Orson Card - Maps in a Mirror - The Short Fiction of Orson Scott Card

Reubed pulled the purple card from his pocket. He loved to watch how people suddenly became kind and thoughtful.

The woman saw the card and suddenly became kind and thoughtful. “I’m so sorry,” she said sweetly, though Reuben could tell it was a strain. “I hope my dog didn’t disturb you,” she said as she moved away. Was that sarcastic? Reuben wondered. She had more spunk than most. But she was still a zero.

“She’s still a zero,” Reuben said to Maynard. Then he remembered the Auerbach’s package on the bench and went over to see what the man had bought.

But the package was gone. Reuben tried to remember if anyone had gone near the bench during the melee. No one. The woman must have lifted the package. Clever, Reuben thought. “Clever,” he said to Maynard. “The lady’s a thief.”

But something didn’t ring true in the whole situation. What had been in the bag? And when did the woman take it? And why, for that matter, had the man forgotten it? Why— Coincidence.

His father was waiting for him when he got home.

“Reuben, my boy,” said his father cheerfully. “Happy birthday, my lad. Good to see you.”

“Hello, Father,” Reuben said as he opened a can of dog food for Maynard.

“It’s been a long time,” his father said.

Reuben set the dog food down in a dish. Maynard slurped it up noisily. “Has it?” Reuben asked. “I’ve been busy.”

“I’ve been busy,” his father said. Then he realized that Reuben had just said that. “Oh, you just said that.” Then his father laughed. “Mother sends her love.”

“How nice,” Reuben said.

“And I brought you a present,” his father said. He had even wrapped it.

“Thank you,” Reuben said.

“Take it,” his father said, offering him the package.

Reuben took the package.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Reuben’s father asked.

“Do you want me to?”

His father’s patience snapped right then. It always snapped within the first five minutes.

“I don’t care if you flush it down the toilet.”

Reuben opened the package. It was a watch. Very expensive. The kind that told the time, the day, the weather, did math problems up to twelve digits, and played FM radio.

“Three hundred twenty-nine ninety-five plus tax,” Reuben said. “Or did you get a discount?”

His father looked angry. “I got a discount, Reuben. I own the store.”

“Ah,” Reuben said, putting on the watch. “Did you know that two plus two is four?”

“Yes, I knew that.”

“So did the watch. It’s a clever watch. Thank you.”

Then Reuben ran water into another dish and set it in front of Maynard. Maynard slopped into it, splashing all over the floor as he drank. Reuben’s father sat down on the couch. “Nice place,” he said.

“Yes,” Reuben answered. “The government gives us new furniture every three years. It makes us disturbed persons feel—not so disturbed. Of course, some of them can’t cope with new furniture, so they don’t change it. And others—the furniture slashers—they get new furniture more often. But me, I’m a regular disturbed person, so I got my new furniture at the regular time.”

“I’m glad they, uh, take care of you so well,” said Reuben’s father lamely.

“I’m sure you are. Eases the conscience, doesn’t it?”

“Reuben, do you have to?”

“Does Mother miss me?” Reuben asked. “Or has she forgotten her little boy?”

“She hasn’t forgotten.”

“Why don’t you tell her that my name is Reuben? It might remind her. I’m twelve, too, a big boy now, with bright eyes and tousled, sweet-looking blond hair. A lovely child, of whom she can be very proud.”

Reuben’s father had a sick look on his face. “Can’t you lay off? For one day a year?”

“Daddy, this is the only day in the year I get to lay on.”

“Well, I hope you’ve had a good time.”

“It’s been swell,” Reuben answered.

Reuben’s father paced angrily to the window and back again. “You aren’t crazy,” he finally said. “You aren’t crazy, Mr. Boy Genius. You just think you’re too good for the world. Come down off your IQ for a few minutes someday, Reuben. Maybe real human beings have something you don’t have.”

Reuben smiled at his father. “I love you, Daddy,” he said.

He watched his father struggle, trying not to answer, knowing what would happen if he did. Finally habit won, and his father said, “I love you, too, Reuben.”

Reuben began to laugh. He laughed and laughed, rolling on the couch, falling off and rolling on the floor. When he finally stopped laughing his father was gone, and Maynard was scratching his paws on the refrigerator door. Reuben lay on the floor looking at the ceiling for a while. Then he went to bed. For a few crazy moments he wanted to cry himself to sleep. But he hadn’t shed a tear in years. Not about to start now.

He dreamed about his mother.

He woke up with Maynard licking his face.

He followed the short dumpy man every day that week, and all the next week, too. The man had a routine. Mondays at the park, where he always forgot a package from Auerbach’s and the woman walking her dog happened to pick it up. Reuben never saw her take it, but it was always gone. Tuesdays to the airport, where he left a briefcase in a locker—Reuben followed on the overhead.

Wednesdays to the post office, where he took a letter from a post office box. The man opened the letter as he walked. Inside was another envelope, which he casually dropped by a mailbox. A few moments later another man came along, picked up the envelope, and walked away. Reuben followed this second man every time, and every time a block away from the mailbox the man opened the envelope, crumpled up the letter and threw it in a wastebasket without reading it, and saved the envelope Strange Reuben thought.

Thursdays the man was back in the park, only this time the woman came first and left an empty package of dog biscuits, which the man carried to the garbage and threw away. And Fridays the man went to a dirty movie and stayed there for three hours. So many people came and went that Reuben had no way of knowing if one of them was coming to meet the man.

And by the end of the two weeks, Reuben was more confused than ever. The short dumpy man was obviously a messenger. And obviously the messages he carried were secret. But who were the messages from? And who were they to?

Reuben imagined many things. Perhaps it was a gang of criminals passing the messages. But the short dumpy man didn’t seem like a criminal. That meant nothing, of course, as Reuben well knew. But he still didn’t think that that was the answer.

It might be government work. That fit much better, because the man’s regular routine seemed like just the sort of stupid thing the government would have somebody do. But why would the government be hiding its actions like this? It seemed to Reuben that the government spent most of its time hiding things from the people, not from itself.

Which left the last guess, which Reuben thought was crazier than the others. The man must be a spy.

Of course, everyone knew who a spy would be spying for. There was only one enemy. The spaceships circling the world had been there all Reuben’s life, a shadow hanging over the planet. All the enemy needed was an ally on the Earth and they would attack.

But who in the world would be friends with the enemy? What could anyone gain by being enslaved as the other planets had been enslaved?

It didn’t matter who, Reuben decided. It was the only possible answer to the things he had seen.

The next Wednesday when he followed the man, Reuben waited for his chance. Obviously the bit with the letter was so that if someone found it, they would simply mail it without ever realizing that it was something important. So when the short dumpy man dropped the letter, Reuben ran in before the other man could get there. He picked up the letter, looked carefully at the envelope, and dropped it in the slot. As he turned and left, he saw the other man come over to find the letter, then move quickly away when he realized it was gone.