Bathing the Lion

by Jonathan Carroll

  Groping around again inside the cloud, he found nothing else. How extraordinarily strange! As a mechanic, whenever he’d had to use an Aurora Cobb to fix a situation, any situation, the thing he needed came to hand instantly. But this time the only thing he’d found inside was a switterbug and he was certain that was not what he needed for this situation.

  The cloud vanished. When it happened, Kaspar’s eyes were closed while he still groped carefully around inside it. Opening them again, it took seconds to fully grasp the Aurora Cobb was gone.

  His whole body froze with his right arm extended stiffly out in front of him while the left hand was palm up close to his body, as if to instinctively protect himself from whatever he might find inside the cloud—which was gone.

  “Good God.” As a mechanic Kaspar had never experienced this before: An Aurora Cobb disappearing before it supplied the necessary tool? Impossible. He moved slowly around the room, arms extended, hands feeling the air, fumbling about, searching. Helpless and frustrated, Kaspar stopped, put both hands on his face, and rubbed them up and down fast and hard. His cheeks turned hot from the friction.

  Then someone spoke to him. A familiar voice said words he had already heard that day. “So here we are—together again just like old times.”

  Dropping his hands, Kaspar saw he was once again sitting in a café across a table from Crebold. The mechanic who had chosen for the moment to look like his twin leaned back in the scarred bentwood chair, put both hands behind his head, and wove his fingers together. Looking around at the café, he loudly sucked air through his teeth.

  “You’re smiling, Kaspar. Is something funny? Something I said?”

  Kaspar Benn was not smiling. Maybe it looked like a smile because his mouth was twisted up at either end. But it was the kind of tight rictus grin a face gets after a stubbed toe or accidentally running a finger down the mean side of a knife.

  “Crebold?” Kaspar looked from side to side to make sure he was actually seeing what he was seeing.

  His twin snickered. “I should be laughing at you because I knew something disastrous like this was going to happen. I even said it at your review, if you remember.”

  Kaspar frantically threw both hands up to stop him from talking. “Crebold, shut up and listen to me! We’re in a flip; we’ve already lived this moment once today but it’s happening again. It’s a flip!”

  Crebold was stopped by the stricken expression on Kaspar’s face. The look alone said he was telling the truth. Even the possibility of it being true was disturbing enough to shut the mechanic up at least for the moment.

  As much as he disliked and envied him, Crebold still had great grudging respect for Kaspar. Hearing him say they were in a flip confused Crebold greatly. Everything showed in his eyes, one emotion after the other—doubt, distrust, and wonder. Am I being played here or is it really true? Because if it is true, we’re in no-man’s-land/zero gravity/everything up for grabs/uncharted territory, even for a mechanic. All those conflicting feelings showed as he stared at Benn, still appraising him, still dubious.

  Kaspar pointed at Crebold’s hand. “When the waiter brings our drinks you’re going to cover that hand with ants so you can show off your powers to the guy. You’re planning to do it right now, aren’t you?”

  The right corner of Crebold’s mouth twitched but he fought to keep the rest of his face expressionless. “How do you know?”

  “Because this is a flip—I’m telling you, we’re in a flip right now. You’ve got to believe me. We’ve been here before, Crebold.” Kaspar slapped the stone tabletop. “We’ve already done this whole scene once before today. You’re gonna show off to the waiter by covering your hand with ants. It’ll gross him out and cause a scene. Then whether you believe it or not, Grassmugg himself is going to come through that door over there with a bunch of other mechanics in orange suits. They’re going to haul you out of here because of your stunt. You know stealth is the first rule of mechanics, but you couldn’t resist. They’re going to parnax you for showing off in front of these people, Crebold.”

  Although Crebold flinched on hearing the word “parnax,” he still wasn’t convinced. Not because he thought Kaspar was lying, but because the idea was so contrary to everything he knew or had ever learned. “Come on, Kaspar—a mechanic is never inside a flip. You remember: we make them happen. Then we stand back and watch the results. We’re always outside; a flip happens to them, never us.”

