Authors: Vasily Klyukin
The
next day he went to see Vicky in the hospital. She was in relatively good
shape. The situation was stable, and Isaac had two months to find the money for
the operation. Two months ought to be long enough for him. Fortunately he only
had to pay for the operation itself and for bringing the specialists from
Germany. His sister’s stay in the hospital was covered by social insurance.
When
he got back to the villa, Bikie met him with contrived cheerfulness.
“Well
then, back already from your sweet little cutie?” Bikie really wanted to cheer
his friend up, but it came out awkward.
“What
are you talking about?” said Isaac, puzzled. “I’ve been with Vicky, my sister.”
“Your
stepsister. That’s who I meant,” Bikie chuckled. “Your little sister’s
high-class. I looked at your photos with her. A jaw-dropping figure and great
smile. A real beauty! Got to get her cured quick. Why that acid look, you guys
have different folks, don’t you?”
“We
do”- said Isaac slowly.
He
felt a sudden, sharp sting. He wasn’t offended by Bikie’s offhand manner, he
had simply never thought about his Vicky as a beautiful young woman. “Vicky, a
little cutie,” he repeated to himself pensively. It was true. Neither hospital
surroundings nor her wan complexion could spoil her looks. Vicky was beautiful.
In
the morning when Isaac and Bikie woke at the villa, excellent coffee was
already waiting.
“The
gentle cooing of this pimped-up coffee machine is akin to the noble note that
resounds when I start up my Harley,” declared Bikie, already in a poetic mood
first thing in the morning. “I think I’ll listen to it one more time. Isaac,
put in a cup. Ah, tell you what: genuine coffee is some mighty stuff! Not like that
instant shit. You are one fluky guy, Isaac. Maybe there’s some kind of fluky
energy? Just think about it. You’ve got no money, but you will have. Your
sister’s sick, but only until you get your money, so it’s a temporary problem.
Your brains are in good shape. You went to download your creativity, but Lady
Luck saved you. You got a piece of computer plate and you didn’t throw it out,
you looked at it. Out of two candidates you found me and Wolanski. Hit the
bullseye again! I won’t deny that I’m glad we ended up here, not with that
swanky jerk with the Harley.”
“It’s
not entirely a fluke. I admit I was lucky with the downloading when Elvis
showed up. But choosing you and Wolanski was shrewd calculation. A risk it was
certainly, but the analysis of the candidates was correct. Lady Luck likes hard
workers; she doesn’t do everything for you herself. And what’s more, I had
failures with a couple of other candidates”
“Dunno.
I reckon you’re fluky. And you’ve got good intuition. Sometimes I think about
how many little details came together for me to be sitting here, right at this
moment, and I realize the math doesn’t explain it because it is unrepeatable
from the standpoint of probability theory. I even ended up in the bar because I
love motorbikes. The owner of the bar is a biker too. If I were not a biker, I
wouldn’t have ended up in the bar, and you might have chosen someone else.”
“You
could say that about absolutely anyone starting at least with the fact that
every one of us is born from the victor in a race of spermatozoa. One out of
tens of millions. It’s like one person from the whole of France, one from
Poland, five from America. So mathematics hasn’t got anything to do with it,
its fate or something else. Maybe it is flukiness.”
While
they talked they had no less than three cups of coffee each. Heady, exquisite
aroma diffused through the air and the delicious brew spread invigoratingly
though Isaac’s body, clearing his thoughts. He always put in a lot of sugar.
Now it was time to sit down at the computer.
“Ok,
Bikie. Any ideas on how to find Link?”
“Considering
how much sugar you just had, that’s really a question for you. Sugar is the
brain’s main fuel. Your tank is over full right now.”
“About
the ideas, I meant your professional skills in the first place.”
“Well,
there are a few things we can do, and some we can’t. As always, we have to try
everything. You never know where you’ll stumble across the trail. Either he’s a
total hermit, which is quite likely for a scientist, or sooner or later he’ll
leave tracks. Provided he is alive and hasn’t become a Happy.”
“I
still hope that he is present in the data base not just by accident or mistake.
He’s definitely not a Happy, and clearly not officially listed as dead. Why
keep data on the intellectual capabilities of a corpse?”
“Who
knows?”
Bikie
considered himself a super-analyst and was sure he’d find Link if there was
even the slightest chance. He downloaded all the information he could find, at
the same time running a file comparison program to eliminate identical content.
In the end he gathered a vast amount of relevant data.
