Authors: Jonathan Carroll
“Jane, I thought it was over; I thought for sure D Train was dead.”
“Me too.”
At the sink Kaspar looked over his shoulder at her, his mouth open in surprise. “
What?
”
She nodded it was true. “I knew mechanics had the power to bring things back to life. But I didn’t know if
I
had it yet or if I’d use it right. I was flying blind, Kaspar, completely on instinct.”
“Well, your instinct proved to be a good friend, which is even more impressive, Jane. You looked so cool, in
complete
control of the situation. I’m certain it was part of what scared him off: Crebold saw you weren’t going to take any shit from him because it sounded like you knew exactly what you were doing. Then when you actually brought the dogs back … he knew he’d met his match.”
“But did you see his eyes, Kaspar? The whole time he talked, I could see in his eyes he wasn’t sure we’d do what he wanted. When I saw that insecurity, I knew your drawings had to be incredibly important and worth protecting.”
“But we don’t know what they
mean
, Jane. What good are they if—” He sighed in frustration. Kaspar didn’t need to finish the sentence because she knew exactly what he meant.
She picked up a small knife and cut a piece of Stilton cheese off a big hunk Kaspar had brought to the table. Jane loved any kind of cheese. Placing it on a cracker, she dipped the knife into a cup of shiny red condiment Kaspar had insisted she try on the Stilton. Apparently it was his invention—cranberry sauce mixed with wasabi mustard. She loved it from the first taste—the startling combination of very sweet in contrast to horseradish-sharp went perfectly with the cheese’s own strong tang. It was a whole new and unexpected taste treat for her.
Looking at it now, Jane realized she’d eaten almost the whole serving of the oddly delicious stuff while chatting with Kaspar. She was still staring at the empty cup when he came over with a glass of water filled to the brim with ice cubes. He waited for her to take it but she just kept staring at what was left of her dip.
“Are you okay?”
She didn’t respond.
“Jane, is something wrong?”
The dogs lay on the floor nearby. Although they appeared to be pretty much back to normal by then, neither had any energy. Usually when Kaspar was at the refrigerator D Train was right beside him. It was one of the few things the pit bull was smart about—he knew the big cold silver box held endless yummy treasures. So D always made it a point to station himself in the vicinity when it was opened in case any of the goodies inside came his way. But not this time, because he was completely pooped; death and resurrection had emptied both dogs’ tanks for the day.
“Sit down, Kaspar. I think I might have just figured something out.” Jane picked up the condiment cup and wiggled it. “Your dip, right?”
He gritted his teeth, preparing for criticism. “You don’t like it?”
“I love it, but that’s not the point. How did you know it’d taste so good? I never would have thought to combine those two flavors.”
His mind paused and sat silent seconds thinking over her question. “How did I
know
? Um, well, I like wasabi and I like cranberry sauce.”
Jane shook her head. “Lame answer. I like them too but never would have thought to mix them.”
He looked relieved. “Okay, then maybe because I’m a culinary genius?”
She gave a fake smile, which died a moment later. “Close, but not quite.” Putting the cup down, she wiped her hands on a napkin. She took a long drink of water, stopped, drank some more. “You said Crebold compared mechanics to ants in a colony, right?”
Kaspar nodded.
“After everything I’ve heard, this is what I’ve figured out: like ants, every mechanic has a specific job to do—only one task until you die.”
“Well not
die
, Jane—retire.”
“Okay, but
until
you’re retired you do one job and nothing else, right? According to Crebold you were trained to be a ‘Tenbrink,’ whatever that is. A worker ant’s sole job is to carry a load from A to B. When the task is complete, it carries
another
load from A to B, ad infinitum. It does the same job its whole life long. I know nothing about ants but assume they’re born with the job already programmed into their genes.”
“What’s your point, Jane?”
“Like ants, a mechanic’s single purpose is to do one job to help the colony survive, which in our case is the universe. Mechanics weren’t taught to think but to
do
. I know I’m oversimplifying things, Kaspar, but humor me. As a mechanic, do you remember
ever
being told to use your imagination?”
“No, we were given powers and specific instructions on how to use them. It was rare to encounter a situation we couldn’t handle. If it ever happened, our directive was to call in another mechanic and together we managed it.”
Jane clapped her hands. “Exactly as I thought!”
Kaspar waited for her to say more, to draw this all together into some kind of brilliant
ah-ha!
revelation that would drive a stake through the heart of his questions and confusion about what was going on.
Instead she reached for the saltshaker. She took it, the cup holding the wasabi mix, and her water glass. She lined them up one, two, three next to each other on the table. Pointing to the water she said, “Think of this as the mechanics—they represent order, stability, and the greater good of the cosmos at any cost, okay?”
Next she pointed to the saltshaker. “
This
is the Somersault—Chaos, Randomness, and Disorder. The opposite of everything a mechanic is and works to prevent.”
She picked up the wasabi cup. “And your delicious mix here stands for the humans. Let’s not limit it only to humans and Earth, but to all beings in the universe with the capacity to think and choose for themselves.” She drew a large imaginary circle around the three different objects. “What do they have in common, Kaspar? Mechanics fix things broken by Chaos. They keep things running right in the universe. But they can’t
create
because they have neither the aptitude nor the tools.
“In contrast, Chaos
can
create but it’s always a by-product of the havoc it causes; it’s never intended. Think of a tornado or a hurricane: they create wild and imaginative things like putting a car on top of a tree. But it’s never
deliberate
. A storm blows in and whatever mess it makes, creative or not, is all incidental.”
Jane placed the wasabi cup on her open palm. “Now we get to the humans. Chaos and the mechanics have nothing in common. They’re at opposite ends of the spectrum: anarchy and order.
