Author Part 4

(Chapter 57 of "Senses")

LOS ANGELES

Six hours later I was in my own room at the warehouse, which I now knew to be on Olympic Boulevard west of Sepulveda in Los Angeles, writing away. I decided to write 'drink and Mats' story broken in two, and I got a copy of the tape from Paul, and began to write Instinct around it.

I found it impossible to write down those events like a history text. The whole story seemed to be low grade science fiction to me, so I wrote it that way. I was kidnapped by green aliens! That sort of thing.

At some point Larry Christopher brought me some food and gin (my request) and we discussed the writing approach I was taking. He agreed that it was perhaps the best way, but he pointed out that only the first half of that story only could be told in the format I was using. He suggested that perhaps I start the chronology with Jim, because the first meeting between Karen and Jim happened first in chronological order.

Okay, Larry, fine. Have Jim see me in the morning.

I listened to 'drink's tape a few times to get differences in emphasis before deciding to transcribe it close to verbatim. My reason why may surprise you; not that I felt it important to get all the details - not with the style that I finally chose to interpret it. 'drink impressed the hell out of me with his first words. The tone he set in describing how he met Debbie impressed the hell out of me.

Instinct.

Damned fine work, and I was impressed. I felt I had to do it one better, but not this story. Maybe Jim and Karen's first meeting. I'd need to find out what it was like.

But 'drink missed his calling. He should have been a writer.

Anyway! I fell asleep at my little writer's garret after a number of hours at it. How long exactly I really don't remember. I can say that when 10 a.m. rolled around and a knocking at the door woke me up, I felt like I had had no sleep at all. You'd feel the same if you fell asleep in a chair, slumped over a wooden desk.

"Come on in," I said, rubbing my eyes.

Enter Jim Christopher, looking how I felt, with a box of doughnuts. I took one and looked upwards, saying, "There is a god."

Jim smiled. "Well," he returned, "there's a good doughnut shop down the street at any rate, Twin Peaks be praised. How are you doing?"

"Tired but alive. And thanks for the food."

"You're welcome." Ho looked at the writing tablets at my table. "Do you want a computer to put that into?"

"Later," I said. "I always do my first drafts longhand."

Jim simply nodded and sat down. "So where do we begin?"

I laughed. "You don't waste any time."

"I have a recording session at noon and a darts match at five."

"New album?"

"Nope. Just guesting for a friend."

I checked my watch. "Fair enough. You realize that from what I hear you're perhaps the most convoluted person in this group."

Jim smiled after a bite of doughnut. "Absofuckinglutely," he said. "I'm also the key to how this group got together, although 'drink and Paul spurred it and I never intended it. In fact, if I hadn't met Karen none of us would be here, and A.J. and I would still be trying to figure out how to fly."

"How did you meet Karen?" I asked.

"In a bar. I'm a regular there and she just happened to come in. She had just divorced her husband and I was the first guy she saw after the court hearing. I'd like to say I picked her up, but the reverse is more accurate."

"Sounds like a groupie," I noted.

"Nope. She didn't even recognize me at first. My sloppy appearance is intentional, just so that people don't recognize me. Stardom is a pain in the ass sometimes. Ask Larry. More people think he's me than think I am.

"We were in bed with each other within two hours of meeting, and after sexual climax things changed forever. Fucked our way here, as it were."

I wasn't yet used to Jim's way of talking, so what he told me was surprising.

"We had orgasm based upon empathy. Karen let it kick out, because she just wanted to fuck. Problem is, because of my own make up, her emotive kick took over my gravity control. By the time orgasm hit, we were eight feet in the air."

I stared at Jim wide-eyed, for several reasons.

First of all (men, back me up on this) most men do not talk frankly about their sexual experiences, because they would have to lie (which many men do). I don't care what you read, or how many movies portray it otherwise. If you can go 10 - 15 minutes, that's impressive. If you can go twenty, you'd better like to sweat because it's a more intense workout than any health club can give you. And women do have it easier; a man can't fake it - at least not in any way I am aware of.

Second, I could see the implications Jim was setting up. The odds on all of this coming about were incredibly slim.

I must have betrayed some of my feelings somewhat, because Jim started to laugh. "Embarrass you?" he asked.

I nodded, smiling meekly.

"I am possibly the most forward and forthright human being alive," he continued. "My language is blunt. I rarely lie, and my ethics are such that anarchists send me fan mail and the National Inquirer devotes entire issues to me. I am crude, rude, and I drink enough alcohol to kill Leviathan."

I laughed at that one.

