Zelazny, Roger - Novel 07 (22 page)

 
          
 
During this time, I felt the easing of tension
about me, and I came to regard Alec more as a friend than a therapist. We
talked about a great variety of subjects, played games together in the gym. A
later scan of Dr. Chalmers' thinking equipment even showed me that Alec had
broached the subject of my return to Earth somewhat ahead of schedule.

 
          
 
"You really ought to be doing more
calisthenics," Alec had said. "Knee bends with weights would be
useful."

 
          
 
"Sounds awful," I replied.

 
          
 
"Can't let yourself waste away," he
said. "Supposing they recommended a trial visit down yonder and you were
in no shape to go?"

 
          
 
"Are they thinking about it?"

 
          
 
"I couldn't say. But if they were to,
would you want to hang back for a month or so, just because you had not been
paying attention to the physical preliminaries?"

 
          
 
"Now that you mention it," I said,
"no. But the whole idea raises a matter I have not really spent any time
thinking about."

 
          
 
"What is that?"

 
          
 
"My parents. I have already gathered that
their separation is probably a permanent thing. When the time does come for me
to go back, where do I go?"

 
          
 
Alec moistened his lips and looked away.

 
          
 
"Do not worry about all that anxiety
business," I said. "It is a pretty neutral matter to me after all the
sessions I have had with Dr. McGinley. I just want to know where I go when I do
go."

 
          
 
"Dennis, the matter has not really been
discussed yet. I do not know whether your parents will fight over your custody.
Do you have a preference?"

 
          
 
"As I said, I have not really given the
matter much thought. Would my choice count for much?"

 
          
 
"From all reports I have received, your
parents are both reasonable people. They have been very pleased with your
progress here. They both want to see you again. You have had letters from both
of them. Was there anything in them that might influence your preference?"

 
          
 
"No."

 
          
 
"Then I can only suggest that you spend
some time thinking about which one you would rather be with. There is still
plenty of time. When the day does come that you have to make a choice, I can
add a suggestion that it would be best for your adjustment to honor your
preference—for whatever that may be worth."

 
          
 
"Thanks, Alec. Show me some of the
exercises I should be doing, huh?"

 
          
 
... And this was what caused me to go
rummaging in Dr. Chalmers' head. I had found myself loathe to probe Alec since
we had become friends.

 
          
 
Later, I thought about the matters he had
raised. My father had money, power, connections—all of which could be useful in
my quest—and he was now living in
Washington
, near to so many other things and places
which might benefit me in the search. My mother was still in northern
New Mexico
, tending her flowers, isolated. But my
father would not have much time for me—a good thing, if that was all there
would be to it. Only, with full access to my own impressions past, I could now
form a picture of the man. It was my guess that he would enroll me in a fancy
private school, someplace where they would make a fuss about nonattendance,
would keep a tight rein on me. On the other hand, I was certain that I could
persuade my mother to let me stay at home, coming and going pretty much as I
chose, continuing my education in programmed units via a rented machine similar
to the one I was using here. At least, I would have a better chance of working
things that way with her than I would with him.

 
          
 
Then I asked myself another: Aside from these
considerations, if everything else were simple and uncomplicated, who would I
really want to go to?

 
          
 
I could not make up my mind. I almost welcomed
the external factors, terrible as they were, which relieved me of the necessity
of making a real choice.

 
          
 
And so I prepared myself, physically and
mentally, for my return. A month later, the matter was mentioned officially.
Dr. Chalmers came around to see me, commended my progress, told me he felt that
perhaps another month of preparation and observation was in order and if
everything continued as was expected I could go home and see how things worked
out. It was then that he asked me which home I might prefer. Keeping in tune
with the therapeutic note I had sounded, I told him that I felt the simpler the
environment the more comfortable I might feel. He seemed to think that was a
good choice, and I saw in his mind that I would have his recommendation, also.

 
          
 
Which is how things worked out. I was given a
provisionally clean bill the following month and a date was set. I realized
during that time that I was growing increasingly anxious, not so much over the
task I had set myself, but simply at the thought of heading for that place in
the sky, so full of people and things. I visited the observation deck on
numerous occasions, assumed my old chair and watched the world, glowing,
mysterious, attracting and frightening by turns, far and yet near. I fancied a
summons, I assumed a threat.

