Echo. That’s all he was now. An echo of someone who used to be. How long before he faded away to nothingness?
It was absurd. Everything, the time machine, the photos of sisters he’d never known, the private jet, the island, the seven-foot-tall bald chick driving the limo, all of it was just a joke. Any minute, someone would yell, “Surprise!” He could grin and say, “You got me!” Or maybe he would open his eyes and realize that the soft bed he lay upon was the floor of a padded cell.
But he had gone too far into this now to question his sanity. Lying in the bed, his jaw still throbbing, he had a very good sense of what was real, and what wasn’t. This wasn’t a joke. He wasn’t real. And, yet, of course, he was.
He could feel himself drifting. He wondered if something in the pills was putting him to sleep. He felt too full of questions to rest. And yet, little by little, he drew deeper inside himself, floating in memories.
He remembered sitting on his grandmother’s bed. Her bed had always smelled so wonderful. He was very, very small. She held his hand in hers.
“And when you add another one you get . . . ?” She folded out a second finger from his fist.
“Two!” he said.
“And when you fold it back you have?”
“One!” he said.
She folded the remaining finger back into his palm. “And now you have?”
He looked at his hand. He wasn’t sure what he had. “One minus one is zero,” his grandmother said.
He stared at his fist, unconvinced. After all, his fingers were still there.
“Zero,” he said, knowing it would make her happy.
“Good boy,” she said.
Drifting to sleep in his memories as well as here and now, Richard felt his grandmother’s kiss upon his brow.
Chapter Four
Strong Genetic Component
When Richard opened his eyes again his jaw no longer hurt. He touched it carefully, then more firmly. It was like he’d never been kicked. Rich people apparently got better pills than the rest of us.
He sat up on the most comfortable bed he’d ever slept on, then stepped onto the nicest carpet his feet had ever touched. Piano music drifted into the room, serene and introspective. An eerie red light seeped through the drapes. He went to a window, pushed aside the drapes, and opened the shade.
They were over an ocean, gleaming with the last sunlight of the day. For as far as he could see, there was only water and sky merging as one on the horizon. The plane seemed to hang in perfect stillness.
On the window, he could see the faint trace of his reflection.
“Never born,” he said. “Huh.”
In the distance he could see a flash of light, a boat perhaps, or a low plane. Whatever he saw, it was moving rapidly, leaving a wake of gleaming silver.
He focused his attention on the approaching object. Could a boat move that fast? The wake wasn’t dispersing like a boat’s. It remained a perfect, shining, razor-sharp line. It was definitely moving above the water, not across it. A plane? It seemed too small. Whatever the object was, it was keeping low and gaining on them.
Low, fast, and small. A missile? Suddenly, Richard wondered just how tough Dr. Knowbokov’s enemies were.
He left the bedroom and found Dr. Knowbokov playing a grand piano in the room where they had held their earlier discussion. The couches and coffee table were gone. Had they changed planes? Richard’s brow furrowed. Somehow this bothered him much more than the thought of an approaching missile.
“Ah, Richard,” said the doctor. “My playing didn’t disturb you, I hope?”
“Weren’t there couches in here just a little while ago? Or have you been tinkering with the time machine again?”
“Nothing so exotic,” said the doctor. “The furniture can be raised and lowered from the holds via hydraulic lifts.”
“Does Martha Stewart know about this?”
Dr. Knowbokov’s eyes closed; he seemed briefly lost in thought. He opened his eyes.
“No,” he said.
“How about the missile coming our way? She know about that?”
“Missile?”
“Maybe. Take a look out the window and tell me my eyes are playing tricks on me.”
Dr. Knowbokov went to the nearest window and raised the shade. A woman stood outside the plane, only a few yards away. The wind whipped at her hair and clothing as she skated along beside the plane astride a pair of polished steel rails. Her clothes reminded Richard of a drum majorette’s, with a tight red jacket fastened by twin rows of gold buttons, a short skirt, and a tall, flat-topped hat, which fastened with a strap beneath her chin. She smiled and waved.
