Reversion
a Novel by Varkel
Spring, 2002
Chapter
15:� A Powerful Enemy
�Rosalind didn�t come home last night.�
I looked up in surprise from the morning paper.� Alice stood begowned in the kitchen door with a worried frown.� She added, �Did she say anything to you about where she was going?�
I nodded.� �At supper.� You were there.� She was going to fetch something from the drugstore.� I gathered it was a feminine product.�
Alice sniffed.� �I heard you.� �Is it cool enough for a coat, Tex?�� You men really do jump to your own conclusions, don�t you!�
�It was something else?�
�You idiot!� She wanted to tell her assistant English professor good-bye in privacy.�
�Well, then, you know where she is.�
�Will you quit that?� I mean, she wanted to tell him on the telephone in the drugstore.�
I studied her, standing arms-akimbo just inside the doorway, and took a breath.� �I�m sorry, Alice.� I can see you�re actually worried.� Why is that?� You know Rosalind.� She�ll turn up in a few hours with a humdinger of a story.�
�You think so?�
Clara appeared behind Alice.� Her eyes locked with mine.� �She might not, Tim.� She thinks she�s been abducted.�
�Wh-what?�
Clara pushed past Alice into the kitchen.� In each hand she bore a binocular viewer that she laid on the table.� Gesturing for Alice to join us, she said, �I have a report.�
When Alice and I had applied the internal controls that shaped our bodies to match our desires, we had considered installing the radio transceivers that would permit near-telepathic communication among the three of us, in addition to collecting directly the reports of Clara�s adapted animals.� The advantages would be immense, with only one real disadvantage ― but that was a doozer.� The transceiver would require cellular transformations in the forehead to render skin and skull transparent at the radio frequencies employed, along with a growth of metallic fibers behind that �window� to serve as antennas.� Both adaptations would be only too visible to the milliroentgen X-Ray beams used in doctor�s offices and airport scanners after the Seventies.� We could just imagine the excitement we might cause at an airport check-in: �You have a plate in your skull where?� ― not to speak of a CAT scan.
So we had declined, I think to Clara�s grave disappointment, which among other things meant we must continue to use the viewers.� Perhaps we would change our minds.� I was tinkering with a way to dissolve the transmitter quickly.� In the meantime �
Clara explained, �I think she dropped her purse during a scuffle.� One of the ladybugs escaped and signaled for pickup, but it was after dark.� Our sparrows were all at roost.�� She sighed.� �I haven�t yet tried to capture a swift, though I think there�s a family in the front chimney of this very house.� I�m sorry, Tim.�
�Swifts fly at night?� I asked.
�Night and day, but they are very secretive birds.� I may have to adapt a falcon to catch a swift.�
�But you said you have a report.�
�Yes.� I skimmed it.� The ladybug followed Rosalind indoors but escaped when someone left the door open shortly after dawn.� The sparrow responded and fetched it here just a few minutes ago.� I think she�s on a ship, Tim.�
�A ship?� Really?�
�That�s what it looks like.� Rows of masts tied up at docks.�
�Well, great!� Where�s the ship?�
She sighed again.� �That I can�t say.� I am really learning the limitations of my animals this morning.� I have no recorder in the birds.� I can�t tell you what it saw nor the direction it flew.�
I stared at her.� Presumably she always expected to know where the bugs did their spying, as she had known at the FBI office.
She hung her head.� �I�m so sorry, Tim!�
I hugged her against me.� �Even to know she�s on a boat is a big advantage.� It�s probably on the north side.� Let me see if I can deduce anything.�
I took up one of the viewers and its earpiece as she handed the second to Alice.� Early morning sunlight streamed into a side window toward which I turned the binoculars.
I found myself looking into darkness interspersed with bright points of light.� A huge body intercepted one.� I recognized a dim hand clutching for me.� Suddenly I was free and rising above a scuffle, above oaths and feminine imprecations.� My wings were beating hard and fast, straining my back until I found the button that turned off tactile sensations.
Bodies were milling before me.� Suddenly they fell into recognition.� A gruff brute roughly hustled Rosalind through a door into a brightly lit room.� From the curved walls and short drapes ― and Clara�s guess ― I assumed it was the large main cabin of a yatch.� I sailed in behind them, turned and lit upon one of the drapes.� Rosalind had stumbled but a man who stood conveniently nearby caught her before she quite fell to the deck.
�Careful, Bertie!� he snapped, helping her regain balance.� �Miss Cannell is precious cargo.�
�Harrison!� Rosalind exclaimed, looking up at him.� Her fearful expression was immediately replaced by one of anger and outrage.� �You�ve kidnapped me!� Why, you ��� Words apparently failed her.
She glared at Cleaver, whose visage of smug aplomb I recognized only too well.� He smiled broadly, brushing her shoulder lightly as though she had indeed fallen and required tidying.
�That will be all, Bertie,� he said to the brute, who departed, closing the cabin door.� Cleaver regained his smile as he turned back to the girl.� �Kidnapped?� Rosalind, are you kidding?� There must be some misunderstanding.� Didn�t my secretary inform you that Bertie would pick you up?�
�He grabbed me off the street, Harrison!� What�s this all about?�
�Oh, I am sorry, Ros.� It�s so hard to find decent help.� I�ll have words with the man.� I�ve asked you here,� he cleared his throat, �to boast about my new toy.�� He waved his arm widely.� �And I thought we might share a bottle of Chablis in celebration.� It�s from California, the Napa Valley, where they are growing wine that rivals the best French stuff.�
She sniffed and continued to eye him suspiciously.
