Call Me Ishmael

Chapter 10

Author's Note: Let bygones be bygones, and whengones, be whengones.  And happy trails.  You can buy this book at Amazon, B&N, and at Smashwords for any other device.

The gigantic wooden doors of the building Finnie called “Base” opened with a light and gentle touch; I wasn't even sure she actually touched the wood. Obviously balanced in a superb fashion, they opened almost of their own accord. We entered, and I swiveled my head, trying to take in the huge room.

“Wow,” I said, “Whoever built this really knew their stuff. It’s amazing, absolutely amazing.”

Finnie frowned. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

Bertram nodded. “I believe I agree with the young lady. There is a subtle feeling that everything is not quite as it seems here.”

I glanced at my father. He was busy, trying to dig something out of his teeth with a fingernail.

Since it was my first time in the place, it was difficult for me to address their feeling issues. Everything looked new to me, but how could it not? I squinted a bit. Should I recognize this place? Finnie had said that I had no dimensional doppelgangers, and neither did this place, the Base. Was I connected here, somehow, in a deep way that I could recall if I set my mind to it? Perhaps chanting would help, or spinning in circles. There was something tickling at the back of my mind, something to do with all of the explosions, the hit-men, and even Winston turning into a pig. There was some connecting link behind them all, and as I reached out my mind to take hold of it, it dissolved like the mists around the Base. But I found myself agreeing with Finnie. Something was not right.

In the center of the space sat a large computer console, with three screens that floated holographically in the air. A woman sat at the workstation, and I realized with a start that I recognized her.

“That’s, that’s, that’s that girl from the holovision!” It took a little work, but I got it out. One of life's small victories, I guess.

Finnie looked bored, then annoyed. “Yes. And who likes pink hair, anyway? Not me.” She was able to make disgusted faces in the most delightful way, and she made one now, as though she had just stepped in something unpleasant. Somehow, deep within my soul, I knew that if Finnie had actually stepped in something unpleasant, she would simply throw her boots away. I just couldn’t see her cleaning them.

The girl at the console noticed us. Her pink hair bounced around, and I realized it was not simply dyed pink; it was a wig fashioned of fiber optic strands that moved from pink to a darker shade, almost red, and back through the spectrum of color until it hit a peppermint hue, at which point it again began the journey. Moving her head seemed to accelerate the process, and the entire effect was mesmerizing. After a little hesitation, I remembered the beautiful woman with perfect shoulders standing beside me. Finnie assisted me in overcoming the difficulty by stepping on my foot with her highly polished boot. Fortunately, she had not stepped in anything nasty. Unfortunately, the boot heel was sharp and it hurt quite a bit.

“Get control, Ishmael. She’s only human, just like you.”

“Is she?” I breathed. “I hadn’t noticed.”

The pink-tousled girl waved. “Be with you in just a moment. There’s a subflur in the logic boards that’s causing the digitaliti to get their riboflavin-boards in an uproar.” Her fingers traced a few vague designs in the air; she nodded her head twice, and the midair screen between her and us vanished with a whoosh of displayed air. “What can I do for you?”

“Good morning, Splice.” Finnie’s voice sounded like she had bitten through the stem of a very expensive, crystal champagne glass and was very involved with chewing on the shards.