The Link (16 page)

“All right,” says Peter in the testing room. “Today we have a test the like of which has never been attempted to my knowledge.”

He explains that Teddie, bored by local distance perception tests, made a suggestion for something “more interesting”.

Namely, use a map of the United States to pick out, at random, ten latitude and longitude coordinates, then see if, knowing nothing else, Teddie can describe those locations.

Accordingly, a friend of Lee Easton, not associated with ESPA, has chosen ten sets of coordinates in degrees, minutes and seconds. He has asked another friend to check them out and sent the coordinates to ESPA in sealed envelopes. The random choice generator will select one of the numbered envelopes and Teddie will attempt to “see” that location and describe it.

No one at ESPA has the least idea what exists at any one of the coordinates.

Even the man who picked them out has no idea what exists at them.

Will Teddie be able to travel to them and describe them?

“Why not?” growls Teddie. “Did I come here to go to the bathroom?”

He looks at Robert then. “He’ll stay with me,” he says.

Robert tenses. “Why me?”

“Listen, I’m the goddam star here, I get what I want,” says Teddie with a pseudo-snarl.

Robert is trapped. He exchanges a look with Cathy as she leaves. Clearly, she is wondering again what bothers him.

Then Robert and Teddie are together in the testing room.

Teddie opens the envelope and looks at the coordinates, grunts. He hands the slip of paper to Robert. “I would say approximately three thousand miles away. Would you?”

Robert glances at the coordinates. “If you say so,” he replies.

“All right, let’s take a look,” says Teddie, his tone seeming to include Robert.

He closes his eyes, puffing leisurely on his cigar. Robert swallows, staring at him.

Fleeting visions start to drift across his mind. A sense of flying. Rolling hills in the distance. Trees below.

He starts and tries to blank his mind, watching Teddie intently.

The visions persist. Flying. Rolling hills. A city in the distance. Tall buildings. Smog.

Again, he tries to thrust away the visions. But it is as though they thrust themselves back into his mind despite his will.

Untended lawns. What look like bunkers. A flagpole. Highways to the left. A river to the right.

“Are you getting anything?” Peter’s voice breaks in over the p.a. system. Robert twitches, almost answers.

“All right, all right,” grumbles Teddie. He opens his eyes for a moment and glances at Robert as though amused. Then closing his eyes again, he speaks. “Cliffs to the east; a river. Fences to the north. A circular building, probably a tower. Buildings to the north. A city. Tall buildings. Smog.”

Robert shivers.

“Untended lawns,” says Teddie. “Highways to the west, a river to the east. What look like—bunkers, I guess. There’s a flagpole.”

Robert watches mutely as Teddie opens his eyes, grabs a pad and pencil and quickly sketches a detailed map of the target site he has seen. He hands it over to Robert.

“Look right to you?” he asks.

Robert can barely speak. “How should I know?” he asks.

Teddie frowns at him. “Get off it,” he mutters scornfully.

The call comes back from the friend of Easton’s friend. The target site chosen by the generator was a former Nike base in Florida.

Teddie’s map is accurate.
Even the relative distances on it are to scale
.

“Good God in heaven,” Peter murmurs.

Only Cathy notices Robert’s reaction as everyone cheers and applauds, pats Teddie on the back. “Shucks,” says Teddie with his distinctively Germanic accent. “‘twaren’t nothing, folks.”

“Rob, are you all right?” asks Cathy, following as he turns to leave.

“Sure,” he says, “Robert Allright.”

“What happened?” she persists.

“Nothing, nothing,” he replies. “Really. Nothing.” He walks away from her.

When he gets home, he has recovered somewhat from the experience and, realizing how remote he was to Cathy, he phones her apartment, apologizes, then, on impulse, invites her to dinner at his house the following Sunday.

She hesitates until he tells her that Peter and Carol are coming too. Then she accepts.

After he hangs up, he telephones Peter, fingers crossed that Peter and Carol can accept his invitation.

Sunday, November 18. Robert rising. His backache, his arm. Slow water in the bathroom. Preparations to run.

He leaves Bart behind, then, hearing the dog cry so pathetically, returns and lets him out. The happy Lab starts running with him.

