Alien Accounts (17 page)

61.
Have you ever stolen anything? __________________

62.
Why do you believe that you have been asked to fill out this form? _________________________

____________________________________

____________________________________

____________________________________

63.
If you are merely reading this form, why do you believe that you have
not
been asked to fill it out? _______________

____________________________________

64.
Have you been asked to fill out this form?
65.
To read it? _______

66.
Not to fill it out? _____
67.
Not to read it? Explain: ______________________

____________________________________

68.
Compare this form with others which you may have read or filled out, whether or not you were asked to read them or fill them out: ________________________

____________________________________

69.
Be sure your comparison is fair and correct. If it is not, you may rewrite it on extra sheets (Form AR-B Supplem). If you do so, be sure your revision is correct.

70.
Was your original comparison correct? _____ Fair? _____ If not, explain: _________________

____________________________________

____________________________________

71.
If you revised your comparison, why? _____________

____________________________________

72.
Write your life history in brief, explaining in passing your answers to questions 11, 21, 39 and 51
fully.
Take as much time, and as many extra sheets (Form AR-B Supplem) as necessary, but do
not
lie
,
omit
,
falsify
,
distort
or
invent
. If there are any portions you genuinely do not fully remember, you will be asked to complete and attach three copies of Form WH6, Hypnotic Drugs Waiver of Rights.__________________

____________________________________

____________________________________

____________________________________

____________________________________

____________________________________

73.
Sign the following statement:

I hereby agree to submit to a Keeler Polygraph (“Lie Detector”) examination, to be conducted by or in the presence of a psychiatrist and police officer, during which I will endeavour to answer all or any questions about my past life as truthfully as I am able.

(X) Signed: _________________

Witnessed: ________________

74.
Describe your feelings upon reading and signing the above statement: ___________________________

____________________________________

75.
Do you believe you have anything to hide, about your past life? If not, explain: _____________________

____________________________________

____________________________________

____________________________________

76.
Have you anything to add, regarding the answers to questions 11, 21, 33, 39, 51, 72 or 75? _________________

____________________________________

____________________________________

____________________________________

____________________________________

77.
Do you ever have feelings of anxiety? ____________________

I swear that all the statements above are true and complete and that I have not attempted any falsification,
on
penalty
of
perjury
.

(X) Signed: ____________

Witnessed: ____________

The blinds were drawn, the desk lamp glowed.

‘I’ve been having these terrible dreams – locked in an inappropriate box.’

‘Go on.’ The man behind the desk had a heavy, block-salt look. He would gladly give you the time, change, a light, a push when your car was stalled. Probably his seat in the last life-boat.

After a minute, David went on: ‘Just above is this heavy line and the lines “Do not mark below heavy line. For use of lines of Authority only.”’

‘Hmm. And?’

‘I’m printed, see?
That’s
not the point.
The dots
are printed all over everything, and they’re – sliding. So the colors change. There’s a bunch of fake clouds around, or something, I’m right in the middle of this big poster.’

The interviewer delved in the pocket of his tweed jacket and brought out a scarred pipe and a small knife.

‘Any more?’ He began to scrape the bowl.

‘Yes, every night – I don’t know why I’m telling you this – every night there’s a woman-thing standing beside my bed. A kind of coke bottle with a woman’s head. She seems to be a poster too. Across the front is a ribbon that says: “Humfrey’s Hollywood Novelties.” That’s all.’

‘Haheh. I see.’ The interviewer stopped scraping and peered at him over the lamp. ‘You realise of course that still does not answer my question:
Why do you want to work for Drum, Inc.?
’

David did not falter. Raising his chin slightly, he said, ‘Sir, I love my father more than my mother, and I sincerely believe that it just isn’t enough to
sprinkle
the baptism candidate. That don’t do nothing for the
deep-down
dirt. You have to
immerse
…’

‘Thank you.’ As the interviewer hunched forward to mark something on David’s application, light flashed from his lapel.

The Nat Hawthorne Social Club pin: the same red enamel A that David himself wore He began to recall the old songs …

‘Now then, David, we’d like to have you take a few tests. Just follow Miss Bunne to the testing room, will you?’

