Terry Neale - Jo-el

“So my children could live to a hundred and fifty?”

“Yes.”

I was lost again. What father wouldn’t want that for their children? “Is life okay at that age?”

“The last years are always difficult, but most people on Cirion live to one hundred and seventy-five. Some more. The last ten or so years are, well you know, challenging.”

I was a believer. I went to the kitchen, poured a glass of water and popped two pills. With my usual impatience, I expected instant results, but nothing happened. Whatever.

Maggie said she would be here at five, so I spent the remaining time cleaning, not my favorite task. When the front-door bell rang, it was dead on five. Maggie was always punctual. My disposition bloomed as she entered the house. A vivid smile adorned her lips, her green-grey eyes shone like opals. She was a pretty girl, about five-eight, with short brown hair that she wore close. She hadn’t yet followed my wife’s path of weight gain but she was no stick-insect either. She wore black jeans and a warm sweatshirt advertising Queenstown, New Zealand, one of her favorite places. While there she had completed the daredevil canyon swing and brought home a video to prove it. My stomach turned when she first showed it to me.

She told me about her week and how Adam was doing. Her frustrations with the position and how she looked forward to being a homicide detective one day. At six we took the train two stops to our favorite Thai restaurant. All the way she continued her recitation of the trials of being a police officer.

“You know, there was one funny thing, this week.”

“What was that?” I asked.

“A couple of officers from Taraval got called out to a café by the beach near Judah. Suspected theft by a black guy.”

I was all ears, my face glowed red.

“You okay?” Maggie said.

“Oh, yea, just a little warm in here.”

“Anyway,” she continued. “The black guy turned into a white guy just as they were going to bag him.”

“What?” I feigned surprised.

“Yea, they told Mike at the station, he was over at Taraval.”

“Told him what?”

“That the perp they’d seen exiting the café was black but when they caught up to him, it was a young, white guy. They swore the man was black. Plus, the café manager said it was a black guy and he was the only person who’d left the café at that time.” She continued to eat.

“So, what did they do?” I asked.

“Nothing, what could they do? I guess they’re still talking about it. Anyway, how was your week, Dad?”

Glad to be off that subject. “Pretty good,” I said.

“Do anything interesting?”

Oh, if I could only tell you. Let’s see, I met a guy from another planet, who introduced me to Sally, a computer that looks like Bridget Bardot. I killed a Hispanic guy in the City. (That thought fired up a concern about my reasonableness.) I can now change my looks and clothes by just thinking about it. Oh, don’t forget the database of every piece of history for hundreds of millions of years. I can fly and bounce around the globe to anywhere in less than a second and the world is going to end in about seventy years and I’ve been tasked with saving it. Just thinking about it convinced me I was going mad.

“I had a nice lunch out, today,” I said.

“Oh, where did you go?” she asked.

Nippers, a rustic bar in the Bahamas. “The Plum Blossom café,” I lied.

“That’s it! You need to get out more, Dad, the Plum Blossom is just around the corner, try something further afield.”

Which reminded me, I needed to check on Clair and Raith. Immediately, Sally’s voice appeared in my ear. “She’s back on the game, her choice.” Jesus, she’s watching me! Go away, I thought. I wonder if she did?

“I went into the City on Thursday,” I said, murdered a guy I’d never actually talked to.

Maggie left a little before nine that evening, I felt happy and content. It was a respite from Sally, a reminder that there was a real world in my life. Something special. I hadn’t thought much about Mary since my involvement with the people of Cirion, I guess that was a good thing. My children were everything to me now. They’re lives as important as my own. Yet, I had to try hard not to interfere, let them make their own mistakes, as I did. I couldn’t reconcile the craziness of what was happening to me with their everyday existence and I was sure it was going to get harder.

A late Black Label kept me company. I nursed it, lovingly. The weather looked fine for the morning, rain clouds holding off till after lunch. I was going for a ride. My weekly, subject to weather, pleasure. But as the alcohol dug deeper I considered my alternatives. Not an option in past weeks but now a headlight blinding me on a dark night. Breakfast in Rio, or maybe lunch in Paris, oh geez, I could go to Cork and see my brother, Gerry. From a distance though, wouldn’t work to turn up as Dave. So we couldn’t speak, unless I played a stranger, I guess. Hmmm… Or I could practice flying, which made me wonder…

“Sally,” I called out. She appeared immediately, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. “I’m going to practice flying tomorrow, I don’t want to be seen, I guess. Not yet, anyway. Can you make me invisible?”

“Not perfectly, no,” she replied. “You could change into a blue outfit to match the sky, but it wouldn’t work that well. If you are completely still, say on the ground, you can become invisible to one person, by matching you to the background. But if there were two people it wouldn’t work.”

I was struggling to understand. “Say that again,” I said.

“If there was a tree behind you, you could mirror that tree in your clothes from one person’s perspective but not the second person.”

I thought about it and imagined two people looking at me and then it was clear. I couldn’t go invisible, jeez, these guys need to get their act together.

“You can create a holographic image that’s transparent, but that wouldn’t allow you to practice with the anti-gravity technology.”

Now I was confused, “I can create a holographic mirror image of myself?”

“Yes.”

“What can it do?”

“Same as me,” not much.

“But it would look like me, perfectly.”

“Yes, if you wanted it to, or anybody else. It’s just a hologram.”

“If someone touched it, there would be nothing there?”

“Right.”

“Can it speak?”

“Sure, you control the voice, the computer can direct the sound to come from the hologram. That’s how I work.”

“Interesting,” I said.

“Are there other things I should know?” I asked.

Sally looked like she was thinking, but computers don’t think like humans, do they? “There are a couple of things, yes.” I raised my eyes, indicating for her to continue. “There are some safety items that I need to tell you about, but it’s better if we leave them for a while, until you need them.” The soothing effect of the Black Label let that statement wash over me and I just nodded.

“What else?”

“You can speak and understand all languages.”

Wow! That turned me for a loop, “How?”

“The computer will translate the language to English in real time. The delay will vary, based on the complexity of the language and what is said.”

“Okay, I can see that as feasible, but what about me speaking a foreign language?”

“The same, the computer mutes your voice and translates what you say in English to whatever language is required.”

“That will look weird, like dubbing in the movies.”

“Better than dubbing. When your persona is a hologram, the computer changes the mouth to match the language.”

I considered it for a moment, neat. “But the delay would be obvious?”