Identity Matrix (1982) (29 page)

"I can't do anything about Harry Parch or to him. But I wrote down a whole list of names and dates of some pretty big customers at Cougar over the years and I got it so it'll hit the papers if I disappear. You got that?"

"Take it easy, Babe. I'll do what I can!"

I hung up on him, feeling a lot better.

Dory, I found, was standing next to me, and she was staring at me, openmouthed. "Wow. I didn't think you had it in you."

"Neither did I, but, damn it, I'm tired of being pushed, shoved, brain processed, chased, and all. We done what we could and that's that."

"Your grammar slipped, you know," she noted. "You sounded like a whole different person, accent and all." I nodded. "Meet the real Misty Carpenter."

"Think Parch'll buy it?"

"I think so," I told her honestly. "If we're in Vegas we're under his thumb, so to speak, and he has nothing to gain now. In his own way he's a reasonable man.

We just don't matter any more, Dory."

"I hope you're right," she said sincerely.

I wasn't about to call Al from the hotel, but we went back there to settle down and wait for the magic hour.

We didn't say much about the future, or the risks involved, nor did I, at least, dwell on them. I think I'd just been tensioned and pressured out. I was just too sick and tired of this to be scared any more. I'd had plenty of sleep, yet I felt completely worn out, inside and out.

There wasn't much on TV and we finally went through the papers, and, for a while, we just sat around list-lessly, letting it all wear off. Finally I said, "I think I'

m going to take a shower and just wind down."

Dory looked over and smiled. "Want company? We can save water and do each other's backs."

I laughed and said "sure" and we did. In the process, the tension seemed to lift, and we got to playing around with each other, scrubbing the sensitive spots, and when we got out and dried off we both flopped nude on the bed.

"Misty?"

"Yes?"

"What happens if Parch buys the deal? What happens
then?"

"I use the credit cards for a plane to Vegas, we rent a car—mine's still up in Tahoe—and pick up all the left luggage. Then we check into the best hotel suite we can find and get the best dinner in Vegas."

"No, not immediately. After. In the long term."

"I make a pretty good living, and I have a lot of contacts from my old clientele," I told her. "I got a solid four-week contract with the Imperial Lounge, which is Joe's place, which I can parlay into a lot more, either with Joe or some of the others there, if I'm a hit."

"You'll be a hit. With those moves you're the best in
the business, I bet."

I smiled. "And, if I get long-term work, we find a condo or something there and settle in. Buy furniture, clothes, you name it."

"And where do I come in? I mean—what's
my
future? Yours is pretty secure."

"As long as the looks last," I admitted, turning on my hide to look at her. "But I don't see what you're conc-erned about. You can do anything you want to do."

"I'm not sure just what I
do
want to do. Since—coming back—I really haven'

t allowed myself to think about the next day. Now I have to—and I have no place to go, no
money, no job, not even a real cover identity so I can get a driver's license or social security card or anything like that. No high school diploma, nothing—and I at least deserve that, having gone through it twice."

I looked at her strangely. "Dory, you have a place
.
Wherever I am you have a place, money, whatever
you need. I can't hack this world alone, not any more.

Maybe the original Misty could, but I can't. I need you very badly."

"Sure, for now. But when you get the big time and all those big-shots are around with their flashy everything, it might be different."

I sat up, turned, and stared at her. "Dory, you little idiot! I'm in
love
with you!

Don't you understand that? I've been in love with you since the first day we met on the boat. I need you terribly, with me, always. Without you, all the rest doesn'

t mean a thing."

Her face broke into a broad smile and she got up and hugged me. "Oh, Misty!

That's all I wanted to hear!"

And we made love there, for the first time, an act stronger than sex but which made sex all the better. It was as Stuart said. It wasn't who you were on the outside but who you really were, on the inside, that mattered most, that was the only thing that was really important.

And the lovemaking lasted and lasted and lasted....

