Memoirs Of An Invisible Man (31 page)

By this time my entire digestive track was filled with extraordinary swirls of color, and I had to lock myself in the bathroom during the delivery, but I immediately set back to work eating my way through my new supplies. I continued without any break for the rest of the afternoon, chewing and digesting and recording times, until my neck was sore from bending over to examine apple seeds in my intestine, and my mind was a blur of numbers.

As I became more accustomed to the extraordinary ugliness of it, I began to experience considerable amazement and interest at the sight of my own interior. It is a disgrace, really, how little people are taught in the schools about their own bodies. I was quite surprised, and quite unhappy as well, to realize that I was particularly ignorant about the process of digestion, having only the most primitive idea of how the body’s plumbing is laid out and no idea whatever of the chemical processes by which food is consumed and converted to the body’s uses. In fact, it is quite extraordinary how little scientific work is going on in these areas and how much remains unknown. I myself have by now devoted a good deal of study to these questions, although my own research efforts have had more of a practical than a theoretical bias, serving the narrow but important goal of keeping me fed and free.

But even on that day, with my inadequate understanding of the chemistry involved, I was able to arrive at the fundamental scientific conclusions and precepts that would govern my diet. First and foremost,
avoid fiber.
I realize that other people have different ideas about the proper dietary role of fiber, but for me total abstinence from fiber is critical to survival. Seeds and kernels of every kind are also to be avoided at all costs, as are the skins of fruits. An undigested seed can linger in the lower intestine for days, making for an extremely unsightly appearance. Leafy vegetables require extreme caution. Sugar and starches, on the other hand, are the foundation of my diet. It is extraordinary how quickly the body breaks them down. I consume an immense quantity of pastry, although I have to be constantly on the lookout for hidden nuts and raisins. Most of my protein comes from fish rather than meat. I try to avoid coloring and dyes — although the natural ones tend to be, if anything, nastier than the artificial.

Another important rule for life that I have learned is to chew my food carefully. In general I have found that a lot of what I was told as a child turns out to be quite sound. If you could once see, as I have repeatedly seen, what the human digestive system actually does, you would always chew thoroughly. Flossing after every meal is another imperative for me. And, for that matter, questions of grooming — such as cleaning carefully under the fingernails — can hardly be overstressed. Of course in my case, little signs of bad grooming will not so much detract from my appearance as constitute it in its entirety. Fortunately, my invisible body and invisible clothing do not form what engineers refer to as a good mechanical bond with visible substances, which means that, although I often have trouble getting a secure footing, at least dirt and dust do not adhere to me very well, and it is possible to meet the rather high standards of cleanliness I have been forced to adopt.

I discovered another interesting thing that day. At some point in the early afternoon, as I stood in my darkened apartment with the shades drawn, trying to determine the exact dissipation time for white chocolate, I had the idea of opening the door to the terrace and inspecting the process in the sunlight. But for some reason it seemed harder rather than easier to see what was happening. No, it was rather that the sludge was suddenly dissipating much faster. Perhaps it was the sunlight. I tried several more swallows, alternating between darkness and sunlight, and determined that the light did indeed speed up whatever it was that was taking place in my stomach. For another hour I experimented with this effect, recording two sets of times for each food, until the sky clouded over and drove me back into the darkened apartment.

I became so maniacally caught up in my research that I failed to notice that I was glutting myself, and it was late afternoon before I realized that I was on the verge of nausea. It was with a sense of accomplishment, of having put in a solid day’s work, that I put away my remaining provisions and mixed myself a gin and tonic. Time to rest from my labors. I felt much better — partly, no doubt, because for the first time in days I was no longer hungry — and the gin enhanced my sense of well-being. I was safe, and I still had most of the weekend ahead of me. I settled down at the kitchen table and got out the newspapers. Why in the world had I bought
Barron’s?
What use was that now? I leafed through the
Times,
looking for something about MicroMagnetics. Odd that there was nothing.

