by K. B. Kofoed
“Steph and I got some pizzas,” she said. “There’s lots left.”
“Nice to be home,” said Jim. “Alligators all day. Hungry ones, I might add.”
“I see that,” said Kas sympathetically.
Later, after the aspirins had soothed his headache, and he’d eaten, Jim called Gene.
After a few amenities Jim fell silent for a long time, listening. Then Kas noticed that he made a strange face and said, “Okay, tomorrow, then.”
#
Gene arrived at Philadelphia Airport the next day. The flight was on time. Jim, Kas, and Lou were at the gate as Gene came up the ramp and into the terminal. When they saw each other, the inevitable assessment of the damage the years had wrought dominated the conversation. “How long has it been?” said Lou.
“Must be at least a month,” said Gene. They all laughed and fought to help Gene carry his bags. Kas ripped her panty hose in the fray. Cursing Gene’s sharp edged luggage, she lifted a suitcase and headed toward the sign pointing to Parking Garage B. The car was still over a half mile of corridors away and by the time they all arrived at Lou’s van none of them had the breath for conversation. They piled the things into the back and got into the van. Soon Lou was dodging expressway traffic on the way back to his house.
“Weird that you called, I mean when you did,” said Jim, looking at Gene in the back seat next to Kas.
“Just popped into my mind,” said Gene, looking out the window at the Tinicum marshes. “Things look the same,” he said. “Same swamp.” Even though Gene had been fed on the flight from Chicago he agreed to a stop along the way for Chinese food. Soon they were all gathered in Jim’s living room feasting on at least seven different kinds.
The day had been relatively quiet for a Tuesday and Jim was glad to be able to relax a bit during Gene’s visit. Lou brought Gene up to date with a dozen jokes about born-again Christians and Gene countered with some appalling anti-Irish jokes that he told badly.
“Glad to see nothing’s changed since we last ...”
“Not a thing,” said Lou, with a grin. “Same old bunch of loonies with a few more gray hairs.”
As the evening wore on with more than a few beers consumed, Lou produced a reefer “for old time’s sake,”
“Jeez, Lou,” said Kas, “suppose Stephie walks in?”
“I guess we’d have to be polite and offer her some,” said Lou.
“You piece of shit, Lou,” hissed Kas, “I’d skin your ...”
“You’d have to catch me first,” said Lou with a giggle, lighting up.
“Come on, Lou. Not in the living room,” said Jim. “It’ll stink up the place. Stephie’s friends, you know.”
Lou snuffed the joint with two spit soaked fingers and stashed it into his pocket with an annoyed grunt.
Jim ignored Lou. “So what’s this about the ark,” he asked Gene.
Lou groaned ominously. Then there was silence. It lingered too long. Sensing a serious conversation, Kas got up and said, “I have some grapes I have to press,” and left the room.
“There you go again,” said Lou to Jim, mimicking the voice of Ronald Reagan.
Jim sat drop-jawed as he watched Kas leave the room. “But ...”
Lou threw an empty beer can at Jim. “She won’t tell ya,” he began. “I will.”
“What?”
“You’re obsessed with that Ark thing, Jim,” said Lou in the voice of Spock.
“Go smoke your joint,” said Jim. “You know where the back yard is.”
“Right,” said Lou.
Gene held up his hand, interrupting them. “May I?”
“Go for it,” said Jim, folding his arms defensively and leaning back to listen.
“I want to try to build the ark,” said Gene. “I have a guy who wants to back it.”
“You’re shitting me!” roared Lou.
A feminine protest arose from the back of the house. “Keep your voices down if you’re going to talk smut!”
“Jesus, what a shrew,” said Lou.
Jim glared at Lou, then he looked back at Gene and smiled. “You’re joking, of course.”
Gene looked deadly serious. “I wanted to talk to you about your plans, you know, the ones you drew. I wondered if you still had them, and if you’d thought about it over the years.”
“From time to time, sure. In fact, I just dug them out.”
