“I’d like to go to the moon.”
“Cut your hair and stop taking dope.” Kamp’s tongue bulged his upper lip. “You don’t even have to join the services. We have civilians in the program. Worst thing I could say, huh? But it really is the basic requirement. I mean all the rest comes after that. Really.”
He thinks, Kid thought, he may have offended me. Kid tried not to smile.
“You’re frowning,” Kamp said. “Come on, now. Turnabout’s fair play…well, all right. Tell me this. Are you all that happy? Be honest now.”
Tak was ambling, slow and aimless, across the room.
“I think,” and Kid felt his feelings change to fit the frown, “there’s something wrong with your question, you know? I spend a lot of time happy; I spend a lot of time unhappy; I spend a lot of time just bored. Maybe if I worked real hard at it, I could avoid some of the happiness, but I doubt it. The other two I know I’m stuck with…”
Kamp was brightly attentive to something not more than a degree or so outside of Kid’s face. Well, Kid reflected, I said I’d listen. When Kid had been silent five seconds, Kamp said:
“I’m not the same person I was before I went to the moon. Several people have explained to me that nobody else on Earth is either. Someone told me once that I have begun to heal the great wound inflicted on the human soul by Galileo when he let slip the Earth was not the center of the Universe. No, I am not really satisfied now. I wonder at that light in the sky, this afternoon. I wonder at the stories I’ve heard about two moons when I know, first hand, what I do about the one. But I observe it first from a very different position than you. We could sit and discuss and have conferences and seminars until a much more reassuring sun came up, and I still doubt if I could say anything meaningful to you, or you could say anything meaningful to me. At least about that.”
“Hey, there.” Tak put his hand on Kid’s shoulder—but was talking to Kamp: “That was my friend Jack. You know, we have a good number of army deserters with us. I told him we had a full-fledged Captain with us this evening. He wanted to know whether you were a deserter too. I told him that as far as I knew you were still a member in good standing. I’m afraid he just turned around and ran without even waiting to find out you were in the Navy. Are you on your way, Captain?”
Kamp nodded, raised his bottle. “Glad I got a chance to meet you, Kid. If I don’t see you before, I’ll catch you at Roger’s.” Again he nodded at Tak, and turned.
“I hope I make him as uncomfortable as he keeps pretending I do.” Tak sucked his teeth. “Wish he’d come in uniform. Before I went on to more complicated pleasures, I used to have a real passion for seafood.”
“You’re flattering yourself.”
Tak gave a few small nods. “Possibly, very possibly. Hey, I’m sorry I kicked you out last night. Come home with me. Fuck me.”
“Naw. I’m looking for Lanya.”
Tak enfolded his beer with his big, pale hands and looked down the bottle mouth. “Oh.” Then he said: “Then come with me somewhere else. I want to show you something. You probably want to see it, too.”
“What is it?”
“On the other hand, maybe you have seen it already and you’re not interested.”
“But you’re not going to tell me what it is?”
“Nope.”
“Come on,” Kid said. “Show me.”
Tak clapped Kid’s shoulder, then pushed away from the bar. “Let’s go.”
Between the buildings, black bulged down, a tarpaulin full of rain.
“This is the sort of night I’d give anything for a star. When I was younger I used to try to learn the constellations, but I never really got them down. I can find the Big Dipper.” Tak opened his zipper. “Can you do that?”
“I know them pretty well now. But I learned them a few years ago, back when I was traveling, and on boats and stuff. They’re the only things that stay the same when you’re really moving around a lot. I picked up this pocket book for fifty cents, when I was in Japan—it was an American book though. In about two weeks I could pick out just about anything.”
“Mmmmm.” Tak glanced up as they neared the corner lamp. “Just as well we can’t see them, then. I mean, are you ready to have to learn a whole new set?” The shadow drew over his face like a shade. “This way.”
The street sloped. At the next corner they turned again. Half a block later Kid asked, “Can you see anything at all?”
“No.”
“But you know where we’re going…?”
“Yes.”
The smell of burning had again become distinct. The air was cooler, much cooler: he felt a crack in the pavement beneath his bare foot. Something with edges rolled away from his boot. The woody odors sifted. For one instant they passed through a smell that brought back—it hit with the force of hallucination: a cave in the mountains where something had crackled in a large, brass dish on the wet stone, while above he’d seen, glittering…
The chain around him tingled and tickled as though memory had sent current through it. But the particular odor (wet leaves over dry, and a fire, and something decayed…) was gone. And cool as the darkness was, it was dry, dry…
Edged by a vertical wall, light a long way away diffused in smoke.
At the corner, Tak looked back. “Checking to make sure you were still with me. You don’t make much noise. We’re going across there.” Tak nodded forward and they crossed the street, shoulder bumping shoulder.
Beyond plate glass, an amber light silhouetted black wire forms.
“What sort of store was this?” Kid asked, behind Tak who was opening the door.
It sounded like a machine was running in the basement. Empty shelves lined the walls, and the wire frames were display racks. The light came from no more than a single bulb somewhere on the stairwell. Tak went to the cash register. “First time I came in here, would you believe there was still eighty dollars in the drawer?”
Tak rang.
The drawer trundled out.
“Still there.”
He closed it.
In the cellar the sound stopped, then started again: only now it didn’t sound like a machine at all, but someone moaning.
“We want to go downstairs,” Tak said.
Someone had scattered pamphlets on the steps. They whispered under Kid’s bare foot. “What was this place?” Kid asked again. “A bookstore?”
“Still is.” Tak peered out where the single hanging bulb lit empty shelves. “Paperback department down here.”
Tacked to an edge was a hand-lettered sign: ITALIAN LITERATURE.
A youngster with very long hair sat cross-legged on the floor. He glanced up, then closed his eyes, faced forward, and intoned: “Om…” drawing the last sound until it became the mechanical growl Kid had heard when they’d entered.
“Occupied tonight,” Tak said, softly. “Usually there’s no one here.”
Between the checked flannel lapels, the boy’s chest ran with sweat. Cheek bones glistened above his beard. He’d only glanced at them, before closing his eyes again.
It’s cool, Kid thought. It’s so much cooler.