by Rudy Rucker
“Rudy Rucker,” she called, walking over. She was dressed in jogging clothes and sneakers again. “I been expecting you.”
I got out of my car so that she wouldn’t be standing over me. “It’s about my computer,” I said. “Someone stole it and I thought maybe you could help.”
“I have your computer system in my house.” She gestured towards the trailer. “You can take it back right now.”
“You stole it!?! I’m going to tell the police!”
“Your friend Frank Shook very drunk Thursday night. He the one who take your computer system. His no-good friends help him. Cosmic spirits tell him where you keep your extra house key. He only plan to take your Saucer Wisdom manuscript, but he not find it. So he take whole computer system.”
“Why did he bring it to you?”
“Frank not so smart. He know I can use this kind of machine. So I print out a copy of your Saucer Wisdom file for him. He show it to me before he take it with him. It very nicely written. Good spelling and attractive format. But I think it very hard for you to find a publisher.”
“Why?” I demanded.
“This kind of story is pretty hard for average person to believe. I think that why cosmic spirits don’t care about what you do. I had worry they might do something to stop you. Yes, I very worry about that before, but cosmic spirits seem to think your activities are harmless joke. Funny stories about the world to come.” She regarded me blandly, not unpleasantly. “No problem. Now you take away your computer system. I no like to have.”
“Wait,” I said. “Aren’t you out to get money from me? And weren’t you yelling at us on the—” I broke off, totally unsure if the beach incident had really happened.
“Yes, yes, I see you at Natural Bridges Beach,” said Peggy. “I go there all the time. I cannot believe Frank throw a rock at me and I have to run away. He such an asshole.”
“But—but you did talk about money,” I said. “Frank said you were going to try and get money from me.”
“Not from you,” said Peggy. “From him. A long time ago, when I teach Frank how to call the aliens, he promise to give me half the money he earn from them. And then when I hear gossip about you wanting to write book with him, I remind him of his promise. He very angry about this, but he scared maybe I can tell the spirits to stay away. He know he better pay me half the money you give him for the book. But now I have seen the book and I am not excite. It okay you take your computer system.”
I followed Peggy into her trailer. The front door opened into a tiny reception cubicle, a masonite-walled roomlet with a chair, a reception desk and a wall-mounted vitrine that held an array of crystals, coins, amulets, and mojo-bundles of Chinese herbs. On the desk of the reception cubicle sat a cordless phone—and a crystal ball on a base of three brass dragons.
Peggy pushed open a door in the back wall of the little cubicle. The door led to a cramped, white-shag-carpeted living-room with red upholstered furniture. Squeezed into the far end of the little room were three television sets and three video cameras, two of them on tripods, just like at Frank Shook’s house.
Moving nimbly, Peggy pulled back a corner of the rug to uncover a three-foot-square trap-door in the trailer floor. She tugged the plywood door open, and there in a sheet-metal box beneath the floor were the components of my computer.
“I was almost looking forward to buying a new one,” I said, gesturing at my machine. “But it’s certainly nice to get it back.” I carried the pieces out to my car. It took three trips. On the last trip Peggy Sung followed me back outside. Evidently she was ready to see the last of me.
“So where is Frank now?” I asked her.
“He ashamed about what he do to you,” said Peggy. “And he scared of police. I think somehow he run away to hide. Don’t worry about him. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Rucker.”
“Can I talk to you about the aliens?” I asked, not wanting the conversation to be over. “You could give me a different perspective on the things Frank told me. I mean, just to start with, why do you call them ‘cosmic spirits’ instead of ‘saucer aliens’? Is there a difference?”
“No,” she said shortly. “But talking about them is work for me. I save it for my customer. One hundred twenty-five dollar per hour consultation fee. If you like, we make appointment.”
“But if Frank’s giving you half of his cut, it’s really in your interest to help with Saucer Wisdom,” I insisted. “For free.”