As soon as the kid was gone, Travers took off the jacket, dumped the junk back in its pocket, and stripped off the plain tie. He removed the Hawthorne pin and tossed it in a drawer. Lighting a cigarette, he sat back and exhaled. Too gloomy in here. The rich mahogany (veneer) and silver (plate) of the office furniture brightened as he opened the blinds. At eye
level across the street, the company cafeteria. A line of trim translucent girls in pale colors filed past the pastries and took glasses of jello.

Travers closed the blinds and sat down. Holding up the next application as if it were a hand-mirror, he sighed at what it reflected. The elastic bands across his back were beginning to itch.

‘Have a cigarette?’ he repeated several times to the empty chair across from him. His tone varied from casual to commanding.

Every day at about the same time, Marilyn’s extension would ring. She would pick it up to hear a woman say carefully:

‘Marilyn? He loves you.’

‘Who? Who loves me? Is this supposed to be a joke?’ But there would never be more.

She thought of saying something to the supervisor, Miss Bunne, or someone else in the typing pool – but what to say? What if it were just some joke of Eric’s? Or a mean trick of Ray’s, to lose Marilyn her job? No, better to say nothing.

Marilyn was engaged to a wonderful boy, Raymond, but she realised she didn’t love him. How on earth could she break it off after the party his parents gave them and all the wonderful presents they had been given? She had thought of going away without telling him, but she did not think this would be fair. She was eighteen.

No, it would not be fair, and the newspaper thought it would be on her conscience for a long time. She had to face the disappointment her news was bound to cause, and tell him about her change of mind. She certainly couldn’t let the party and presents alter her decisions. They were nothing compared with marrying someone she didn’t love. So she should go through with telling him, and she would be respected for handling a difficult situation well.

The newspaper gave her an idea of how to go about it. Marilyn went with Eric to the amusement park at Punk Island, where they sold ‘newspapers’ with any headline you wanted.

HE’S NOT FOR ME!

Marilyn Breaks Engagement

She went to visit him, a copy of this paper tucked in her odor-free armpit. They chatted pleasantly over milk and cookies in his Mom’s spacious, easy-to-clean kitchen, while she waited for the right moment.

‘What’s that paper you’ve got there?’ Ray asked. She handed it to him slowly, as if offering her nakedness. He read through the headline several times. Then:

‘Oh, I don’t believe everything I read in the papers.’

‘It’s true, Raymond.’ The refrigerator fell silent, and she could hear the scream of Dad’s wood lathe in the basement.

Ray jumped to his feet. ‘You’ll never get away with this!’ he shouted,
and ran off down the basement stairs. It took Marilyn a few minutes to dab the splashes of milk off her face and sweater and by the time she was able to follow him, it was too late.

Someone’s adding machine wasn’t working; he sat in disgrace, the thirty-fourth man in the fifteenth row, quietly weeping. All around him people were adding up feet and inches of cable and wire underneath the city, but old 34/15 just sat there like an unlit bulb in the great rippling sign that burned on the roof by day and by night:

Mr Kravon was superb with tidy rage. He asked Miss Bunne to get him Personnel.

‘Let me talk to Travers … Hello? This is Sam Kravon, Estimates. Yes, look, we’ve a hell of a mess down here. A man whose machine doesn’t work … That’s it, all right. I’ll send him right up, OK?’

Above the Frenzak music, the cool voice of Miss Bunne paged a Mr Eric Bland, asking him to report to the personnel office on the tenth floor. The Frenzak finished a furious medley of
Avalon, I want to Hold Your Hand
, and
Wonderful, Wonderful Copenhagen
. The weeping man rose and left the room.

Genial Dad, that furnace of amusement, turned off his lathe and watched Ray fiddling with the table saw.

‘What’s up, son?’

Ray mumbled something about cutting off his arm.

‘Mmm.’ Dad lit his pipe. ‘Mmm. Mmm. Might work, at that. Girl trouble, I s’pose?’