But how did Darryl, who has never actually met the woman, get the idea that Meg was in love with him in the first place? When he attended the premiere of one of her films—SleeplessinSeattle, I think it was—it seemed to him that her beautiful smile (she was being interviewed outside the theater prior to the showing) was directed to him alone. He crawled under the barricade and tried to cross the street to speak with her, but was restrained by the studio’s security people. For months he followed her, believing that his love was being denied her by jealous cops. One thing led to another and, after he was finally arrested for harassment, he ended up in a New Jersey mental institution and eventually with us. Drug treatments have proven ineffective, as has psychoanalysis (Will inherited him from Carl Beamish, now on temporary leave), and poor Darryl now waits impatiently for her to visit him at the hospital. In fact, he always keeps some cake or cookies in his room for just such an eventuality.
Instead, he got fled.
I sidled up to him and asked him what he thought of our newest visitor. “I’m a little afraid of her, Dr. Brewer,” he replied. “We all are.”
“Why? She seems pretty harmless to me.”
“She’s so big and strong, and kind of repulsive. It’s like having a gorilla running around loose.”
“But she’s not a gorilla. Or a chimpanzee, either. She’s not even from Earth.”
“How do we know she can be trusted? If we say the wrong thing to her, maybe she’ll turn on us.”
Oddly, despite Goldfarb’s warning, I hadn’t thought about fled in quite that way. There’s a well-known television show from the old TwilightZone series called “To Serve Man.” It turned out that the aliens had come to take some of us back as a source of protein. The eponymous, undecipherable tome they had brought along was a cookbook. Could fled have ulterior motives for her visit that we were unaware of?
“There’s fled over there with Howard,” I told Darryl. He doesn’t seem too worried about her.”
“Howard is as big and repulsive as she is,” he reminded me.
* * *
I finally found Will on his way to a meeting, and I accompanied him to the conference room. “Got your note, Dad—sorry I was occupied. How long are you going to be here today?”
“Not much longer. I promised your mother we’d do something this afternoon. Go for a drive, or maybe a movie.”
“You guys used to go to a lot of movies, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Your mom loved Humphrey Bogart.”
“Humphrey Who?”
“You mean you don’t—”
“Just kidding, Pop. He was way before my time, but I know who Bogie is. Casablanca is one of Dawn’s favorite films. So—what did you want to talk about?”
“I think I found fled’s alter ego.”
“Really? Who is it?”
“I don’t know. Whoever it is doesn’t seem to want to talk to me.”
“That could mean a couple of things.”
“Like what?”
“Well, she could be an outlaw. Or afraid of doctors. Or maybe she’s just shy. Or maybe….”
“Yes? Yes?”
“Fled is a K-PAXian, right? But she resembles most a large chimpanzee. Maybe your elusive personality is an ape!”
“A chimpanzee! That’s it, Will! Why didn’t I think of that? That’s why fled’s spent most of her time in Congo. And why her alter ego seemed to be a phony. The mannerisms would be different from those of a human being!” We both pondered this possibility as we shuffled along. “But if you’re right,” I said, “how can I ever communicate with her? Or maybe it’s a ‘him.’”
My genes smiled at me. “I’d say you need someone to translate.”
“That makes sense, but who do we know that can speak English and chimpan—”
“How about fled?”
“Oh. Right. But can that be done? How can we get her to speak with her own alter ego?”
“I don’t know Dad. Let me think about that.”
We got to the conference room. Inside, I could see the staff dropping their things on the table, getting some food for themselves. Despite the obvious advantages of retirement, I did miss the give-and-take I knew would be going on there. The camaraderie. At the same time, I didn’t really want to go back to work full-time, even if I were up-to-date on the latest advances, which I definitely was not. As my wife has pointed out on many occasions, there comes a time to quit working and enjoy life before it’s too late.
“I’ll call you this weekend!” he shouted as he disappeared into the room.
“Enjoy your meeting,” I murmured wistfully.
* * *
I was up early on Saturday dreamily munching a bowl of corn flakes—while thinking about fled, of course—when there came a gentle tap at the kitchen door. Flower started barking. Even though I couldn’t see anyone at the window, I knew who it had to be. Karen was still sleeping, so I shushed Flower and stepped outside.
While Dartmouth hovered in the background, Wang sprung up and flashed his familiar badge. “Can’t you shut that dog up?” he inquired politely, through clenched teeth.
“She wouldn’t hurt a fly; she spits them out!” I was becoming a trifle annoyed by their nagging persistence. “Are you going to be coming here every day?”
“If that’s what it takes, yes, sir!” he replied cheerfully. Then, as an afterthought, perhaps: “Sorry to bother you at breakfast.”
“How did you know I was eating breakfast?”
He looked around furtively, as if for spies. “You have a flake in your beard.”
I brushed it off. “Can’t you at least make it every other day? That’s how often I see her.”
“Depends on what’s going on, Dr. Brewer. Let’s take a walk, shall we?”
“A walk? Can’t we just talk here? In back of the house?”
“We prefer not to take any chances on being overheard.”
Just like in the movies, I thought. But I had supposed that was fiction. “Overheard by whom?”
“By terrorists.”
“You think terrorists are bugging the house??”
Dartmouth held up a sober hand. “Not to worry, Dr. Brewer. We’re bugging the house, too.” Wang gave him a stern look and his partner hung his head.
“The government is bugging our house? Why?”
“To catch the terrorists, of course!” Wang whispered.
“And how many have you caught by bugging the house?”
“None so far.”
“Then it would seem to be a waste of time, wouldn’t it?”
“Not at all, sir. As long as we’re bugging the house, they’re afraid to come around. You see how well that works?”
I thought about the old psychiatry joke about the elephants. “Well, do you bug every house in the area?”
“Of course. And as a result, it’s one of the safest parts of the country. Bear in mind, though, that a neighbor of yours could still be one of them. Anyone could be a terrorist, you know. We’ve got it covered both ways.” He smacked his hands together—hard. “It’s beautiful, when you think about it.”
We don’t have a sidewalk, so we turned into the road. “I’m just curious—how many federal agents are there, anyway?”
“That’s classified,” Wang quickly replied. Dartmouth tripped over something, but caught himself before he dived onto the asphalt. “But let me put it this way: everyone you know could be working with us.”