by Thomas Zman
“I know this sounds weird,” said Frank, looking about, “but somehow all this reminds me of back home. If I concentrate on the field it almost looks like the schoolyard I played in as a kid. The temples, I can bring them together, blur my vision, and they look like the school . . . “
How could that be? I asked myself. He must be exhausted. He’s hallucinating.
Frank began asking Kris about the park. He asked if the people of Neuphobes visited these Temples. If all the world’s religions were represented here: Hinduism, Judaism, Muslim, Christianity, etc. Was one of these a church? Who designed them? Kris led Frank to the Temples.
I asked Dan about the park. If there was any animal life there, even though I heard not a chirp in the air nor stir in the bushes.
Dan ignored me. He was sitting by himself; in fact, I believe he was praying, for his posture appeared to be that of one in supplication. NIM answered my questions:
“Many animals here are also found in the woodlands of the surface. They only show themselves when they feel safe. Animals sense hostility.”
Off in the distance there came a faint beeping. Quickly it loudened as from behind some hedges a spidery object waving a multitude of garden-tending appendages came wheeling towards us. Scuttling about the court, its proboscis eye scouting intently, it stopped here and there to prune a pedal, pluck a weed, or loosen a patch of mulch. I was quite entertained by the galvanized gardener; it tending about its business, our presence not interfering with its efficiency.
“The ‘Keeper’ is quite an efficient machine,” Dan was roused from his musings. “These Gardens play an integral role in one’s development: Through nurturing, imagination grows; and thus wisdom. The Gardens here allow you to experience things you remember from back in a kinder time of your life – childhood. In the future you may find yourself here with friends to re-live the splendor of those simpler times and share them with your new friends -- just as Frank is now. I might add that he seems much more interested in the Temples than yourself.
I looked to notice Frank and Kris had disappeared.
“Frank has utilized his mental resources and applied them toward his surroundings for a rewarding affect. Artists contain this same resource: to transfer images from their minds to stone, canvas, paper or what have you. A wise person, although they may not thoroughly understand the artist’s conception, will at least feel an empathy towards it.”
Dan’s words left an impression; I needed to change my closed thinking.
Frank and Kris returned from the Temples. Frank appeared tired yet remained firm in his walk. “It’s fantastic over there,” he exclaimed. The architecture is heavenly. There was a sermon going on in one of them. Just poked our heads in for a moment. Fire and Brimstone!” he laughed.
“It is time for us to bring you both to your new home,” Kris said, and Frank used the last of his energies to seat himself in the Hopper; yet managed to babble on of his experience. We all quickly followed suit and NIM lifted us off, hovering just above the Gardens for one final look. It was then that I heard the chirp; a lone bird’s chirp did touch my ear. NIM accelerated the Hopper around the park then zoomed us towards the Tenement Towers.
Once again my thoughts returned to the metropolis as we flew above it, towards the Tenements, north and west. I asked about entertainment in the city.
“There is everything to do here,” Kris began. “Museums, theatres, social clubs, fitness centers, spas, sports and recreation. There is even a medical facility should anyone ever hurt themselves or fall ill. Though I might add it is seldom needed. Medical technology here is highly advanced and can repair any injury or remission any disease. All the residents of Neuphobes are quite active and healthy.”
Now that it was said, I realized I had only seen ‘residents’ here between the ages of twenty and thirty. No children, no elderly. All at the prime of their lives.”
“ . . . holographically reproduced from our vast collection of events ranging from the very first Olympic Games to this year’s World Series . . . ” Kris had continued on; I thought of other things.
Out of the haze of my mind’s wanderings I saw before us four tall buildings of stately design. They stood out prominently from the others of the city – all sharply cornered, non-metallic, towering to within a hundred feet of the cavern’s ceiling. Mid-town Manhattan skyscrapers were their best description. NIM took the hopper through the sizzling lightning bolts to near the ceiling, where we could again almost touch the trestles –and stalactites --that were anchored into the bedrock. Again the air was uncomfortable at these altitudes, though I prevailed. We then landed atop a one of the towers, amidst the clouds, though quickly sought refuge in one of its entrances.
