Piece of Mind

by Rob Reger

  Later

  The List is now complete through number ten. Excellent achievements. I am especially proud of my first complete original film made entirely with the ThoughtCorder. It tells the poignant story of a giant mutant space manatee who leaves his home in the Andromeda Galaxy to seek his fortune. Along the way, he joins forces with a cantankerous mutant space squirrel, a swaggering mutant space turnip, and a bighearted but foulmouthed mutant space electric can opener to save the galaxy from a bad case of dry rot. Just as the manatee is poised to prevail over his personal insecurities and learn an important lesson on the value of friendship in a triumphant feel-good ending, the turnip goes rabid and eats everybody. Good stuff!!!

  Am real pooped. Crawling into bed for the day.

  Later

  Called Jakey’s phone one last time before crashing. Voicemail not accepting messages. This always happens when Professor Ümlaut’s Prophylactery and Revue and Uncle Attikol’s Deadly Dollhouse roll through a small town, or go behind a hill or something. Jakey will get through by tomorrow, no doubt.

  May 12

  Half the fun of the travel is the esthetic of lostness.

  —Ray Bradbury

  Hauled my tired carcass out of bed before the sun was even properly down and spent the first few hours of the evening completing the last few items on the List. Hit a bit of a roadblock on my fingerpainted family portrait when I realized I don’t really know what Aunt Emma looks like. Yes, I’ve seen a couple old photos, but every time I’ve encountered her in person, she’s been channeling herself through my golem or animating a combination lock or something…which has really confused my mental picture of her. Ended up portraying her as a sort of aged Raven with Patti’s eyes and my hair. Am reasonably happy with the result. The important thing here is that I am done! FINALLY!!!!!! Will be waking Mom up in the wee hours of the morning to present my work. She can then spend the ten days I am gone wading through the mountain of paperwork the county requires for all homeschooled pupils. >Shudder.<

  Later

  Have finished packing my trunks. They are far too heavy for me to budge. Am grateful once again for my super-strong golem. Raven hefted them like they were feather pillows and threw them in the back of the van. We are all set to take off the moment my Final Presentation of Accomplishments is complete!

  Later

  Have been whiling away the hours before I can wake Mom by sternly counseling the cats on proper road-trip behavior, getting all open experiments into “two weeks’ vacation” mode, and writing Mom a detailed list of emergency instructions in case of any problems:

  Raven on Sherpa duty.

  Show-off!

  If you hear sizzling, fizzling, or crackling noises from my room: CALL ME IMMEDIATELY.

  If you hear loud whumping noises from my room: DO NOTHING—WHUMPER IS WORKING AS PROGRAMMED.

  If I’m not back as scheduled on May 26: DO NOTHING—WE ARE MOST LIKELY DETAINED AT GARAGE SALE OR THE LIKE.

  If I’m not back by June: MY LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT IS UNDER THE FLOORBOARDS IN THE ATTIC.

  If you get sick of filling out homeschooling paperwork: SIGN YOUR NAME ON EVERYTHING AND I’LL DO THE REST.

  If the Cryptozoological Society calls: TELL THEM THEY CAN KEEP THE SPECIMEN—I’VE GOT TWELVE OF MY OWN.

  If there’s nothing on TV: YOU MAY ENJOY GIRLS IN BLACK OR LIES ABOUT CATS AND DOGS, BUT THERE WILL BE EVEN MORE BLOOD IS GOING TO BE WAY TOO INTENSE FOR YOU.

  If there’s an earthquake: DUCK AND COVER.

  If the cockroach colony escapes: LET THEM GO. IF THEY RETURN, THEY ARE OURS FOREVER. IF THEY DON’T, IT WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE.

  If you get bored or lonely while we are gone: DO NOT—REPEAT—DO NOT ADOPT ANOTHER DAUGHTER. I WILL MAKE HER SUFFER.

  If Ricky calls you again: HANG UP ON THE JERK.

  If green bubbling liquid seeps out from under my door: CALL HAZARDOUS WASTE HOTLINE IMMEDIATELY.