I would not give up men—and possibly she wouldn't, either. A part of me, at least, required the physical act. But
I knew then that I could love only this
one, and make love only to this one person, this individual, this wonderful human being.

And after we just lay there, caressing each other ten-derly, saying very little for a while. Finally Dory sighed and said, "Misty? You know, after all this,
I
finally
found it."

"Found what, honey?"

"My place. Normalcy. A real life. For the first time I
like
myself, see a real future. I'm whole, Misty! I'm not a freak any more! I'm a real person and I'm very, very happy."

I smiled, recalling my own conflicts. Whole people. Neither of us would ever have been whole or happy as our former selves, doomed to go through life slightly askew. The Urulu, although it wasn't their motive, had accomplished a lot, and, oddly, so had IMC, even Harry Parch. Not deliberately, of course, but it was there all he same. I didn't know, had never known, two people so much in love and so filled with caring for each other as Dory and I were now, yet, even there, those external forces had twisted and turned us for the better. I rid myself of my maleness, so to speak, and became a real woman, while Dory faced down and made peace with her inner demon. And, knowing that body-switching was not only possible but was practiced by all sorts of crea-tures, including the U.S.

Government, removed any last stigma that might linger in the mind about love be-tween two women. When men could be women, or women, men, at the flick of a switch or the touch of an alien hand, what difference did your body really make? fall, short, fat, thin, old, young, male, female, black, white, red, yellow ...

all irrelevant.

Was this, perhaps, the Urulu promise? A civilization that never looked to the outside, only
inside?
Who saw and reacted only to the real person within, regardless of physical form? It was an exciting possibility, one made all the more likely by the Urulu's own nature. Would
my
race that evolved with this ability pay any attention to looks or superficialities at all? Not among their own people, certainly.

I wondered again what they were really like. Not at all like us, certainly. And not totally free themselves of prejudices and hang-ups, since they had so little regard for us warm-blooded mammals.

And there was the rub. The authoritarian empire they had encountered had been led by a race like ours, a race that had itself discovered, rather than evolved, the mys-tery of the identity matrix. Had evolved with our con-ept of physical, superficial differences being important. Their prejudices, like those of Harry Parch and those who pulled his strings, shaped their use of the identity matrix, and had distorted and perverted its potential. No wonder the Urulu couldn't grasp us as a race worth saving! They couldn't see how we could evolve except into a new mini-Association.

And they might well be right, I told myself. Certainly we had failed, but, damn it, we had done our best. Done everything that was asked of us, to the best of our ability. We could only hope now that there were others to take up the fight and that one of them would succeed. A pity, though, I thought. We—Dory and I—were, I felt, closer to the Urulu, or at least its ideal, than any other human beings on Earth. Stuart, though, poor Stuart, had at least seen this potential.

Suddenly I had a thought and sat up, grabbing for the clock.

"What's the matter?"

"It's after nine! I didn't call Al back!"

Dory got up and shook her head. "We were at it for
hours. Wow."

I kissed her and jumped out of bed. "And it was wonderful, too. But I have to make that call."

I was still only half-dressed when the telephone rang in the hotel room. I jumped at-the sound, then turned, and stared at it for a moment. It was one of those' internal things, without even a dial. Who would be call-ing
this
room?

Hesitantly, I picked up the receiver. "Yes?"

"Miss, ah, Carpenter, when you failed to call at eight I decided to wait a bit, but finally decided to call you, instead," said Harry Parch.

I almost dropped the phone. Dory saw my horrified expression and I mouthed Parch to her. That made her sit up fast.

"Go on," I told him, trying to sound brave.

"I took this step as a demonstration of good faith," he continued. "As you can see, we know where you are, and could have picked you up at any time if we'd wanted. Actually, I must congratulate you. We did not pick you up at all, and I have no idea how you got where you are... However, we had excellent photos of your friend from the Indian school, and we spotted her when she boarded the bus. From that point we just followed her directly to you."