I switched on the television, remembering the Metro News Team’s promise to bring “updates on the story as it develops.” Nothing. I went on watching local news programs for days, but there was never another word about MicroMagnetics. Other fires raged: in Brooklyn tenements, in Bronx social clubs, and even in a Manhattan office tower. Lives were claimed. People were interviewed in bathrobes. That’s the thing: they need fresh footage of flames and weeping sisters-in-law. It all made me feel a bit abandoned by the world.

I mixed another gin and tonic and switched the dial around until I found a movie. Pleasant being safe at home. No point in thinking about Leary. Lots of time still. When the movie ended, I felt a bit of panic and I immediately searched out another. It would be hard to say how many of them I watched before I finally staggered into my bed.

I was awakened by the sound of the Sunday
Times
being dropped at my door. I stumbled out and retrieved it. I considered frying some bacon for breakfast, but when I looked down and saw the various indigestible bits of gristle and fiber in my intestine, I thought better of it. Only another two and a half days of safety, and then I would have to be prepared for the worst at all times. I would have to have myself clear by then, just in case. I made some toast and looked through the paper. Deep in Section One I found an article headed
FATAL
PRINCETON
FIRE
LEAVES
LINGERING
QUESTIONS
ABOUT
NUCLEAR
RESEARCH
SAFEGUARD
. By Anne Epstein. I read through it twice. There were all sorts of quotes from federal officials and from university spokesmen and from citizens’ groups, but about the recent events at MicroMagnetics there was no real information whatever. Which was both a relief and a disappointment.

I put on some Haydn and went through the paper, never quite finishing or taking in anything. More to be doing something than because of any hunger, I put what was left of the peach and the banana in the blender and drank down the mixture. Delicious, although unsightly. I watched the digestion, thinking I ought to do some more timing, but I let the idea drop. Too tedious. Day of rest. I could see that beyond my drawn shades it was a beautiful day, and I knew that I would have felt better if I could have gone outside. With an effort I made myself go and stand in the open doorway to the terrace. There would be thousands of people in the streets and the park today.

In the afternoon I turned on the television and watched a golf tournament and a tape of a tennis tournament and part of a baseball game, and I can’t be sure what else. Sometime during the afternoon, earlier than usual, I began drinking beer, and then gin and tonics. The television was irritating, but I kept it on until sometime in the middle of the evening, when I stumbled dully in to bed.

On Monday morning I woke abruptly at dawn, and I realized that I was becoming increasingly frightened as my appointment with Leary grew nearer. I tried to reassure myself that I would be able to put him off for a while longer — I have never heard of an appointment that could not be rescheduled at least once. And anyway, I was presumably contending with some sort of bureaucracy, which could be counted on to move very slowly and probably in the wrong direction. They could spend years chasing after Carillon’s friends. But the fact was that Leary had clearly been told he had to meet with everyone in person. If I handled him well, I might stall him for a long time — perhaps even indefinitely — but from the moment tomorrow when I canceled this first appointment, I would have to be constantly prepared for the worst. I would have to assume that they might arrive at any time. Which was apt to become rather a strain.

I got up and began wandering nervously through the apartment, cleaning up some of the mess I had created during the last two days of dietary experimentation. Of course I might simply leave the apartment altogether. The trouble with that was that I had no place to leave it
for.
I needed someplace where I could digest some sort of meal out of sight, and where I could lie down and sleep without worrying that someone would stumble over me. The Colonel had been right: I would have a difficult time on my own.

Probably, though, I should go outside right now — just for a walk, to clear my head. I was going a bit stir-crazy, staying cooped up inside like this for days. No. No reason to leave the safety of my apartment now — especially when it would involve making the entrance doors swing mysteriously open for anyone in the street to see. I would not be able to do anything out there without attracting attention. Stay here and get everything in order.

