Inherent Vice (30 page)

She returned to the Sound Mind to find that Cyborg Japonica had somehow malfunctioned and gone skipping into the kitchen and done something gross to the Soup of the Day, and now they would have to pour it all down the sink. Actually, it was the Soup of the Night, a sinister indigo liquid which probably didn
’
t deserve much respect, but still,
Cyborg Japonica could have showed some self-control. Naughty, impul
sive Cyborg Japonica. Perhaps Real Japonica should not let her have
those special high-voltage batteries she had been asking for. That would
show her.

Dr. Blatnoyd, escorting her out through a roomful of disapproving
faces, only grew more bedazzled. So this was a free-spirited hippie chick!
He saw these girls on the streets of Hollywood, on the TV screen, but
this was his first up-close encounter. No wonder Japonica
’s
parents didn
’
t
know what to do with her—his assumption here, which he didn
’
t examine too closely, being that he did.

“
And actually, I wasn
’
t too sure about who he was till I came in for
my first Smile Evaluation
...
”
At which point in Japonica
’
s reminiscing,
in popped the lecherous toothyanker himself, zipping up his fly.

“
Japonica? I thought we
’
d agreed never to—
”
Catching sight of Doc—
”
oh, you
’
re still here?
”

“
I escaped again, Rudy,
”
she twinkled.

Denis also now came lurching in.
“
Hey man, your ride
’
s in a body
shop.
”

“
It signed itself in, Denis?
”

“
I sort of mashed the front end. I was looking at these chicks out on
Little Santa Monica—
”

“
You went to Beverly Hills for a pizza, and rear-ended somebody
there.
”

“
Needs a new ... what do they call that, with the hoses, where the
steam comes out—
”

“
Radiator—Denis, you said you took driver ed in high school.
”

“
No, no, Doc, you said did they
have
Driver Ed, and I said yes cause
they did, this dude Eddie Ochoa, that there wasn
’
t a cop south of Salinas
could get near him, and that
’
s what everybody called him—
”

“
So, like, you ... never actually... learned ...
”

“
All that stuff they wanted you to
remember,
man?
”

Xandra, visibly disheveled, now came running in after Denis, yelling,
“
I told you you couldn
’
t come up here,
”
then spotted Japonica and screeched
to a halt.
“
Oh. Smile Maintenance Chick. How lovely,
”
while scaling tiny
glares Dr. Blatnoyd
’
s way like the star-shaped blades in kung fu movies.

“
Miss Fenway,
”
the doctor began to explain,
“
may seem a little psy
chotic today....
”

“
Groovy!
”
cried Denis.

“
What?
”
Blatnoyd blinking.

“
Being insane, man? it
’
s groovy, where are you
at,
man?
”

“
Denis ...
”
Doc murmured.

“
It is not
‘
groovy
’
to be insane. Japonica here has been institutional
ized for it.
”

“
Yep,
”
beamed Japonica.

“
Like, in the place? Psychedelic! They put those volts in your head, man?
”

“
Volts
‘
n
’
volts,
”
twinkled Japonica.

“
Whoa. Bad for
la cabeza,
man.
”

“
C
’
mon, Denis,
”
said Doc,
“
we’re
gonna have to figure out how to catch a bus back to the beach.
”

“
If you need a ride, I
’
m heading that way,
”
offered Japonica.

Running a fast eyeball diagnostic, Doc could see nothing too alarming—right at the moment she was being as sane as anybody here, not too many useful remarks Doc could pass, so he settled for,
“
Every
thing cool with your brakes and lights, Japonica? license-plate lights and
so forth?
”

“
A-OK? Just had Wolfgang in for periodic maintenance?
”

“
That
’
s
...
”

“
My car?
”
Yes, another warning buzzer, but Doc was now on to
obsessing over the vast numbers of law enforcement likely to be deployed
between here and the beach.

“
Excuse me,
”
wondered Xandra, who
’
d been staring at Denis,
“
is that
a slice of pizza on your hat?
”

“
Oh wow, thanks, man, I
’
ve been lookin all over for that
...
”

“
Mind if I tag along with you people?
”
asked Dr. Blatnoyd.
“
Contingencies of the road and so forth.
”

Wolfgang turned out to be a ten-year-old Mercedes sedan with a roof panel passengers could slide back, allowing them, like dogs in pickups, to stick their heads out in the wind if they wanted. Doc rode shotgun,
widebrim fedora down over his eyes, trying to ignore a deep foreboding.
Dr. Blatnoyd climbed in the back with Denis and then spent some time trying to push a
#66
market bag full of something under the front seat on Doc
’
s side.

