Elvissey (28 page)

"You don't have to give," I said. "You just have to be.
That's all that's wanted, nothing more-"

"Don't you mean they want me to be him, not me?" said
E. "How can I do that? He wasn't even him, near's I can tell."

"You're advantaged," I said. "He had no expectations of
what would happen. No warning. All that ensued overwhelmed until he mindlost. But we've awared you of what's
ahead, good and bad."

"You're the only one talkin' to me 'bout anything bad."

"The bad's seeable to any who look," I said. "You've
looked." He nodded. "You're prepared, and he wasn't. But
your life's your own, and will stay your own."

"Not to hear Leverett tell it," E said. "He showed me this
schedule he's cookin' up for me once this act gets rollin'.
He's got me flyin' here, runnin' there-"

"Leverett's unhappy unless he sees everyone else being so
busy as he believes he is," I said.

"Won't know if I'm comin' or goin' or already been
there." He sat on a purple sofa and propped his feet atop a
glass table. "And nobody t'talk to but you, the whole time."
"That's minded?"

"Doesn't do much good," he said. "You're married to a
mean bastard, Isabel. I'm not gettin' in his way if I can help
it."

"Friendship's the most I'm offering," I said, feeling my
answer wasn't entirely truthful even as I gave it. Still, I wasn't
willing to elaborate, as I wasn't certain what I'd already
offered. "That's not enough?"

"Isabel, you're, I mean-"

"You're attracted to me?"

I awaited his response, suspecting I knew the answer even
if he didn't. We looked at one another, eyegazing; he turned
away first, and lapped his hands as if to hide them. "You're
older'n I am, Isabel," he said, and his sneer reappeared on
his lip; estimating it unintentional, I didn't personalize. "And you're married, like I said. You're really pretty, you
are, and I-"

"What?"

"I don't know," he said. "Maybe I do like you, Isabel. I
never met anybody like you before."

"Understandable, I'd think-"

"I don't mean all this. I mean the way you are. It's not like
anybody I know."

"Detail," I said.

"I never knew anybody who was in control of themselves
before," he said. "Not my mamma or daddy. Nobody at
school. Me, least of all. But you are."

"You think I'm in control of myself?"

"You don't?"

I smiled, considering the notion so alien as to charm even
as it befogged me. Whether I'd been utterly misviewed or,
like my husband, E could at intervals discern personality
traits inevident to all others, including the personality's
possessor, I couldn't guess. "Rarely," I said. "The river rises,
and I float with the flood. That's all any can do."

"You can do more'n that," he said. "Don't let 'em fool
you.

"Understood," I said. "You've a lever here too, you
know."

"What're you talkin' about?" he asked, looking around.

"If you don't participate, the project hangs. If the project
goes, you should have some say in what's done. True?"

"I don't see I got much choice."

"Mayhap I haven't either," I said, examining my deepening tan; remembering how easily Leverett rolled, once I
pushed him. "Tell them what you choose before they tell
you, if you can. It's bargaining, after all. Two steps forward,
one back, two forward-"

"What if you're walkin' through a swamp?" E asked.
Before I could reply I heard a buzzing echoing through the
rooms, followed by the ring of Leverett's voice.

"Conversing well?" he asked, entering the room as the
door slid away. E turned his eyes upward, as if to look into
his head and see what might remain there that was still his.
"What a view, isn't it? In clear air you'll see New Hampshire
from here."

Clouds dampened the glass, obscuring the sight of all that
lay without. "You're early, Leverett," I said. He seated himself on the couch between us; I scooted away from them
both. A small man entered the room, his progress slowed by
his weightload; he lugged a portfolio nearly so tall as he was,
if flatter.

"Elvis, Isabel, this is Walter. He's our project's imagist."

"He's my what?" E asked.

"We're formulating the presentation of appropriate
looks, dependent on circumstance. Walter's prepared examples for your approval. Walter? What's troubling?"

Walter stared at E as if watching his house burn down.
"Forgive," he said, headshaking. "The resemblance uncan-
nies."

"Intentionally unavoidable," Leverett said. "One and the
same, that's him. The one and only. Show Elvis what we've
brought. Show him how others see him."

"Don't these people already know what I look like?"

"You're no stranger to advertising, surely," said Leverett.
Walter opened his case, withdrawing and unrolling a lifesize
poster of E. "For the domestic market, befitting 19 to 22
dems," said Leverett. "Stunning, isn't it?"

I saw at once that they'd not retained the artist who'd
captured the Drydens' image. E's figure showed half-shadowed; such lower extremities as were seeable faded into mist,
as if he had emerged imperfectly from a lamp rubbed the
wrong way. His one-eyed gaze targeted all onlookers.
Enough of his chest puffed out against the black to reveal
our emblematic there imprinted, its circle aglitter with
jewels.

"That supposed to be me?" E asked.

"The hint of unreality is not only desirable but demanded," Leverett explained. "Artistic improvements on
nature. Nothing personal."

"You can't even see who or what I'm supposed to be-"

"That's inferable. An image modicum is suitable for those
particular dems. Outlines hold depth enough," said Walter.
"Black's their color, certainly." From his case he pulled a
second roll, of similar size and format. "Image two. For the
Northern European and Russian market."