  If you smell smoke coming from my room: SAVE YOURSELF—THE SUCKER’S GONNA BLOW.

  Later

  Have finished all final presentations for Mom! It was very tiring! She was extremely touched by my efforts and even shed a few Mom-style tears as she handed me her evaluations.

  * * *

  Me

  You OK there, Patti? Need a tissue?

  Mom

  [Using her sleeve.]

  Nope, I’m good.

  Me

  So I pass?

  M.

  You pass. I especially liked the matchstick caffeine molecule. And here I thought How-To with Glue would be more about you repairing my favorite coffee mug for me.

  Me

  Oh…right. Maybe next term.

  M.

  Seriously, E, this is pretty momentous. I mean, my little girl is completing her first full year of school!

  Me

  Yeah, well, it’s not like you didn’t think I could do it, right?…RIGHT?

  M.

  Oh no, it’s not that. I had total faith in your abilities…

  Me

  …Yeah?

  M.

  …I just didn’t think you WOULD do it. I really expected you to come up with some kind of creative excuse to get out of the whole thing…possibly in the form of a disease…like, maybe a week in.

  Me

  Hmph.

  M.

  But you proved me wrong, and just look at what you’ve accomplished!

  Me

  Yes. Indeed. What a sense of self-worth this gives me.

  [Hoping she has perhaps forgotten that I am not, actually, technically, done with the school year yet, as I still owe her an in-depth documentary film project.]

  M.

  It really raises the bar for that documentary film project you’ll be doing on your trip to Seasidetown. I must admit, my expectations are a lot higher now that I see what you can do when you’ve really set your mind to it.

  Me

  GAHHHHH! So…the lesson here is, never succeed at anything, because it will only raise people’s expectations of you and make it more difficult to please them next time around???

  M.

  There, there.

  * * *

  Later

  Am writing this in the van. It’s about 5 a.m. and we are finally on the road. Mom packed us some sandwiches and (again, tearfully) waved farewell as the six of us scrambled into our places (some of us [Sabbath, NeeChee, Miles, I’m looking in your direction] less eagerly than others). At the last moment, as the van was backing out of the driveway, Mom rushed after us and demanded to know whether I had gotten an all-clear from Jakey regarding Attikol. I assured her that all was cool, and we finally departed for points east. Then I felt bad for misleading her and called Jakey. Got voicemail. Left message. Am not worried—I KNOW he would alert me right away if there was any trouble.

  Sending psychic vibes—hope Jakey’s listening!

  Here’s another reason I’m not too worried: It’s been months since Jakey had anything very alarming to say about ol’ Attikol. Maybe three and a half weeks ago he called me just to check in. He told me his latest scores on YarbAmerica, Moon Imposition, and Follicular Challenge; listed various ridiculous things people had asked him during his nightly performance of psychic powers (e.g., “Does my terry-poo truly love me?”); updated me on his parrot, Lily’s, newest annoying vocabulary (“dawg” and “bling”); reported how often Raven was mentioned by men with crushes on her (Attikol—seven times; Ümlaut—five times; random guy looking at the painting of her as a winged half-bird/half-woman on the side of Attikol’s trailer—once); complained about Attikol’s latest restrictions on him (no more walking through the audience, for one thing—Attikol rightly suspects him of wanting to escape the caravan); and described Attikol’s latest-mistreatment of Ümlaut (tickle-torture by Attikol’s thugs…in front of Attikol’s lady friends).

  And then I regaled him with tales of Raven’s most recent grand fiasco (I instructed her to wash the windows—just trying to do something nice for Mom, you
know—and she removed the glass from every window frame in the house, then crammed the panes into the dishwasher, breaking them all in the process); updated him on how school was going; and renewed my promise to help him escape the caravan—just as soon as the semester ended!

  What I’m saying is that there’s been nothing unusual in recent intel from Jakey. If Attikol had nefarious plans, if the slightest thought of ME popped into his mind, Jakey would see it. And he’d have found a way to let me know by now.

  Anyway. Am SOOOOOOOO glad we are on our way! Let the mischief begin!!!!!!