Inside the elevator Frank and I leaned wearily against the railing as we were whisked down several floors. The doors opened and before us lay an elegantly carpeted hallway that stretched the length of the Tenement. Scuffling down he corridor, NIM was far ahead when he finally stopped at a distant room and opened the door. He awaited us.
NIM extended his long arm with several quick whirrs of his servos and shook our hands goodbye. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you Mr. Tober, Mr. Coleman. I’ll see you both sometime in the not too distant future. Once again, welcome to the city of Neuphobes.” And with that he turned abruptly, bleeped to Kris and Dan, and then whizzed down the hall with a most ecstatic haste.
We entered the apartment, which sported a sunken living room be spread with angular furniture. Chrome accents set upon lacquer tables and a large plush rug gave a modern appeal to the place. Kris turned a wall dial and directed our attention to a large mural of a tropical sunburst that slowly faded to a scenic vista of the Celestial Gardens.
“How’s that for a change of scenery?” Kris commented. “And when you so choose, you can dim it out to total darkness.”
Frank spotted the large sofa and sprawled himself on it. Once his body hit the piece of furniture it automatically converted into a bed and Frank quickly fell into a deep sleep. Moving a couple steps off to the side of the living room I found two identical bedrooms: each with a bed, small nightstand, and reading lamp. On the nightstands were computer tablets; on the wall at the foot of the bed was a large flat screen monitor. In the corner of the rooms was also a bureau and sizeable shower stall.
“Hope you find this place to your liking,” said Kris. “Pretty basic at first, but you’ll end up making changes as time passes. We’ll leave you now as I’m sure your quite exhausted.” He looked over at Frank, snoring.
“Hope we have been helpful in this adjustment period,” Dan added. “We know all this is an enormity to absorb, but as time passes this will become normal to you. The best thing for you now it to sleep. And with that we will leave you.”
They both shook my hand and closed the door upon leaving. A shiver ran through me. Memories of home flooded over me. As I left the living room, left Frank snoring, the lights in the apartment slowly faded to twilight. When I returned to one of the bedrooms I noticed something I had previously overlooked. It was a Bible. It stood solely alone on a shelf near the nightstand. I took it into my hands and opened it to the very first chapter. I laid myself down on the bed and began to read, and then fell into a deep sleep.
In the Gray
The weeks that passed since the disappearance of the Valithor were ones of heartache and suffering for Jean. The news that she had dreaded all the years before had now come to be. And though she kept the slightest hope of Steve’s return, Jean had withdrawn into herself, spending days on end shut away in her bedroom, unable to comfort her children who only wanted to know “when is daddy coming home?”
At this time Jean’s parents, the Dispels had come to stay at the Coleman household. Grandpa, a compliant man of his sixties, sat in the living room watching television while the twins busied themselves on their computer pads. A knock came to the front door. Sandra jumped from the couch to answer it.
“Grandpa,” The little girl cried out. “The man dres
sed like daddy is at the door, again.”
A pang of emotion shot through the grandfather. He slowly got up from the recliner and answered the door. “What can I do for ya, young fella?” he questioned, tilting his glasses for a better glimpse.
“Lieutenant Harbinger,” said the man in uniform, holding a brief case. “I was here last week to speak with Mrs. Coleman.” The grandfather looked him over, yet couldn’t remember. “May I ask your permission to come in, sir?“ The Lieutenant removed his hat.
“Sure, sure, come in, come in,” Mr. Dispel was slightly embarrassed. “ ‘ must admit I forgot your name.” “I’ll see about getting Jeannie. Have a seat.”
Mr. Dispel excused himself and headed sluggishly into the kitchen where his wife was preparing the evening meal. She turned from the counter and asked, “That skinny Lieutenant at the door again?”