  Kaspar said, “I know, but this is different—this one is happening to us. We’re both inside it. You know the Somersault has already started. I think it might have caused this to happen. Anything goes when one of them hits; even mechanics aren’t exempt.

  “Look, were you planning to do the bit with the ants on your hand? Yes or no?”

  Crebold hesitated. He answered in a tight voice, “Yes.”

  “And you know I don’t have any of the powers anymore, do I? You know it better than anyone because you were on my retirement review. Crebold, look at me! How could I read your mind now if I don’t have any powers? How could I know about the ants on your hand? Because this has happened before. We’re just doing it again, right this minute. It’s a classic flip.”

  “They’re really going to parnax me, Kaspar?”

  “Yes, if you go ahead with the stupid stunt. Grassmugg told me—not some underling—Grassmugg himself is coming here to get you if you do it.”

  “Gentlemen, your orders.” The waiter arrived carrying their drinks along with other orders on an unusually large tray. Remembering Crebold’s earlier rudeness, he purposely put Kaspar’s coffee cup down in front of him first and then the tomato juice with the poached egg inside it. The waiter paused a moment to give a long look at the absurd drink, wanting to make sure the unpleasant customer saw his slight smirk.

  Crebold’s hand lifted off the table. He watched, absorbed, while it rose.

  “Crebold don’t, please—”

  “I know, I know.”

  “Will there be anything else, gentlemen?”

  Kaspar smiled at the waiter and said no, thank you.

  With effort Crebold lowered his hand again and stared at it until the waiter was gone. “I didn’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Raise my hand. It went up by itself, Kaspar. It rose by itself. I had to fight myself to pull it down again and keep those ants away. What is going on?”

  THREE

  Jane said it slowly, with particular emphasis on the last word. “It’s called a flip.”

  “What is?”

  “What’s happening to us right now.”

  “A flip, really? Sounds stupid.”

  Jane made fists against her thighs and looked at the floor. She wanted to throttle Vanessa but knew she couldn’t lose her temper now because she needed to keep the lid on things as best she could. Jane was completely unmoored by everything that had taken place. If moody Vanessa went sullen or ballistic right now it would be disastrous. “It’s not really the name but a term they use for it here. It makes it easier to refer to.”

  “What do you mean, here? Where’s here? And who are these they you keep talking about?”

  “Here is Earth and they are what are called mechanics.”

  Vanessa shook her head and glared at Jane Claudius as if she’d just farted long and loud.

  Jane touched Vanessa’s shoulder and pointed to a bench nearby. “Let’s go sit over there. I’ll try to explain it better.”

  “I have to go to the toilet first. I’ll meet you there.” The big woman walked off and disappeared into a restroom nearby.

  “Was that Vanessa Corbin you were talking to?”

  Jane turned around and saw Felice. A wave of happiness and calm rolled over her. As always, Jane was delighted to meet her partner. But on this occasion it was different because she knew the encounter was part of a dream in which they’d already had this meeting once today. Now was just a repeat—part of the flip. “How’d you know I was here?”

 
Once again Felice handed her a brown paper bag containing a fresh blueberry muffin and steaming hot cup of black coffee—Jane’s favorite breakfast. Felice said, “I was getting something to eat in the food court and saw you two down here talking. Then I remembered you said you were coming here this morning to buy a skating helmet.”

  Jane put a hand on her lover’s elbow and squeezed it. “I can’t talk now, Felice. I’m kind of in a crisis with Vanessa and we’ve got to work the whole thing out.”

  Felice nodded and said, “Of course, sweetie. But are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Looking at her partner, Jane remembered how earlier in the dream they’d sat here by the fountain, knees touching while contentedly eating breakfast together. How nice and right it had been. How fulfilling it was to have this generous thoughtful woman in her life.

  “No, I can handle it. But I love you and thanks for asking.”