�I missed you last week at your Uncle Manfred�s funeral,� he announced.� �Manny was a dear old friend of mine, you know.� We did business together at times.� Your mother was there, of course.� I�ve known her for years as well, though not so sweetly as you.�
He grazed her left breast with the back of his hand and smile grandly.� �How many times have we delighted each other?� At least two, isn�t it, not even speaking of that splendid encounter at my annual party.�
�Ah, yes.� That party.�� Her frown was fading.� �I do recall your visit to me then ― to renew our acquaintance, you said.�
�Rosalind!� Please!� We�re much more than mere acquaintances.� It�s unfortunate I seem always to be sharing your favors with others.� I truly want to spend more time just you with me.�� He chuckled deprecatingly.� �As for the party, are you sure you can recall anything that happened?� I swear I did not take advantage of you on that occasion, however attractively you were splayed on the bed.� You were passed out, dear girl, and in no condition to respond as I prefer.�
�So!� You�ve dragged me here for a more leisurely bout of sex and fun.�� She smiled despite the irate words.
�Not exactly, sweet one, although I�m game, if you are.�� He palmed her cheek.� �No.� Your mother complained to me that you�ve abandoned your apartment and moved in with Tim and his family.� I thought I might inquire about that.� I�m actually very curious about the boy.�
She pulled at his tie, loosening it.� �I�ll have some of that wine you promised.� He�s scarcely a boy any longer, you know.�
Cleaver took a couple of steps backwards to reach a silvery ice bucket.� Without moving eyes from her he retrieved a bottle clouded with condensation.
�I�ve heard that!� he exclaimed, rummaging in a drawer for a corkscrew.� �It�s amazing how he has grown.� His sister too, they say.� Like the surprising development of your breasts, only more so.� Your mother commented on that, by the way.� She has no explanation.� She�s as flabbergasted as I.�
�The growth is rather obvious, isn�t it?� Rosalind smirked, plumping them with both hands.
�It certainly is!� How do you explain it?�
She grinned slyly.� �Perhaps there�s something wrong with the plumbing in my old neighborhood.�
�Plumbing!� Cleaver exclaimed, handing her a glass of wine.� �It�s something beyond magic, young lady.� Don�t you have any idea at all?�
�Tim suggested it was because of all the male attention they�ve gotten this year.�
Cleaver�s eyes narrowed.� �He said what?�� Then he laughed.� �He�s pulling your leg ― or perhaps your nipple.� At best he has the cart before the horse.� But he, or his family, are at the root of it, aren�t they?�
She straightened.� �They�re my friends, Harrison.� They�ve invited me to live with them, to join their family.� And I like my new boobs.� I always had such small ones!� The men say they like small ones, but they�re a lot more attentive now!�
�I�m sure.� But do you know how it was done?�
She shook her head.� �I never asked, Harrison.� What�s that western saying about a gift horse?� I�ll tell you this.� They haven�t said.� So it must be a secret, like sex to a kid.� And I�m a member of that family now.� You can�t expect me to blab their secrets.�
He laughed.� �You�re just like your mother, Ros.� The only secrets you know were written in Latin two thousand years ago.� Admit it.� You know nothing about science, so how could you be in possession of any specific information?�
His observation, which was the truth, irked her as he had intended.
�Oh, yeah?� she interposed dourly.� �How would you classify time travel?� Is it magic or science?�
�Time travel!�� Cleaver�s eyes expanded, then narrowed scornfully.� �That�s the stuff of fantasy books, young lady.� You know it�s not possible.� Just think about it for only a moment.�
She shrugged.� �I don�t see why it�s so impossible.� We�re traveling forward in time even as we speak.�
�Why do you bring it up?� he asked, eyes glittering.
Rosalind sipped her wine.� �No, you must be right about that.� I have a feeling the three of them are always playing jokes on me, even when they appear to be serious.� They�re weird, but I love them.� Can you imagine keeping monkeys and bugs as pets?�
�Monkeys, yes.� But bugs?�
�They�ve got them trained.�
�Trained?� How?�
She wagged her head slightly as if becoming confused.� Cleaver appeared to be matching her sip for sip, but I noticed that the level of liquid in his own goblet was hardly lower.� Rosalind said, �The monkeys are like servants who don�t know their place.�� She giggled.� �I discovered them when one of them licked me.� As for the bugs, they swarm on your body, a huge number of them, and suck your skin clean.� They�re scary but fun. �I always used to hate bugs.�
�Yes, yes.� Nasty things.�� Cleaver, sipping again, peered at Rosalind over the rim of the glass.� He shook his head as if abandoning that line of inquiry.� �Getting back to the party: those were federal officials who burst in so rudely to spirit you and Tim�s family away to Washington.� What was that all about?�
�I was just along for the ride,� she explained, holding out her glass for a refill.� �They went to meet President Truman.�
�Truman!� What on earth for?�� He poured more wine.