“Yep. Here to talk about whatnot.” He said, reaching for a cup. “Seems all they want to do is talk. No answers yet. Though maybe today . . . “
“God only knows where things will go from here,” she said, pouring her husband a cup of coffee. The old man drank lots of coffee. “I’ll get Jeannie, you keep the young man company.”
Mr. Dispel returned to the living room where both children were sitting on Harbinger’s lap, playing on their laptops. He amused them with interest in their games, and by having switched the news channel on the television to cartoons. “Hope you don’t mind, sir,” the Lieutenant began. “I took the liberty of putting on something a little more entertaining for the children.”
You must mean a little more entertaining for yourself, Mr. Dispel mumbled under his breath, though smiled disparagingly at the Lieutenant, sitting in his recliner. “Where’s my manners,” said Dispel. “Would you like a cup of coffee or something to drink, Mr. Wallbanger?”
The Lieutenant declined, and the grandfather sat down on the couch.
David, pulling at Harbinger’s tie, cried out, “Grandpa, when’s daddy coming home?”
Mr. Dispel studied the Lieutenant’s suddenly grave face. “I’ll talk to you about that later,” said the grandfather. “Now I want you both to be good for grandpa and go in your room until supper is ready. Go on now.” He looked sternly at them, and then sipped his coffee. The two slid down from the Lieutenant.
“Beautiful children. Hope to have some of my own one day,” Harbinger admitted, straightening his tie.
During this time Mrs. Dispel was consoling Jean, brushing the tangles for her daughter’s hair. “I heard him come in,” Jean sobbed.
“Its time to be strong again,” said Mrs. Dispel, reassuringly cupping her daughter’s face, wiping tears away from her red puffy eyes. “Look at me. I want you to stop your crying and pull yourself together just long enough to hear out what this man has to say. You have to face this. Now come on and try a smile. Try one for me.”
Jean forced a smile.
“That’s the way.”
Jean got up from bed, took a couple of deep breaths and went into the living room.
“Mrs. Coleman,” the Lieutenant stood. “Please have a seat,” he gestured to the recliner. Mr. Dispel was staring at the television. “Mrs. Coleman, I’m sorry for the intrusion. Once again, I am deeply saddened about your husband’s disappearance. Your grieving is felt throughout the base. And when I say this I speak on behalf of Major Haltz, his staff, and the entire United States Air Force.
Jean just nodded.
“I assure you that every possible step has been taken to try and locate your husband, Mrs. Coleman . . . but I’m afraid that Air Search has been unsuccessful in its efforts.” He paused a moment to study her paleness. Mr. Dispel exhaled a grunt of dissatisfaction. “Since there have been no signs of the Valithor, as of noon today the search has been discontinued.”
“Nothing we didn’t already know,” said Mrs. Dispel, who stood beside Jean.
Jean just groaned and started sobbing.
“It has been over three weeks, now,” the Lieutenant defended. “Once again I am sorry it has turned out this way. However, in gratitude for your husband’s valor, his dedication and services to the United States Air Force, there will be an Honorary Recitation held for both he and Senior Airman, Captain Frank Tober.”
Jean stared unbelievingly at Harbinger. Her lips trembled.
Mrs. Dispel was caressing Jean’s hand in a comforting gesture. “It’s kind of early to even be mentioning such – “ Mrs. Dispel snapped at the Lieutenant.
“Now please understand, the Air Force has been searching for answers on this since the disappearance. Our – “
“You mean to tell me that you didn’t even find my husband’s body and you want to give him a what?” Jean choked out. “How dare you come into my house with this. Isn’t there some ‘waiting period’ before such ceremonies take place? What’s the rush? Does it look bad for the Government? ‘Out of gratitude!’ I don’t believe what I’m hearing. It’s not fair – it’s just not . . . “ She broke into uncontrollable crying.
Mr. Dispel turned his attention from the television.
“I’m sorry to upset you, Mrs. Coleman,” Harbinger apologized, nervously fumbling through his attaché. “I have some papers I need to leave with you.”
