Vincent

by Meyer, Jonathan G.

  Jim did not need to consider Vincent’s question. He grinned and answered immediately, “I have an opportunity to help an intelligent starship from who-knows-where on a secret mission to do who-knows-what. I would not miss this for all the money in the world!”

  Chapter Four

  They returned to the top of the Gateway Arch, and Jim was again awed by the view. He could see the brokerage firm where he used to work, and where a new maintenance team now performed his duties. Now that he was with Vincent, it did not bother him. He used the ‘shower stall’ and changed into his newly refurbished street clothes. The suit he returned to the slot where it came from, and as expected, the slot disappeared.

  When he returned to the bridge, a meal waited for him inside the box in the hull. What surprised him was how similar it was to what he could have purchased at a local restaurant. A large pile of buttered mashed potatoes sat next to a thick slice of meatloaf, with two slices of buttered bread placed to the side. There was also a glass of water to wash it all down.

  “Is there any way I could get a beer?” asked Jim.

  “Alcohol dulls the senses,” answered the ship. “I have researched alcoholism, and you fit the profile.”

  “Wait a minute. I’ve cut way back. I don’t drink that much anymore.”

  “That statement is not entirely true,” said Vincent. “I have observed you consuming containers of the beverage on numerous occasions.”

  With a pang of guilt, he realized what Vincent said was more right than wrong. He would drink a six pack in the evening and feel like crap the entire following day. At his age, he did not recover as fast as he used to, so he began limiting his drinking to twice a week.

  “You may have a point. I’ll try to be good. So…can I have a beer? I could really use one after today.”

  “I cannot allow you to cloud your thinking. You will need to be at your best for the next phase of the test.”

  “Which is?”

  “I would like you to procure a pair of scissors.”

  “Alright. That doesn’t sound too hard. Why?”

  “So you can cut your hair.”

  Jim leaned back in his chair. He knew his hair was long, but he did not understand what this had to do with anything. “And why would I want to cut my hair?”

  “Because excessive hair length can be problematic during space travel. Plus, you would be harder to distinguish from the norm.”

  “We are going to space?”

  “Would you like to see the Moon close up, or take a trip through the rings of Saturn?”

  “Of course I would. Who wouldn’t? When do we get to do that?” asked Jim.

  “When our mission is complete. For now, it is necessary to test your performance under difficult situations.”

  “Getting a pair of scissors is no problem. I can do that easy.”

  “You must acquire the scissors while minimized.”

  “While I’m little? Alright, now you’re just being mean.”

  “There are valid reasons. I will take you where you choose and wait for your return. It is important you acquire experience navigating your environment while in the minimized state.”

  Jim did not miss the clue Vincent slipped him. It was the first hint of what was really going on. Whatever the mission entailed, he would need to be small. “When do you want to do this?”

  “Tomorrow when the sun is at its zenith.”

  “You mean noon?”

  “As you wish.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to do this at night?”

  “My calculations indicate that accomplishing your task in the light of day means you can also manage in the dark.”

  Jim grinned and replied, “You want to make it as hard as possible.”

  There was a hesitation, and then the ship replied, “Precisely.”

  Jim began to imagine himself as the incredible shrinking man in the movies and realized there were preparations he could make in advance. He still had the pocket knife which would come in handy. Because he would be four inches tall, he thought a rope and grappling hook to assist in climbing obstacles might be helpful.

  “Can you make me a grappling gun? Something powered with a line in a box?”

  “I cannot assist in any way. You will be responsible for your resources.”

  Apparently, Vincent did wish to make his task difficult.

  “Where I come from they call that ‘Hanging me out to dry.'”

  “I do not understand.”

  Jim explained, “To abandon someone in need.”

  “I am sorry, James Thompson. I assure you, I have sufficient reason.”

  Jim thought about this for a few moments and decided if Vincent could not help directly, maybe he could help indirectly. “Can you fabricate me a new coat? It’s going to be chilly out there.”

  “That I can do. It would not be advantageous for you to be hindered by the cold.”

  Jim grinned and gave the ship the details on the coat he had in mind.

  ****

  Eventually, he tore himself from the view and went to get some sleep. He spent the night in a restless slumber with fearful nightmares involving a gauntlet of giant feet coming from above to stomp on him. One of these horrible dreams included the stiff bristles of an oversized broom sweeping him away.

  In the morning, Vincent prepared bacon and eggs, and a half slice of cantaloupe. His experience with humans taught him not to push healthy choices. People would only eat what they liked and were used to, regardless of the logic.

  When Jim left the ship, the sun was beating down and warming the alley where he was dropped off. He figured the best place to get scissors was the stationary store where he got his drawing materials from the trash. The interior was familiar to him from his previous attempt to sell his work. He also knew that at twelve-thirty, there was usually a delivery truck blocking the back door that would stay open for the length of time it took to transfer the new product to the store.