Dr. Knowbokov waved back.
“I don’t see a missile, Richard,” he said.
Richard pinched himself on his arm. The woman veered off, descending. The steel rails she rode seemed to materialize from the air before her.
“Oh. My. God,” said Richard, fully grasping what he’d seen. “That was… that’s… that’s the woman who’s always on the news. I mean, she’s always fighting giant robots and… I don’t believe this. I thought she was just a joke! What’s her name? Blade Something? I-I… I mean, she’s real?”
“Rail Blade,” said Dr. Knowbokov. “She’s not only real, she’s my daughter.”
Richard slapped his forehead with his palm.
“Of course,” he said. “Of course she’s your daughter. You have a time machine. You’ve got a private jet, furniture on hydraulic lifts, and a gun that shoots knockout gas. You have a seven-foot-tall bald woman for a chauffeur! Why wouldn’t you have a comic-book hero for a daughter?”
Dr. Knowbokov smiled. “Two daughters, actually. The media has christened my other daughter ‘the Thrill.’”
Richard went to the window and stared. Rail Blade was nowhere to be seen now, though the gleaming rail she had ridden remained visible as a shining line across the ocean.
“OK,” he said. “You’re the physicist. Where does that rail come from? How does it stay up like that? I’m no engineer, but shouldn’t those rails she rides buckle under their own weight? There’s nothing holding them up.”
“It is curious. By all the known laws of physics, not to mention the laws of biology, the ferrokinesis my daughter exhibits is categorically impossible.”
“Must have made for interesting family arguments,” said Richard. “Young lady, since you insist on breaking the known laws of physics, there’s no dessert for you tonight.”
Dr. Knowbokov shrugged. “She had an answer for that.”
“Oh?”
“She said it wasn’t her fault I didn’t know all the laws of physics.”
They arrived at the island moments later. Richard emerged from the plane into a tropical wonderland, with bright flowers and even brighter birds almost everywhere he looked. Reaching the tarmac, he felt as if he were stepping into a scene from a postcard.
“Having the weirdest time,” he said. “Wish I were here.”
“Come now,” said Dr. Knowbokov. “Things will look up soon. You’ll find that even in your condition there are still many pleasures to enjoy in this world.”
“‘In my condition’ makes me sound pregnant.”
“You’ll feel better once we go to the mansion and have a nice meal. Afterwards, we can discuss your situation further.”
Suddenly, in utter, eerie silence, a pair of railroad tracks sliced through the air heading straight toward Richard. Richard jumped as the ends of the tracks plunged and bit into the ground mere feet from where he stood. Then, with a whistling roar, Rail Blade shot toward him, leaning back as she approached, sending sparks shooting from her steel boots.
Richard cupped his hands over his ears and winced at the horrible squeal the rails made as she slid to a halt beside him.
“Father!” said Rail Blade, in cheerful greeting.
“Amelia,” said Dr. Knowbokov, somewhat coolly, thought Richard. “How was the mission?”
“Things went as planned,�
�� she said. “The subject is safe and secure in the bank.”
Dr. Knowbokov nodded knowingly.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” Rail Blade asked.
Dr. Knowbokov’s mouth dropped open. He cleared his throat, and said, “You can—”
“—see me,” finished Richard. “You can see me!”
Rail Blade looked more than a little confused. “Yes?” she ventured.
“And hear me?” asked Richard.
“I think I may be missing the point of your questions,” she said.
“This is a wonderful development,” said Dr. Knowbokov.
“I’m cured!” said Richard.
“No,” said Dr. Knowbokov. “But I suspect that other descendents from my bloodline may share my ability to see you. After all, consciousness does derive from brain structures, which of course have a strong genetic component.”
“You make this stuff up as you go along, don’t you?” said Richard.
“Father never makes anything up,” said Rail Blade, with an oddly humorless tone.
“Amelia, may I introduce you to my new associate Richard Rogers? Richard, this is my eldest daughter, Amelia.”