At this, Peggy Sung laughed in my face. It was clear she thought I’d never get the book published. In her mind I was a pest on a level with my “friend” Frank Shook—a lowly niche indeed. “Goodbye, Mr. Rucker! You have a very nice day!” She turned and went back inside her trailer.
So I took my computer and went on home. By Thursday, July 7, I still hadn’t heard any more from Frank. I phoned Peggy Sung and asked if she’d seen him, but she hadn’t. When she realized I was not calling to make an appointment for a consultation, our conversation was over. I still couldn’t get over how Frank had depicted this calm, practical woman as such a villainess.
Thursday afternoon, I drove down to San Lorenzo to see if anything was happening at Frank’s. Audrey had gotten pretty curious about all this, so I brought her along. But Frank’s house was empty, unoccupied.
“What a dump,” said Audrey as we peeked in the windows at the empty rooms. “Are you sure this is the right place?” Someone had completely cleaned the house from top to bottom; it was ready for new tenants.
“Of course I’m sure,” I said, feeling frightened and a little unreal. “Let’s talk to the neighbors.”
We drove back to Okies’ house at the start of Frank’s road and I got out of the car. What was their name? Oh yes, the Gandys. The Gandys’ rutted mud lot reminded me of the nightmare I’d had about the aliens. Why was I even trying to look for Frank Shook anymore? Better to give up and forget him. Just like at Peggy Sung’s, I wanted to get back into my car and slink off—but I was embarrassed to give up so easily in front of Audrey. Right then a woman hollered out of the crummy little house on stilts.
“Can I help you?”
I couldn’t make her out behind the window-screen, but I spoke up as best I could. “I’m looking for Frank and Mary Shook?” I said. “Did they move out?”
“Are you a friend of theirs?”
“Yes.”
“Hold on.”
A leathery bleached-blonde woman appeared on the shaky steps from the little shack. “Hi, I’m Sharon Gandy.”
“I’m Rudy Rucker,” I said. “I was working on something with Frank.”
“That Frank,” said Sharon, shaking her head and making a hissing sound through her thin lips.
“Where is he?”
“Nobody knows. Mary don’t want to live out here in the boondocks alone by herself. So she up and left. The landlord’s got a new tenant lined up to move in tomorrow, thank God, so Mary’s not getting stuck with the July rent. I helped her clean the place up. She had a big yard sale Sunday and Monday, cleaned Tuesday, and moved to Santa Cruz yesterday. We bought one of her TVs. Don’t know why they needed three in a place that small. I’ve got Mary’s address written down inside, but she don’t have a phone yet. That’s the one thing she’s happy about. With Frank gone she finally can get a phone again. He won’t stand for no phone, you know.”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want Mary’s address?”
“No—never mind.” It was really and truly time to forget the whole thing. “Thanks a lot, Sharon.”
South Dakota
Life went on, one damned thing after another. My father died, my dog Arf died, our oldest daughter moved to the East Coast, our son graduated from college and moved to Oregon, our youngest daughter graduated from college too.
Audrey did sell enough of her jellyfish paintings to get a jellyfish aquarium, and that was a fun thing around
the house for awhile—though hardly a replacement for Arf and the kids. Eventually Audrey got tired of the jellyfish, and the dry empty tank ended up in our basement. She kept painting, though, moving on to hummingbirds, and then to close-ups of breaking waves.
In the fall of 1994, I started work on a science fiction novel called Freeware, a sequel to my novels Software and Wetware. For me, writing is very much a spontaneous, intuitive process, and although I hadn’t planned to, I found myself drawing on my notes and memories of the things Frank told me. The colorful piezoplastic, the uvvies and the aliens who travel as cosmic rays all found their way into the otherwise wholly fictional Freeware. I finished writing Freeware in February, 1996.
