The Sheriff of Yrnameer (31 page)

As he was walking away, picking small scraps of paper out of his hair, Kenneth’s voice came floating to him.

“A worthy effort! Next!”

The following evening he arrived at her door bearing a carefully selected assortment of chocolates. This got her to open the door a bit wider, if only to tear the box from his hands and fling it into the street, bonbons scattering everywhere.

“Mmm,” said Kenneth from somewhere behind him as Cole once again retreated from her door in defeat. “Espresso! Ooo, and nougat! Let’s see, what’s this? What, no caramel?” Cole kept walking, not looking back. “Hmm. Melon. Not sure I like that.”

As Cole reached the end of the street and turned the corner, Kenneth called after him. “Clock is running, Cole!”

The third night a brief ray of light shone down upon the otherwise hopeless, wretched landscape of his existence. He had spent the day in the field, picking wildflowers, trying his best to approximate the bouquet that Daras Katim had given him. It was no match, but even Cole knew it was good. This time MaryAnn opened the door nearly halfway, and regarded the flowers in silence. Then, wordlessly, she took them from him, not ungently, and closed the door without slamming it.

Progress.

He cleared his throat. “MaryAnn?” he ventured cautiously after about a minute. “Hello?”

He was answered by a faint snipping sound, repeated about a dozen times.

The door reopened. She thrust a handful of stems at him and slammed the door.

“Oh, come
on,”
he protested, “that doesn’t even make
sense
!”

“Ticktock, ticktock.”

“Yes, thank you, Kenneth.”

The rejection was bad. Having Kenneth silently materialize with each humiliating defeat and chide him for his unsuccessful efforts was worse. What made it sheer torture was Nora.

Each night he’d find her standing in her doorway, waiting for the evening’s entertainment to begin. By the third day she had set up a chair and had a bowl of popcorn in her lap.

“Doing great, Cole,” she said, her mouth full. “She’s gonna cave any moment now.”

He flung down the flower stems petulantly and marched across the narrow street to her. “Do you realize that Kenneth is going to kill me if I don’t get some sort of response from her? Do you realize that?”

“Oh, c’mon, Cole, be reasonable. I think it’s touching how much he cares about you, and God only knows why. Popcorn?”

On the fourth day he checked in with Peter about his gravitational survey.

“How’s it going?”

“Fantastic. I’ve already finished sections one through forty-three,” Peter said.

“Oh, great! That sounds great! Er, how many sections are there?”

“Only seven hundred and twenty,” said Peter.

Cole did some quick calculations, the result of which equaled him being dead.

“Can you pick it up a bit?”

“Well, I need to be thorough,” said Peter, with the air of a professional whose turf was being invaded.

“I agree completely,” said Cole. “But can I have you focus on a specific spot for now?”

That evening he stood outside of MaryAnn’s door again, ignoring Nora’s snickers, aware that Kenneth was watching critically from
somewhere, and recited the poem that he had written for her. Well, that he had commissioned for her. Fred had done more of the actual writing.

It was a very good poem. It moved him even as he rendered it into speech, half convincing himself that he was the author. Nora stopped sniggering and fell silent, listening.

When he finished MaryAnn opened the door and looked at him for a long moment, the significance of her sober expression unclear. Then she closed the door softly.

“That was really, really nice,” said Nora.

“Thank you,” said Cole.

“There’s no way in hell you wrote it.”

The next morning Cole watched from afar as MaryAnn walked hand in hand with Fred, engaged in what looked to be a heartfelt conversation.

“This doesn’t look good, Cole,” said Kenneth, slipping a tentacle around his shoulders. “Perhaps your gambit has backfired. You know what they say about the Qx”-x-’–’,” he continued, getting the pronunciation perfect.

“No,” said Cole.

“Nor I. But I would hazard to guess that this youngster is making a play for your filly. The successful completion of which, I hardly need to add, would constitute an immediate and complete failure on your part.”

