All right, Mariela. Who cares anyway?
He killed the cube and put the other one in. This letter was from a gorgeous hot-looking redhead who called herself Lacy. “Request Lacy,” he told his ring, and found out that she was a San Francisco woman, evidently a girlfriend of his, partner in the Betelgeuse Five deal. Okay. He got her back on the screen, thinking maybe she was going to tell him she had arranged to come up here for a visit, and wondering if that would cause him any problems with Alleluia.
But that wasn’t what she was planning at all.
“Ed, I have to tell you something marvelous, which is that I’ve found happiness and meaning in my life for the very first time,” she said. “Do you remember that time in the summer when I said I had had a weird dream, the strange planet, the creature from outer space with the horns? That was the beginning of it for me. It was a religious revelation, though I didn’t understand that then. But since then I have discovered the tumbondé movement, which maybe you don’t know much about—it started in San Diego, a great man named Senhor Papamacer, who is leading us toward a union with the gods, and I have gone into it heart and soul. I have joined the march north, hundreds of thousands of us following the leadership of the Senhor, and I feel completely transformed and even redeemed. It’s as though I’ve been purified of all the shady bad things I used to do—forgiven, handed a clean slate. And all because of the vision I had, that weird figure under those two strange suns—”
Jesus, Ferguson thought bleakly. Listen to her. Like a convent girl, she sounds. And these crazy dreams, changing everybody’s lives. The whole world’s gone nuts. Everybody but me.
“—And we are marching toward the Seventh Place where the final redemption will be offered. What I mean to say is that we will probably be passing close to Mendocino in a little while, and I think if you could somehow get yourself out of the Nepenthe and join us, if you could give yourself over to tumbondé and accept the guidance of Senhor Papamacer, you too would find yourself transformed, you would feel all the bitterness and unhappiness that has marked your life fall away from you in a moment, as it has for me, and—”
Sure. Just waltz out of here and sign on with the Senhor, whoever he might be. Was that all that it took? Dr. Lewis has already played this letter, Lacy baby. If there was a chance in a million that I could get away from this place to join you, do you think I’d be hearing you now? Do you?
“—Am confident that the blessing of Maguali-ga will be conferred upon you also, that the shining light of Chungirá-He-Will-Come will enter your soul—if only you would join us, dear Ed, come forth to us as we undertake our pilgrimage toward the Seventh Place—”
He scowled and shut off the cube. What crazy shit. Going off to have a union with the gods? The other one, going back to her family in Hawaii, at least that made a little sense. But this—this crazy stuff—
So he was rid of them both, that was how it looked. All right. All right. There was still Alleluia, who was as good as both of them put together. Somehow there was always another woman better than the last one when he needed her. Ferguson shook his head, trying to clear it. He wondered what Alleluia was doing now. He’d see if he could find her. Maybe a little walk in the woods—their customary midday frolic—
“Ed?” called a voice from outside. “Ed, you there?”
Ferguson frowned. “Who is it?”
“Me, Tom. You got some time free?”
One more lunatic. Well, why not? “Sure,” he said. “Hold on, I’ll let you in.”
He opened the door. Tangle of wild hair, strange wild staring eyes. There was something wrong with this guy, no question about it. Definitely not playing with a full deck. Ferguson stood there uncertainly, wondering what, if anything, was on Tom’s mind.
“Today’s the big day for you,” Tom said.
“Yeah? It is?”
“You remember last week, the first time we talked? When I said I’d show you how to have the space dreams?”
“You said that?”
“In the mess hall, yes. We were sitting with the little priest, and you gave me some bourbon and then—”
“I don’t remember shit about last week,” Ferguson said wearily. “Don’t you know that? I remember that we met somewhere, I know your name’s Tom, all the rest is gone. Picked. That’s what they do in this place, they ream out your mind. You know that, don’t you?”
Tom made a funny little gesture, as though he were dismissing what Ferguson had just said as so much noise. “Well, if you don’t remember, I do. I can feel your misery, friend. And I mean to help you up from all that. Come on, let’s go for a little walk. Into the woods a ways, where it’s quiet, where it’s peaceful. You still haven’t had a space dream, that right?”
“No,” Ferguson said. “As far as I can remember, no, I haven’t. Except—” He paused.
“Except what?”
Ferguson frowned. “I’m not sure. But there was something. Hold on, let me check.” He went into the john so that Tom would not see what he was doing, and touched his ring and requested his file of unusual events, week of October eighth. His own voice, small and quiet, came up out of the recorder, running through all sorts of stuff, anything that had happened to him in the past few days that he had thought might be worth saving from pick. Most of it was just junk. But then came an entry for two nights earlier: “Something a little like a space dream last night, maybe. Just the outside flicker of it, anyway—a feeling that the world was wrapped up in green fog. I think that’s something like one of the dreams they have, the Green World dream. That was all I got, the fog. I don’t think that’s the real thing. But it was a beginning, maybe.”
Tom was looking at him strangely when he came out.
“You talking to yourself in there?”
“Yeah,” Ferguson said. “A little conference with myself. Listen, one of the space dreams, it has to do with green fog, doesn’t it?”
“That’s the Green World. A very beautiful place.”
“I wouldn’t know. All I saw was fog. In my sleep, night before last. Green fog.”
“That’s all? Just fog?”
“Just fog.”
“Okay,” Tom said. “The dreams are trying to break through, then. You’ve made a start. Maybe because I’m right here the influence is stronger. But you see? You can do it just like anybody else, Ed. You come on along with me now. Out into the woods.”
“What for?”
“I told you. I’m going to give you a space dream. But we ought to go where nobody can bother us, because you got to concentrate. Okay, Ed? Come on. Come on, now.”
“It isn’t going to work. You tell me: How can I have a dream when I’m wide awake?”
“Just come with me,” Tom said.
Ferguson shrugged. Nothing to lose, was there? Might as well try it. He nodded to Tom and they went out into the warm autumn morning, around the side of the gymnasium and onto the path into the woods. They passed a couple of people as they walked: Dante Corelli, April Cranshaw, Mug Watson the gardener. Dante smiled and waved to them, the gardener paid no attention, fat April gave them a quick frightened look and immediately turned the other way, as if she had seen a couple of werewolves out for a stroll. Poor nutty fat broad, Ferguson thought. Thing that would make her feel better would be getting laid once or twice. But who would want to, with her? Not me, you betcha. Holy Jesus, not me.