Returning Home

by Mary Carmen

  The Princeton Club, in addition to asking that each resident have some connection, no matter how slight, to Princeton University, insisted each resident be able to walk. I could use a cane or an automatic walking machine, but I had to be able to walk down the stairs or out the door in case of a fire.

  The stairs in the club had automatic chairs for the elderly, and these could be used during a fire because they could operate for up to four hours on saved power. In fact, the entire club could operate for up to one hour on saved power, and an actual power outage had not been experienced there since the 2080s.

  Of course Mr. Eyres was not happy to decorate my rooms to suit somebody else, but he agreed to go through his usual routine of proposing colors and furnishings. I signed another agreement.

  Again I reviewed the status of my fortune. I had spent less than thirty percent, even taking into consideration the amounts due Mr. Johnson for the Wayne County building projects. In addition, I had not yet touched my retirement fund.

  Mr. Bygott Finds a Parcel

  A day or two after we met Mr. Eyres at the Princeton Club, I received a notice from Mr. Bygott that he had something for me to look at in Vermont. He enclosed a movie he had taken of the property.

  Muzz and I watched the hour-long movie over and over, looking at the trees in the days just after the leaves fell. Mr. Bygott, pictured prominently himself in the movie, also sent a plot map, a notice from the county tax collector about the prior ten years of taxes, and many, many still pictures of the two creeks that ran through the property.

  The parcel was just over 160 acres and joined, on one side, federal lands. It had been in the same family since before the terrible flooding in the 2020s.

  I immediately wired Mr. Bygott a small deposit so he could hold the property for four weeks. Mr. Bygott quickly called me to tell me to double my deposit.

  My plans for that November were changed. I knew I had to be in Caribou on November 17 to meet Eliza and Harrison, but I also had to fit in the trip to Rutland County, Vermont.

  Muzz-the-Greybeard agreed to help Mr. Eyres with supervising the painting, papering, and carpeting of the suite at the Princeton Club while Muzz-the-Bald drove me in his Corvette to Vermont.

  As it turned out, I stayed in Vermont until just after New Year’s Day of 2111. Muzz-the-Greybeard went twice a week to my mother’s home to check on her health and comforts, and Muzz-the Bald stayed with me in Montpelier and Rutland County.

  Buying Rutland County

  Muzz and I arrived at Mr. Bygott’s office in East Wallingford on November 10, just two days ahead of a heavy snowstorm. How I longed for the clear roadways and sidewalks of Octula that week!

  The next day we walked the property, looking at the creeks, trees, rock outcroppings, and dried wildflowers still clinging to the ground. I knew within ten minutes this would be a special place, and I wanted to secure it for my Octula family.

  One large dwelling was there, too, although Mr. Bygott had not shown it in the movie. It contained a large gathering room with an immense fireplace, a nice dining nook that overlooked one of the creeks, a small kitchen, two antique bathrooms, and five small bedrooms.

  “Nice, ain’t it?” Mr. Bygott asked. “Not modern, of course, but cozy. The roof is good. Been up there myself and checked it out. May need to replace a couple of sinks, a couple of appliances, maybe the furnace, maybe the water pipes.”

  The house had been built in the late 1800s as a vacation cabin and been significantly enlarged in the 2040s. It looked to me as if nothing had been done since that time except for a new roof in 2092.

  “Is the price firm?” I asked. “What schedule are they looking at?”

  Mr. Bygott thrust his head out and said, “Bid what you want. If you won’t live without the place, bid over the asking price. If it don’t matter to you, bid seventy percent.”

  We went back to the office in East Wallingford and worked on the offer. I decided to try just ten percent over the asking price, and the seller accepted that within an hour.

  That night I reviewed the status of my fortune again. I had spent just under sixty percent, even with taking into consideration the amounts still due Mr. Johnson for the Wayne County building projects and the large deposit for Rutland County property taxes. Furthermore, I had not yet touched my retirement fund.

  Paying Rutland County Taxes

  The next day we went to the Rutland County tax collector’s office to talk about a long-term tax payment.

  A tall, thin man was quick to give us the information I wanted. “Nothing like that here,” he insisted. “We heard about that scheme, and the Tax Collector had two public meetings about it. After that we changed our collection methods so you can pay in advance. But we reserve the right to raise your property taxes at any time.”

  “Does a credit account accumulate interest?” I asked.

  “Same as the county’s own funds,” the clerk told us. “We’re making fifteen percent right now on cash on deposit in Albany. Account can transfer to a new owner with the property, if the parties agree.”

  That night I calculated how much I would need to deposit to pay one thousand years of taxes at the current rate and assessment if my money earned fifteen percent. This amount was equal to less than one percent of my inheritance from Len, and I decided I would set up the tax credit account for my Octula children.

