Authors: Rudy Rucker
Spaceland (31 page)
For a moment there were no results. The volleyball cop and the lady cop screwed up their courage and grabbed my arms. Had all my recent efforts been in vain? My frantic trip through Dronia to Okbra to Pointland to Lineland to Flat Matthewsboro back to Spacelandâhad it all been for nothing? Sooner or later the ropes tying off the hole would likely give, either on their own or because the Kluppers might return in force to cut them. And then Spaceland would be gone. I noticed an odd change in my feelings towards that last thought. Even if Spaceland did disappear, even if I diedâthe Presence would persist. At some deep level, everything was all right, no matter what.
I took a slow deep breath. A filigree of purple appeared upon the surface of the menacing black ball, splitting and branching till it covered every last bit. With a sudden lurch, the ball began to shrink. Faster and faster it drew together, collapsing in on itself. And then
pop,
the hole was gone. Space was well again.
pop,
the hole was gone. Space was well again.
The Wackle globs flowed and swirled as the Wackle tendrils drew back from Klupdom into Dronia. The fleeting shapes of a dozen cheering red devils flickered through the air so fast that you couldn't be sure you saw them. The onlookers gasped and then the Wackles, too, were gone. You would have thought everyone would have started cheering. But it was like they were too freaked to realize
what I'd just done for them. I'd saved the universe, and did I get any praise? Far from it. Nobody even wanted to look at me. I was a troublemaker getting busted.
what I'd just done for them. I'd saved the universe, and did I get any praise? Far from it. Nobody even wanted to look at me. I was a troublemaker getting busted.
“We've got a complaint against you, sir,” said the mustached cop at my side. The lady cop was holding my hands behind my back and fastening plastic cuffs onto them.
“Here's a blanket,” said the fat-necked boss cop, stepping forward. “Cover him up.”
“Let's go out to the car now, sir,” said the lady cop as she wrapped the blanket around my shoulders, draping it to cover my nakedness. She turned me around and began frog-marching me towards the coffee-shop door.
“Stop,” I cried. “What's the charge? I just saved the universe!”
“You can talk about it when they book you,” said the roll-necked cop. “Move along quietly, sir, or the officers will have to use force. And, frankly sir, we'd rather not. It's an ugly thing to beat a naked man.”
“Let me talk to my wife!” I protested. “Jena! Tell them it's okay!”
“Clement made a complaint about our office getting trashed,” Jena told me. “I think he told them you set off a bomb. He's really mad at you. We're having an emergency meeting at MeYou at seven o'clock. I'll tell him to lighten up.” She wasn't looking me in the eye.
“What else?” I demanded.
“We have to go now, sir,” said the lady cop, giving me another shove. “You can make a phone call from downtown.”
“What else?” I yelled at Jena. Where was her gratitude?
“It's Spazz,” whispered Jena before the cops could push her away. “He and Clement think we should turn the Mophones back on. For the IPO.”
“No!” I screamed. Sure, at some level everything was fundamentally all right, but there was no reason to let some freaking greedheads
throw away our whole universe for an IPO! “You have to stop them, Jena!”
throw away our whole universe for an IPO! “You have to stop them, Jena!”
She shrugged and maybe shook her head, and then I was in the back of the cop car, cuffed and naked in a blanket, looking out the window with the raindrops running down it. The mustached cop and the lady cop sat in front. Just to make everything the more desperate and stressful, guess who I saw walking up to Jena as the cop car pulled away? Sante the gangster, wearing an Oakland Raiders jacket, a black pork-pie hat and wraparound shades. With all the cops around, Jena took it casually. Sante said something to her and she pointed me out to him. He did a double take, then started laughing, his teeth white against his tan skin. He wagged his finger at me as we drove away. Then gave me a thumbs up like he was going to help me. Right.
The cops headed towards the freeway; they were taking me to San Jose. Right before the on-ramp, we passed the former Mophone headquarters. The building had completely collapsed to a wet, muddy heap of sheetrock and splintered wood. There were some TV reporters in the yard, filming. A Channel 2 van was just heading past us towards the Los Perros Coffee Roasting. They were too late for the real story. I wondered if it was ever going to be told.
It was rush hour. The freeway was gridlocked and the rain was gusting down. The cops didn't talk to me and I didn't talk to them. We were moving towards San Jose at a crawl, even with the driver blinking his lights and burping his siren. I was kind of happy for the chance to rest. What a mind-boggling trip it had been.
