by Phil Wheeler
They both ate in silence for a while. Finally, Dylan broke it. “What's with the assault troops at the front desk?”
His friend said dismissively, “Just precautionary. In today's world it pays to be cautious. So, Dylan, Robert told me you are going to be leaving us for a while.”
The quick blow-off of the guard was somewhat disconcerting, but Dylan let it go. “I'm on a flight to Japan Friday. With stop-overs, I'll be arriving in Kagoshima, Japan sixteen hours later.”
“Ever been to Japan? I have, and it's a lovely county. I especially liked the seafood and bathhouses. Make sure that you try both.” Don took another bite of potato salad. “Robert tells me that your work is going very well. In fact, he says that you have succeeded in your quest of the elusive cold fusion power source.”
Outside of his few colleagues, Robert Fuller and Donald Mason were the only people to know any specifics of his work. For a reason that he could still not fully understand, he trusted Don with his inner most secrets and fears. He'd even shared with him his near-drowning, and his subsequent overpowering fear of deep water, along with the occasional nightmares about drowning. “Yes, the Samuelson Ltd group is going to be funding my research.”
“I see. Dylan, may I ask, have you met the CEO, Tommy Samuelson?
He looked at his friend. Dylan was used to Don's seemingly endless ability to take him on a roller-coaster ride of twisting questions and probing turns, until a hitherto unseen destination was reached, and it should not have been a surprise to him that Mason knew of Tomiko Samuelson. Here was a man of power and means, a world traveler. It would be only natural for him to know captains of industry. It was just, the mention of Tomiko, it just made Dylan feel.... a little jealous? His thoughts surprised him, and it made him sparse with his words.
“Yes, I have.”
“An amazing woman. Beauty and power all rolled into one.”
He could feel his face reddening, and struggled to contain himself.
Mason got up from his chair, and walked over to a section of his office containing an expensive looking display case. It was solid oak and 6 feet tall, with glass shelves back-lite to provide the contents with a warm glow. Sitting on the middle shelf was a glass case containing one of the rarest of treasures that Don possessed. It was a mint condition copy of Action Comics #1 from 1938. Dylan knew from previous visits that this copy was extremely rare. The colors were vivid; the white behind the 'Action Comics' logo was snow white. It looked almost brand new. He'd never asked how much it cost, but some private research on the web had revealed that this issue, the introduction of Superman, was probably worth in excess of $1.5 million. Only 50 to 100 copies were known to exist, and the last one in this condition had gone for that much.
“Tell me, Dylan, what do you think of Superman?” His friend looked at him with probing eyes.
“Superman? I hadn't thought much about him. Why?”
“He was created right here in Cleveland, you know. Jerome Siegel and Joe Shuster, both sons of immigrant Jewish parents, created the character of Superman in 1938. The rest, as they say, is history.”
Dylan looked at his friend. “I never was much of a Superman fan, I liked Marvel characters – you know, Spider-man, and the Fantastic Four.”
“Interesting in their own right, but Superman was the first of his kind – actually, he was the last, wasn't he? Born on Krypton, and sent to earth in a spaceship as an infant just before his world was destroyed. He became an important icon to this nation as an American hero. He was the champion of the down trodden, but strangely enough he had very little to do with World War II. He did fight various enemies of the United States but, given his powers, couldn't he have ended the war by himself?”
“Metaphorically?”, mused Dylan.
“Yes, metaphorically, but still, why not use this hero like Captain America, to fight and defeat the enemies of our nation?”, said his friend.
“Wouldn't that have been hard to do? I mean, Captain America was flesh and blood, and sometimes he even got his ass kicked. Who could kick Superman's ass? I think that it would have been difficult to resolve a story line with any semblance of reality.” His friend had done it, again. With no effort, he'd turned Dylan from one subject to another seemingly totally unrelated one, and in the process forcing Dylan to play catch up.
“Yes, that's true.”, said Mason. “Did you know that Clark Kent was declared 4-F, unfit for duty, because he flunked his eye exam? DC needed a plausible plot device to keep Superman and Clark Kent from being drafted, so he accidentally used his x-ray vision and read the eye chart in the next room.”
“That's interesting.”
“Some people believe that the character Superman is based on the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche's Ubermensch, which literally means overman. It is argued that a Kryptonians' mental and physical superiority when compared to humans is meant to indicate racial superiority, as eugenics would teach. This was the central tenet of the Nazi belief system. Instead, Superman became an American-raised champion of the oppressed. This was totally opposite Nietzsche's ideal, which would have had him be a destroyer or master of the oppressed. So, what could have been a symbol of self-serving German atheist ideals became an icon of selfless American Judeo-Christian values.”
Dylan wasn't too sure where to go with this conversation. “I'm sorry, Don. It's just – I never gave it that much thought. Comics were just something to read, a little escapism.”