  The next day the predicted snowstorm arrived, and Muzz and I chose to spend a few more days with our congenial host in Ludlow, Mr. Nelson. We found ourselves among seven other stranded travelers, and Mr. Nelson set up a free bar and a free buffet in the main lobby so nobody would need to leave the building. He and his wife brought out their card tables and bridge and pinochle decks and invited each traveler to eat, drink, and play cards while the snow fell.

  We were surprised, then, that five neighbors arrived, all single women under the age of sixty. They tramped into the lobby, stomped the snow off their boots, and almost immediately swarmed around Muzz. He was overwhelmed by their flattery. Each had brought a dish or two for the buffet, and each insisted Muzz try a portion of whatever she had cooked. They giggled and sometimes hooted at his attempts at humor, and they all wildly praised his leads when he was defending at the bridge table.

  The next day we were able to go out onto the main highway, and we retraced the route to the new parcel, getting within a few hundred feet before the heavy snow stopped our progress. I took many pictures of the trees laden with snow, and Muzz put on his long boots and plodded to one of the creeks to take several more. We ate our evening meal in Rutland before heading back to Ludlow on the main highway.

  Mr. Nelson told us Muzz’s lady friends were waiting for him in the bar, so I headed to my room while Muzz had a nightcap.

  The next day was clear, and we decided to drive north toward Caribou. Mr. Nelson wished us a safe journey and, turning toward Muzz, said, “I hope you will be very happy here with your new property.”

  Muzz was quick to respond. “It’s Mr. Waltrop who’s bought all that land. I’m just a poor chauffeur.”

  Our host looked very embarrassed as he held open the door.

  In the Covered Skyway

  We left Ludlow on Friday, November 14, and headed toward Hanover, New Hampshire. This city was the location of the starting point of the famed Covered Skyway, built in 2078.

  The Covered Skyway allows a traveler, either in a car or in a special train, to ride between Hanover and Island Falls, Maine, under a covering that protects the vehicle from the weather. The skyway is mostly on top of the ground, with a covering of a transparent material that facilitates the viewing of the scenery. At one point the skyway tunnels under the White Mountains, and the scenery above is shown on large screens that give the traveler the feeling he is ascending or descending the mountain.

  The vehicle is pulled through the skyway by a special system that controls all exits and entrances. The driver or the train traveler buys a ticket with a certain exit point, and a device placed on the to
p of the vehicle propels it through the skyway. If a traveler needs to change his plans due to ill health or any other reason, the device includes a communication system that allows the skyway manager to change that vehicle’s program.

  I was very anxious to see this skyway since several of my children had told me about it when they returned to Octula.

  We entered the skyway about noon on Friday, and we programmed for a stop Friday night in Bridgton, Maine. Muzz and I just sat and watched the beautiful New Hampshire snow scenes for most of the afternoon. We signaled for a comfort stop near Woodstock, and the Corvette was pulled over to a spot in a parking lot just a few feet from a building that held four restaurants, with something for every pocketbook.

  When we were ready to continue on our journey, we signaled to the system and the Corvette was pushed back into the stream of vehicles in the skyway.

  The stop in Bridgton was similar except that we had to turn on the car’s engine to drive from the exit to our hotel. On Saturday, November 15, we continued on the skyway and arrived at the Island Falls terminal just after noon.

  I was anxious to move on toward Caribou, and Muzz agreed. We drove to Augusta that day and arrived in Caribou the next evening, just one day ahead of Eliza and Harrison.

  Harrison Sees Earth

  The arrival of Eliza and Harrison from Octula was the happiest moment of that year for me. Eliza was very warm in her greetings, and Harrison, although shy, was smiling and willing to accept a hug.

  How he had grown! He had just turned thirteen, and I realized he was taller than I and certainly would be taller than his brothers.

  “Where is Mr. Worrell?” I asked. “I expected him to come with you.”

  “He stayed on Octula,” Eliza said, “to help out.”

  “To help out? His student is here,” I replied.

  “Miss Martha Worrell will be in Montpelier in a couple of weeks,” Eliza told me. “You always liked her, Father.”

  “I liked her and I felt a profound sense of gratitude for how successfully she taught you and Franklin,” I said. “I will be happy to see her helping Harrison.”

  We piled into a large limousine Muzz had rented and began the trip to Montpelier, again traveling through the amazing Covered Skyway.

  As we rode, I said to Eliza, “Here’s something for you to look at.” It was a large book about Octula, written by Nathaniel Redding and containing ten pictures of my wing of our house. It also contained many other pictures, particularly of those famous geological sites on the western side of the continent.

  Harrison and Eliza studied nearly every page. At last Eliza said, “Father, you and I could do a much better job. You have all your pictures you have taken over the years, and I have many pictures I have taken in the year since you left. We must work on our Octula book while Harrison goes to high school.”

  Harrison did not want to be left out. He said, “I have recorded about fifty numbers from various Octula bands. We could add those to the book. Everybody would want to hear Octulian music.”