Around this period I underwent a big change in my spiritual life. After years of wanting to, I finally got clean and sober with the help of a Twelve Step program. The key step in my recovery was that I came to believe that God would help me with my personal difficulties if I asked. In the past, my idea of God had been a philosophical abstraction: the One, the White Light, the Cosmos, the Absolute. But now I came to think of God as a personal force that lived not in my head but in my heart. And for the first time I realized that seeking God might have something to do with trying to become a better person.
Freeware appeared in the bookstores in May, 1997, and at the end of that month I got a call from none other than Mary, now living, she said, near Sacramento. She told me that Frank had gotten in touch with her and that he wanted to see me again. She said that he could explain everything.
“Where is he?”
“That’s the hard part. He’s in the Black Hills of South Dakota, whatever that is. He wants you to come talk to him.”
“Talk to him about what? He stole my computer and disappeared for three years. I don’t want anything to do with him.”
“He thought you still might want to finish Saucer Wisdom. He says you owe him because you used so many of his ideas in your new book Freeware. He says it’s not his fault he’s been gone for three years. Supposedly the aliens did it to him. He says he has missing time. Anyway, Peggy gave your computer back to you, so what’s the big deal?”
“It’s really upsetting to have someone rob your house, Mary. You have no idea. I mean, sure Frank was drunk, and sure I got the computer back, but even so. And I think he’s entirely capable of doing that kind of thing again. I saw him try to kill Peggy Sung once, you know? Are you planning to go back to him?”
“Well—actually—in the meantime I’ve married another man. After Frank had been gone for two years I had our marriage annulled.”
“You went to court?” I asked.
“Well, there never was what you’d call a formal legal marriage between Frank and me. A Hindu hippie friend married us up on Four Mile Beach. He gave us a special piece of dried kelp for the marriage certificate, and to annul the marriage I did a little ceremony and burned the piece of kelp. Even though I let people call me Mary Shook all those years, that was never my legal name. I hung onto my maiden name because deep down I knew Frank wasn’t forever. My new husband is wonderful. We’re going to have a baby! It’s sad for Frank, but my life with him is over. You’re right, what you say about him, and you don’t know the half of it. Frank is too crazy to live with. I’m glad to be free of him. I didn’t realize how trapped I was. But it’s not like he’s evil or something, Rudy. He just makes mistakes. I think you should go see him. He says he wants to apologize. And he loves his print-out of the Saucer Wisdom manuscript. He promises he doesn’t have any problems with it at all.”
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll call him.”
“He doesn’t want me to give you his number. He only wants to talk to you face to face. I think he’s scared that if you talk to him on the phone, you two will just argue. He’s really intent on patching up his relationship with you.”
“How would I see him face to face?”
“Fly to Rapid City, South Dakota. Frank says that’s the only airport up there. If you decide to go, just tell me when, and I’ll tell him, and he’ll meet you.”
“What’s in this for you, Mary?” I remembered the way she’d brought a tray of food to Frank right before he showed me the first set of notes, the ones on the future of communication. By now I’d come to be pretty sure that Mary had slipped those “saucer-written” notes to him. And the way she’d referred so casually to “Peggy” just now hadn’t been lost on me. I couldn’t really trust any of these people.
“I feel sorry for Frank,” Mary was saying. “He’s so alone now. You were good for him, Rudy. Saucer Wisdom gave him hope. Promise you’ll at least think about going to see him. I’m not going to tell you my last name, but here’s my number; you can call me back. Say hello to Audrey for me.”
I thought about it for a few days.
With Freeware finished, I was once again between book projects. When I got out the Saucer Wisdom manuscript, it still looked pretty good. I’d always felt kind of bad about the time and energy I’d frittered away on it. I hate to leave projects unfinished.
But—did I believe Frank Shook? Well, maybe not—but it sure was fun to try! Certainly Frank’s claim that aliens travel as light-like signals made a lot of sense, more sense than any other method of space-travel I’d ever heard of. And his visions of piezoplastic had so enthralled me that I’d made them a centerpiece of Freeware.