He
also compared articles that were almost identical and copied out any
differences into his list of leads. In one place he found the name of a hotel
Link stayed in, in another - the make of car in which he was driven there. Then
he found out how Link was dressed. He collected whatever could be collected,
which took him several hours.
Leaving
his partner to ruminate, Isaac went off to the next meeting about registering
his anti-rain invention.
Isaac
hated COMA more and more, his resolve to strike a blow at it was growing
stronger. Five years ago his invention would literally have been grabbed out of
his hands, they would have lined up for it. But now he was on his way to even
more talks with the agent at the patents office, still not even knowing if this
was the final meeting, or the first of yet another dozen bureaucratic
discussions.
The
bald, plumpish patent officer, who introduced himself as Serge Morell, was also
a COMA-hater. He had his reasons. He used to be the boss of a large department,
almost twenty people, a big wheel and a well-respected man. Now his department
consisted of just him, and it was only still considered a department because no
one wanted to waste any time and energy on renaming it a section. He loved
inventors and creative personalities, but nowadays they very rarely came his
way. He felt awkward about Isaac’s case and tried to excuse himself saying that
he was overwhelmed with doing everything alone; register the applications,
check them, and even type out all the data.
He
assured Isaac that the next meeting would be the last, everything was almost
ready, and he hinted that he would be happy to leave his job and become Isaac’s
personal agent, marketing his inventions. Isaac promised to think about it. The
agent added that his business card as a head of department still inspired
respect and simplified negotiations. And he knew all about whom to approach and
how – after all, he had thirty years of experience.
The
former Isaac, so unsure of himself would have agreed immediately. But now he
felt like a different man - a man who wouldn’t fling himself at the very first
offer with open arms. So he only said he’d consider it.
When
Isaac got back from the patents office, he went to make himself a coffee, then
he glanced into Bikie’s room. Seeing his friend, tired from all his monotonous
searching work, he decided to suggest an idea of his own.
“What
if we put together what we have and brainstorm about it? I can see you’re
tired. I’ll run a fresh eye over your provisional results and tell you what I
think and how we could approach the analysis. And you will tell me what’s
possible and what’s not, and maybe add something else.”
“Go
ahead,” said Bikie and turned back to the computer in his traditional style.
“Well,
we need to find things that could be important to him: rare objects or an old
vintage motorbike, for instance.”
Seeing
that Bikie was really whacked, Isaac wanted to cheer him up and offered his
suggestion with absolute seriousness. Bikie picked up on the gibe, turned his
head and grinned.
“But
seriously, though,” Isaac went on, “let’s take a look at his credit card
expenditures, his bank statements and journal subscriptions and any other
little details of his day-to-day life. What he loved and what he hated.”
“Well,
the journals could be a useful line, by the way, all right. There are all sorts
of things on the internet, but good old paper journals, who doesn’t love them?
That’s easy,” Bikie added. “And the same goes for phone numbers, his e-mail
account and favorite sites.”
“If
he’s alive and well he might secretly be keeping in touch with a few friends,
like Deputy Secretary Blake, for instance.
“I
think I can find out Blake’s mobile number, and if it’s not a corporate UN phone,
I’ll crack all his calls, but if it is a UN phone, then for sure it won’t be
easy. Probably even hopeless. Lots of companies’ data protection programs are
still not up to much, but that’s not the UN. Usually it’s the people themselves
who are sloppy; they leave heaps of leads behind, without even suspecting it
either because they’re negligent, or because they don’t consider themselves
important enough. There are still hordes of heavy hackers around…and get
this….we programmers are actually underground types who have the lowest
percentage of downloaders” Bikie announced smugly.
“Yeah
right, but lots of you are actually employed full-time by COMA.”
“If
need be, a couple of my friends can crack any tough nut and get the best porn
movies off the computer of the Satan himself.”
“And
then,” Isaac reasoned. “I think we should take a look at where Link went most
often before he disappeared. I don’t think he’s in Africa or the Antarctic. If
you wanted to hide, you’d probably choose some place where you’d been before,
the one you liked.”
“That’s
easier. I can track journeys, especially old ones. In those days the data
protection programs were total shit compared with today. Anyway, I don’t think
any crazy tourist company would lay out its dosh on a super-program to protect
data about its clients’ destinations a hundred years ago. I reckon I’ll get in
easily from about ten years back. I don’t think Link had time to handle all the
tedious ins and outs of traveling. More likely he used a personal assistant or
a secretary.”
“Then
there are frequent flyer programs and maybe he used a car-rental company. I
doubt they have mega-protection either.”