"And I apologize for nothing," he said. "Mistakes happen, and I accept that. I have no regrets."

"All right, all right," I said. "Looks like this will take some time. May we back up a step?"

"Two, if you need."

"Nah, just one. You said you were the key for getting the group together. How so?"

"I knew all the key players. Shit, I'm related to two of them, dating a third and hired three more. Start with Larry, A.J. and me. Paul I met when Blue Shift was still a club band when I was a teenager. The four of us bring in the rest. A.J. brings in Carrie. Paul brings in his sister Debbie, who in turn brings her husband, daughter, and husband's best friend. Larry brings in Rand, who is his childhood friend, who in turn brings in Constance. Larry also brings in Morgana, who was once an employee of his. I bring in Angie and Karen.

"You know about the time snap?"

I nodded.

"When 'drink's time dilemma happened, Paul called me, because he knew about my abilities. At that point, he only knew about me and A.J. I brought in Larry to help solve the problem, and the rest congealed around us."

"Incestuous little group," I noted.

Jim chuckled. "You noticed?"

"Hard to miss."

There was a knock at the door. "Enter," I said.

Enter Karen Price, holding a bottle of Bushmill's that she promptly gave to Jim. "Present, lover," she said.

Jim said thanks and took a healthy gulp.

Karen faced me. "Hello Jace, I'm Karen," she said.

But while this was all registering, I wasn't exactly listening. I was getting dizzy.

Jim caught it quickly. "You okay, kid?"

"Don't know," I replied. "Queasy. Real sudden."

Jim opened the door and leaned into the hall. "A.J.!" he shouted. "Get your ass up here!"

"Shouldn't we get Angie?" Karen asked.

"I don't think so. Trust me, I'm playing a hunch."

A.J. arrived quickly, and Jim had him read me.

"Good call bro'," he said. "Definite line between the two. Seriously receptive." He turned to Karen. "Could you leave us for a moment? I'm sorry, but Jace doesn't look like he feels at all well."

Karen nodded and left the room.

I was thoroughly confused, and still dizzy. "What?" was all I managed to say.

Jim smiled when he looked at me. "It appears," he said, "that you're allergic to my girlfriend."

I began to laugh. "Too fucking wild," I said.

And then this time I did pass out.

And came to about ten minutes later, lying on Angie's medical table, to the sweet aroma of smelling salts. Yes, I'm being sarcastic.

"You okay?" she asked.

I shook my head to clear it and sat up. No one else was in the room. "Once the smell leaves," I replied.

"Good," she said. "Now lie down!"

I did. "Why?"

"I'm trying to solve one of your puzzles." Angie wheeled a headpiece to the table. "This will keep your head still while the scan runs."

As she immobilized my head, she went on to explain the sonar scan process that she would use.

"Takes about five minutes total," she concluded.

"Great," I replied. "Which of my little puzzles are you trying to solve?"

"We can't have you passing out every time Karen and you are in the same room, can we? You need to be able to talk to her from time to time, for your writing, right? Besides, she's the group Psychologist."

"Psychologist?" Brain overload, and I was suffering big time.

"Yep. Her doctorate is psych, mine is M.D."

"Smart X-Men," I said.

"Women, but the compliment is taken, just the same. All of the women here, Nicki and Morgana excepted, have Doctorates."

I tallied it all up quickly. "Carrie?" I asked.

"Music."

"Debbie?"

"Don't know. Paul let it slip once that she has one, but I've never got around to asking."

"History, if you must know," came a distinctly feminine voice.

"Hi, Deb," Angie responded, looking up.

"Angie," Debbie returned, walking up to the bench where I was lying. "May we have a moment, please?"

Angie nodded and walked over to what I discovered later was the diagnostic computer, just out of hearing range (or just far enough away to be polite, I've never been sure which).

Debbie Davis sat at the foot of the examining table. Although the time snap had aged her over 19 years, she still looked like a beautiful young woman. I saw the attraction.

However, by this point, I could see myself becoming more and more jaded around this group as each second went by. "Now what?" I asked.

"Not much," Debbie responded, smiling - no - chuckling a bit. "Is my daughter still a virgin?"

"Nope."

"Didn't think so." She chuckled more. "Time for a refresher course on the birds and bees, I suppose."

I started a cynical reply then thought better of it.

"I wonder how you plan to write this part," she continued.

Gasp, gasp, choke. Shudder. "Excuse me?" I managed.

"I know you've been transcribing part of our story from the tape of the trial. That's what Larry said and Larry has this nasty habit of not lying under any circumstances."