 
          
 
Despite the exposure involved in all my
vicarious existences and the sum of my salvaged personal impressions, I had
never been there before, as a rational, individual being. I talked about it
with Alec and he told me that it was a natural feeling, a thing to be expected,
a thing that would vanish not too long after I got back. I had already thought
these thoughts myself, but as with so many other conclusions, it was
nevertheless comforting to hear them from another.

 
          
 
In my room, I paced, stared at the paintings,
paced some more, thumbed through the sketches, again and again. The lady
smiled.

 
          
 
Finally, I packed them all carefully and went
to sit by the fountain. I walked among the flowerbeds.

 
          
 
I began taking all my meals in the cafeteria,
and for the first time I began talking with the other patients. There was one
old man whose eyes misted over when he learned that I was going back.

 
          
 
"Go to
New Jersey
," he said,

 
          
 
"
New Jersey
?"

 
          
 
"Not the cities. The pinelands. They
still stand as they did when I was a boy. Go there one day and look at the
trees. Get out and walk among them. If you ever do that, think of me
then," he said. "Promise."

 
          
 
He reached out and laid a hand on my arm,
veins like blue worms crawling across the back of his hand. He leaned forward and
his breath was bad.

 
          
 
"Promise."

 
          
 
I nodded. I could not speak, for his tremor,
his faded eyes, his odor, were lost in the barrage of thoughts that fell upon
me: cranberries, huckleberries, blueberries, sweet fern, sheep laurel, dewy
mornings, sunshot days, foggy evenings, bogs, the smell of pine, a gentle
rainfall, autumn smoke, winter's chill, homemade whisky ... Pieces, textures
... Memories. His vanished youth. A place to which he literally could not go
home. With difficulty, I raised a shield against these things.

 
          
 
"I will remember," I said finally;
and thereafter I maintained a tight shield when speaking with my fellow
patients.

 
          
 
When the time came, most of the staff and some
of the patients turned out to see me off. I said my goodbyes, to Alec, to Dr.
Chalmers, to the others, then boarded the monorail that was to take me to Luna
Station. I tried to hide my emotions with a forced casual-ness, not wanting
them to think I was anything less than stable at this point. However, my voice
broke and I embraced Alec before I boarded. This was, after all, the only real
home I had known, as myself, Dennis Guise. I paid little heed to the rocks, the
craters, the inky shadows I raced past. I thought only of what I was leaving
and where I was going.

 
          
 
I was landed at the field in
Texas
, and my mother met me there. My first
impressions of Earth were mainly of the countless thoughts which swirled about.
It was easy to see how they had unbalanced me as a child. Now, though, I was
able to put them aside, ignore them, force them into the background, turn them
off.

 
          
 
"Dennis ..." she said, and there
were tears in her eyes. She kissed me. "You—you understand things
now?"

 
          
 
"Yes," I said. "I'm all
right."

 
          
 
. . . And all this does not bother you?

 
          
 
There was an initial shock. It has already
passed. 1 can handle the thoughts now.

 
          
 
You will never know what it was like.

 
          
 
I remember some things.

 
          
 
It is so good to see you well, to finally know
you.. . .

 
          
 
I nodded and tried to smile.

 
          
 
We are going home now. Come this way.

 
          
 
She took my arm and led me from the terminal.

 
          
 
How to begin?

 
          
 
It was strange, settling into my old room. I
had memories of the place, but it was almost as if they belonged to someone
else, a phenomenon with which I was not entirely unfamiliar. I spent days of
introspection, sifting through my old recollections of the place. This was less
an exercise in morbidity than a search for things of value.

 
          
 
The teaching machine arrived and was
installed. My father was footing the bill for it. I spoke with him on a number
of occasions. He wanted me to come see him as soon as I felt able. He promised
to come see me as soon as he could get away. I began using the machine.

 
          
 
Established now, with some of my feelings and
thoughts sorted out, I commenced the efforts I had been contemplating since my
arousal in the dispensary on Luna.

 
          
 
Each day, I undertook a telepathic search,
swinging and skimming about the world, seeking one mind or some sign of its
existence. The act was not as hopeless as it sounds, for I was certain that the
one I sought would stand out like a beacon on a dark night. Even as the days
passed without the slightest intimation of his existence, I did not grow
discouraged. The world is a large place. I was learning things, I was refining
my skills.

 
          
 
But the weeks passed and there was nothing. It
had of course occurred to me that the man I sought might well be dead. It had
been a long time since his last appearance. His enemies might finally have
caught up with him. I redoubled my efforts. I could do nothing but keep
looking.