“Well, for me it never went away,” said Gene. “Not ever. Recently I’ve been talking to a lawyer friend and he told me about a project he’s going to start. He wants to rebuild the ark as a research project. Maybe a documentary. He has money but the film rights might help with the cost.”
“Give me a break,” said Jim. “We talked about this long ago, Gene, and you decided that there wasn’t enough information available to do it right. That the big question mark, as I recall, was the configuration of the cherubim. Besides, you said it gave you the creeps.”
“That was then, Jim,” said Gene, “but I think I’ve figured out how the thing worked.”
Lou held up his hand. “Okay, okay,” he protested. “Is this going to be a tech talk?”
Jim smiled but ignored Lou. “So why do you suddenly want to build the ark after twenty years?”
“Damned fair question,” answered Lou with a macho swing of his fist.
“It tasks me,” said Gene. “I couldn’t let it go. I still have copies of your drawings.”
“Your timing is amazing,” said Jim. “Stephie and I were cleaning the studio a day or so ago and came across the sketches of the ark. Almost threw them out. I have them over there in my studio room. Then along comes Dan and he ...”
“Dan?” asked Gene.
Lou’s eyebrows lowered as he stoically sipped a beer and listened to Jim explain. “Bullshit weirdness,” he mumbled.
Gene ignored Lou. “Who’s Dan, and what’s he to do with all this?”
As Jim explained Dan Slater’s connection to Jim and to the story of the ark, Lou sat sullenly and listened. Jim admired Lou’s brash honesty, and over the years he had seen Brooks get away with things he wouldn’t dream of doing. Lou was tough on folks, but he never turned them away when they needed help. Jim had heard all the criticisms of Lou but he’d given up listening to them. He loved Lou like a brother.
Kas, however, was not among Lou’s admirers, and she made no secret of it. Still, as Jim’s best friend she felt duty bound to tolerate him. Her world centered on Jim and right now, knowing that Lou probably had a joint or two in his pocket to share with his friends, she decided to make up some reason to get Stephanie out of the house.
The phone rang. Claire was coming over soon to pick up Lou. “Saved by the bell,” Kas muttered as she hung up the kitchen wall phone.
Jim noticed that Kas suddenly seemed more relaxed. He knew how she felt about Lou and guessed she was still afraid that he would light up a reefer if he got too bored. He found himself conscious of Lou and unable to focus on the discussion with Gene, but it didn’t seem to matter to Gene. It was as if he’d been waiting years to talk to Jim about the ark.
“This is a weird coincidence, I guess, Jim,” continued Gene, pouring another glass of soda. “I decided to do some CAD work with my computer. I fed in the parameters of the ark based on your drawings and worked up a wire frame. I even had a friend write a radio wave simulation. Then we took the file to Columbia University and ran a simulation on one of their biggest computers, the ones they use to calculate the orbits of space debris and stuff.”
“Anything happen?”
“The program wouldn’t run,” said Gene with a shrug. “Some software glitch.”
“I don’t get it, said Lou. “Are you saying you want to build the ark based on that?”
Gene frowned. “I wasn’t finished. What I’m saying is that the program never ran. I tried five times. No one knows why it wouldn’t run.”
“So what was the program supposed to do?” asked Lou, now finally interested in the discussion, “and why after
nearly twenty years are you pursuing this? I still don’t get it.”
“This happened within the last few months,” said Gene. “I want Jim involved in this. After all, he did the original drawings.”
“Well, it’s good to see you again, anyway,” said Lou, “whatever the reason.”
“Same here,” said Gene, raising his soda glass.
Lou apparently detected the doubt in Gene’s voice. “No, I mean it.”
Jim wore a slight smirk as Lou spoke, expecting Lou to give Gene a verbal jibe before long, but it never came. This pleased him so much that when Claire finally arrived he was a little disappointed to see Lou leave, but it did make it easier for Jim and Gene to continue their discussion.
“I don’t recall a Dan Slater,” said Gene. “He was your buddy?”
“From college. He was in the Air Force working on microwave receivers while you and I were getting high in South Philly.”