I shook my head. "That's not what I meant," I said. "I'm writing your story, not mine here. That's what I've been asked to do." It sounded weak coming from me, because I already knew what Debbie's reply would be.

"You're a part of the story now Jace," she said. "You know it as well as the rest of us, and you've even said it a few times. It's like you're the reluctant witness, or the reluctant participant."

"Look dear, I never wanted to be here," I countered, some strength returning to my voice. "But your daughter, whom I'm not even sure I like, got me into this mess..."

"Which is what makes you part of the story, whether you like it or not. You're probably going to hear from half of the people here how they are they key to the whole group even being together, but they all fail to take into account that this group is growing, and that we just added you. We are all keys here, and even you probably won't be the last."

I sighed. "Listen Debbie," I said. "I agree with you, and deep down I know you're right about it. Just right now I'm having a bit of trouble dealing with my quote-unquote relationship with your daughter. Forgive me, and no slander intended, but she's not exactly my idea of a dream date."

Debbie smiled again, although it was more of a sad smile. "You'll need to work it out sometime, and hopefully soon. You'll be seeing a lot of each other as time goes by."

"It doesn't mean that I'm going to write about it."

"Yes you will. Count on it."

I notice I'm starting to get a bit weird in my writing of this shit. Maybe it's that I still don't handle the business with Nicki all that well. Only natural, I suppose, and I am chomping at the bit to get to the real story behind all of this. Looking at my long hand notes, I'm looking at page 58 of story number 7. On my computer that's page 610. After all these words and a gazillion pages (note: check spelling of gazillion) I want to get to the story that made the headlines. I starts the same evening.

Oh, the exam turned up nothing we could use.

That afternoon Jim and Mats took me to Jim's favorite bar so that I could get a feel for the atmosphere of the place. I met "Mike" and was surprised to find that he's not the portly Irishman I expected (Jim actually explained the joke, which I had already caught), but thin and dark. Half Iraqi, half Irish, imported from Vancouver.

I obliged Jim with a game of darts, which he won handily.

"What about your luck?" Mats asked me after the game.

"Don't look at me," I replied. "I didn't even know I had it until yesterday."

"We should ask A.J.," Jim piped in, "but I do have a theory. Jace, turn your back to the board." He threw two throws, then removed the darts. "You need a certain number of points to reach 100 exactly and there's more than one way to make it with the third dart. Throw."

I did, a double six.

Mats let out a long whistle.

"Yep," Jim said. "Got it when you needed it."

"You think that's it?" I said.

"Could be. Depends on how the random elements define the need, and realistically speaking they're probably not exactly random. Like I said, we need A.J."

"Still," Mats said, "I'm not playing poker with you again."

We all laughed. "I never win more than my fair share of hands," I said, "or stakes for that matter, unless I really need the money badly enough. I simply hadn't put together that there was a cause for it. I just get ahead when I need to, behind when I need to."

"Behind when you need to?" Mats asked.

Jim laughed. "If you win every time," he said, "no one will play against you. I wonder how the elements know? Just as big a mystery as Rand's powers."

"Or Morgana's fortune telling," I said.

"Granted."

"Wouldn't 'drink be mystery number one?" I asked.

"Yes, but he's hard to read. To A.J. he looks as if his head were on fire."

"Nicki?"

"Not so bad. She doesn't have quite as many 'powers' as her father, and a couple of them that her father doesn't. Close though."

Okay, I'm confused. "Why are Rand, Morgana and I different?" I asked.

"Method," Mats said. "You three don't use physics, while the rest of us do. Rand uses his religion to channel, Morgana the Tarot..."

"And I'm sort of random," I added.

"As far as we know," Jim put in. "Like I said, probably not random, considering the luck constraints. We need A.J. Mats?"

Mats had gone catatonic, but he came back quickly. "Sorry gents," he said. "Janis was reminding me that Scott and I have a poker game slash satellite check tonight."

"Mind if I tag along?" I asked. "Space is still kind of interesting to me and I didn't really get a good look at it last time."

"Space is always interesting," Mats said. "Sure, why not. Scott won't play for stakes anyway. He's a goofball."

"A dedicated goofball," Jim added. "He once hacked his way into the Pentagon by way of the space shuttle."

I laughed. "Sounds like there's a story there."

"Probably," Jim said. "Ask him sometime. He's damn good at what he does, but he does it in strange ways. He's also a good friend."

"Right," I said.

Jim stepped up to the line. "Now then. Let's play some target darts."

Continued...