  Vincent disappeared as soon as Jim’s feet hit the pavement—which Jim found strange for he could still feel the rail of the ladder in his hand. He was holding onto nothing.

  He started his mission at the stroke of noon; giving him roughly thirty minutes to prepare for his assault. Scenes from the movies ran through his thoughts and made him realize it was impossible to convey the enormous emotions involved with living the reality. He was four inches tall in a land of giants.

  He used the clutter of the alley as cover while he looked for items to assist his mission, and moved from tin can to broken wooden pallet to dumpster wheels as he searched. He did not have to look long before he found a bent and discarded Venetian blind. The string used to raise and lower the window screen would work perfectly as a rope. Jim used his knife to cut himself a good length, wound it into a coil, and hung it over his shoulder.

  The item to act as a grappling hook turned out to be a drink umbrella. Jim found it ironic he was giving the little paper and wood umbrella a purpose beyond its traditional use. The decorations are a novelty typically used once and thrown away. This one would have a second reason for being. He stripped it of the colorful paper and tied the handle to the end of his makeshift rope.

  Jim rolled a lidless, dented tin can next to the three steps leading up to the back door of the shop and used his knife to punch two small holes. He then turned it over on top of him. Once inside, he positioned the holes to see both the door and where the back of the truck should be, and he waited.

  Under the bright sunshine, the alleyway was heating up, and so was the inside of the can. The brown robe that Vincent supplied was warmer than it needed to be. Fortunately, he did not have long to wait. The truck pulled in and parked right where it always did. The driver did not know that Jim was in a hurry to get this over with, and took his sweet time. Finally, the driver came around and used the fold-out hydraulic lift to enter the truck.

  The can got warmer and warmer while the unsuspecting driver prepared the order and loaded it onto his two-whee
l dolly. He heard the driver use his phone to tell his client he was waiting by the back door, and in a minute the door opened. The woman he met earlier smiled at the driver and blocked the door open with a wooden wedge. So far so good.

  Jim never needed to exercise while he was working. His job at the expansive brokerage firm kept him thin and relatively healthy. Still, that was a year ago. By the time he reached the top of the steps, he had to give his arms a minute to unwind and allow the feeling to return. He decided earlier to save time by climbing the side of the stairs, rather than the steps, and it turned out to be harder than he imagined. The time spent since losing his job had apparently worn on him more than he thought.

  Once inside the door, he could hear talking in the adjacent room, which prompted him to run as fast as he could to a rack of boxes on shelves. He used the space under the lowest shelf to move into the store proper and gradually made his way to the aisle where he remembered the scissors to be. The workers were busy at the front of the store, unpacking boxes and loading shelves. He used his time well.

  The grappling hook worked exceptionally well. It was climbing the rope that was hard. Jim admired the professional scissors on his last visit inside the store and thought he saw them on the third shelf, so that is where he threw the hook. When he finally pulled himself to the target shelf and crawled over the edge, he found no assortment of scissors.

  Did they move them? He asked of himself, or do I remember wrong?

  Jim admitted his memory was not entirely reliable. Maybe it was the fourth shelf?

  His arms screamed at him while he climbed the rope one more level. However, he smiled in spite of the pain when he peeked over the top. Here were the scissors he desired.

  He chose a low hanging package of child’s scissors over the high quality all-metal professional scissors. The kid version was smaller and had plastic handles, which would be much lighter and easier to carry. Plus, the others were on hooks higher up and harder to reach. The child’s scissors would do.

  Jim was frantically cutting them from the plastic wrapping when he heard footsteps approaching. The footsteps got louder as the person moved closer, allowing him to hang the almost open container on the hook and hide behind it. While he steadied the rocking package the women stopped before the shelf he was hiding on and hung an addition to the inventory. Jim froze until she walked away, without her knowing that a tiny man cowering behind a package two hooks down was rewarded with a close-up of her face. Her skin was clear, and she had soft blue eyes the color of a cloudless spring sky. Jim guessed she was around his age, and very pleasant to look at.

  Time was becoming a problem. He needed to be done and out before the delivery man finished his visit, or he would be trapped inside until someone opened the door again. He needed to move fast.

  He lowered the liberated scissors to the floor with the rope. Then he clambered down, shook the hook loose, and coiled it up. His task was half done. All he needed now was to make it back out the door. He started by dragging the scissors and was startled by the noise it generated. He picked them up in his arms and bolted for the back room—and he almost made it.

  A scream exploded in his ears and sent chills down his spine. “Mouse! There is a mouse in here!”

  He ran faster than he thought he could and made it under the shelving in the back room. There he stopped to hide and catch his breath. His disguise had worked. The brown monk style robe with the deep hood Vincent provided had prevented her from seeing a small person running like a madman. In spite of sweating under the warm coat, he was thankful for the camouflage.