  “I love you too. If there’s anything I can do, I’m just up there. You know where.” Felice pointed to the bookstore where she worked.

  “I know.” Jane touched Felice’s cheek. Smiling, Felice took the hand and gave the back of it a quick kiss. “See you at home.”

  Watching her love walk away, Jane wondered if that would happen—if she’d ever see Felice or their home again after this flip. She sat down on the bench, put the bag with the coffee and muffin next to her, and took a very deep breath.

  A few moments later her eyes were closed while she tried to rebalance her inner gyroscope, without success. She jerked on hearing Vanessa ask, “Oh, is this for me? Thanks, I’m starved.” Jane looked to the side and saw the singer sitting on the end of the bench holding the coffee Felice had brought and trying with her free hand to open the bag with the muffin in it.

  “Let me do it for you.” Jane took the bag, pulled out the muffin, and handed it over.

  “Thanks. I’m ready now, tell me about flips.”

  “Okay. But first you know we’re back in our dream from last night now, right? The one we all shared? In it, you and I met here at the mall and you told me Dean wanted to separate.”

  Vanessa nodded and took a giant bite of muffin.

  “Simply put, a flip is when you’re sent back to moments or periods in your life you’ve already lived. But this time you experience them with all the knowledge you have now. So when you go back to that specific experience this time, you already know what will happen next. It’s like an instant replay in sports but with the added knowledge of how the game turns out.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why do we have them? What’s the point of these flips?”

  Jane was surprised Vanessa hadn’t first asked who or what caused them.

  “To help you see your life more clearly in retrospect. All memory lies, Vanessa. It paints nice colors over the ugly or disturbing things. Or it cleverly distorts them, bends and twists them, so they fit better into the convenient history we’re all continuously writing and amending of our lives. That fact applies to every conscious being in the cosmos: no matter what you are, your memory is always and for everything an unreliable witness. Never trust it to tell you the truth about who you are or how you got here.”

  “How do you know all this, Jane?”

  “I’ll explain in a minute; one thing at a time.” Jane took the coffee out of Vanessa’s hand, had a sip, and gave it back.

  “So why are we back here in the mall? Is it important? Should we be looking for something?”

  Jane shook her head. “I don’t know yet.”

  “Who put us here?”

  “I think I did.”

  Vanessa didn’t seem surprised by any of this. She took another bite of muffin and sipped coffee, all the time watching Jane. “It kind of reminds me of the movie where the guy keeps re-living the same day again and again.”

  “Groundhog Day?”

  “Yes.”

  “Vanessa, this is different. Because once a flip takes place, your life is never sequential again. One day you’re forty and the next thing you know, you might be fifteen again. There’s never any way of knowing what will be next.”

  “You mean from now until I die I’m going to move back and forth between the different years I’ve already lived?”

  Jane kept her facial expression neutral. “Yes, I believe that’s what will happen.”

  Vanessa’s voice rose. “I’ll never go back to living a normal—what did you call it—sequential life?”

  “No.”

  The women looked at each other, Jane letting this news sink in before moving to the next fact, which was going to be even harder for Vanessa to believe, much less accept.

  “Did I die, Jane? Is that what all this is now, death?”

  “No you’re not dead. But—”

  “But what?”

  “Your life won’t progress any farther than today. This is as far as it will go: from now on, today is as old as you’ll ever get. Think of it as coming to the end of a cul de sac when you’re driving: when it happens, you have to turn your car around and go back the way you came.

  “You’re forty-three, so everything you experience from now until you die will be your life up until today. You’ll travel back and forth across it, setting down here and there but never knowing what age you will be next. No matter where you travel in your life, you’ll always have the mind of the forty-three-year-old you are now. It’s what happens with a flip.”

  “This is ridiculous, Jane. You’re crazy.”

  “I’m not finished, Vanessa. Remember when I ate the black shiny stuff before?”