I flashed back to the image of naked Tulip in my bed. In some ways the high point of the day. I wondered if Tulip had gotten over thinking I was a Satanist. I hadn't realized she was quite that superstitious. Well, if she thought the Mophones were the devil's work, maybe she'd fight Clement's plan to turn them on. Or would she? After all, she'd been planning to spend today shopping for a
Mercedes. She'd be home at her sister's by now, a family-sized curry cooking on the stove. Maybe they had the TV going, and Tulip, was seeing the collapsed Mophone building on the news right now. She'd be wondering if I was okay, maybe worrying about me. She'd called me her dear sweet Joe. Did I have any chance of a relationship with her? Worth a try.
Mercedes. She'd be home at her sister's by now, a family-sized curry cooking on the stove. Maybe they had the TV going, and Tulip, was seeing the collapsed Mophone building on the news right now. She'd be wondering if I was okay, maybe worrying about me. She'd called me her dear sweet Joe. Did I have any chance of a relationship with her? Worth a try.
If nothing else, hooking up with Tulip would be a good way of stopping myself from drifting back to Jena. Tulip could be like a Loplop to gnaw the ingrown feelings for Jena out of my flesh. If that's what I really wanted. I thought of Loplop and pumpkin-faced Jacqui trying to feed me to their anemone Mother. And then Kangy the cuttlefish saving me and growing a fake Jena to talk to me inside her mouth. Man oh man, the stuff I'd seen today!
But I was mad at Jena again. What was that number she'd pulled at the Roasting just now? First of all, no thanks or praise, and then she'd been shaking her head when I asked her to stop Spazzâand then she'd pointed me out to Sante? Bitch. Well, maybe she hadn't been shaking her head. I shouldn't always be so fast to turn against Jena. Maybe it had been more of a worried, who-knows-type shrug. And maybe Jena had been right to make sure Sante saw me being hauled off in cuffs. Give the guy a little comradely sympathy for me. Help him like grasp that Joe Cube wasn't carrying around a million bucks in pocket change for the first bullying cheeseball who asked for it. That smile and thumbs-up Sante had given me, what had that been about? Somehow I had the feeling Sante wasn't really going to try and do anything to Jena. In any case, she'd be smart enough to hang with the cops till he was gone.
I turned my thoughts to higher things. To Drabk, and the way we'd climbed that endlessly dimensional vine to Okbra. To the Presence. I tried to bring back the state of mind I'd been in, that feeling of being One with the essence of the Cosmos. Inching along the freeway in handcuffs, I couldn't quite get it back. For that
matter, I was finding it hard to even imagine hyperspace. I'd had the fourth dimension in my mind for these last two months, what with my third eye sticking vout into the All to peer vinn at our world, and me able to see the insides and outsides of everything all the time. But now that was gone. I could remember the feelings, and some isolated images, but I couldn't put them together into a four-dimensional whole. Vinn and voutâwhere were they?
matter, I was finding it hard to even imagine hyperspace. I'd had the fourth dimension in my mind for these last two months, what with my third eye sticking vout into the All to peer vinn at our world, and me able to see the insides and outsides of everything all the time. But now that was gone. I could remember the feelings, and some isolated images, but I couldn't put them together into a four-dimensional whole. Vinn and voutâwhere were they?
Even though there was a Kevlar window between the front and back seats of the cop car, I could clearly hear the staticky messages crackling over the cops' radio. There was some kind of accident up ahead. The driver took this as excuse to turn on his siren and swing into the breakdown lane. We were still only halfway to San Jose. At slack time on a good traffic day, you could drive to Jose from Los Perros in fifteen minutes. But we'd already been on the road for half an hour. The rain still pouring down. Californians had no clue about how to drive in rough weather. Even this cop wasn't doing too good a job; I could feel our car fishtailing. Of course if I said anything he'd probably Taze me or club me. It occurred to me that I was sick of Californians. Deep down, I didn't really like it here. In an odd kind of way, being in Flat Matthewsboro had made me miss Colorado.
We maneuvered our way around the accident, and then the traffic lightened up a little. I could see the stubby office buildings of San Jose with an airplane gliding over them for a landing. Seen from the side like this, you couldn't see the plane's wings. It looked like a silver pod, settling down like a saucer. That got me to thinking about the Kluppers. It was kind of a miracle they hadn't stopped me from fixing the hole in space. If they'd really come after the Wackles in force, they could easily have driven them away. It must have been only Momo's family and their grolly guards behind the plot to destroy Spaceland.