“You
can’t be sure. But as far as I can tell three assistants worked in Link’s lab,
two male and one female. He wasn’t exactly the sociable type. There are only
forty-two numbers that were called from the lab more than five times a year,
and about another hundred for the female assistant. That’s not so many. And
there are obvious front runners among them.”
“Excellent,
that’ll be useful.”
“Also,”
Bikie continued, “we have to find his old bank card and at least pick out the
most popular transactions.”
“Yes,
we might see something unusual. Buying medication, for instance, and if it’s
rare, he probably still uses it.”
“Get
real. No more cancer, no more AIDS, remember? Or you think Link didn’t fix some
allergic catarrh he had?”
“Yeah,
you’re right, not much chance. But even so, please take a look. Meanwhile I’ll
slip down to the gym, somehow this place has given me the urge to work out. I
used to think I wasn’t kind of a person suited for fitness training and now I
just can’t wait to pump some iron. It really clears out your head and calms the
nerves. See how much stronger my arms are?” Isaac proudly displayed his
slightly enlarged biceps to Bikie.
Bikie
nodded without speaking. Wolanski’s gym was certainly top-notch all right - put
together by professionals, obviously a pricey job. But Bikie didn’t use it; he
was as strong as an ox anyway.
The
next meeting with agent Serge Morell at the patents office, turned out not to
be the last. Some kind of typo had slipped in and all the documents had to be
signed all over again. The agent assured him that this was definitely the final
stage and next time Isaac would receive a certificate for his patent. And so he
did, two days later. Isaac couldn’t believe his luck, it still wasn’t money, of
course, but he was in the home stretch. The agent congratulated Isaac on
officially becoming an inventor and solemnly presented him with the beautiful
patent and a bundle of documents.
Smiling,
Isaac gathered up the heap of paper. Just in case, the agent reminded Isaac
about his offer to work with him, but Isaac didn’t have time for that right
now, he was too excited and delighted. He promised to think about it a bit
later. Everything had ended well after all, and he set off back to the villa in
a good mood. Bikie took one look at his super-delighted friend and asked:
“Well,
how was the meeting with the im-patent agent?”
“Super!
The invention’s registered. Bingo! Look!” Isaac triumphantly raised the
brand-new certificate with the big gold seal above his head.
“Ooh-ooh!
Well done! Cheers! Today we celebrate.” Bikie gave his friend a tight hug.
“It’s
my treat!”
“From
Wolanski’s bar? Oh no! Today we’ll go to my McCarthy’s. I’m on a long-term
leave, but I still kinda work there. Itching to pour someone a beer and mix a
drink. I haven’t seen any chicks for ages. We live like monks! But I personally
have never taken the vow. We’re like a pair of lovesick parrots sitting here in
this gilded cage.”
“OK!
Let’s go into town!”
“You
can stand at the bar, and I’ll serve you! Live it up, it’s your day!”
Early
that evening they set out for the bar. Isaac put on his tattered jeans and a
white shirt with skull cufflinks that he kept for special occasions.
“The
skulls don’t suit you, Isaac. I’ll make you some cufflinks myself, real heavy
ones, will be a unique copy.”
“Why,
what’s wrong with these?”
“Nothing’s
wrong with them, but nothing’s right with them either.”
“The
skull, by the way is a talisman.”
“I
know. It’s just that you somehow manage to look like a coxcomb. But screw that,
let’s go!”
Bikie
had washed and serviced his Harley for the occasion, and even wiped the dust
off his biker’s jacket.
“Just
don’t squeeze your tits against me too hard,” he grinned, gesturing for Isaac
to sit on the back.
“You
have to offer a girl a drink first before you can expect snuggling like that!”
Isaac squeaked flirtatiously in reply.
With
the old motor roaring powerfully, they hit the road to the center of Monaco.
At
McCarthy’s Bar Isaac felt jealous at first: it was his celebration, but
everyone rushed to hug Bikie. They said hello to Isaac too, and Bikie
introduced him to everyone. Then he solemnly poured a mug of beer, switched off
the music and made a ceremonial announcement.
“Today
we’re celebrating the huge success of my friend Isaac, a great inventor who has
conquered rain. He has registered his bizarre design with the patents office!
Cheers!”
The
entire bar roared thunderously “Cheers!”
Hearing
the sound of clinking glasses on all sides, Isaac felt a sudden rush of
happiness. He’d never been the center of so much attention and absolutely
everyone was shaking his hand and wishing him success. Sincere, genuine
congratulations from people he didn’t even know. Everyone smiled at him and a
pretty waitress even kissed him on the cheek. The bar was awash with festive
cheer.