  “That was disgusting. I thought you were crazy to do it and now I know you really are!”

  Jane ignored the insult. “Remember how you knew the name of the cloud in your living room?”

  “The Aurora Cobb? Yes, but I don’t know how I knew it. It just came to me.”

  Jane nodded. “The name came to you because in a previous life you were what’s called a mechanic. Eventually you were retired and your mechanic’s mind was wiped clean. Then you were moved here to Earth to live with a whole new identity as a human being.

  “But they need something from you now, they need something from us, so we’re all being reawakened, if it’s the right word. They’re making us aware again of our past as mechanics.”

  Vanessa barked a scornful ha! “So you’re one too? We’re all mechanics? How comforting. Is it like an elite club or a cabal? Do they have a secret password?” She hissed the last sentence like someone nearby might be listening.

  Jane knew she’d have to handle this explanation carefully because it was plain Vanessa was close to overload or shutting down and dismissing completely what she was saying. Would it be better to use reason or simply make a dramatic demonstration to convince the singer she was telling her the truth?

  “Choose a special day in your life. A day in your past where something very important to you happened.”

  Vanessa frowned and put the coffee cup down on the bench. She’d had enough of this crap.

  “Please just do it, Vanessa. It’ll show you I’m telling the truth. You want concrete proof? I’m trying to give you some right now. Choose a day or an experience that for whatever reason was significant to you. But don’t tell me anything about it. Just bring up as much of the memory as you can.”

  “Is this a card trick, Jane? Are you going to take out a deck of cards and show me which one I chose?”

  In her best cajoling voice Jane said, “Please—think of one important day or event in your life.”

  Vanessa brushed muffin crumbs off her lap. This was ridiculous. She was scared by everything going on but okay—she’d think of a day. What other choice did she have?

  Unexpectedly the first thing that came to mind was her Omi baking. Her grandmother used to bake the greatest cookies, cakes, and pies Vanessa had ever eaten. Watching her make these treats instilled in the young girl a lifelong interest in cooking. A happy part of Vanessa’s childhood was s
pent in the white-haired woman’s kitchen as this alchemist with a rolling pin and a Mixmaster transformed flour, water, sugar, eggs, and spices into endless miracles for the mouth.

  Almost as delicious as eating them was inhaling the smells wafting out of the oven while they baked; each treat had its own distinct gorgeous aroma. Vanessa could usually tell by each heady scent what today’s gift was. Cinnamon, vanilla extract, lemon zest, brown sugar, cloves, and oranges … they all had their own signature perfumes. Over the years the little girl became so adept at recognizing and distinguishing between them that Omi would often play a game: she’d open her apartment door but not let the child enter until she’d correctly guessed by sniffing the air what was baking in the oven.

  Vanessa’s grandfather died long before she was born so it had always been just Omi and little V together doing stuff. Which was exactly how Vanessa liked it because from the very beginning she was a selfish child who wanted all the cookies, all the kisses, and all the attention.

  One day she and her mother went to visit Omi. When the door opened, Vanessa took her usual giant dramatic sniff of the air inside the apartment. Apple strudel—an easy one. The aroma of baking strudel was heavy and pungent even out there in the hall. But Vanessa’s eyes slowly widened while her mouth set into a hard bratty moue.

  Yes, an instantly recognizable aroma was in the air, the delectable sweetness of strudel with its cinnamon, butter, baked apples, raisins, and nuts all melting hotly together inside fresh homemade teig. But other smells were there too, new and unfamiliar ones. They were what made the girl glare: alien smells, harsh, masculine: Aqua Velva aftershave lotion, tobacco, and the slight funk of human sweat. Her Omi’s apartment had never smelled of any of those things before.

  Little Vanessa put her hands on her hips and looked at her grandmother reproachfully, as if the older woman had messed up. She demanded to know why it smelled so weird there today. Omi glanced at Vanessa’s mother, who said, “You might as well tell her now. She’s going to find out sooner or later.”