�Harrison, I�m uncertain about what to believe, and I don�t understand a fraction of what they tell me.� All I know about the trip to Washington is that they had some information the government wanted, something to do with the mess in Korea, which I first heard about that very morning.�
He grunted.� �Along with the rest of the world.� What could Tim contribute nationally about Korea?�
She hesitated.� �I think Tim knows a lot about the future, Harrison.� And so does Truman.�
His eyes flashed.� �Knows � or guesses?�
She shrugged.� �He argued with the president.� He wanted to use Japanese soldiers.�
�Tim?�
�No, the president.� Tim talked him out of it.�
�You mean, Truman wanted to send Japs to fight in Korea?�
She nodded.� �That�s what I remember.�� She chuckled.� �And something else.� Tim knew about the general getting promoted before he did.�
�What general?�
�It was in the papers yesterday.� He�s going to get a fifth star.�
Cleaver shrugged.� �Anybody with a line into congress would know that.� But why would an obscure Chicago family have such a line?� Unless, of course, they�re very special people.�
�They�re special to me.� But I know what you mean.� They�re important somehow.� They�ve been to Washington before and there are federal cops always lurking about protecting them.�
�Federal cops?�� Cleaver glanced around the cabin with a look of consternation.� He had a point.� I wondered if the FBI was watching out for Ros yet.
But the girl continued, �If it weren�t for that and for Tim and Alice growing into adulthood over a period of weeks, I would dismiss them as lovable eccentrics who�re nuts about alternate universes and space travel.�
�Space travel!�� Cleaver grabbed her arm so firmly that Rosalind sloshed her drink.� �You mean rockets and that sort of thing?�
Rosalind sought to pull her arm free.� �Please, Harrison!� You�re hurting me!�
�Oh!� I�m terribly sorry, dear girl.�� He released her.� �Knowledge about rockets would make sense of this, you know.� With rockets and atom bombs the United States could rule the entire world.�
Rosalind rubbed her arm and pouted at the man.� �I don�t think I�m supposed to talk about these things, Harrison, even though I don�t understand them.�
He lifted her arm for a generous kiss on the soft inner part just below the elbow.� �You understand much more than you realize, darling.� But I won�t press you to reveal confidences.� I actually invited you here to show you my new yacht.�
�You abducted me,� she said with a smile.
He dismissed the complaint with a wave of his arm.� �I have a splendid idea,� he said.� �Let�s sail to my cottage on Beaver Island.� It�s about 300 miles up the lake.� We could be there in two days or so, and I�m certain you�d love the voyage.�
�That sounds like fun, Harrison.� It really does, but such a trip would last at least a week, and I can�t stay away that long.� I want to be around to help Tim set up his factory.� He�s letting me write the recruiting blurb.�
Cleaver sought to refill her glass, but the bottle was near empty.� He reached into a cupboard to retrieve a fifth of Scotch.
�Factory?� Is Tim going into business?� he asked as he poured.
Rosalind waved her glass back and forth, sloshing some whiskey onto her wrist.� �That�s more secret stuff, Harrison,� she slurred.� �It�s all about space ships.� And some new kind of space drive.� You said you�d not press me about these matters.�
�A new space drive?� You mean it�s not a rocket?�
�I don�t know how it works, Harry.�� She grinned loosely.� �Rockets are so masculine ― spewing at everything in sight!�� She took another swallow and added, �Tim said his spaceship will be to the veetoo as the veetoo was to a child�s toy.� What�s a veetoo?�
�You�re pulling my leg,� he asserted.� �Did he say how it works?�
�He might have, but I don�t remember.� Does it make any difference to us?�
�Perhaps not, darling,� he responded, filling her glass again.� �It�s just that space ships might become important in coming years and I�d like to get in on the ground floor.� Perhaps I could offer Tim some funding.�
She got to her feet but swayed dangerously.� �I�m drinking too much.� Where�s your powder room?� And let�s not talk about Tim�s secrets.� I don�t know anything valuable in any case.�
�As you wish, sweetheart.� And I�d rather you not get drunk.�� He took the glass from her hand.� �We could truly enjoy ourselves tonight, if you remain somewhat alert.�
She gazed at him with a crooked smile as he began to unbutton her blouse.� �I know what you want,� she remarked with approval.� �But let�s not talk about Tim anymore.�
�But, darling, you must at least tell me how he is as an adult lover.� Did you know I sucked on him at the party when he was still a pretty boy?�
�I doubt you want to know the truth of it, Harrison, because the news could give you an inferiority complex.� I�ll just say he�s grown dramatically, in all directions, although he�s still pretty.� Sucking him now is a real challenge, I can tell you.�
Cleaver grunted an amused laugh.� �I don�t know what to say, Ros, except I�m jealous.� I suppose he satisfies you.�
�Satisfy me!� Harrison, the guy leaves me limp every time.�
He unclasped her bra and pulled it off to free large, firm breasts.� �Magnificent!� he exclaimed, palming both.� �They�re just the right size for a tall girl like you.�
�Oh, dear!� she cried in a stagy voice.� �I�m a prisoner and at your mercy!�
Cleaver�s nostrils flared.� �I know that game, Ros.� It can get rough.�
She stepped back to assay him.� �It�s either that, Harrison, or I can service you like a whore.� I�ll enjoy the sex either way, although it won�t be, you know, special.�
�He�s that good, is he?�� Cleaver began to undo his clothes.� �I have no illusions, sweet one.� I won�t attempt to match Tim�s prowess.� I�m not comfortable with rape, however, despite your playful willingness, so let�s go to bed for some mutual pleasure.�� He paused.� �I hope I can excite you.� Please don�t fake it.�
She embraced him lightly.� �I�m very orgasmic,� she whispered into his ear, �and I remember your tongue.� It�s as talented as an old woman�s.�
They entered a passageway at the rear of the cabin.� Cleaver showed her into a stateroom on the right, leaving the door open.� I heard him say, �Use the lavatory through there, but look at this, will you?� You probably don�t recognize the electronics.� Those machines are wire recorders.� You�ve heard of them?� And that, my dear, is a 20 inch television receiver, one of the largest made.�
I heard nothing further.� Impatiently I skipped ahead and saw motion.� Rosalind, still dressed, appeared in the passageway.� Cleaver, naked except for his socks, steered her by the elbow.� �Let�s use this other stateroom, where you can snooze as late as you wish.�
They passed out of sight to the left.