The ideas Frank had told me were wonderful, even though he himself seemed like an unintelligent man with a bad personality. This disparity continued to be a real puzzlement. Frank was like some peasant shaman filled with miraculous visions. Who could tell where they came from? If he wanted to say that flying saucers were showing him the future, why argue. Better just to enjoy what he said.
But was I still angry with Frank about the break-in? Not really. He’d done something stupid, but so had I in the course of my life, many times. In the end, no great harm had been done. If there was anything to still be annoyed about, it was that Frank had disappeared halfway through a book project I’d put so much time into.
I looked at a map of South Dakota and found the Black Hills in the state’s southwest corner. It’s where Mount Rushmore is. I noticed the famous old Wild West town of Deadwood near there, not to mention the biker meeting-place Sturgis, both of them close to the east-west Interstate 90. It would be fun to go somewhere so different.
Though she’d initially been doubtful, Audrey was won over by my growing enthusiasm about going to see Frank. She knew how much it had bothered me to leave Saucer Wisdom unfinished. She herself didn’t want to go to South Dakota, but as it turned out, there was a week in June when I’d be home alone while Audrey visited her Dad in Europe. So what the hey, why not do it. Fly out to Rapid City on Friday, June 13; fly home on Monday, June 16.
I bought a ticket and called Mary; she got in touch with Frank and called me back. Frank would meet me in Rapid City. Mary asked me to be sure and take some pictures of Frank; she wanted to see how he looked.
To get to Rapid City, I had to change planes in Denver. The Denver airport was new and enormous; my gate was out at the end of a finger in a satellite concourse. The concourse space was so vast that the sounds were hushed and jumbled; the fading voices of the announcements blended with the whirring of the long, sliding rubber sidewalks. It had the feel of an alien spaceport. Anachronistic propeller planes kept flying by like movie images, clearly framed in the huge windows. Beyond the airstrips, endless flat plains rolled out into the distance.
At the gate where we boarded for Rapid City, everyone was white white white. They referred to our destination as “Rapid,” rather than “Rapid City.” They spoke in an odd singsong, a musical Scandinavian accent like in the movie Fargo. “I’m hopin’ the plane gets here before the electrical storm,” sang out a farmer in a billed cap; and a sturdy, doughy, lank-haired young woman chorused, “That’s what I’m sayin’ too.” Her oooo sound was drawn out and warbling.
&n
bsp; I walked across the asphalt runway to get into a low-slung prop plane. There was indeed a thunderhead approaching across the plains. Beneath it was a great patch of slanting rain. I felt myself very much out on the edges of my perceptions. The crackling radio voices from the pilot’s console seemed filled with mystery. The next step of my journey began.
Frank was waiting for me at the gate in Rapid City. He’d let his hair and beard grow completely free. He looked like a crazy hermit—well, maybe not quite that bad. He wore jeans, a buttoned up cotton shirt, and an incongruous tweed jacket. His smile was broad and his eyes were twinkling.
“Rudy!” he cried. “It’s great to see you.”
“Where have you been, Frank?”
“I’ve been here in South Dakota for about a year. And before that I’ve got two years of missing time. Not really missing, it’s more that—” He broke off and looked sharply at the people streaming around us. “We’ll talk about this in the car. I don’t want to blow my cover.”
“Cover as what?” I couldn’t resist saying. “Have you looked in the mirror lately? Saucer abductions are exactly what people would expect someone like you to talk about.”
“Still sarcastic, I see,” said Frank. “You’re referring to my hair? It makes me feel safer, I guess. I was kind of paranoid for awhile. I hope you’re not mad at me anymore? Like I told Mary, I think what you wrote is just fine. The things you say about me don’t matter. The main thing is to get the big story across. Come on, the baggage claim is down this way.”
“All I brought was this carry-on.”
“All right then, let’s go on out to my car.”