  Later

  The Mischief has Begun. We had not gone ten miles before we got the chance to do some user testing of Raven’s Chauffeur 2.0 programming. As follows:

  * * *

  Officer

  Good morning, ma’am. May I see your license, registration, and proof of insurance?

  Raven

  It would be my pleasure, Officer!

  [Handing them over.]

  [Smiling, dimpling, and winking as programmed.]

  O.

  Alrighty then, Miss…Raven. Your documents are in order. The reason I pulled you over is that your van has a number of…strange…appendages that I’m not sure are standard for a ’63 Volkswagen Microbus.

  R.

  Indeed it does. Perhaps you’d like to see our permit from the National Registry of Highly Unusual Automobiles?

  Me

  [Helpfully.]

  I got it right here, Aunt Raven…it’s under the cat box! Oops, a little cat barf on it…let me just wipe that off for you…

  O.

  Errrr…that won’t be necessary. Drive safely, now.

  * * *

  May 13

  I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.

  —Lord Byron

  Mid-morning. Have been sleeping in sunproof tent in the back of the van. Was awakened by our first garage-sale break. Decent haul: three skeleton keys, four stuffed animals (slightly soiled), and one tarp (nearly new). Am going back to sleep.

  Later

  We are approaching Seasidetown. Am very glad I arranged for Raven to drive through the day while I slept. Not that I have anything against road trips, but spending the day enjoying lovely nightmares about live burial, shark attack, or zombie Armageddon is FAR preferable to watching one small town after another go by.

  Later

  Gravblatts! I have an icky feeling about current-day Seasidetown developing in my gut, based on the following road sign:

  Let’s hope the actual town is more like what I saw in 1790 and MUCH less like some kind of theme-park version of 1790, as advertised.

  Later

  We are parked outside the hotel. Seasidetown is indeed a theme-park version of the 1790s. Souvenir kiosks everywhere. Revolution Era façades made of brightly colored plastic glued on top of actual Revolution Era buildings. Disappointing! Well, I guess I won’t be using any actual cityscapes in my Documentary—everything will have to come from my memories of Seasidetown in the good old days. Am glad I’m using a ThoughtCorder and not a commonplace camera!

  Needless to say, I tried to summon black rock as soon as we drove into town. (By closing my eyes tightly, chanting “Black Rock” 13 times, and touching my tongue to my nose.) Nothing yet. Am not in the best frame of mind right now, though. Will try again when I am less van-lagged.

  Later

  We have checked in to our hotel and started settling in. Might as well settle in good, since I am not looking forward to stepping foot outside our room anytime soon. WHY can’t there be one spot on earth where people make smart decisions about how to portray the past, instead of making everything into some hideous, artificial, plasticized piece of future-garbage?

  Later

  ThoughtCorded a short film of myself pulling down hideous, artificial Revolution Era façades and burning them in the town square, to the horror of tourists and townspeople alike. It went a long way toward making me feel better. Am very pleased I now have a cinematic outlet for the most antisocial aspects of my personality. Should really cut down on my legal bills.

  Later

  Hunger has forced me out of the room. I packed enough cat food for our entire stay, but veggie sandwiches are really best made fresh, and I am clear out of provisions. Also needed a fresh supply of newspaper to shield my stuff from any cat disasters. So Raven and I stopped by the concierge desk to see where the best all-night diners and grocery stores might be. Conversation was largely unpromising, with small patches of mild interest.

  * * *

  Me

  Could you tell me where there’s a good all-night restaurant?

  Concierge Dude

  Oh, you’d need to drive into Salem for something like that. Most places in Seasidetown close around ten.

  Me

  How about a grocery store?

  C.D.

  Sure, there’s Revolutionary Foods on Ninth and Main.

  Me

  Wow, is it, like, some kind of radical health food store or what?

  C.D.

  Oh dear, no! That’s strictly a reference to our proud Revolutionary heritage.

  Me

  [Swallowing disappointment.]

  [Pushing aside visions of entertainingly bizarre health-oriented foodstuffs.]

  Oh well, as long as it’s open all night!