Again I skipped ahead.� Did the bug have sense enough to move its perch?� To my surprise, it did.� It entered the passageway and swung to the left through the open door, taking a position on the wall, I presumed.
Cleaver knelt beside the bunk in the small sleeping cabin, bent over the nude girl, mouth nuzzling her hip and belly, hands on thighs and breasts.
�Have you found everything in order, Harrison?� she asked fretfully.� �I�m getting impatient.�
�Let me part these legs so I can get at you, dear girl.� I have a reputation to defend.�
She opened them eagerly and his head moved directly between them.� She sighed in contentment and began to play with her breasts, pinching the nipples.� Soon, she squirmed her lower body and her sighs progressed to light moans.
�Don�t tease me!� she cried when he paused and raised his head.
He resumed the task with determination.� She became increasingly agitated.� �Yes! Yes!� she exclaimed then yelled inarticulately.� Her body went rigid and her thighs closed on the man�s head.� She relaxed after less than a minute.
�Thank you, Harrison,� she said with eyes closed.� �Your reputation is intact.�
�You�re welcome, my dear.� I have always treasured that flavor.� Would you mind lying on your stomach for my turn?�
�Harrison!� You want something nasty?�
�If you don�t mind, dearest.� I�ll be very gentle.�
Without reply she rolled over.� He stroked her fresh, plump buttocks and fondled the soft thighs below them.
�My, my, Rosalind, you are indeed a splendid piece of ass!�
She giggled.� �I�ll get Tim to make me a pussy between my boobs.�
�Can he do that?�
�He can do anything!�
Cleaver rose to his feet.� �Just a moment, sweet one.� I�ll get you a relaxing drink.�
He returned in seconds and offered her a glass containing a clear liquid.� She raised up on an elbow and sniffed it.
�Gin,� she announced.� �But something else as well.� Harrison!� I believe you intend to drug me.�
�Just something to loosen you up, my dear.�
�My tongue or my sphincter?� It won�t do you any good, though, because I don�t know anything of value, as you mentioned earlier.�
�Swallow it.� You�ll feel better.�
She glanced askance at his rigid organ.� �I know you like lively women, Harry.� Okay, I�ll drink it.�
She downed the potion and laid her head on the pillow.� He quickly lubricated himself with salve from a tube.� After parting her long legs, he climbed between them and lowered his body to hers.� She uttered a grunt when he penetrated her, but otherwise remained silent and still as he sought his pleasure in languid strokes.� After a couple of minutes he suddenly plumbed her with two rapid, long thrusts then lay heavily upon her briefly, quivering and whining as if in pain.
�You�re squishing me,� Rosalind protested in a weary, slurred voice.
He dismounted to kneel again at the side of the bunk.� �Now let�s talk about that factory,� he said into her ear.
�It�s for space ships,� she mumbled.� �They want to go to the moon.�
�When?�
�I don�t know, �cept it�ll take a few years.� We have losh to do.� Tim nee�sh losha people, special people.�� Her voice began to fade.� �I get to help pick �em.�
�Where will he build it?�
Her eyes, which had drifted closed, flickered open.� �He neesh ― needs somewhere without radar.� Ish that the right word?� Maybe you can help � find ��� Her head sagged.
Despite repeated efforts Cleaver was unable to elicit any further information.� He finally gave up in disgust and left the cabin.� I needed a long skip in the report to observe anything but the random limb movements of a sleeping and probably drugged Rosalind.
Finally the light brightened.� Cleaver was looking in.� My viewpoint moved towards him, passed over his shoulder and entered the cabin.� It�s main door stood open, admitting the reddish light of dawn.� I sailed through the door and rose into the air with a glimpse of large boats lined up in rows.� In short order a small bird zoomed toward me and everything went black.
I set the viewer on the table and looked up as Alice did the same with hers.� �What do you think?� I asked.
�At least she got laid.�
When I only sniffed, she added, �If it�s a boat, it�s a big one.�
�Cleaver called it his yacht.� He can afford a large one.�
�But where is it?�
I shook my head.� �I don�t know.� But I suspect Cleaver wants to talk to me.�� I stood up.� �Think I�ll go for a walk.�
* * *
�You can�t be Tim!�
I turned in startlement at the feminine call.� A limousine had stopped at the curb beside me with passenger window open.� The face behind it was beautiful, well made-up, smiling with a wrinkle of puzzlement ― and only too familiar.