Cole took Fred aside and established in no uncertain terms exactly where his territorial boundaries stood. Fred, insulted, responded with a short but detailed account of the gender breakdown within his species. MaryAnn, he explained indignantly, had no place whatsoever within the complex, seven-member structure of Qx”-x-’–’ romantic life, so Cole could stop worrying and go x-’x it.

That evening Cole went to MaryAnn’s cottage empty-handed. It was raining. He was out of ideas, out of gestures, out of hope. He had one final, desperate tactic.

When he arrived at her door he took a moment to arrange his features
into what he hoped was an approximation of abject humility and internally rehearsed his speech: MaryAnn, I’m going to be completely and brutally honest with you. You see—and then she opened the door before he could knock.

“Cole,” she said, “I need to be completely and brutally honest with you. I can’t have you coming here every night. I don’t wish to speak with you, I don’t want to interact with you, and frankly, I don’t even want to look at you. My only hope is that you have at least enough integrity that you’re actually going to help these people, and not abandon them in their time of need. Good-bye, Cole.”

And she shut the door.

Even Nora didn’t say anything to him as he shuffled away defeated. And somewhere, he knew, Kenneth was watching.

The rain was pooling on the streets and running along the gutters as he trudged back to the jailhouse. When he went inside, Peter was waiting for him just as they had arranged.

“Please tell me that you have good news,” said Cole.

“Oh. I’m not sure that I can,” said Peter. “For example, there’s something I can’t explain. I’ve discovered a gravitational anomaly right in the middle of the village at the address you gave me. It’s very odd: there’s something very dense inside there that—why are you kissing me? Will we have sex now?”

Cole said to him, “What if I asked you to write a program for yourself that also included instructions to erase the memory of the program once you’ve executed it?”

“You mean, like a game?” asked Peter.

“Yes, a game.”

“Sure!”

“Okay, let’s try something,” said Cole. “I want you to take two steps to the left.”

Peter took two steps to the left.

“And now?”

“I want you to erase the memory that I asked you to do that.”

“Do what?” said Peter. “Why are you dancing around and giggling? Is it time to dance around and giggle now?”

When Cole entered his darkened room on the Benedict, he said, “Hello, Kenneth.”

There was a rich chuckle from the corner of the room.

“My, my! How is it you knew I’d be here?” said Kenneth.

Cole smiled to himself. Since leaving MaryAnn’s house, he’d been saying “Hello, Kenneth” each time he turned a corner or entered a new space, figuring that eventually he’d be right. Having won the advantage, he pressed on.

“Let me guess, Kenneth: you’re here to gloat.” He peeled off his wet jacket and sat on his bed to take off his boots, his back to where he thought Kenneth was. “You’ve come to tell me that I’ve failed in my attempts to win MaryAnn’s heart,” he continued, grunting as he got one boot off, “and that tomorrow morning you’ll be punching a hole through my skull and so on. But guess what: there’s—”

“No, I was thinking of doing it now.”

Cole twisted in his seat. “Now hold on! That’s not what we agreed! The time limit isn’t up yet!”

“Cole, I don’t see how granting you any more time would help the matter.”

Cole stood and turned to address the darkened corner, the boot still in his hand. “That’s cheating, Kenneth. It’s not fair!” He hurled the boot to the floor.

“Cole, she has soundly rejected you. To be honest, I think her decision was entirely—”

“Yes, thank you, I know. I’m not good enough for her and I’m a miserable worm, and she made—”

“No, I thought she was being too hasty.”

“Really? That’s very nice of you.”

“She’s a wonderful woman, and she’d be stooping low indeed if she were to decide to associate with you …”

“I think you’ve made that point already.”

“… but I believe your feelings for her are genuine.”

Two tentacles and an eyestalk extended forward into the light. One tentacle was holding a monocle in front of the eyeball, which was focusing on the object in the other tentacle.

“‘Dear MaryAnn, I don’t even deserve to have you read this letter …,’” Kenneth read.

Cole sat heavily back down on his bed and rubbed his forehead. “I don’t believe this.”