“So he really knows his shit,” said Gene. “Well, I think he’s right about the ark being a resonator, but that, all by itself, has little real significance.”
“What?” said Jim. “I thought it was a specific type of electronic component.”
“Well, every box is a resonator of a kind. This room, for example. If the music from your stereo hits the right frequency the room will hum or vibrate. Haven’t you noticed?”
Jim nodded. “Sure.”
“A double layered box of non resonating wood is interesting, but it can be explained as a decorative thing. The gilding could be just decorative.”
“So why are you so excited about it, then?”
“It’s the cherubim. They are the key,” said Gene. “The configuration you came up with was new. It hadn’t been seen before. Apparently your ignorance of the subject matter meant that you had no preconceived ideas. We hadn’t seen Raiders yet, so your interpretation was unique. You realized that the cherubim weren’t sculptural.”
Jim blinked. Then he smiled. “I never really thought about it. Interesting.”
Kas came back into the kitchen where the two men sat. “Lou and Claire will be back tomorrow. You will be around for a few days, won’t you, Gene?”
“Thanks, Kas,” said Gene, “but I have a friend in town I have to visit.”
Jim looked clearly disappointed. “We have a spare bedroom.”
Suddenly Kas was reminded of Fostia, Gene’s wife.
“Gene,” she said. “Where’s Fostia? She’s not with you?”
“She was killed in a bar fight,” said Gene without expression.
Jim glanced at Kas, wide eyed. “Bar fight?”
“Full bottle of Brewers Gold. Got her in the temple,” said Gene.
“I’m so sorry,” said Kas.
“You’re probably the only one,” said Gene. Then he frowned and added, “I guess I shouldn’t have said that.”
Jim and Kas sat silently looking at Gene, trying to think of something to say.
“That was at least five years ago,” Gene continued. “I realized after she was gone that she cost me most of my friends. I guess I shouldn’t say this but she wasn’t the friendliest person.”
Jim and Kas seemed stunned by the news, but Gene put up his hand. “It’s okay. I really didn’t want to discuss her,” he said. “The friend at the university is connected to the computer sciences department. We’re going to try the simulation there. Tonight maybe. Wanna come?”
Jim looked at Kas. “Well, it’s a week night. Tomorrow is ...”
“Drive me in and leave when you want to,” said Gene. “It’s only around eight right now.”
#
“Awesome,” said Jim, peering into a room full of giant beige consoles as he followed Gene into Penn’s Comp Tech Department, “What the heck are those? Crays?”
A glass door slid to one side and a guy in an unbuttoned plaid shirt and bleach stained blue jeans stepped forward and held out his hand to Jim. The man was taller than Jim, and when he held out his chubby hand Jim noticed his T-shirt had a portrait of a happy face, with a bullet hole between its eyes.
“Nice shirt,” said Jim.
The man glanced down at his shirt. His pearly teeth gleamed through a wiry gray beard. “Yeah,” he nodded. “When I saw it I bought a dozen. Now they’re mostly all worn out, though.” He examined his chest for a moment, fingering a small hole that had formed directly in the bullethole part of the graphic. Some reddish chest hairs were poking through. His squinting eyes returned to Jim. “So you’re Gene’s artist friend. People call me Mr. Megabyte. You can call me Earl, though.”
“What do you feed these, Earl?” said Jim, pointing to the computers.
“Anything they want,” said Earl. “So what’s the deal, Gene? Is that the disk?” He snatched the floppy disk that was protruding from Gene’s shirt pocket. “Let’s have a look-see.”
Gene seemed startled by the man’s brashness, but he politely asked, “Don’t you have to load some software?”
The man chuckled and went over to a large ancient leather chair positioned by a console. It made a loud creaking sound as his dumped himself into it. “Naw. These babies take care of all that shit.” He fingered a few buttons on a keyboard and shoved the disk into a slot to his right.
Jim expected a screen to be full of data when the monitor came on, but it showed only a single image, the classic painting Jim recognized as The Raft of the Medusa. When Earl moved the cursor on the various people who languished aboard the raft, their heads lit up. After several clicks the screen went black and the words “ARK PROGRAM 0001” appeared. Then they waited. After a few seconds the disk popped out of the console and the image of the famous painting returned to the screen.