  The delivery man showed up with a broom, and swept the floor under the shelves, while Jim safely hid on top of the brackets that supported the shelving. Holding on was a little awkward, but his hiding place was effective. They shuffled around, trying to force him from his hidden perch until eventually they gave up and walked back into the other room. He heard the manager tell the woman to order some mouse traps and get back to work.

  Jim used the opportunity for a mad dash to the outside and threw the scissors over the side of the steps. His climb down was a lot easier and a lot faster than when he went up. He grabbed the scissors and ran for the ship, leaving the little wooden umbrella hanging from the landing and the string leading to the ground.

  ****

  Claire Haversham loved animals. She was caring for two rescue dogs and a cat from the local shelter until they could be adopted. She would even capture bugs so they could be released outside. She did not, however, like mice. Mice were dirty and chewed on everything. The quick glance provided by the mouse in the store left her wondering. She realized her observation was obtained out of the corner of her eye, and was a fast blur of motion. Still, her senses told her something was not right. It almost looked like it was running with a little pair of scissors.

  Before closing the back door, she looked around after the truck left her alone on the loading dock. The mouse was nowhere to be seen. She checked the top of the steps and noticed the open framework of a drink umbrella hanging over the edge. When she picked it up, the string tied to the handle rose along with it. Her head tilted to one side, the whole ordeal leaving her somewhat curious.

  ****

  Vincent was true to his word and appeared as soon as Jim came running across the alley, and stayed visible until Jim climbed through and closed the hatch. The ship minimized the scissors. Still, hauling his body up the ladder drained him of the remainder of his strength. The ship immediately lifted off and flew to a nearby rooftop, where they would be safe from discovery.

  He quickly removed the sweat stained robe and used the steam room to wash away the stink from his body. The mist worked on his aching muscles and calmed the adrenaline pumping through his body. After a while, he began to feel better.

  A peanut butter and jelly sandwich waited for him, along with a tall glass of milk when he left the shower room. Vincent explained, “My research indicates you like this type of meal, and it provides energy. I must advise you it is high in sugar, and low in nutrition.”

  Jim was hungry. Right now that is what mattered. He replied in-between bites, “That may be true, but it tastes so good.”

  That afternoon, Jim cut his own hair for the first time in his life. For many years, his wife clipped it for him. He was not overly concerned with the quality of the cut, as he believed a bad cut will always grow out.

  It was a slow process, with a snip here and a snip there. The child’s scissors were not as sharp as he would have liked, but they did the job. His reflection told him it was good enough. He had completed the ship’s request and was anxious to move on.

  “So…Vincent, is that the end of the tests?”

  “Yes. Your performance has been satisfactory, and I am prepared to place my trust in you.”

  It was only for a second that Jim heard the buzz in the background. Then Vincent seemed to come to terms with his conflicts and divulged the reason for his being here. “There is a device here on Earth that is the result of many years of research and hard work. It is the activation key to a heat source so powerful it is capable of melting vast areas of ice. My people require its return.”

  “How much area are you talking about?”

  “Miles, James Thompson—square miles.”

  Jim had been mentally preparing himself for the truth whatever it may be. When the ship revealed the reason, it left him puzzled, why would anyone want to do that?

  The new team member repositioned himself in the chair and commented, “I thought melting large areas of ice was a bad thing.”

  “On your planet, it would be. You live on a balanced world. A planet in a state of equilibrium that enjoys large, habitable land masses which are jeopardized if the polar ice melts. On my planet, warming strategic locations can be beneficial.”

  “Wouldn’t it harm your planet too?”

  “My world has a different set of conditions. Over the last few hundred years, my planet has cooled. Our climate standard is significantl
y colder than your Earth. There are few warm days outside of the central ring of the equator, and my people are only allowed limited access.”

  “Still, wouldn’t a device like that cause all kinds of drastic changes in a short time?”

  “Our intention is to warm individual sections close to the equator. Right now my people live in underground facilities. They want to live on the surface and grow their own crops.”

  “You said except the equator. Why not live there?”

  Vincent thought it was time to tell Jim the root of the problem. “There are two primary races that live on Senara. The Eldars and the Laru. The Eldars inhabit the temperate zones and are extremely selective about the number of Laru allowed inside their borders.”

  A thousand questions bombarded Jim’s brain. He began to understand it might take a while to fully appreciate what he had gotten himself into, and decided to continue with the more direct questions. “Why is the key here?”

  “The Eldars claim using the device will harm the planet, even though we have provided proof to the contrary. They are determined to prevent the device’s use. A team of their operatives stole the activation key and sent it here in a minimized spacecraft to stop us from using the machine. The truth is the Eldars like things the way they are. The Laru have to work for the Eldars so they can buy food. It is an unequal relationship.”

  “…and, why a miniaturized AI ship?”

  “A Miniaturized artificially intelligent spacecraft has many advantages over biologically controlled ships. Speeds are significantly increased and collision risks considerably reduced.”

  “Both parties have this technology?”

  “No. The Eldars have the resources to commit to research, while the Laru do not.”