I nodded glumly to myself. It
had
seemed all too easy. "So why didn't you pick us up yesterday?" I asked him.

"Basically, we wanted to see what you'd do. We have not been kind to the two of you, who are the most innocent people in this mess, and we would prefer not to do any more. You
didn't
go to the papers, you
didn't
run around hysterically, you just accepted things, and that is what we wanted to know. Miss Carpenter, when I received your message today I can not tell you how
happy it made us. You have chosen the best course for you, for us, for everyone. I believe we can finally end all this, or, at least, your part in it, and you and your friend can go about the rest of your lives."

I felt excitement and relief rising in me. I covered the mouthpiece and whispered to Dory, "He's going to buy
i
t!"

"Then we're free to leave? To go back and pick up our lives?"

"Yes, indeed. You understand, of course, that we will keep a watch on both of you, and that if you cause trouble in the future this arrangement may have to be modified. But, as long as you don't rock the boat, nei-ther will we."

"That sounds fair enough," I told him. "But there's one minor point you could help with."

"Oh?"

"Legal identities. I'm sort of real, but Dory's got real problems. She needs proof of citizenship."

He sounded surprised. "Why, she's got it—and so have you. We don't do things halfway. There really was a Misty Ann Carpenter, but she died at the age of three months and is buried in Cedar Point Cemetery in a pauper's gravesite.

Delores Eagle Feather had a similar late in Yakima, Washington, but her birth certificate's on file there. Use those. No one will ask or question you about them.

It's done all the time."

I nodded to myself. Finally, I said, "Parch—one more last thing on this matter."

"Yes?"

"Pauley. He said the Redeemed were the enemy and that they could switch."

1

He sighed. "I know. They use the First Amendment as a weapon. But we're working on it, that's all I can say. It's not your battle now. Go find a home. There are others more qualified to carry the burden. Goodbye, Miss Carpenter."

"Goodbye, Mr. Parch."

And that was that.

It was, in fact, as easy as Parch claimed. We blew the last of the cash on a quick flight back, called the Sands for a minibus, and were settled in in less than four hours. I was relieved to find that not only was my big wardrobe still in storage, but the nice old geezer at the motel still had the bag I'd left.

The city lost its ugliness and was alit with neon splen-dor at two in the morning, open and doing business all around. There are no clocks in casinos, and they work on a timeless schedule which many of the restaurants I and other places also follow.

On Monday we went to the bank and then on some-thing of a shopping spree. It was far different than before. Las Vegas was its former glamorous, unthreatening self once again, and we had each other and were no longer alone.

A black, heavy weight had been lifted from both of us and we were like kids.

Both of us had ourselves practically done over, the only complaint from Dory that needed my hair blond and curly again, and Dory seemed almost born anew.

She had her hair styled into a page-boy, bought some really nice clinging fashions, and, in a slinky, satiny silk dress, heels, and some jewelry transformed herself into a stunningly beautiful woman.

We wrote for our birth certificates and got them, ap-plying for passports, the ultimate stamp of legitimacy although we didn't feel like going anywhere, got her a
driver's license, and bank accounts, and found a small but comfortable apartment away from the Strip in a nice safe neighborhood.

Joe was delighted to see me and launched the club with a big publicity blitz.

It was a real class show in a real class setting, and a damned good location—no gambling, of course, but sandwiched between two busy casi-nos. We did really great business, and Joe was so happy
he offered me thirty weeks for thirty thousand. I took it, of course, but not before Dory looked over all the contracts, deals, and exclusions. It was clear I was the star and centerpiece of the show, she said, and if I could establish my dominance during that run the place would he so identified with me that they'd wind up eventually riving me a piece of the club.

She got around the high school problem by taking the G.E.D., a real snap according to her, then enrolled in night courses in business administration. She became my manager, more or less, making most of the deci-sions, controlling the money and spending, even getting me on some local TV and, through that, an agent with powerful connections.