If Spazz and Treed didn't turn the Mophones back on, everything
might be okay. It was hard to believe they were even considering doing something so reckless. Like oil companies who wouldn't admit there was such a thing as global warming. But more so, much more. Surely Jena would be able to tell them how crazy their idea was. The hole of Nothing had almost swallowed her, for God's sake. Had she really shaken her head when I'd asked her to stop them?
might be okay. It was hard to believe they were even considering doing something so reckless. Like oil companies who wouldn't admit there was such a thing as global warming. But more so, much more. Surely Jena would be able to tell them how crazy their idea was. The hole of Nothing had almost swallowed her, for God's sake. Had she really shaken her head when I'd asked her to stop them?
Oh well. I slumped back into the seat. If I leaned on my shoulder instead of onto my cuffed hands, it was pretty comfortable. My body felt better than it had in a long time. Not only was I no longer four dimensional, I wasn't hooked on grolly anymore. I was light instead of heavy Slack instead of tight. Content instead of needy. The Presence was everywhere.
We splashed through the wet, gritty dusk and pulled up at the central San Jose jail, a six-story concrete building on First Street near Route 880 and the airport. It was ugly here; the planes were screaming past overhead. My mood had darkened again. You save the freaking' universe and they hall you off to jail?
A TV crew had gotten there before us; they shot footage of me being taken out of the car. It was live for the six o'clock news, and my two cops walked extra slow to get some camera time. I could hear the newswoman talking as we approached. She was trim, heavily made-up, Vietnamese. She had the perfect sprightly California accent, with each word chirped and bitten-off just so. It was like you were listening to juicy high-school gossip.
“Coming towards us now is suspected bomber Joe Cube. Apparently distraught over his job termination from the high-tech communication start-up, Mophone Inc., Cube has been accused of blowing up his workplace. The blast leveled the Mophone headquarters in Los Perros, temporarily closing down the Mophone service. A low-speed police chase ended at the Lots Perros Coffee Roasting Company less than an hour ago. Reports of damage to the popular coffee shop are still coming in. How does this affect the
wildly popular new Mophone? Mophone founder Clement Treed promises to restore service in twenty-four hours.” She held a microphone towards me. “Are you guilty, Mr. Cube?”
wildly popular new Mophone? Mophone founder Clement Treed promises to restore service in twenty-four hours.” She held a microphone towards me. “Are you guilty, Mr. Cube?”
The cameraman had me in his sights. This was my chance to warn the public. “Whatever you do, don't turn your Mophones back on,” I said, talking fast before the cops could pull me away. “They made a hole in space. I fixed it. Arresting me was a big mistake. I'm a hero. I saved the universe!”
The newswoman's eyes stared past me at the camera. “Suspected Mophone bomber Joe Cube,” she repeated. “Live from the San Jose Courthouse. More on this breaking story on the ten o'clock news. This is Thu Nguyen. Back to you, Jim.”
Up on the fourth story of the jail, they booked me on the bombing charges. A lady detective read me my rights and asked me to make a statement. I declined. While I'd been talking to the TV camera, I'd been able to step outside of myself a little bit and hear how I sounded, all naked and wrapped in a blanket. I sounded like I was nuts. Anything I put in a statement would just make things worse. My best bet was to wait for Clement to drop the charges. Or for the facts to sort themselves out. And to try, if I could, to get out on bail. The detective said a magistrate would set the amount when he came in after his supper. She had one of her assistants dig up some homeless-shelter-type free clothes for me, mustard-colored polyester bell-bottoms and a Judas Priest heavy metal sweatshirt, both of them too small. And some running shoes that were too big.
Before they locked me up, I got a chance to make my phone call. It was a pay phone on the wall, with a bored guard standing a few feet away watching me. No need to call Jena, she knew where I was. And calling the Mophone lawyer Stu Koblenz seemed like a waste of time. Clement Treed was paying Stu's bills; he wasn't going to help me unless Clement told him too. The detective said I'd get
a second call to find a bail bondsman after the magistrate came in. So, what the hell, I called Tulip. Maybe she was the one to talk sense to Spazz.
a second call to find a bail bondsman after the magistrate came in. So, what the hell, I called Tulip. Maybe she was the one to talk sense to Spazz.
“Joe!?” she exclaimed. “I just saw you on TV! Are you out of jail so fast?”
“I'm still in here, Tulip. You're my one call. I had to talk to you.”
“To me?” Her voice cracked. “About what?”
“You left in such a hurry this morning,” I said. “Holding up your cross at me. Get real, Tulip. Those things you saw weren't devils, they were Wackles. Hyperdimensional aliens who happen to be red. They're no more Satanic than house plants.”
“I've been wondering all day,” said Tulip. “Maybe I did jump to some conclusions. Like I've told you, I've seen a lot of supernatural horror movies. You're not really evil at all, are you, Joe?”
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