Image two consisted of a photo of our own E, his features
so retouched that he resembled any postcard image of the
Central Asian dictators. A jumpsuit so white and beglim-
mered as a filmscreen was painted over his form; he gazed
heavenward, as if sighting the land upon which his followers
would one day be allowed to pitch their camps. The sun
backdropped him; whether it rose or set depended upon the
onlooker's attitude. No face scarred its golden orb, though
the yellow was assuredly that of Dryco.

"Didn't you tell me I wasn't gonna haveta wear those sissy
suits?" E asked. "And you got me weighin' four hundred
pounds in that picture. I told you I wasn't gonna get fat."

"This image holds global acceptance, even allowing for
racial variation," said Walter. "Simplify, dealing with the
simple."

"People see you as they choose," Leverett said. "Actual
weight's unimportant. They'll reconstruct you after you've
been viewed as they see fit."

"A bulking diet was considered," said Walter, "but to
attain such size within two months, thirty thousand calories
daily would essential. Difficult. Here, now." He extracted a
third look from his binder, and opened it before us. E's
bloated head was haloed by the world's globe; his features
were so drawn as to suggest he contained all races within
himself. Below his glow was the lettered command, DO GOOD.
FEEL REAL.

"A bit overt," said Walter, "yet possesses full shopability
while retaining Elvisceral heritage."

"What's thought, Elvis?" Leverett asked; resumed spieling
before E had a chance to answer. "Well, I knew you'd approve." He motioned that Walter should stow what he'd
brought. "We're going to break you in England, it's been
decided."

"Why England?" E asked. "What's there?"

"Your British followers were first to formally recognize
your divinity."

"No such thing."

"Elvis, please," said Leverett. "They're the most serious of
your counterpart's followers. He never went there, while he
was alive. Half the populace is yours outright, the moment
you deplane. It's the natural stepoff for all else."

"They'll think I lead the sons of darkness," E said.

"In a picturesque sense, perhaps," said Leverett.

"That's unnatural. They're worse'n heatherns if that's
what they think-"

"We'll see to their souls, so remain unconcerned."

E shook his head; windowgazed as if wondering whether
to throw himself through. "I don't get it," he said. "I don't.
I just don't get it-"

"Calm," Leverett said. "As we've told you, your unwillingness to innergrate problematics more than is necessary. Just
calm, calm, calm. Close your eyes and take deep breaths.
Like this."

"You've something besides these visuals planned, haven't
you?" I asked, interrupting Leverett's hyperventilation. He
shifted his attention to me, appearing irritated that I needed
to speak.

"What's meant?" he asked.

"These posters'll do fine, thirdworlding it. They'd have
been fine here, thirty years ago. Outmoded now, don't you
think?"

"We've many plans arranged, Isabel," Leverett said, turn ing back toward E. "Unconcern. Calm, calm, calm. All's
arranged-"

"It occurs to me that these'll be overlooked, if publicity's
intended," I said; the veins along Leverett's temples
throbbed, as if he'd been running. "Are environads designed? Online services? These prints are nothing."

"These prints are my idea, Isabel," he said. E said nothing;
eyed us as I proceeded.

"And thirty years ago they'd have sufficed," I said. "The
public's mediaed out, Leverett. It seems to me that there
should be a plan for directly entering info into those sectors
of the public you wish to influence, otherwise they'll never
pick it up. My point's seen, isn't it?"

"All's under control," Leverett repeated, stating it with
such surety that I knew it couldn't be so. "Unconcern yourself and we'll continue."

"I was advocating, no more," I said. "If everything's controlled, then all should go as desired." Leverett sighed;
stared at me a moment longer than I would have expected
before continuing to speak to E.

"It's essentialled we reveal you within a performance medium," he said. "Our London office will arrange a suitable
setup before departure. Cast aside fear of being sewn into
one of those jumpsuits, Elvis. At present an earlier look, your
own, should probably suffice as required."

"Good, 'cause I told you I wasn't gonna wear one a those
gladrags." E glanced my way; by his look I gathered that he
was enjoying our contrarying Leverett so much as I was;
Leverett, sandwiched between us, appeared not to notice
our delight, and continued relating his scheme.

"We'll see each sight in turn," he told E. "Now, practice
essentials in prepping you to onstage. No speeches'll be
necessary, the first time out. Later we'll supply you with
appropriate phrases and answers to those concerns your
people may have-"

"They're not my people," E said. "They're his."

"They're Dero, as it were-" I offered.

"I'm gonna be singin'?"

"I have a playlist readied," Leverett said.

"Songs I like or songs that he useta sing?"

"What's familiar is always best appreciated."

"Not if I don't like it," E said, standing up and retrieving
the guitar Dryco had provided him. He strummed the strings,
breaking one; though the instrument appeared acoustic, the
sound was electric. "Lemme play somethin' I'm good at. I
know a song 'bout London. Give you a' idea a what I can
do."

"We know what you can do, Elvis, we've heard and seen
you-

"You mean you heard and seen him," E said. "Just sit
there and listen. If I'm the one singin', I oughta have a say.
Right, Isabel?"

I nodded; Leverett stared at me, and I shuddered as his
smile returned. As E began playing his chords I realized that
he played so well as he sang. Mayhap he'd listened to his
counterpart's sounds long enough to realize not only what
he could do, but grasped as well that he might do better.
When E sang he sounded as Elvis might have, and did on the
earliest records, as if he'd dropped into the studio from
another world, neither ours nor his.

"Not all of the songs playlisted were done by your counterpart," Leverett interjected, seizing a pause in the airspace, "but those that weren't suit the image. Have you ever
heard `Teen Angel'-?"