Nothing happened.
I rocked the switch back and forth a few times. Still nothing happened.
I looked at Tabitha. She looked at me. A smile formed on her face. Giggles started and full belly laughs followed. We hung on to each other, sides hurting, legs wobbling, trying to keep from peeing.
Through the laughter I felt Tabby's muscles move. Still laughing, I wanted to feel more. My hands went beneath her flannel shirt. Her hands unbuckled my pants. We rolled onto the gunnysacks, clothes pulled apart, laughing. Our skin felt so warm compared to the cold of the garage. We pressed ourselves together reveling in the warmth. The course weave of burlap rubbed the skin where her warm flesh didn't touch. The laughter stopped as the burlap rubbed my knees raw and started again when we finished.
We pulled our clothes together, turned the salamander off, and ran to my bedroom. Clothes went flying again but this time there was no laughter. I watched every move her body made as we rolled and moved in time with each other. It was much later. Tabitha was asleep. I was watching small droplets of sweat roll down her body around her breasts. Every droplet took a different path. I blew on her bare chest watching the goosebumps change the direction of the droplets. That was it! The equations showed that every electromagnetic transmission had to be at an exact frequency and at an exact nexus. Our contraption couldn't be exact. Just the changes in air temperature would sift the transmissions. I would have to fuzz the transmitters so they would cover a small band of frequencies close to what we needed. That way they would combine when, by chance or chaos, everything matched the frequencies we wanted.
I blew again on her bare skin. This time not only did goosebumps form but her nipples hardened. A pair of arms grabbed me and pulled me in.
I woke first and slipped out of bed. I started to tiptoe out of the bedroom until I saw the two hearing aids on the headboard. I felt eyes on my naked body. I looked at sleeping Tabitha. Eyes shut. Move-over was on a dresser top lying upside down and stretched out. His slitted eyes glowed from under his nose and between his dangling front paws.
“Move-over, you old voyeur. Did you get an eyeful?"
I dressed and went to the garage. I had an idea about running the output from an old boombox into the transmitters to fuzzy the signals. I was just bolting the boombox to the Dodge transmission when the door opened.
“There you are? I was wondering where you ran off to."
“I had an idea about the signals. I think we need to fuzz them a little."
“I get it. The frequencies aren't matching but since we can't increase the accuracy we fuzz the frequencies so they will occasionally match up.
“What would you like me to do?"
“I need a number 8 bolt with a nut that is about one inch long. There should be a few in the box over there."
I started to hear humming and the tinkling of bolts and nuts. I looked over to Tabitha. The box was on the floor. She was bent at the waist, hands deep in the box with her legs spread wide. Her ass was rotating in time with the tune she was humming. God did she have a well-built set of legs and ass. I walked up behind her slowly touching her moving body with mine. We never got back to finishing our contraption before she left for school.
Tabitha was back in school. I have my work. I have the contraption we were making. And I have Move-over. But the house still felt empty. Looking out the window, I saw the clear sunlit cold of sub zero weather. Putting on my wools, I got the green wax tin and my skis from the back entryway. The waxing took just a minute and I was out the door heading across the snow to the woods across the fields.
One hundred yards from the house the coordinated hand leg movements of cross-country skiing broke through the feeling of loneliness. I was alert and ready to see the woods. By seeing, I meant more than seeing. I was ready to become, like my Uncle Ben, a part of the woods not just a viewer of the woods. Winter was the only time I could become part of the woods. During the other seasons, there was just too much life. I could only blend in. Halfway to the forest, I stopped and closed my eyes. I listened to the wind and rustling of the few dry leaves that hadn't fallen off the trees. My breathing slowed matching that of the forest. I headed on.
It had been a week since the last snow and I could see all of the activity that had happened since then. Mice, deer, dogs, rabbits, wolves. Just inside the tree line I came upon three depressions with the flaring marks of wings. Three partridges had slept last night within sight of the farmhouse. Rabbit tracks were just a dozen yards farther. I stopped to look for the rabbit's black eye. I found it thirty feet to the right. Squinting in the bright sun, I made out the white outline of the rabbit against the snow. In the winter the woods are thick with life. And the tracks tell you the patterns of the living.
I got to the stump chair. Brushing off the snow, I thought about the change in the pattern of my life
Tabitha made. There was a throbbing in my hand. The puukko Ben had given me was there. I didn't remember taking it out but the rocking of the balanced blade between my fingers gave the knife the feel of a heartbeat. I looked. A nuthatch and two chickadees were watching. I put the knife away and warmed my frozen fingers between my legs. What did the watching mean?
* * * *
The Chameleon had a pleasant surprise with the new position. She was in charge of the corporate spies that the company used. Most of the spies worked for the magazines run by the company. It was strange but some of the companies seemed to expect and even work with the spies. One of the magazines would have spy pictures of the newest automobile designs with written articles that included quotes from the spied upon automobile company executives. This place was so much like the Users; she might just have to recommend that a permanent colony be placed here.
* * * *
Jones finally had something for Blythe. He hired a track student to injure the Czeminski girl. The student was to foul the girl during next track meet so Blythe could watch it happen. The detective he hired to find something on Karpinen was still having trouble. There was no easy way to observe the farmhouse he lived in. There was just too much open space in the country. The phone taps were not helping. There were few calls being made and except for a few odd email messages the Internet access was encrypted. The detective was able to break the codes but they were difficult enough that they were broken after the materials Karpinen was working on were publicly published. Jones knew he needed to make more happen to the Czeminskis and Karpinen soon or he would be looking for a new job.
* * * *
Tabitha rushed for the bus. There were twenty other athletes already aboard. It was a record for the college. Twenty invited to the pre-season invitational track meet in the Twin Cities. It was the third time Tabitha made it to the invitational. She settled back into the seat to sleep the hours to the arena. The noise from the first-timers was just a faint background hum to soother her to slumber.
* * * *
The limo pulled up to the arena fifteen minutes before the start of the meet. Jones had made sure that prime seats were saved for him and Blythe in the half full athletic center. Blythe had been occupied with financial reports during the flight down and had said only a dozen words to Jones. Nervous, Jones led Blythe to their seats. Praying that everything would go well, he told Blythe that the 3000-meter race was scheduled seventh in the line-up.
“This is your last chance Jones. If this doesn't work, you will be looking for a new job. Anything on Karpinen yet?