Richard held out his hand. Amelia nearly crushed it with her grip. She stared at him as they shook hands, and he became acutely aware that he was dressed in a pink robe with neon green flip-flops.
When they ended their handshake, he ran his hand across his uncombed hair, then scratched the three days’ worth of stubble on his cheeks.
“I’m sorry if I acted a little spaced out,” he said. “It’s just that, thanks to your father, I’ve kind of never been born.”
“I’m sure Father has his reasons,” said Amelia.
“Richard’s condition is an unfortunate side effect of one of my experiments,” said Dr. Knowbokov. “While he may not seem extraordinary to you, to almost everyone else in the world, he doesn’t exist.”
“I see,” said Amelia. “This could have advantages, I suppose.”
“Advantages?” said Richard. “Have you been reading your father’s script? He was telling me what a wonderful life I have in store for me. But all I want is to be normal again.”
Amelia shrugged. “Normal is only a state of mind. You can be normal anytime you want.”
Richard didn’t have a comeback to that.
“We were just going up to the mansion,” said Dr. Knowbokov. “Richard is in need of a good meal. Go and find your mother and sister, and tell them we’ll be having a guest for dinner. I’ve phoned ahead to Paco. He’ll be ready to serve us in an hour.”
“I doubt Sarah will come,” said Amelia. “You know her.”
“Tell her Richard tried to strangle me earlier today,” said Dr. Knowbokov. “She’ll come.”
Amelia cut her eyes toward Richard, with a brief, dismissive glare. She turned. The rails she’d rode in on crumbled to blood-red dust, swirling in the wind. New rails shot into the air before her. She leapt up onto the rails, and was gone.
Richard entered the dining room feeling more alive than he had felt in a long time. He’d showered and shaved, and was wearing new clothes. But the thing that really brightened his mood was that he’d brushed his teeth with a toothbrush he could call his own for the first time in days.
But it wasn’t just his recent ordeal that he felt was improving. He was genuinely intrigued by the events swirling around him. He felt as if he had finally mastered the horrible wave that had been drowning him, and was now surfing atop it.
Of course, he couldn’t help but remember—eventually all waves crash.
Dr. Knowbokov rose from his chair as Richard entered the room. The doctor wore a white linen suit and smiled brightly. There was a woman seated next to him.
“Richard,” he said. “Welcome. This is my wife, Katrina. Katrina, this is the young man I was telling you about, Richard Rogers.”
Dr. Knowbokov motioned to the woman. She was regal looking, with a strong jaw and dark eyes. Diamonds flashed upon her fingers and ears. She looked in Richard’s direction, then back to her husband.
“I assure you this is not amusing,” she said.
“Um, pleased to meet you,” said Richard.
Richard reached out to take a chair. His hand passed right through it.
“Mumble grumble gripe,” said Richard.
“Katrina,” said Dr. Knowbokov. “Would you be so kind as to close your eyes?”
Katrina sighed, and closed them.
Richard pulled out the chair and took his seat. “Thanks,” he said.
“May I open them now?” she asked.
“Please,” said Dr. Knowbokov. “Our guest is seated.”
“Hate to be a bother,” said Richard.
“Nonsense,” said Dr. Knowbokov.
Katrina scowled at him. “I suppose I’m expected to believe our invisible guest pulled out the chair.”
“He did. He’s sitting before you right now.”
“I would have expected something more elaborate from you, Niko.”
About this time, Amelia entered the dining room. She had changed clothes and now wore a sundress and sandals. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. She carried herself with an unnaturally perfect posture.
“Mr. Rogers,” she said. “I trust you feel refreshed?”
“Yes, kind of. I think all the stress of the last few days has just sort of numbed me.”
“Amelia,” said Katrina. “I would expect this from your father. But I would have thought you would be above this sort of petty torment.”
“Pardon?” said Amelia.
“She can’t see me,” said Richard.
“Not yet,” said Dr. Knowbokov.
“Not yet?” asked Richard.