“But human beings contain elements of
both
; sometimes they’re chaotic, sometimes organized. Using their imaginations they have the ability to keep order, or create,
or
cause mayhem and confusion. Most importantly, it’s usually a conscious choice which one we do.”
Kaspar thought out loud: “Chaos isn’t afraid of mechanics because they’re only capable of keeping order?”
Jane nodded. “Right, it’s like being afraid of a vacuum cleaner. But it
is
wary of humans because it knows they’re creative and have the potential to think and act outside the box.” She grinned. “But I believe what Chaos most fears is the
fusion
of the two—the mechanic and the human:
us.
Or the mechanic and whatever other combinations are made when they’re retired and given second lives. They become like binary weapons.” She crossed her index fingers in an “X” in front of her face.
“Retirees are
mutts
, Kaspar, mixed breeds, and I think Chaos is most afraid of what we’re capable of doing. Former mechanics who have experienced second lives as humans or Martians or Alpha Centaurians? It doesn’t matter where they’ve been because I’m guessing the same holds true for mechanics retired anywhere and like us are now being called back.” Jane drank the rest of the water thirstily, as if what she’d just said had squeezed her dry.
Kaspar laid the drawings on the table. “What if it was planned, Jane? What if they knew all along Chaos was returning and lied to us when they
said
we were being retired? But it wasn’t true—they knew full well that one day they’d call us back after we’d experienced these second lives. Assume your theory about mutts is correct. Imagine countless numbers of retired mechanics gathered together, millions of
mutts
, with all the knowledge and experience they’ve gained from years living as mortals. Reawaken their mechanic, mix it with their mortal side—”
“—and you’ve got an army,” Jane completed his sentence.
It wasn’t the word Kaspar had planned to use but it was a good one. He bowed his head in deference to her. “An army—
exactly
.”
Kaspar looked at the drawings again. “I just saw something else here I recognize.”
“Really, what?” Jane leaned forward to see what he was pointing to on one of the papers. It was the same three figures Marley Salloum had singled out back at the bar: the three letters from the Phoenician alphabet. Kaspar remained silent a long time and just kept tapping his finger back and forth between different things on the two papers.
Jane held back until she couldn’t stand it anymore and blurted out, “
What?
What do they mean?”
“This is a will, Jane. It’s my last will.”
The same thing Marley had said after examining the drawings.
Kaspar’s voice was soft and calm, no worry or upset in it. “I don’t know what the other figures mean, but I recognize these three now: If you put them together they say I’m going to die soon and Crebold was right—all the rest of what’s written on this sheet is a summing up of what I’ve learned and want to pass on of that knowledge; what I
need
to pass on.” He pointed to the paper covered with the drawings of ink bottles. “I still don’t get what these signify, though.”
Jane countered, “Maybe I do.” She described skating with Josephine and finding the black baseball that the girl called “obsidian.” Then about her conversation with Bill’s dying wife and seeing burnt sienna on the wall of the Edmondses’ living room. On the drawing Jane pointed out the ink bottles labeled
OBSIDIAN
and
BURNT SIENNA
. “Mrs. Edmonds said each of these colors represents the most important emotion people experience; she called them the letters of the human alphabet.”
“The colors are our
emotions
?”
“I guess—that’s what she said. Then she described how burnt sienna represents the purest, best form of human love. She was very convincing.”
Kaspar stared at the drawing of bottles and spoke in a voice just above a whisper, “The human alphabet.” He glanced at Jane and said, “I’m going to
die
soon—
die
. It says so right there on the paper and I wrote that.”
“Does it say when or how it will happen?” Jane looked at him but could not look for long. She dropped her eyes to the drawings.
Kaspar licked his lips and shook his head. “As soon as they flip you from here again I’ll forget everything that’s happened tonight. I won’t remember
any
of it—Crebold coming, these drawings and what they mean, this talk we’re having … I’ll forget it all, Jane. I’ll just think I’ve had a quiet evening at home by myself. It’s what happens to anyone who’s left behind after a flip; they have total amnesia about the experience and go right back to their status quo.
“It’s so wrong because if I at least remembered I was going to die, I’d have the chance to change some things in my life now. Not many because I’m happy with the way it’s gone; I’ve had a wonderful time. But yes, I’d do a few things differently; anyone would.
“I even thought before about writing notes to myself about your coming here and what’s happened this evening. I’d put them in a drawer where I know I’d find them after you’re gone. But it doesn’t work that way—once
you’re
flipped, everything vanishes, even secret notes to myself.
“If I
am
going to die soon, at least let me know when so I can walk in the woods with my dog a few more times and…”
As if on cue both dogs lifted their heads and looked in the same direction. D Train growled. D Train never growled.
Looking at the door Kaspar folded the drawings, handed them to Jane, and told her to put them somewhere safe. She slid them into an inside pocket of her parka and zipped it shut.
There was a knock at the front door. They looked at each other. Kaspar shook his head as if to say no, he wasn’t expecting anyone. He got up to answer it. Jane didn’t know if she should go with him or not. He left the room with the dogs close behind.
Moments later Jane felt a kind of tingle in her right elbow that grew quickly into a sharp pain. As she reached to touch the spot and rub it, she vanished.
Kaspar opened the front door not knowing who or what to expect on the other side. After his conversation with Jane, it could have been anyone or anything. If he knew she was gone now he would have been even more on guard.
“
Dean!
What are you doing here?”
His friend and partner stood on the top of the porch stairs. “I brought you something, Kaspar. Can we talk a minute?”
“Of course; Jane Claudius is here.”
“No she’s not.”
“Excuse me?”
“She’s gone; she was just flipped.”
Kaspar looked back into the house as if to check on her whereabouts. “I don’t understand.”
“Jane was flipped; you know what it means. What’s not to understand?” Dean shrugged.