“
Hey,
”
exclaimed Denis,
“
what
’
s in that bag you
’
re stuffing under Doc
’
s seat?
”

“
Pay no attention to that bag,
”
advised Dr. Blatnoyd.
“
It will only make everybody paranoid.
”

Which it did, except for Japonica, who was maneuvering them smoothly up Sunset through the late rush-hour traffic.

Denis had his head out the roof.
“
Drive slower,
”
he called down after
a while,
“
I want to dig this.
”
They were crossing Vine and about to go past Wallach
’
s Music City, where each of a long row of audition booths inside had
it’s
own lighted window facing the street. In every window, one by one as Japonica crept by, appeared a hippie freak or small party
of hippie freaks, each listening on headphones to a different rock
‘
n
’
roll
album and moving around at a different rhythm. Like Denis, Doc was used to outdoor concerts where thousands of people congregated to listen to music for free, and where it all got sort of blended together into
a single public self, because everybody was having the same experience.
But here, each person was listening in solitude, confinement and mutual
silence, and some of them later at the register would actually be spending money to hear rock
‘
n
’
roll. It seemed to Doc like some strange kind of dues or payback. More and more lately he
’
d been brooding about
this great collective dream that everybody was being encouraged to stay
tripping around in. Only now and then would you get an unplanned glimpse at the other side.

Denis waved, yelled and flashed peace signs, but nobody in any of the
booths noticed. At last he slid back down into the Mercedes.
“
Far out. Maybe they
’
re all stoned. Hey! That must be why they call those things
headphones!
”
He put his face closer to Dr. Blatnoyds than the dentist
was really comfortable with.
“
Think about that, man! Like,
headphones,
right?
”

Japonica was driving so skillfully that it wasn
’
t till they were out of the white dazzle of Hollywood and across Doheny that Doc noticed
(a) it was now dark and (b) the headlights weren
’
t on.

“
Ah, Japonica, like, your lights?
”

She was humming to herself, a tune Doc recognized, with dawning
concern, as the theme from
Dark Shadows.
After four more bars, he tried again.
“
Like, it would be so groovy, Japonica, really, to have some lights
working is all, seeing
‘
s how Beverly Hills cops are known to lurk uphill
on these different cross streets? just waiting for minor violations, like lights, to pop folks on?
”

Her humming was way too intense. Doc made the mistake of looking
over, only to find her staring at him and not the road, eyes glittering ferally through a blond curtain of California-chick hair. No, this was not reassuring. Though hardly a connoisseur of the freakout, he did recognize a wraparound hallucination when he saw one and understood
immediately that while she likely didn
’
t see Doc at all, whatever she
was
seeing was indeed physically
out there,
in the gathering fog, and just about to—

“
Everything all right, baby?
”
Rudy Blatnoyd rang in.

“
Oo-oooo
”
warbled Japonica, putting some vibrato onto it and stepping on the gas,
“
Ooo-ooo
woo-oo,
woo-ooo
...
”

Cross traffic, neighborhood machinery such as Excaliburs and Fer
raris, came blurring by at high speed, missing them by small clearances.
Dr. Blatnoyd, as if wishing to start a therapeutic discussion, was glaring at Denis.
“
There. That
’s
just what I
’
ve been talking about.
”

“
You didn
’
t say nothing about it happening while she
’
s driving, man.
”

Japonica had meantime decided that she must run every red light she
could find, even speeding up to catch some before they could turn green.
“
Urn, Japonica, my dear? That was a red light?
”
Blatnoyd pointed out helpfully.

“
Ooh, I don
’
t
think
so!
”
she explained blithely.
“
I think that was one of Its
eyes
!”

“
Oh. Well,
yes,
ⁿ
Doc soothed.
“
We can sure dig that, Japonica, but then again—
”

“
No, no, there
’
s no It
’
watching you!
”
Blatnoyd now in some agitation.
“
Those are not eyes,
’
those are warnings to come to a full stop and wait till the light turns green, don
’
t you remember learning that in school?
”