  C.D.

  Oh, it’s not open all night! You’d need to drive into Salem for that.

  Me

  GAHH—OK, Raven, I guess we’re driving into Salem tonight. Um, I’ll take today’s paper, please.

  C.D.

  Certainly, Miss. Enjoy the cover article on our Mayor Ebenezer.

  Me

  [Ears pricking up.]

  Ebenezer, you say? Of the Revolutionary Era Ebenezers?

  C.D.

  [Warming to his topic.]

  Why, yes! The Ebenezers have resided in Seasidetown since the 1760s, and have been mayors and councilmembers here since 1820.

  Me

  Huh. That first Mayor Ebenezer wouldn’t have been Deborah, would it?

  C.D.

  Why yes, Miss! You do know your Seasidetown history!

  Me

  Yeah. Her family and I knew her as Sweetie-Pie. But that’s beside the point. Glad to see the Ebenezers are doing well here.

  * * *

  With that, we departed, leaving the concierge looking very puzzled.

  Seriously, though, it IS nice to see what the Ebenezers are up to these days. When I met Sweetie-Pie in 1790, she was a three-year-old with extraordinary powers of perception and persuasion. So it doesn’t exactly surprise me that her descendants have been successful. (Assuming your definition of “success” includes being a mayor or councilmember. Personally, I’d consider being the wily archnemesis of the mayor and councilmembers way more of a success.)

  Later

  Driving back from Salem. Have stocked up on groceries. It was very annoying to drive an hour out of town for food. Will time my hunger better in the days to come.

  Later

  Back at the hotel. Came out of the bathroom to find Miles knee-deep in a loaf of bread. He had eaten the tops off several slices already. Flabbertarkus!!! Not that I mind eating cat-gnawed bread—but, chances are, I will be seeing that bread again in the context of a cat-puke puddle somewhere in this hotel room. Need to lay down some newspaper sooner than later.

  Miles:

  A loaf of crime!

  Later

  Since I was unfolding the newspaper anyway, I went ahead and read the cover article on Mayor Vivi Ebenezer, per the concierge’s suggestion. Here’s what I learned:

  Including Sweetie-Pie and Vivi, there’ve been eight Mayor Ebenezers in Seasidetown since the early 1800s.

  And today the family has a rock-solid reputation for social reform, philanthropy, intense devotion to Seasidetown, and all-around raging civic pride.

  For example, they were instrumental in the women’s suffrage movement, the civil rights movement, the p
rison reform movement, the Free Brunch for Children movement…you name it.

  They have harbored slaves, clothed the poor, planted trees, created jobs, and fought injustice in its many forms.

  And most of the parks and public buildings in Seasidetown were built by Ebenezers.

  All of which made me ask myself whether there was anything left for Mayor Vivi to accomplish.

  But upon reading further, I learned that she has promised to boost the town’s tourism industry. Hmm…I thought it looked plenty boosted already.

  She plans to start by attracting cruise ships to its harbor.

  And by allocating funds for the installation of commemorative plaques.

  And by giving big tax breaks to vendors of souvenirs. >Choke.< >Barf.<

  The article wrapped up with Vivi encouraging all of Seasidetown’s citizens to “Ask not what Seasidetown can do for you…ask what YOU can do for Seasidetown.”

  Apparently she feels this goes double (quadruple??) for her 13-year-old daughter, Dorothy (“Dottie”), whom Vivi firmly expects to follow in her footsteps with a brilliant political career.

  “I’m like any parent,” Vivi told the reporter. “I don’t care what path my daughter chooses, as long as it results in her name on a commemorative plaque someday.”

  Here’s the picture from the front page, showing Vivi and Dottie:

  Later

  Things to do in Seasidetown:

  SUMMON BLACK ROCK. The sooner the better!!!!!!!!

  Figure out what my exceptional black-rock-fueled talent could be.

  Do some serious, unadulterated, idle WALLOWING in black rock. Hey, I deserve it!

  Revisit Great-Aunt Lily’s house and see if it has been made into a historical monument or part of a theme park.