�But you can be Mona.�
She blinked.� �Now how would Tim�s older brother know me on sight?�� She sniffed.� �I didn�t think Tim had an older brother, and you�re too pretty to be his father.�
�Boys grow up, Mona.�
�In a couple of months?�
I smiled.� �Teenagers can change quickly sometimes.�
�Yes, in all directions, I�ll bet.�� She leered at my groin ostentatiously, then pushed open the door.� �Get in.� I want to find out.�
�You want to take me for a ride, eh?�
�If you�re running an errand, I�ll be happy to give you a lift.�
�That�s nice.� Is it just coincidence that brings you in front of Rosalind�s old apartment?�
She grinned.� �Well, no, as a matter of fact, I was looking for you.� Your housekeeper said you had come this way.�
�My housekeeper?�
�Perhaps another member of your harem, then.� You can do better than she.� Come on, big boy.� I know you had fun before.� Think how it can be now!�
Hand on the top of the open door, I bent down, stared into her eyes and said in low but firm tones, �All right, but I want you to take me to Cleaver.�
She lost her smile.� �I thought you were on an errand.�
�It�s the same errand.� Move over.�� I put a foot in the car, dropped my hip beside hers and simply slid her buttocks across the wide velvet seat, closing the door behind me.
Her eyes had widened.� �You � you shoved me!�
She was alone in the large passenger compartment.� I pointed to the speaking tube.� �Tell the driver to get going.�
�Okay!� she snarled, but her hand squeezed my thigh and she breathed admiringly, �Good heavens, Tim, that�s hard muscle!�
�Tell him.�
She pulled the funnel to her mouth and said, �Home, James.�� Immediately the long car slid forward.
I returned her grin.� �Is that the chauffeur�s name?�
She shrugged.� �To me they�re all James.� Where do you want me to drop you?�
�I told you.� I want to see Cleaver.�
�That�s good.� He wants to see you too.�
�He ordered you to fetch me, didn�t he?�
�Oh, I was easy.� I wanted to see you again, especially after all the changes I heard about.� Will you force me to drag it out myself?�
I chuckled grimly.� �The referent of your it is not hard to guess.� I�m sorry, Mona, but today I�m in no mood for hanky-panky.�
�I can put you in the mood.�
�Not in time to be of any use to you.� It can�t be that far to Cleaver�s yacht.�
She had reached across me and pulled down the window shade on the passenger window.� She froze at my words, her face in front of mine.� �How�d you know about the yacht?� He only bought it last month.�
�I know.� I also know that�s where he�s holding Rosalind.�
�Holding?�� She smiled.� �Only for this.�� Her hands caught me behind the head and pulled our faces together in a kiss.� I allowed her tongue to probe but failed to follow it on withdrawal.
She backed away slowly, studying my eyes.� �Though you don�t know exactly where it is.� How interesting!�
�I�ll know when we get there.�
She chuckled slightly, but her expression showed no humor.� �How is it I get the impression the worst thing I could do is take you to Cleaver?�
She reached for the speaking tube.� I snatched it and held it away from her.
Her eyes grew wide.� �Timmy, you�ve changed!�
I grinned.� �I thought you�d already noticed.�
�You�re so much more forceful!�
While she watched my face, her hands went to the zipper of my fly.� Mona was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, whose perfectly proportioned body remained the choice memory from Cleaver�s orgy in June.� But impatience was my principle reaction to her pressure in my groin.� I shook my head and brushed her hands away.� �Not now, Mona.�
Her eyes flashed in protest.� �You must know I�m curious!�
�So am I.� Tell me about Cleaver.�
Her hands fell dispiritedly into her lap.� She took a deep breath.� �Cleaver is like an old sock.�
�Your employer?�
�Employer?�� She grunted.� �My keeper.�
�That�s what they call the attendants at a zoo.�
She chuckled.� �It�s a zoo, all right.� Except he doesn�t clean out the cages � the gilded cages.�
�How rich is he?�
�Oh, he�s up there, though maybe not with Rockefeller and Ford.� He packed most of the military K- and C-rations in the war.�
�Then he deserves some credit.�
�Credit?� I think he made a few hundred million for his efforts ― despite our confiscatory taxes.�
�Did he cheat?�
�Of course he cheated!� How else can you keep anything with a 96 per-cent tax rate?�
�That�s why they invented tax shelters.� He seems to be interested in my family for a lot more than sex.� Do you know anything about that?�
She laughed sarcastically.� �You�re asking the wrong person.�
�Well, I�ll ask Cleaver himself in a few minutes, but I�d like to hear your slant.�
�My slant is sex, Timmy: the stiff tongue or cock.� Cleaver has a lot of interesting men around him.�
�No doubt.� But what�s your future in 20 years?�
�Huh!� Ten years is too long.� I don�t think about the future, Timmy, beyond the next cock.� It�s scary.�
�You ought to get ready for it.� Make him buy you an annuity.�
Her pretty face grew solemn.� She sighed.� �I know what I am, Timmy: Cleaver�s voluntary slave.� He takes care of what I need or want and in return I do what he tells me, which is mainly fucking when and whom as ordered.� I�m in no position to make him do anything.� Hey!� What would I have to do to become your slave ― with an annuity?�
�I�m not a keeper, Mona.� Where exactly is Rosalind this morning?�
�The last I heard of her, she was asleep in one of the staterooms.�� Her hand moved back to my groin and fondled the contents.� �Wouldn�t you like to have a slave who�d fuck anyone you named?�
I caught her arm and gently removed the hand to her own lap.� �No, I would not,� I answered emphatically.� �Treating a person as if she were just a piece of meat is not my style.�
�Really?�� Her tone expressed surprise.� �But that�s all women are.�
I studied her.� She wasn�t kidding.� �Mona, why did you buy into such vicious nonsense?�
�Buy into?� What do you mean?�
Damned anachronisms!� �You are a beautiful, bright woman, Mona, yet you seem to be caught like a fish on a hook.� You don�t need him, you know.� You�re wasting your life.�
�I�m what?�
�You could move away, go to school, make of yourself anything you wanted.�
She stared at me.� Her lip curled.� �Is it the Reverend Tim these days?� Where the hell would I get the money to go to school?�
�Lots of places.� From me, for example.�
She blinked at me.� Suddenly she smiled saucily.� �I�ve already offered to be your slave.� If you ordered me to go to school, guess I�d have to go.� To what school would you send me, Tim?�
An interesting question.� �How about art or design?� I mused.� �I can see you have good taste.� Bright people usually have talent.�
�Hmm.� I used to draw.� Maybe I�d like that, if the school were coed.�
�That�s true of most art schools.�
�Maybe.� Are you rich too, Tim?�
�Me?� I don�t have a penny to my name.�
�But you have a PhD in physics.� That�s a kind of wealth.�
�Potentially you�re right.� The truth is, Mona, I�m as rich as I wish to be just now.� Money is not the object.� That�s the problem with most rich men, I think.� They confuse means with ends.�
�What is the object, Tim?�
�Freedom.�
�Freedom to starve?�
�You�re right.� Freedom is only a necessary condition, for which money is the grease.�
�The grease to what?�
�To whatever goals you set for yourself.�
�Really?� Just now my goal is to suck your cock again.� Do I have enough freedom for that?�
I had raised the window shade.� I said dryly, �Give me a rain check.� This looks like it might be Cleaver�s slip.�
Indeed the car had proceeded cautiously down onto a board dock to which a large yawl was tied up.� As we passed the stern I saw the name: GerryMand Two.� It was Cleaver�s, all right.
I followed Mona out of the car.� The vessel, long enough in my opinion to qualify as a ship, was tied against the dock�s cork bumpers.� A short gangway had been laid down to the rail.� A man in work clothes sat in the forward well deck.� He seemed to be splicing some lines.� He looked up at us, gave me a hard stare but dropped his eyes when they lit upon Mona.� I paused to study the vessel.� The hemp halyards were secured to simple cleats.� They were not the glittery nylon lines attached to power extenders that I recalled in the Nineties ― of course, but meaning that under sail this ship would require a sizeable crew.� I wondered how much of it was aboard.
�Come on,� said the woman, stepping lightly across the gangway.� �I�ll take you to him.�
Not for nothing did the limousine possess a long whip antenna.� Cleaver stood in the aft cabin doorway looking up at us, shirtless under a satin smoking jacket and white slacks.� He smiled widely, exhibiting white teeth in a closely shaven, tanned face.� �Welcome aboard!� he called.
Mona�s feet twinkled girlishly down the companionway steps to the after well deck as if she had been raised on yachts.� Perhaps she had.� I had spent time on them in my fifties.� Grasping the rails loosely, I descended in one leap, thumping onto the deck behind her and straightening to tower over her.
And over Cleaver.� He stared up at me open-mouthed.� �My god, they told me ―� Can you truly be Timothy Kimball?�
�In the flesh,� I said dryly.� Mona slid out from between us with a slight smile.
�What about it?� He demanded of her.
She smiled.� �He claims all Tim�s molecules are still there.�
�And a lot more!�� He shook his head.� �How could this possibly happen to you, Tim, in less than three months?�
�I�ve had a huge appetite,� I admitted.� �Where is Rosalind?�
He glanced at his diamond-studded wristwatch.� �Still doing her beauty sleep, I imagine.� It�s only a little after eleven, you know.�� His eyes widened dramatically.� �Good lord, Tim, you can�t be concerned about her!� You know all about her, ah, interests.�
I stared into his eyes.� �Somebody said she was abducted.�
He possessed untapped reserves of incredulity.� His eyebrows rose toward his hairline.� �Abducted!� My god, Tim, you know that�s a canard, whoever said it.�� He raised his chin.� �And she�ll be the first to put it straight when she gets up.�
�Give her a call, then.�� I still hadn�t smiled.� �I�d like to hear it from her.�
�Then why don�t you rouse her?�� He stood calmly to one side of the doorway.� �Go through the salon.� She�s in the stateroom on the left.�
I passed him without another word.� The �salon� was a cozy room of plush chairs and drink tables, lined with windows presently covered by drapes.� I pulled open a door to a short hall and knocked on the door to the left.
Hearing a moan, I unlatched it and stepped through, closing it behind me.� The room was very dim.� I found a light switch and changed that.� Rosalind lay nude on a double bed whose coverings above a single sheet had all fallen to the floor ― excuse me, the deck.� She blinked at me owlishly.� Her hands went to her temples.
