Great relief after weeks of living in van, sleeping on bunk, cooking with charcoal, Sterno. Electric power out, but gas, water still work. Easy enough to run extension cord in for evening’s lighting.
Decision to spend night under civilized roof met twin’s approval. Loves travel, but bon vivant at heart; wallows in luxury at every opportunity (believes anything worth doing worth overdoing). And apparently concluded time ripe for good wallow: Hurled self into project with glee (mere fraction of which, publicly displayed in times past, sure to result in involuntary hospitalization). Participation included: assisting carrying tee stand in from van (me carrying; manic sibling gripping crossbar with toes, wings flapping at max); unpacking food (container-opening one of brother’s pettest passions — problem arises confining enthusiasm to appropriate time, place, object); setting table (loves this part: Waddles joyously about tabletop, seizing plates, utensils — anything not nailed down — laboriously carries/drags to edge; surreptitiously peeks around to see if observed yet; then heaves over side, watching fall, bobbing head, chortling under breath as impact occurs — then back for more).
In especially rare mood today; having wonderful time: talking, warbling like trained chainsaw, assisting until seemed must be three of him. Finally became necessary — to retain own sanity — to banish him to stand, order him, “Stay!”
Feelings unruffled by rebuff, of course. Within moments had discovered refrigerator handle within reach. While doing sideways chin-ups, indicated continuing willingness — nay, eagerness — to help clear table. Before meal was over.
Had turned on gas first thing on arrival, lit water heater. Have put clean sheets on firmest bed in house. Looking forward to indescribable pleasure of hot shower, followed by best night’s sleep in weeks.
Looking forward intensely — helps keep mind- off AAs’ disappearance. Impossible six people could vanish so utterly, without any clue.
Well, perhaps morning will bring inspiration: Maybe subconscious noticed something so-called “conscious” missed while worrying.
Good night.
Eureka! (Sort of.)
Upon waking this morning, realized search not thorough as should have been. Oh, thorough enough regarding not missing single drawer, looking under beds, examining every inch — but was looking for things; paying no attention to what might be missing. Stated in yesterday’s entry, …all evidence negative, inferential, based on what not found.” But made no effort to determine what not found; haven’t inferred worth darn.
So following breakfast (found old-fashioned campfire waffle iron in basement; works equally well on kitchen gas range — results wonderful with maple syrup after so long); adjourned back to Kinnart’s office; conducted repeat search, this time with eyes, perception, mind open. And learned:
Remaining lab contents limited to stock equipment, scientific goodies available anywhere. Nothing visible appropriate to work of most brilliant researcher in five (un?)related fields. Vacant table space suggests missing equipment, but not much. And no clues as to what.
However, one artifact obvious by absence — her First Microscope. (Every student scientist and/or doctor receives as gift or purchases in school a First Microscope. Sometimes powerful, sophisticated instrument; sometimes Woolworth’s Student Special — but always treasured for life; always prominent in office, whether used or not.) Absence significant.
But not as glaring as lack of any scrap of work notes, memoranda, programs, floppy disks, photographs, printouts, results — in short: irreplaceable stuff, without which any research reverts back to square one.
Went back then; reinspected homes, offices of other four Boston-area AAs; confirmed similar conditions. Physical gear remaining wondrously varied but limited to catalog stock; nothing custom-made, no records. And no First Microscopes!
So much for available facts; now for inferences: Left, probably as group; went somewhere already physically equipped to continue studies, taking more specialized, irreplaceable tools, notes, records,. etc.
(Granted, premise requires quantum leap past logic; but given reasonable parallel between their thinking and mine — assuming also work in progress [and opportunity] — only tenable conclusion.)
Besides, was necessary: Had, while ruminating, forgotten Armageddon side effects. No possibility hominems, with olfactory sensitivities far transcending H. sapiens’, could have remained in population-dense Boston area during months immediately following species’ end. Or any large, heavily peopled area. Own experience in tiny Wisconsin hometown proof enough: Had not spent first three months sealed in shelter, breathing own recycled air, would have been driven away.
So — again — what now? Conclusions interesting, probably valid — almost certainly valid. Also, in practical terms, next to useless. Even were conclusions confirmed — all Tarzan File AA addresses in fact obsolete — so what? Who cares? Equally pointless is speculation over why gone. Ringing question is where!
Without some hint — positive data, not accumulation of negatives — search deteriorates to pure exploration. Futile on face of it; continent simply too big for random poking about. Too much area; too few targets — and even methodical search won’t improve odds. Not really. AAs might well move into section just covered, remain undiscovered forever.
Besides, what (beyond wishful myopia) limits scope of search to North America? Whole planet now available (excepting only several extremely radioactive areas in Asia, where [according to Daddy’s secret papers] U.S.’s displeasure over attack most intensely expressed). Surprising if AAs failed to capitalize on all available resources, natural or man-made, wherever extant, to found, secure, develop community from which to gather, store, preserve, ultimately extend knowledge base accumulated during H. sapiens’ sway on Earth.
Hmm… Uninformed observer might suspect pattern developing here: Seems every time central question (“What now?”) crops up, somehow vanishes again beneath welter of irrelevant detail, philosophy, speculation.
Goodness… Candy Smith-Foster subconsciously refusing to face facts? Perhaps because answers unpalatable?)
Nonsense! Nothing subconscious about it. Plain as day: scared to death. And with best of reasons: answers stink!
Consider remaining options: One, can assume — not unreasonably after six consecutive strikeouts — Tarzan File truly dead end; set off blindly into wilderness, playing entirely by ear; distributing leaflets widely, collecting ABs catch-ascan, if at all.
Or, two, ignore six-ply coincidence; play out hand as dealt by Tarzan File, follow through to conclusion; not so much expecting dramatic results as sticking to scientific method, ensuring resultant fine-tooth examination of homes, offices overlooks not least clue suggesting whereabouts.
Then set off blindly into wilderness.
Or silly-season stuff, among which least harebrained notions include: Acquiring necessary knowledge (not impossible, considering formidable reading speed, comprehension/retention level); constructing, activating powerful omniband radio station; broadcasting endless worldwide appeal for company.
Or how about skywriting? Attention-getting, certainly; and effective each time over huge chunks of geography. Given H. post hominem mind, reflexes (far quicker, better integrated than predecessors’), how difficult can be to learn aircraft operation basics? Memorize book, absorb theory; then apply practical. (Shucks, Wrights only human, managed without theory)