“That’s what happened at Columbia,” said Gene, shaking his head.
A few more clicks of the mouse yielded an onscreen analysis of the program.
COMMAND:
PROGRAM:
RUN:
COMMAND:
COMMAND:
Then the screen changed the messages in a foreign language. “Swedish,” explained Earl with a devilish grin. “Tomorrow it’s French. Spies everywhere, you know.” He looked up at Gene and shrugged. “It ran your simulation, but it took only a microsecond. Results inconclusive.”
“That’s nuts,” said Gene. “Russell himself wrote the program. It has to run.”
Earl’s left eyebrow arched. “I guess you didn’t hear me. I said it ran.”
“Okay,” said Gene. “Let’s run the program again. Can’t you slow it down so we can see it?”
“I don’t think so,” said Earl, sucking on his teeth. “There was no display as far as I can tell. Not even a frame.”
Gene seemed angry. “Why would that happen?”
“Maybe the Crays couldn’t display the results,” said Earl, scratching his crotch. “It’s like they saw an error.”
#
Driving home, Jim thought about what he’d seen. Mr. Megabyte had tried to explain it to them but even Gene, with all his years of technical experience, had trouble understanding. Finally after several reruns Gene had become visibly shaken and decided to leave. “I’ll get a cab, Jim,” he said, then turned and walked to the door, forcing Earl to chase after him to give him back his floppy disk. Gene gave Earl a polite handshake and a thank you. Then he was gone.
Jim had remained with Earl for a while, mentioning what his friend Dan had said about the microwave properties of the ark. Earl seemed interested but subdued. Obviously the mystery of the Crays was lingering in his mind. Finally Jim and Earl exchanged business cards and parted company.
That night Jim had a dream about the ark that disturbed him. He awoke in a sweat, but when Kas asked him to describe his dream he drew a blank.
The next day Dan called Jim and they arranged a meeting with Gene at Jim’s house. Dan arrived early, and Kas kept him company with a cup of tea while they waited for Jim and Gene to arrive from town. Dan said he was
being interviewed for a position with the Signet Group in Philadelphia. He confessed that he didn’t know where he wanted to settle but he was tired of Colorado.
“You’re still with AT&T, aren’t you?” Kas asked.
“For the last twenty years. Lived all over the place. I spent the last seven years in Spain and Portugal. My folks died about three years ago. I came back to the U.S. then and everything was different. I couldn’t wait to get out of the country — back to Spain.”
“Well, isn’t Spain a good place to live? Why not stay there?” asked Kas.
“I don’t know,” said Dan, sipping his tea. “I’d always be called ‘the American’. Besides, this is home.”
At that moment Jim, Lou and Gene arrived, and before long the group was sitting in Jim’s living room full of small talk.
It was Kas who brought up the subject of the ark. “So is this a kind of religious gathering?” she said slyly. “Are we going to tell Bible stories?”
“Maybe we should,” said Gene. “After last night I get the feeling that God just isn’t on my side.”
Jim explained to Dan what had happened when they’d tried to run the ark simulation at the university.
“Well, if it didn’t work at Columbia then why try at Penn?” asked Lou.
“More powerful computers,” Gene offered, “and Earl Copeland is the best hacker at Penn, but he can’t figure out what was wrong with the program either. I called him less than two hours ago and he’s still in the dark. Not a clue.”
Jim protested. “You know that’s not true. The program ran every time, always the same way, in a nanosecond. It always ended with the same report.”
Gene smiled. “Yeah. That shook me up a bit, and I think it disturbed Mr. Megabyte, too, but I suspect he’s dismissing it as a disk problem.”
Lou shook his head. “Mr. Megabyte. Yeah, I’ve heard of that guy. He’s the best. Shit, Penn’s got the best equipment. If HE can’t figure it out, why are you wasting your time second guessing him?”
“I’m not,” said Gene. “I even tossed the disk.”