�Timmy!� Where�d you come from?�
I sank to the bed beside her and raised her to a sitting position.� �Are you all right, Ros?�
�No!� My head is killing me.�
�Kiss me,� I told her, working up my saliva.
�My breath is terrible, Timmy.�
�Not to me, my dear.�� My hand raised her chin.� Despite her worried look she let our lips meet, opening hers expectantly.
�Swallow it,� I told her after a moment.� �You�ll feel better.�
She obeyed with a snort that was almost a giggle.� �That�s what Harrison said.�
We sat quietly for a minute or two.� I wondered at Cleaver�s forbearance in permitting it, then thought of a reason why.
My companion said in awe, �I didn�t know a man�s spit could make such a difference!�
�Do you feel better?�
�Oh, yes.� You�re a wonder! �� Oh, Timmy!�� Her expression faded from approval to anxiety.� �Harrison said a lot of other things.� And so did I.�
�I know.� Do you need help dressing?�
�No.� Not now.� My clothes are in that pile and I recently discovered there�s a lavatory through that door.� Give me five minutes, Tim.�� She smiled wanly.� �Just don�t expect Betty Grable.�
I squeezed her against me.� �I�d rather have Rosalind any day.�
�Oh, Tim!�� She kissed me again.
Cleaver sat in the salon, a tall drink in hand.� Mona had disappeared.� He gestured to the short table between his chair and the next on which another tumbler rested, frosted with condensation.� �Take a seat and have some refreshment.� How is our favorite tall redhead this morning?�
I took a seat but ignored the drink.� �She�ll be all right.� She�s dressing.�
�Are you satisfied she wasn�t brought here by force?�
�I never asked her that, Cleaver.� Force would not have been necessary� ― I fixed his eye with mine ― �this time.�
He cocked an eyebrow inquiringly, then shook his head.� �Tim, apparently we are getting off on the wrong foot.� I deplore that very much.� We seemed so compatible at my party in June.� It was obvious to me that, although you were very young, you had a good head for business on your shoulders.� Certainly someone who earns a PhD in physics at the age of 15 is bound to shake the world!� I admire that talent and ability, Tim.� I think it represents the highest type of human, the cream of life on this planet.�
His face was earnest.� I said, �What do you want, Cleaver?�
�Can�t you call me Harrison, or even Harry?� After all, we have been the most intimate of friends.�
�We have been intimate,� I admitted grudgingly.� �Can it be that you want to control your �highest type of human?��
�Control?� Tim, what an idea!� Don�t you understand?� I want to help him!�
�To help him,� I repeated.� �With money, perhaps?�
�Oh, certainly.� And I don�t refer to piddling amounts, either.� I�m prepared to invest 50 million dollars.�
I shook my head.� �Piddling is a relative term.�
He studied me with obvious interest, doubtlessly thinking of Rosalind�s disclosures.� �Do you have any idea ― that is, do you have any justification for a larger sum?�
I said confidently, �I have a detailed development plan.� It includes commitments, not mere estimates, for $500 million in the first year.�
�Five hundred ―�� His eyes were round.� �Commitments, you say?�
�Oh, yes, from many investors.�� I smiled internally.� Clara has a cautious soul despite her reversion across four centuries.� She had used more than 25 aliases ― that I knew of ― to manage her money accounts.
He licked his lips, eyes glowing.� �To develop what, Tim?�
�I understand that Rosalind told you.�
�Spaceships?� To the moon?�
�That�s only the beginning.�
He stared at me, breathing in slow pants, like a gun-shy dog who hears distant thunder.� He shook his head as if recovering from a dream.� �This is incredibly interesting, Tim.� I think I know who your investors must be, and I�m surprised that Truman has so much vision.� By the way, I�m most pleased that you are so forthcoming.� But let me ask you something that may be of even greater importance than moon colonies.�
�Go ahead,� I said cheerfully.� That was the moment I keyed run to the NEPENTHE program already setup for my saliva glands.
He asked earnestly, �Do you know how your sudden growth to physical adulthood was accomplished?�
I smiled.� �Yes, I know.�
He took a deep breath.� �Tim, surely you realize what such an ability implies for medicine.� Are these techniques of yours, including breast enlargement, applicable to the general population?�
�I�m confident of it.�
His face lit as if in a spotlight.� �My god, Tim, this may be the greatest discovery in history!�
On that note Rosalind appeared in the doorway.� She looked from Cleaver to me.� �Am I interrupting something?�
�Not really,� I answered, getting to my feet and going to her.
I took her in my arms.� As our faces closed, I whispered, �Don�t swallow,� and shoved in another mouthful.� I released her immediately.� To Cleaver it must have resembled a pro-forma peck.� She regarded me in wonder, lips pressed together.
�We�ve got places to go,� I remarked in an offhand manner.� �Give Harrison a kiss for his hospitality.�
He surged to his feet, protesting, �Tim, you must always consider my house your home away ―�� Rosalind, who was in fact slightly taller than he, pulled him against her and kissed him thoroughly and lingeringly.� I saw his larynx bob.
She released him lazily.� �Harrison, that was a wonderful evening.�
He smiled quickly.� �For both of us, sweetie.�� Then he frowned and made tasting motions.
She looked at me with a twinkle.� �Men are easy to please.�
�Which is why �� Cleaver began.� He shook his head dizzily. ��Which is why women hate to do it.� Whoa!�� He took a deep breath and looked at the girl.� �What � what was it you asked me, dear?�
She backed away from him and turned to me inquiringly.