  Muzz added his agreement to the plan from the driver’s seat, and Eliza said she would prepare a preliminary work outline by the end of the week.

  We reached Montpelier in the evening of November 18. The house was just as I had imagined it, with a nice area for making snowmen in the front and a covered pool in the rear. The neighbors were very close, but their houses were just as large and certainly every bit as distinguished as the Murphy house.

  Siegfried greeted Eliza with jumps and yips, and she cried as she hugged him. Harrison insisted on petting the beautiful Miniature Schnauzer, but the dog returned to Eliza’s side again and again.

  There was plenty of room for everyone. Muzz stayed with the limousine for a day or two and finally returned to Maine to trade it for his fancy Corvette.

  Two housekeepers occupied the staff quarters and drove us around the town on errands and tours.

  Harrison and I shopped during the first week for a piano. I knew we would never find anything as fine as the ones he had on Octula, but we were able to buy a smaller Steinway grand for the living room and a very good electronic piano for his own sitting room. He assured me he had used his folding practice piano on the long spacecraft trip, and he was able to play very well on the Steinway as soon as it was set up in the house.

  How accomplished he was! I marveled I had had anything to do with the birth of this genius. I also remarked to myself how much he looked like my discreditable half-brother, James.

  We had a very fine visit. Eliza sometimes cried when she talked about my hasty exit from Octula, but I assured her we would be together on Earth as often as she would visit.

  I talked about the large parcel next to the Green Mountains, showing them all the pictures Muzz and I had taken, and Eliza and Harrison agreed they would visit the following summer. I was a little relieved they did not want to see the place immediately because I knew I had a great deal of repair work to do before they could stay in the house.

  Miss Martha Worrell arrived in early December. I knew the visit with Harrison was over because she started the very next day to prepare him to take the Private School Aptitude Test. She hoped he would be able to attend St. Paul’s School, and, of course, Eliza was hoping for that, too.

  Eliza prepared a preliminary work plan for our first draft of the Octula book. I was assigned the chapters on the Great War and the Anna Murphy House. We agreed we would have the first draft finished by March 1, 2111.

  Just after New Year’s Day, Muzz-the-Bald arrived in his Corvette to drive me back to Pittsburgh. I was very reluctant to leave, but I knew Harrison was in good hands.

  Stopping in East Wallingford

  On the way back to Pittsburgh, we stopped to see Mr. Bygott to pick up the deed to the Green Mountain property, with the County Clerk’s filing stamp.

  “Yes, everything is ready for you out there,” Mr. Bygott said. “Even the neighbors are prepared to see your fancy red car.”

  “Is there a contractor who could look over the place? Somebody you would stake your own reputation on?” I asked.

  “The best is Bill Teddys,” Mr. Bygott said. “The cheapest is Bango Williams. Which do you want?”

  Muzz and I drove a few miles to the humble offices of Mr. Teddys, in the middle of a very unpretentious neighborhood. We met for twenty minutes.

  “I want it ready for my daughter to visit by May 1,” I announced. “The water pipes will have to be repaired, and there may be electrical problems, too. You need to have Mr. Bygott take you out there so you can spend time looking the place over.”

  I dangled a separate set of keys in front of my chest.

  “Don’t need Bygott to show me the place,” he told me. “Everybody knows where it is and how it has been neglected. When Bango put that roof on the house a number of years ago, everybody assumed the rest of the house was near collapse.”

  I signed an agreement for a repair bid and left the keys with Mr. Teddys.

  Returning to Pittsburgh

  On January 8, 2111, Muzz-the-Bald and I arrived at the hotel where I stayed in Pittsburgh. Muzz-the-Greybeard was there, waiting to resume his duties.

  I liked all the Muzz drivers, but Muzz-the-Greybeard was my favorite. He was not the good driver Muzz-the-Bald was and he was not as knowledgeable about the various country roads as most of the other Muzz drivers were, but he was always the most helpful. My problems, in those first years after my return from my home on Octula, entirely revolved around meeting my responsibilities so well that Anna would invite me to go back. Muzz-the-Greybeard seemed to sense my goal.

  “Well, the rooms at the Princeton Club are nearly ready,” he told me. “Maybe another week.”

  “And my mother?” I asked. Of course, I had expected to be called if any emergency came up, and I had received no call.

  “Pretty much the same as ever. She introduced me as her son to someone in the dining room, but she couldn’t remember my name,” Muzz told me. “At least she associates me
with her son, and that’s something, isn’t it?”

  I asked, “I thought she and Mrs. Holly were taking meals in their suite?”

  “Usually they do. Sunday midday dinner is the best meal of the week, and they both like to go to the dining room to see who is visiting the other inmates,” he said. “They have their pecking order, based on the quantity and quality of the weekly visitors. You mother is nearly on the top because of her suite, but an old lady with a large family of visitors will outrank your mother any day.”