“‘I’m every bad thing you think I am, and probably worse …’ I think you might be overplaying the humility angle.”

Cole flopped backward and stared at the ceiling. “You picked up all those pieces and taped my card back together?”

“‘… but you once said something wonderful to me, many years ago—”

“Okay, yes, I wrote it, I don’t need to hear it again.”

“‘Something that I treasure to this day. … ‘”

“Kenneth, I can get you the money.”

“It’s a very nice missive, Cole. She really should have given you another chance. But seeing as she didn’t—”

“I can get you the money.”

“Oh, come now, Cole. Both of us know that’s an impossibility.”

Cole sat up. “You gave me a time limit and said that if I won MaryAnn over or delivered the money—or something of equivalent value—you’d let me be.”

“I was humoring you.”

“Humor me some more. Give me until the time limit. I won’t disappoint you.”

There was a silence.

“If you try to run again, Cole, you should know that I’ll be just as happy to deposit my brood in her skull.”

“But you like her! You said yourself you think she’s wonderful!”

“Alien sensibility, Cole. You have until the deadline. I’m curious to see what you’ll come up with.” With barely a sound, Kenneth glided out of the room, pausing in the doorway. “Oh, and Cole: there’s no need to keep saying ‘Hello, Kenneth’ each time you enter a new room.”

Slightly after midnight Cole rang the alarm bell.

The citizens of Yrnameer came tumbling out into the streets, groggy, disoriented, some half-dressed.

“Everyone assemble!” shouted Cole, standing on the porch of the jailhouse as they milled about. “Hurry up! Let’s go! Vern, where’s your weapon? Glorf, you’re going into battle like that?”

They were a sorry sight, panicked, confused, stumbling about, desperate to know what was going on.

“Fall in! Count off! Let’s go! Go go go!”

“Cole, what is this?” demanded Nora, shouting to be heard over the clamor. “Are the bandits coming?”

“This is a drill.”

“Now? In the middle of the night?”

“You want to complain, or you want to help?”

She grimaced, but then went about her duties, herding and corralling bewildered townsfolk into their ranks. “Sheriff,” said Mayor Kimber, still in his pajamas, “is this really necessary?”

“Is it necessary?” said Cole. “Is it
necessary
?” You’re damn right it’s necessary, he thought, it’s life or death.

“Sorry. Right. Eh …” Mayor Kimber looked about, muddled, then wandered into the commotion, waving his arms ineffectually. Cole saw Joshua, alert as always, darting about and helping to organize. Orwa was trying to calm people. There was MaryAnn, ignoring Cole, whispering into her microphone.

And there was Geldar.

It took them nearly twenty minutes to fully assemble and count off. When they did, Cole harangued them for another twenty for their sluggish, chaotic response, while they shuffled their feet guiltily and tried to hide their yawns.

Then, finally, he saw Peter arrive at the back of the ranks.

“All right,” said Cole, “I’ve had enough of this. Go home. Dismissed!”

Grumbling and muttering, they dispersed.

Nora approached, hands on hips. Cole didn’t wait for her.

Cole paced in circles outside the Benedict, gnawing on his nails until Peter arrived. When Cole saw him he jogged to meet him halfway.

“Did you find it?” Cole.

“I found it!”

Cole clapped his hands together.

“Great! Where is it? Show it to me!”

“Show what?”

“The diamond! Where is it?”

“Diamond … diamond … oh, right. What did I do with it?”

“What do you mean what did you do with it?!”

“Let’s see. … I went into Geldar’s house during the drill and used the gravitometer to locate it … then I picked it up, and then … what did I do with it then?”

“Oh, no. Oh, no no no. Peter, how come you can’t remember what happened?”

“I got a head start on erasing my memory registers, like you said.”

“So you half forgot what happened?!”

“Well, I’ve been sort of savoring the memories before I discard them. It was all so exciting—like a big caper! What’s wrong? Why are you doing that? Does your head hurt?”