“The couple whose house I found you in eventually came to believe in you, and were able to see you, after a fashion.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“My hope is that Katrina will also come to accept you as real.”
“I think this has gone on far enough,” said Katrina, pushing back from the table.
“What’s gone on far enough?” a woman asked from the next room.
Richard turned to the sound of the approaching voice. He saw an angel. The Thrill had decided to join them for dinner.
On television, the Thrill possessed the same trumped up beauty associated with models and actresses. She looked too good to be real. And yet, here she was, tall and slender, with a short tee shirt exposing her midriff and torn jeans that revealed more skin than they concealed. She was barefoot, with toenails painted red. Her feet hovered inches above the ground. She literally floated into the room. Richard tried to remember what the news had said about her. He knew she could fly, and that she had some sort of mind control power; people had to obey her spoken commands.
“Don’t tell me I’ve missed something,” she said.
“Have they brought you in on it, too?” asked Katrina.
“In on what?” she said. “I heard that there was some guy here who wanted to kill Dad.” She looked at Richard. “You him?”
“Yep,” said Richard.
“Sarah sees him, dear,” said Dr. Knowbokov to Katrina. “Do you really believe she would play along with any joke of mine?”
“What joke?” asked Sarah.
“Mother thinks we’re playing a joke on her,” said Amelia. “She can’t see Mr. Rogers.”
“You’re Mr. Rogers?” asked Sarah. “Funny, you look older on TV.”
Richard rose from his chair, and held out his hand. “Richard Rogers,” he said. “And you look… Wow! I mean, I’ve seen you on TV, and…”
Richard couldn’t think of a clever way to end the sentence. Sarah didn’t reach for his hand.
“So what did Dad do to you?” she asked.
“Thanks to his time machine, I was never born,” said Richard. He furrowed his brow. “That doesn’t sound at all crazy, does it?”
“Around here?” said Sarah. “Wait until Dad tells you the bi
t about destroying and recreating the universe.”
Katrina stood up and threw her napkin to the table. “Enough,” she said. “I will not talk around your ‘invisible guest’ any longer. I’m going to the library.”
“Don’t leave,” said Sarah, turning her gaze toward her mother.
Katrina stopped dead in her tracks, smiled cheerfully, if a bit glassy eyed, and immediately sat down.
“Sarah!” shouted Dr. Knowbokov.
“How dare you!” shouted Amelia.
“You are not to use your powers on your mother, young lady,” Dr. Knowbokov said firmly.
“Chill out,” said Sarah. “I just didn’t want her to leave because she thinks we’re joking. Mother, there really is a man sitting across the table from you.”
“If you insist,” Katrina said wearily.
Sarah turned to her father. “I could use my powers to make her believe us. She might see him then.”
“No,” said Dr. Knowbokov. “You gave your word it would never happen again. I won’t condone it for even the most benign reason.”
“I really feel bad about this,” said Richard. “I would’ve offered to eat alone if I’d known my presence would cause an argument.”
“Feeling like you’ve caused an argument around here is a little like an Eskimo shaman feeling he’s caused snow,” said Sarah.
Sarah looked at her mother. “Sorry,” she said. “I did kind of nudge you to stay—but just lightly. It should wear off any second.”
Katrina rose from her seat once more, looking pale. “We’ll speak further of this tomorrow,” she said to her husband, before stalking from the room.
“I said I was sorry,” said Sarah.
“Never do it again,” said Amelia. “Or I may do something we’ll both regret.”
“Oooh,” said Sarah. “Gonna cut me? Gonna go rail-blading on my ass? Try it.”
“Sarah,” Dr. Knowbokov said. “Language. Both of you calm down. Neither of you will be using your powers in the house. Period.”
“She’s flying,” said Amelia, plaintively.
“Oh, grow up,” said Sarah, stepping down from the air to the floor as if she were stepping from a stair.
“So,” said Richard. “Flying. Is it like in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy? Throwing yourself at the ground and missing?”
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