“That will be enough Lieutenant,” the grandfather’s voice boomed as he raised himself from the couch. “You’ll be leaving now.”
“I realize this is a horribly difficult time.” Harbinger placed the papers down. “I’ll just leave this packet on the table. Please look at them, Mrs. Coleman.” He gathered himself, and then hurried to the front door. “I am deeply sorry to you all. Please forgive me.” He walked out the door.
Jean was crying hysterically, “What will I do? What? What?”
Her mom held her trembling hand, holding back her own tears. There were no right words to console. The children came in from the other room, asking why the man dressed like daddy had made mommy cry. Nothing was said. Just the awkwardness of grief and the silly jabberings of the television’s cartoons suffused the moment.
* * * * * * * *
Harbinger’s car was parked out front of Captain Frank Tober’s house – a trailer more than it was house. The lieutenant stood atop the tin porch, gently tapping on the screen door – which long ago had lost its screen. Inside, dogs barked frenziedly. “Lay down!” commanded a raspy voice over the canines. The door opened, partially revealing a woman, late twenties, dressed in a pink robe and smoking a cigarette. She wedged her body in the doorway, attempting to hold back two high-mettled dogs. “Get out of the way,” she yelled at them, losing her cigarette to the floor.
“Excuse me for intruding,” the Lieutenant eyed the yammering canines, “I’m Lieutenant Harbinger from the United States Air Force. I’m here to speak with Mrs. Tober . . . Frank’s mother?”
“Wait here,” she said brusquely. “I’ get ya ma.” She closed the door, yelling at the dogs, closing them off in another room.
After a minute or two the door reopened with the same woman, no dogs. Harbinger stepped into the house and was immediately taken aback at the smell of it: heavy dog odors and cigarettes, with the hint of a freshly smoked blunt. “Don’t worry, I put the dogs in the other room,” said the woman, clearing mislaid objects out of the Lieutenant’s way. “Hey ma,” the woman yelled, leading the Lieutenant through a small washer/dryer area and into the kitchen. The kitchen was full of smoke from cigarettes and fried foods. “We were just having ourselves some lunch,” explained the woman.
A cragged man of fifty years, wearing a tattered flannel shirt, was seated at a dirty linoleum table. He was just finishing up what appeared to be a hamburger. He wiped his hands on his jeans then offered one to shake with the Lieutenant. “Pleased to meet you,” he said in a gruff voice, his bearded face puffy and eyes squinting. “Have a seat, Captain.”
“Lieutenant -- ” Harbinger corrected.
“Ah, someday maybe. Right?” the gruff man countered. “Can I get you a beer?”
“Not while on
duty, thank you.”
“You don’t mind if I have one, right?”
“Please excuse the mess,” said an older woman having just entered the kitchen. “Jesus, open a window or something,” she said, waving her hands to cut the smoke. The pink-robed woman hurriedly did such. “I’m Gretchen Tober. Frank’s mother,” the woman introduced herself. “This is my daughter, Wendy. That handsome devil is Luke.” Luke had just sat back down and opened himself a beer. “If I’d known of your visit I’d have tidied up.” She pulled nervously at her gray-streaked hair. Her face was smooth, youthful. Her eyes were a bright blue and she wore large hoop earrings. She too was dressed in a plush robe, this one a deep violet.
“I’m Lieutenant Harbinger of the United States Air force. I am so sorry about the loss of Frank – “
“No need for the speech,” Luke cut him off. “We’ve heard it all before, right? Say, you’re not the same guy they sent here last week. What happened to him? He –“
“That’s enough, Luke” Gretchen tamed the man. Luke took a long swig of his beer, draining half the bottle.
Harbinger seated himself in the straight-back chair the daughter had brought for him. The two dogs barking and scratching from the bedroom down the hall were horribly distracting.
“Now, what service can we do our government?” Mrs. Tober said with a derisive air.
“Well, Mrs. Tober, I came to you with some further news about your son’s disappearance.”