William Vollmann - The Royal Family

Well, said Jake, you start with any kind of chip you’re going to make in an exotic environment, it needn’t be a big place. If you’re going to hide things, it’s going to be by classifying the whole place.

They’ve done that. And then how would they store the actual chip? Would they have to keep it in a refrigerator or something like that?

Don’t expose it to any strong electromagnetic fields, or it’ll get fried, said Jake. That’s the thing. Well, actually I don’t know about field, but pulse is certainly a problem. You just want to put it in a conductive piece of rubber or foam to keep it from being shorted out…

And then I suppose you’d keep it in a safe…

The principal investigator’s desk drawer might be good. The safe is more sexy, of course…

Okay, so the principal investigator has got to investigate it. He’s got to make sure that it’s good, I guess.

Right. He verifies that it’s good by using a device called a comparator, which basically projects magnified images of a chip onto a ground glass circle. Well, that’s old technology now. A chip can be as complicated as the Thomas Guide.

I get it, said Tyler, narrowing his eyes. Anyhow, the principal investigator will be sitting at his desk, doing something with the chip. Maybe he’ll project a digitized image of it onto his computer screen. Maybe he’ll have a comparator. It really doesn’t matter, just as long as I have some idea where the chip is. Thanks, Jake.

He let the rest of the week go by and then called Judy at home on Saturday morning. — Judy, this is Chuck Wildmore again, he said, picking his nose. I’m sorry that Karen never called you. She died on the operating table. She didn’t regain consciousness.

Look, said Judy unpleasantly, I’ve been trying to think who this Karen might be, but I’m drawing a blank. I’ve never, ever known anybody named Karen except for one girl in third grade who hated me. I think you’re confused. I’m sorry for your loss, but I’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t call me anymore.

Karen left you something in her will, he replied with equal coldness. I’ll let our attorney know that you refuse delivery. Goodbye.

Now at last he had her, for an avaricious curiosity came into the girl’s dull and hostile voice, and she said quickly: What did she leave me?

I guess that’s not your concern, said Tyler snappishly, since you refuse any connection with the family. I’m sorry I ever called you. Don’t worry, Judy. You won’t hear from me again.

Then tell your lawyer to get in touch with me.

Every time a lawyer talks to you about baseball you have to pay for his time, said Tyler, his voice now modulated to the melodies of patience. Judy’s estate is dirt poor, and I don’t have much myself, so with all due respect I’m not paying for an extra hour of legal consultation just to have his secretary mail you something you probably won’t appreciate.

What do you mean I won’t appreciate it? You don’t even know me. Where do you get off trying to define me?

I wasn’t trying to define you, Judy.

Well, what did Karen leave me?

It’s a little velvet box, with — do you want me to open it? I haven’t looked inside. I didn’t figure I had that right.

Yeah, the girl said carelessly, why don’t you open it?

There’s a ribbon around it, said Tyler, impressing even himself with this improvisation. Do you want me to undo the bow?

No, that’s okay, she said finally. Why don’t you send it to me?

I’ll send it to your office then, he said. It may be a couple of weeks before I get to the post office. I’m kind of in a state of shock right now, to tell you the truth.

Mr. Wildmore, I—

I don’t know whether to send it registered or not. It may be valuable. What do you think?

Cupidity won out, or maybe just good manners. — Look, Mr. Wildmore, the girl said, where are you?

Menlo Park at the moment. But I need to be in San Francisco at three-thirty to claim the body.

And you have the box?

Yeah. I have the box.

I thought you said the lawyer had it.

Judy, I’m getting kind of tired of being interrogated.

I’m sorry. You want to do lunch?

Tyler pretended to hesitate, then said in his best grudging voice: I guess I have time to meet you for lunch if you want.

And you’ll bring the box?

Sure.

The girl sighed. — You’re sure you’re not a nutcase?

I’m not a nutcase, said Tyler. I’m not even a nut. Where do you want to meet me?

Are you near a Sizzler’s? I always like eating at Sizzler’s.

Sure, said Tyler. I like their surf ’n’ turf. Karen was also very fond of Sizzler’s.

She was? Gosh, I wish I remembered her.

She was an awfully special person, he said, pretending that he was talking about Irene so that his voice would get properly sad. He closed his eyes and saw the mole on Irene’s forehead. His grief rushed in and carried him safely along.

He recollected something that another prophet had once told him: Your generic secretary is not a secretary by choice. Who picks a crappy job like that, all responsibility and no power? They start off like that because their Nazi husbands don’t allow them to have any job that’s higher status than that, and after the divorce they’re stuck. Secretaries hate their jobs, Henry. That’s why all the hackers get what they want by just calling them up.

I’ve seen plenty of secretaries with power, Tyler had countered. Plenty of old dragons. Plenty of smart ladies who know where all the bodies are buried.

Yeah, I’m talking about the young ones, his friend had said. Those poor, trapped young broads. It’s just like being a whore except the pay’s not as good.

Are you there? Judy was saying.

Yeah.

Look, I’m sorry if I was maybe a little bit suspicious. It’s just that, like, some things have happened to me before, you know, guys taking advantage of me and stuff.

I understand, he said. Then, thinking of Irene, he muttered: Jesus, I wish I could put my arms around her right now.

Are you sure you’re going to be okay? the girl said, obviously not wanting to sustain some stranger’s neediness.

Hm? Sure, I’ll be fine. See you at Sizzler’s, then. How about in two hours?

Okay, she said softly. ’Bye.

’Bye, he said.

Tyler went out and cadged a velvet box from a jewelry store. He took from his keyring an old key from an office in Emeryville where he hadn’t worked for twelve years; he’d always known that that key would come in handy someday. He put the key inside the box and tied a ribbon around it. Considering carefully, he went back to the jewelry store and bought a gilded silver pendant so that the girl wouldn’t be completely disappointed, and enclosed that with the key.

Judy was plump, unattractive, and shy, although her shyness she disguised as grumpiness. He bought them both lunch and sat there with her at a table beside the window. When she asked him what he did, Tyler tried to talk as much like an office rodent as he could: Oh, I work for CiceroNet. I’m new there. Basically, they do some kind of Web stuff. Originally I was a consultant. You know, it’s a time or money trade, and I’m here to help. That’s what I told them, and then I spent some time talking to see if I could wangle an extra few hundred bucks. I was pretty sure that they were going to bite, and it’s tempting to inflate things a bit, but I was honest; I kept their costs down…

He chatted merrily away in this jargon, his words as hurried as red ants rushing over terraces of bark, until he was satisfied that she’d stopped listening.

So tell me about you, he said. Do you like the people you work with?

Well, Mr. Nemeth’s kind of impatient sometimes but everybody says he’s the real genius, the girl said. I don’t know if he’s a genius or not. All I know is that he makes me work late sometimes, mailing out all those little diskettes and stuff, and I have to put them in special envelopes…