face appeared on the screen. He was unshaven and looked haggard.
“Tom! Where are you?” Corrigan exclaimed.
“It doesn’t matter. Look, I’m gonna have to make this quick, Joe, but it’s important, so listen. First, let me see if I’m right about something. Did a very peculiar thing happen to you yesterday—yesterday in the morning? Like, I’ve seen all this before?”
Corrigan nodded curtly. “Yes. . . . Yes, it did.”
“Okay. We’re talking the same language.” Hatcher saw Corrigan’s mouth starting to open and cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Not now. I need to get together with you. I’ll see you at your house—say, half an hour from now. You know and I know that nothing else in this place we’re in matters, right? So is that okay?”
Corrigan nodded. “Half an hour.”
“I just want to tell you one more thing in case I don’t make it. Do you remember that talk we had, way back, with Charlie Wade and Des Jorrecks about ejector seats? Well, you went into the sim a day before I did, so you won’t remember. But I do. You and I talked about it again after the phase-two tests were started. There were some funny things going on then that you’ll have forgotten about, that we didn’t like. We agreed that some insurance would be good to have. Do you hear what I’m saying, Joe? The ejector buttons exist. We planted one each, the way we’d talked about before.”
Corrigan stared incredulously. “You mean—”
Hatcher looked around warily, as if worried about being watched. “Gotta go, Joe. Your place, half an hour. See ya.” The screen blanked.
Lilly looked at him, not bothering to ask the obvious. He rose and ushered her to the door. “I’ll tell you on the way,” he said.
Judy swiveled in her chair as they came out. “Do you want to see any of—” But Corrigan declined with a wave.
“Sorry, Judy. We have to leave right away. Thanks for holding the fort. Talk to you tomorrow.”
Judy eyed Lilly suspiciously. Corrigan paused, staring at her. Her eyes shifted from Lilly to him, her brows rising inquiringly. He peered, trying to pierce the veils to penetrate to the person inside. Was she? Wasn’t she? . . . But it was no good. For the life of him, he couldn’t tell.
Chapter Thirty-seven
They drove northward in Corrigan’s simulated Mercedes, along simulated Route 28 by the simulated Allegheny River toward the simulation of Fox Chapel. Had the sign indicating the Blue Belt exit at Millvale really leaned over to one side as he was seeing it? Were the cracks and faces of the rock outcrop to their left exactly like that, or was the computer adding in its own details? Because his subjective recollections stretched back over twelve years, he couldn’t know from memory how much of what he was seeing was authentic. Lilly was evidently pondering the same issues.
“This is your car,” she said after a period of silence that had lasted since the Fort Duquesne Bridge. “I mean, not just the same model and color and everything that you drove now”—she was still seeing events from a viewpoint projected twelve years forward—”but your car, the one that you’d owned and gotten to know.”
“Yes,” Corrigan said. He could see where her thinking was heading, but it was easiest to just let her follow it through.
She motioned with a hand. “So what should there be inside that glove compartment in front of me?”
“I honestly can’t remember. Have a look and see.”
Lilly reached out and opened the compartment door. “Map of the city, another of Pennsylvania, black flashlight, insurance certificate, pen, wiping cloth . . . another pen, empty envelope, and an owner’s manual,” she recited, taking out the items and showing them briefly.
“Sounds about right,” Corrigan said, glancing at her and nodding.