I looked through the material that Roger Whitman had sent me, and then at half past nine I called and told him what I thought he wanted to hear about natural gas and deregulation, making it complicated enough so that he would lose interest quickly. I also told him that I would be working at home that day.

“I’m a little behind,” I told him, “and I can get more done here, where I’m not constantly interrupted by the telephone.”

Perhaps I would be able to arrange to do the whole job from my apartment. If I did all my work and answered all my telephone calls, I might go on indefinitely without anyone ever realizing that no one at all was seeing me ever. In the worst case I would acquire a reputation as an eccentric. A sort of financial Nero Wolfe. Might enhance my reputation for brilliant against-the-herd insights. The key is to do your work. People will put up with a lot if you do the work.

“This is a tough week for me anyway,” I added. “I’ll be out of town pretty much the whole time.”

“You’ll be in Thursday for the review, though, won’t you?” Roger asked.

“Oh, of course. Absolutely. I’ll see you then. So long, Roger.”

Damn. I would cancel later. Thursday morning. This was going to be more difficult than I thought.

I finished cleaning up the kitchen and then went in and made the bed. It could get to be quite boring, spending one’s entire life inside a three-room apartment. Boredom relieved only by fear.

I called up Cathy and asked if there were any messages. There were quite a few. Mostly, it seemed, from people who wanted to meet with me. Cathy herself wanted to show me something she had typed and wondered when I would be in.

“I’m working at home all day today,” I told her. “And it turns out that I have to be out of town all the rest of the week.”

“What about your meeting with Mr. Lean? Want me to call and cancel him?”

“No,” I said. “I’d better handle that myself. Just make sure you tell anyone who calls that I’m out of town. You don’t know which day I’ll be getting back. Say I’m in Los Angeles.”

“O.K. And what about the monthly review on Thursday?”

“I’ll call Roger and talk to him about it.”

I hung up and thought for several minutes and then called Roger Whitman again.

“Oh, Nick. It’s good that you called back. I have an idea I wanted to throw out for you before Thursday. I haven’t really seen you for almost a week, and I—”

“Before you get into that, Roger, there’s something I wanted to discuss… Do you have a few minutes, now?”

“Sure. Shoot.”

“Well, Roger, some things have come up kind of suddenly… Actually, the fact is, I’ve been thinking through my whole situation, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve reached a point where I have to make a major change—”

“You mean moving out of the oils? I know how you feel about that, but we’ve already—”

“Roger, I’m not talking about just selling some oil stocks. I’m talking about getting out of the market altogether—”

“And just hold cash? You think the whole market is going to take a slide?”

“No. Yes. The market will take a slide. Eventually. It always does, sooner or later. The point is, I’m not trying to predict what the market is going to do. It’s a very efficient market, anyway, and it’s probably impossible to predict it with any useful accuracy. Anyway, I’ve decided to stop trying to predict it at all.”

“You mean just throw darts at the listings, like one of these random-walk guys?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. I’ve decided to stop doing this kind of work for a while—”

“Jesus, Nick, I know just how you feel. God knows there’ve been plenty of times when I asked myself what was the point. Years when you don’t even beat the averages. But you can’t start thinking that way. For one thing, we’ve got all this money we have to do something with. I mean we can’t send it back to the people and say we don’t want to look after it anymore. We need the fees. And anyway, as far as I’m concerned, prices have a long way to go before they reflect the kind of earnings we should be seeing next year. We could be in the early stages of a classic bull market. I’m not saying there won’t be corrections along the way. But I think interest rates still have a way to go on the downside, and you’ve got all this foreign money coming in and pushing everything up to—”

Sometimes Roger loses track and seems to think he is a retail broker again, talking to a dentist.

“Roger,” I interrupted, “I think there’s a great deal to what you have to say—”

“Do you really?” He sounded startled. “That’s great. Listen—”

“Roger, what I’m trying to tell you is that I’ve decided to resign. Effective immediately.”