Robert goes as slow as he can but Bart still has trouble. Finally, Robert has to stop and sit with the wheezing dog.

“What should I do, pal?” he asks, staring into Bart’s eyes. “I don’t want you to suffer. But I can’t just… pull the plug if you’re enjoying life.”

He sighs unhappily. “Oh, God, Bart, talk to me.” He strokes the dog’s head. “Talk to me, buddy.”

Cathy arrives at noon, lovely in a pale yellow sweater and tweed skirt, a string of pearls around her neck.

She feels somewhat awkward, arriving first. Keeps her jacket on, pats Bart and sympathizes with Robert’s dilemma about the dog. Looks at photographs on the walls and comments once again on how beautiful Robert’s mother was, observes how handsome his father was. Asks him general questions on his family’s background: where they lived in England, when they immigrated.

Then the phone rings. Robert answers it. “Hi,” he says. He listens, looks at Cathy worriedly.

“It’s Carol,” she says as he hangs up. Robert nods.

“She hasn’t had a healthy week since they came here,” Cathy says.

They look at each other. Cathy hesitates. “Well?” asks Robert. “Oh,” says Cathy, sighing. “Hell.”

Robert laughs, then stops. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes, unable to repress a smile at her charming distress.

They decide it would be immature and fearful for her to leave. The decision seems to relax them both. They aren’t blind to the situation. They can keep it under wraps.

“Or die trying,” he says, straight-faced.

“That’s the spirit,” she responds.

“What is it with Carol?” he asks as they start off for a walk in the woods. (“It reminds me of England in November,” she tells him.)

Primarily, she’s home-sick, Cathy answers. Carol has a big family in London, a family with many children. Even loving Peter, Carol also feels deprived being childless.

“Then, too, I’m not sure she has much interest in Peter’s work,” she says. Not that she means to be critical, she adds. “Carol is a lovely woman. Very good hearted.”

She shakes her head. “I just hope she makes it ‘til next June,” she says.

As they walk, she takes his arm. He doesn’t know if the gesture has significance and doesn’t mention it.

“Tell me about what Teddie said,” she asks him. “About your living in two houses at the same time.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Don’t you trust me, Rob?” she asks.

He hesitates further, then, deciding, tells her about his dream. “I keep going back there all the time,” he tells her. “I think maybe that’s what Berger meant.”

They discuss it and she offers her opinion that, being only six when he lost his mother, he is still emotionally “attached” to the house in which she died.

“That seems a logical answer,” he agrees.

She asks him if only his sister was there when the accident occurred. Robert says she was. His brother was working that summer as a busboy in a Catskill hotel. His father was, by then, living elsewhere.

“And the ESP?” she asks unexpectedly.

He looks at her, not knowing what to say.

“I know you have it, Rob,” she says. “Teddie knows it. Even Peter does, I think.”

He exhales heavily. “A perfectly kept secret,” he says drily.

He tells her that, yes, he knows there’s “something” in him, how extensive he has no idea. Without telling her of the various experiences he’s had, he explains, again, that coming from his particular family background, he simply cannot allow himself to examine or release it.

“Why, Rob?” she asks. “Because it did some harm to your family? It’s an ability that can be controlled. It doesn’t have to victimize you.”

He tries to agree, then (since he’s started talking about it now) tells her about Ann, about how disturbed she is, how her mother is unable to understand what’s going on.

Has Robert tried to help Ann understand? asks Cathy.

Not enough, he admits. Avoiding it himself, he knows he’s let her down.

“It’s never too late, Rob,” Cathy says.

They work together in the kitchen, making dinner, chatting. At the sink, she comments on the water pressure. “Get yourself a dowser,” she advises. “Maybe he (or she) can find you a better water supply.”

Robert nods and smiles, grinding up salad makings in the Cuisinart. Their conversation is lighter now; they are more comfortable with each other. Cathy is particularly amused by Bart’s incessant Svengali-like staring at Robert which results in many a snack for the Lab despite Robert’s “aggravated” comments to the dog. “Obviously a severely disciplined animal,” she says.

Over a candle-lit dinner, they get into “them”.