Donald Mason looked at his young friend. On the surface he saw a brilliant young physicist, totally grounded in the real world. Yet, he knew that beneath that surface, locked down deep, there was still a little bit of that insecure and vulnerable little boy trying to keep his head above the water in the deep end of the pool. Don was silent for a while, then finally spoke. “They may be ever seeing but never perceiving.”
“What?”, said Dylan, surprised by Don's words.
“It's from the Bible. The New Testament, actually. It's Mark 4:12 - 'They may be ever seeing but never perceiving.' It’s another way of saying that you look, but don't see. I call it the Superman Effect.” Don leaned back in his chair.
Dylan felt vaguely insulted, but his curiosity got the better of him. “The Superman Effect, I've never heard of that, what exactly do you mean?”
Don took a sip from his coffee cup, and looked at the young man in front of him. “Think back to the comic book Superman, or the movies, or TV shows. Superman flew around in red shorts and blue tights, with a big red 'S' on his chest, and he wore a big red cape. What did he do when he wanted to protect his identity? He changed into a suit, combed back his hair, and put on a pair of ugly black glasses and nobody knew he was Superman – hence, the Superman Effect, he hid in plain sight. Were people that stupid, or was there more to it?”
“Are we talking mind control? Aliens that can read, and/or control our thoughts?”, Dylan said. The idea was a Science Fiction tradition in many story lines, but never a reality in the real world.
“Not everything you see is as you believe it to be. Sometimes, you need to dig a little deeper, look a second time from another angle, because the first answer isn't necessarily the right answer.”
Dylan looked at his friend uncomprehendingly. “Don, you lost me this time.”
“It's nothing, really. Just some abstract thoughts.”, said his friend. “So tell me, what do you think of the work that Robert is doing? I understand that you and he talked about it recently?
“I think that it is very interesting. I don't know much, but from what he's saying this may be a major find. It's somehow tied to Japan, isn't it?”
“Yes. Have you seen any of his work?”, asked Don.
“No. I know that he's had a breakthrough, but not much more. Why?” Dylan's curiosity was up.
“Nothing, really, it just that I'm worried about him. He seems to be withdrawn the last few days, and he called in sick t
o work this morning. I don't know if anything is going on in his personal life, but I am somewhat concerned.”
“He hasn't said anything to me”, said Dylan, “but I can call him if you would like.”
“No. It's OK, he probably just wasn't feeling good. Just do me one favor, if you hear anything from him, give me a call day or night.”
Mason slide a business -sized card across the table. Printed on the front was a phone number. “It's my personal cell phone. I carry it 24/7. Please, Dylan, call me with anything.”
The conversation had been changed to other, more mundane, topics and Dylan had left a short while later. Driving back to his house, he still felt a little disturbed. The concern about Robert was pointed, and unsettling. He's tried to call Robert, and the line kept going to voice mail. Not a major concern but, on top of his conversation with Donald Mason, he was feeling a little uneasy. He would drop by Robert's tomorrow, and check in on his friend.
Chapter 14
It was 10 minutes to 7 in the morning and Dylan had already been hard at work in his garden for over twenty minutes. He loved this morning time, when the plants were standing tall and refreshed from their night's slumber, and he would miss it terribly. In less than 24 hours he would be on a plane taking him to Japan. Robert was picking him up and taking him to the airport, and his next door neighbor had been enlisted to watch the house. The garden would be fresh picked daily, but he knew that this year's labor would be lost, even a month away and the weeds would be taking over. He resigned himself to his fate, telling himself that his work needed to take precedence.
“Mr. Teague?” A male voice startled him from his revelry, and he looked up to see a man in a brown suit and white shirt, his paisley tie hanging loose around his neck, walking through the gate next to the house.
“Mr. Teague, I am sorry if I startled you. My name is Detective Carter Robinson, and I'm with the Cleveland PD. May I speak with you a moment?”
Dylan got up from his labors, brushed off his hands, and extended the right one to the tall police officer that had invaded his home. “What can I do for you, officer, is there a problem?”
The detective shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “Mr. Teague, there has been an accident involving your friend, Robert Fuller. He's been shot.”
“Robert, shot? Is he alright – what happened?” Dylan couldn't believe what he had just heard.
“There is no easy way to tell you this. Your friend is dead. I stopped by to see you because I found your name and address in Mr. Fuller's address book, as well as numerous personal Emails between the two of you. One concerned his picking you up for the airport tomorrow. I have not been able to reach his parents, and so I thought that maybe you could help me sort through this. I assume that you were friends?”, said the detective, watching Dylan's face with great interest.
“Yes. We were close friends. What happened? Dylan couldn't believe his friend was dead.
“Mr. Teague, was your friend depressed?”, asked the detective.
“Depressed, no – why?”, questioned Dylan.
