Terry Neale - Jo-el

“Should be an interesting conversation,” I said. “ Time to leave Alice Springs, I think. Where is Ayres Rock? I know it’s close by.”

“Two hundred miles south west,” she replied.

“ Oh! too far to fly. Can I bounce from the air?”

“Sure.”

“Cool. Bounce me five hundred feet above the rock.”

No sooner said than done. But I wasn’t sure where I was in truth. The lights of the city had disappeared and I couldn’t see anything. I dropped down slowly searching out the terrain and eventually the outline of the rock was faintly visible in the moonlight. I landed on the rock and stood still. A mild wind blew from the east, it was eerie. I could see the edge of the rock and walked toward it, but it began to slope steeply, so I stopped. There were no lights anywhere. The ground was black. What was the point being here in the darkness? I thought.

“I think I need a cup of coffee. What’s the time in Sydney?”

“Almost five-thirty a.m.”

“Must be a coffee shop open.”

“Chapter Five Expresso opens in two minutes.”

“Okay, let’s go, join me.”

She bounced me to an alley facing a railway line. The coffee shop was to the left a short way. A hole in the wall place that oozed warmth. I ordered two large coffees and took a seat by the wall as far away from the barista as possible. Sally appeared seconds later wrapped in a brown leather jacket with a fur collar. She smiled as she sat down opposite and I placed the coffee close to her.

“Hmmm smells lovely.”

“You can smell?”

“No, but that’s what I should say, right?” she said, her mouth curled up in a girlish grin.

“I guess.” I took a sip, it was perfect.

“You took that guy’s money?”

“That was nothing compared with what you did.”

She smirked again. I savored another mouthful.

“What am I doing? Sally.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Fuentes, the kid in Rio, now these guys in Alice Springs?”

“And those two English guys,” she added, “sans Passports.”

“Yeah! What’s the point? I’m not going to save the world diddling around with the riffraff of society?”

“It’s a learning process, Jo-el. You need to be comfortable with the technology. We are pleased.”

“We?” I inquired.

She paused in thought, or so it seemed.

“I’m a holographic image created by the computer you are wearing around your waist, a product of the people of Cirion. Ka-el, even though he didn’t have anything to do with my design, controls what I do.”

“So you talk to him all the time?” I butted in again.

“No, that’s not possible. Distance. But he sees everything about eighteen hours later or when he bothers to review it. Earth is not the only project their working on.”

“Who?”

“The project team.”

“So, what else are they working on?”

“Contact with other planets. But I’m not party to that, I don’t get updates.”

“You have quite an attitude,” I said. “You’re not man’s image of an obedient robot who answers in a mundane fashion and just does what he’s told without query.”

“Is that what you want?”

“No, no, I like you as you are, but it’s weird. It’s like you are human. I’m struggling to get used to it.”

She smiled, kindly. There was no nastiness in her face, she wanted to please me, I could see that. “I guess I’m wondering if you can get mad. You know, with me. Then leave me in the lurch.”

“Why would I?” she answered. “What would I achieve if I did that. I’ve said before I’m here to protect all mankind on this planet and you especially.”

“Well it’s good to know,” I said. “It just seems that you enjoy our little encounters with those people, you know, the bad guys. Not that they’re that bad, well, except Fuentes, I guess.”

“I do and it’s a start.”

“What?”

“The bad people. It’s going to get harder.”

“I don’t understand.” I said, frowning.

“Ka-el and his team have modelled numerous scenarios for saving earth. The plans are flexible, but they tend to head in one direction and come back to a similar conclusion if the people here have any chance of surviving. The resources we can allocate to earth are limited by the distance between the two planets. If Cirion was closer they could assist easily, but you must make do with what we have. There was only one container and another one wouldn’t arrive here in time.”

“But you,” I interrupted again, “why don’t you just do what I’m supposed to do?”

“That was considered but discounted for the approach we are taking. It’s a fall back plan. It would be difficult for the people of earth to believe a holographic image created by a computer.”

“So if I fail you will take over.”

“I will, but the model doesn’t rate success more than twenty-two percent.”

“What’s the rating for the plan with me?” I could feel a nervousness well up inside me, as if I was waiting for the results of a driving test.

“About thirty-six percent.”

I think my mouth gapped open at that point. My throat dried up and I experienced a sensation of fear running through my body.

“Thirty-six percent! Less than fifty-fifty. That doesn’t sound too reassuring.”

“No,” she said. “But it’s better than twenty-two.” She smiled again.

I sank the dregs of my first coffee and reached over to take hers away. As I exchanged the cups I looked up to see who might notice but the patrons in the coffee shop were all self-absorbed.

“So what now? Are you going to tell me the plan?”

“Eventually, yes. But we don’t want you to be overwhelmed. There are many years to go, this is the first week. Your learning curve is steep and we believe you will reach the conclusion alone without us directing you. It will work better that way, it will feel like your plan, you won’t fight it. Does that make sense?”

“So you will nudge me in the direction you think I need to go but not actually tell me?”

“Something like that, yes. Ultimately we will tell you how we think it can work. Do you remember teaching your children to drive? You did a great job, Jo-el. You didn’t tell them every mistake they were making and to do this and to do that at every turn. You gave them two guiding principles and then let them figure it out. If they asked questions you answered because you knew they would listen to the answers of questions they’d asked. But if you drowned them in do’s and don’ts, you realized they would turn off and either not listen or try to do it another way.”

It was true, I was proud of my method, which I read in a book somewhere. Once they had mastered the coordination of driving, I told them to keep their distance and pay attention and that was it. It worked and they’ve never disappointed me. No late-night calls about accidents.

“Well I’m thinking lunch, must be noon in California by now?”

“It’s eleven twenty-four in California.”

A little early. “Okay, let’s check out the Opera House first, then have lunch in Cork. It’ll be evening there and I fancy Irish stew. I know a great place and Gerry might come in. I’ll pop home and pick up some Euros on the way.” I laughed at the ridiculousness of what I was going to do. A week ago and I’d have been hurried away in a white jacket.

Fifteen minutes later I was sitting at a table in The Oliver Plunkett, on Oliver Plunkett street, in the vee of the River Lee close to the middle of Cork. I’d changed my look to an innocuous man in his fifties, with wispy hair, greying at the sides. My dress was typical for a local, brown woolen pants and plaid shirt with a green sweater. I wore a raincoat to fend off the downpour. My accent was a stark variation of my own, just in case Gerry or someone I knew from way back came into the pub. A pint of Guinness kept me company on the wooden table I had to share with a couple of young guys from out of town. A young band was playing Irish music, while two young girls did a jig. All that was missing was Mary. I could feel my eyes tear up as I soaked in the atmosphere and imagined my dear wife sitting beside me. I’d ordered Irish stew and was eagerly waiting its arrival. It was magic and brought back so many memories