Bikie
proclaimed that the next twenty mugs of beer were on the house, and people
surged towards the bar. It wasn’t so much that the guests were desperate for
free beer, just that they all wanted to share Isaac’s pride and joy. Since they
were caught up in his celebration, they wanted to be involved in it completely.
“
We
are the champions
…” the speakers thundered.
“
Of
the world
!” the entire bar sang, joining in.
“Hoo-ray!”
Isaac raised the cry, and everyone supported him with a roar of approval. He
was the happiest man in the world, a triumphant conqueror.
After
drinking three mugs of beer in half an hour, Isaac felt a sudden urge to go to
the bathroom. At the table furthest away, right in the corner, hidden behind
the columns, he spotted a solitary figure sitting in the semi-darkness, someone
not participating in the general merriment. Drunk either on happiness or beer,
Isaac felt he had to dust off this melancholy customer’s sadness, and he set
off confidently towards the mysterious stranger. Oh, so it was a girl!
“Dear
God, it’s Michelle!” Isaac thought in delighted surprise.
Michelle
was sitting there completely withdrawn and absorbed in her own thoughts.
Standing in front of her was a half-empty glass of strong Long Island.
“Michelle,
is that you? What are you doing here?”
“Ahh,
Hi Isaac. It is Isaac, isn’t it? I’m glad you’re here. Do you think you could
bring me some water, please?”
The
realization that Michelle remembered his name sent a wave of warmth flooding
through Isaac’s body. He immediately forgave her spiteful look at their
previous meeting. Looking slightly drunk and relaxed, she seemed a hundred
times more beautiful than before
“Of
course, just a moment, I’ll be straight back.” He realized the girl wasn’t
feeling well, and the drunken haze in his head dissipated instantly.
Isaac
went in behind the bar, poured a glass of water, added ice and whispered to
Bikie:
“Michelle
Blanche is sitting in the corner. I went to her before I found Wolanski. I
don’t understand what she’s doing here.”
Bikie
craned his neck to see who Isaac was talking about.
“I
know her. That is, I’ve seen her here before. It’s not the first time she’s
come. She doesn’t come often, but she drops in. A strange girl, she always has
strong, sweet Long Island. Always by herself, never talks to anyone. Probably
just taking a break from her jet-setter crowd. Maybe she’s unhappy, or maybe
she’s just pissed off with them all, and comes here to hide once in a while.
Other people’s thoughts are a maze, and women’s thoughts are a maze to the
power three. To me they are, for sure. ”
“I
see. She’s so beautiful!”
“Her
face is beautiful. But her figure… I don’t like them that skinny.”
Isaac
brought Michelle water and she gulped down half the glass, then got up and
asked him to show her to her car.
Isaac
had started dreaming of getting to know her better at last, and he was terribly
disappointed.
“Maybe
you could stay for a while? Can I get you anything?”
“No.
It’s time I went. I’m tired. Some other time.”
Taking
Michelle by the arm, Isaac carefully led her towards the exit. The customers
were still congratulating him, but Michelle didn’t seem to notice that at all.
That was a real bummer. He’d been enjoying a great triumph and she hadn’t seen
any of it, and now she was leaving. Isaac’s mood was totally ruined.
Outside
Michelle didn’t look drunk, just maybe a bit tired. Her driver was waiting at
the entrance, holding the door of her luxury car open for her.
“Thanks,
Isaac, you’re really sweet! I saw you were celebrating. Congratulations. Enjoy
your fling.” Michelle kissed Isaac on both cheeks, like a friend, said goodbye
and drove away.
Isaac
realized he was in love. Definitely in love with her. What a shame she had to
leave. He could still feel the touch of her lips. He was totally shattered
emotionally – how easily and casually Michelle had conquered him, without even
trying and surely not just him, but most of the men in her entourage. Isaac
stood there in his loneliness for a while; he didn’t want to draw a line under
this unexpected encounter. But then he had to go back into the bar.
“Where
did you go, Isaac? What’s wrong with your face? What’s got you so down?”
“Just
pour me a drink, will you? And not beer, make it a vodka. A double with two
shots.
“Oh,
your problem is clear enough,” Bikie said with a jolly wink. “We’ve drunk to
the patent, enough of that, now we’re boozing to love.”
Isaac
didn’t remember how much longer they spent in the bar and how they got back
home. The next thing he felt was a fierce dryness in his throat and a splitting
headache. He didn’t feel like getting out of bed, but the intense pain in his
head was so bad that he reluctantly got up and shambled into the kitchen to
look for an aspirin.