“I'm sorry to have to put this so bluntly, but it appears that your friend committed suicide.”
“No, that's impossible. Why would he do that?” Dylan was incredulous.
“I was hoping that you could tell me.”
“No. I just saw him a couple of days ago. He was in a good mood. As a matter of fact, he was ecstatic about the new gun he'd just bought. There was no way he was going to kill himself after shelling out over $3,000 for a gun he'd been trying to find for years. I just don't believe it.” Dylan couldn't, it just was not possible.
“This gun.”, asked Detective Robinson, “What kind was it, do you know?”
“Yeah. It was a 1917 model 1911, a colt .45 in mint condition. Why?”, asked Dylan.
“That would appear to be the weapon used in the shooting.”, came the reply. “There was no evidence of forced entry, and nothing seems to be disturbed. A note, written on his computer's word processor, indicated that he was going to take his own life.”
“What did it say?”, asked Dylan.
“That this secret was too much for him to bear, and he couldn't go on. Do you know what he was taking about?”
“No, I really don't”, said Dylan.
“Mr. Teague, I have to ask you, was Mr. Fuller a homosexual?” The detective's question was startling.
“Robert? No, I can assure you he was not. That is quite ridiculous.”
“I had to ask, it's just that, I see this kind of thing all the time. A hidden life, or rejected lover. It isn't unusual for the closest of friends to not know about secret lifestyles.” The detective stepped to the gate of the garden, and looked around.
Dylan was feeling like the world was crashing in on him, but he pulled it together. “What can I do to help? Do you want me to call his parents? They live in Columbus. I know them really well.”
“No, that won't be necessary, I found their address, and we are having the Columbus Police Department handle contacting them. What I need from you – would you mind identifying the body? We can't do anything without a positive ID, and I don't know how long it will be before his parents can get here.” The Detective took out a set of car keys and absentmindedly began playing with them.
“Yes, of course. Let me grab my wallet and cell phone.
Chapter 15
As they drove to the police morgue, Dylan's mind was in turmoil. What was he to do? His friend was dead, supposedly by his own hand, and he was scheduled to leave for Japan, he couldn't possibly go now. He took out his cell and dialed the number that Tomiko had given him.
“Hello, this is Sora Hokkaido. I am unavailable at this time. Please leave a message, and I will return your call as soon as I can. If this is an emergency, please press 1 now, to send me a page, and I will return your call immediately.” He had reached the phone mail for the person handling his affairs for Tomiko. He quickly pressed the 1, and hung up to wait. It couldn't have been more than 5 minutes before his phone rang. “Dr. Teague, so nice to hear from you. How may I be of service?”, came the soft voice of Sora Hokkaido.
“Sora. I know it's getting late there and I have probably disturbed you at home, but this is an emergency.”
“Please, Dr. Teague, do not be disquieted. You didn't interrupt anything important, I was just reading. You sound upset – is everything alright there?”
“No. I don't think – I mean - there's been a terrible accident with one of my friends, and I can't leave. I won't be able to fly to Japan tomorrow. ” It all came out in an uncontrolled rush of words.
“I am so sorry, and I understand. What do I need to do?, came the voice on the phone.
“I don't know, right now I don't know what I am going to be doing the next few days.”, he said.
“I understand. Is your friend going to be alright?”
“No, he's dead.” It was the first time that Dylan had said the words out loud, and he felt an emptiness overtake him.
“I am so sorry Doctor Teague. Please, could I place you on hold? I will be back momentarily.”
“OK.” he said, and there was silence on the other end. Barely a minute had gone by when a voice spoke to him over the phone, but it wasn't Sora. The voice was that of Tomiko Samuelson.
“Hello, Dylan. Sora filled me in as best she could. Of course there is no question of you delaying in coming here. I will have Sora call the airlines and suspend your tickets. Take what time you need. Do you know when the funeral will be?”, asked Tomiko.
“No. Actually, I just found out about his death a few minutes ago. I'm calling from the back seat of a police car on the way to the morgue. His parents are from out of town, and I've been asked to identify the body.” Dylan spoke as if in a daze.
“I am truly sorry. It must be very hard for you. Please, don't worry, we can reschedule your trip later in the month. Why don't I have Sora cont
act you in about a week, after Robert's funeral?”
“Yes, that sounds - what - what was that?”, asked Dylan, “I didn't catch that last bit.”
“I said that I will have Sora call you after the funeral.”, came the reply.
“That will be fine, I really don't want to delay my visit too long.”, said Dylan.
“Good, nor do I.”, she said, “I will talk with you soon.”
Dylan put his cell phone in his pocket and lay back into the soft seat. Normally, he would have thought that speaking with Tomiko would have a calming effect, but something about the conversation had unsettled him. He couldn't understand what it was, and he was surprised by his reaction to the phone call.