�Time to go,� I said, spinning toward the exit.
�My god, sir!� Who are �� You must be related to ―� No!�� He struck his forehead with the heel of his hand.� �I know who you are.� You�re Timothy Kimball, grown up in three months!�
�It�s been fun, Harrison,� I told him.� �You�ll want to think about what we discussed.� Come along, Ros.�
�But, but ��� He stared after me with open mouth.
I led her out into the well deck.� A burly man stood at the top of the companionway, glaring down at us.� He looked familiar.� His fists clenched and unclenched.
Behind us Cleaver said haltingly, �I really can�t � let you run like this.� We need to go over �� Go over what?�
Rosalind leaned against me, gesturing upward with her chin.� �He�s the guy who grabbed me.�
At the foot of the stairs I growled up at him, �Get out of the way.�
�Make me,� he responded with a sneer.
�Stand back,� I told Rosalind.
God, I�m fast these days!� My hand flicked out, caught one of his widespread ankles and pulled it toward me off the edge of the deck.� Down he came, his back striking the companionway rails.� I stepped back, shoving the slowly reacting girl with my shoulder, and let him collapse on the well deck with a whoosh of expelled air.
While he got falteringly to his feet, I propelled Ros up the companionway by her well-padded buttocks.� I turned to face him.� �Do we need to discuss this any further?�
Apparently we did.� He took a swing.� I saw the whole buildup as if in slow motion and let his arm pass over my shoulder.� Bracing a leg behind me, I sank my fist into his belly ― not very far; this was a muscular specimen in good shape.� But he had swung precipitously without recovering his balance.� He back-pedaled into the open-mouthed Cleaver.� Both of them disappeared into the relatively dark salon.
I was up the companionway in two steps.� �Come on.�� I herded my woman up the gangway.� The man in the forward well watched me but didn�t rise.� I took Rosalind�s hand and we walked up the dock toward the ramp.� The limousine had disappeared.� Large yachts were moored on either side, some with crews working at one task or another.� No one paid us any attention.
�Tim �� What happened back there?�
�You saw it.�
�Will they � just let us go?�
�If they don�t they�ll wish they had.�
We reached the ramp without incident.� At the top I looked around among the many parked cars. ��Come on out to the street.� We�ll flag a taxi.�
�Tim,� she murmured, now holding to my hand as we walked, �did Harrison forget what we did last night?� What did you tell him?�
�I answered all his questions without lying.� But it�s all right.� He�s forgotten everything that happened in the last 24 hours.�
�Because I kissed him?�
�Because you shoved my saliva into his mouth.� Thank you, dear.� You were quick on the uptake.�
�But why didn�t it make me forget?�
�It was tuned to recognize your DNA but not his, of course.�� I chuckled.� �Be careful whom you kiss until you take a good long drink.�
�My � DNA?� What�s that?�
�It�s the code that determines who you are.� Even by my time they had mostly figured it out.� Clara�s people have it cold.�
��The code that ���� Her voice faltered.
I explained the basics of cellular DNA, ending with, �Each person has the same unique code in each of his cells.� It identifies him absolutely, among other attributes.�
She sighed.� �He laughed when I mentioned time travel.� But you truly are from the future, aren�t you, Tim ― and Alice and Clara?�
�Partly.� It�s complicated, Rosalind.� Your computer will be activated next week.� Then you�ll begin to understand.�
�My computer?� Alice mentioned that.� What is it?�
�We each have one built into us.� It will make a big difference to you.� You�ll see.� For the time being, please stay away from Cleaver, will you?�
�You see him as dangerous?�
�Presumptuous and overbearing.� Yes, he would have become dangerous.�
I flagged down a taxi.� On the way home Rosalind dropped her bombshell.
�Do you know about wire recorders?�
�Yes, of course.� Tape recorders will soon replace them.�
�Here�s something I think you ought to hear.� I didn�t know about the lavatory on my stateroom, so when I woke up about nine o�clock, I went across the hall to Cleaver�s.� He had two wire recorders in his stateroom and one of them was recording ― I mean, the reels were turning.� I heard his voice clearly through the machine, talking to someone in the salon.�
I straightened up in alarm.� �Good god!�
�So he won�t forget everything after all,� she continued, studying me.
I leaned forward, hand on the front seat, preparing to order the driver to return.� But destroying those recorders would probably result in someone�s death.� What had I actually admitted?� Too much, of course.� But hadn�t he assumed that the government was sponsoring my spaceship factory?� I resolved to wait for Clara�s record.
�At least he won�t remember what he did to you,� I mused.
�Well, I remember it, up until I got dizzy.�� She twisted in the seat uncomfortably.� �My bottom really remembers.�
* * *
Clara copied my record out into a viewer and I went over it a few times.� Apparently my memory was good.� Fernworks was not at hazard, not so long as Cleaver believed Truman to be my sponsor.� But my implicit admission that Clara�s medical programs might be effective for the whole world ― in particular for him, would cause us future grief, I felt confident, as he aged and lost confidence in mid-century medicine.� His realization that I had made him forget his meeting with Rosalind and myself would only add to his appreciation of it.
The answer to him and the government was the same: a full disconnect.� We would have to move it up.