Flyover City! A Novel (with Superheroes)

32. Better Angels

Everything was going so well... better than I could even have hoped. My plan, falling exquisitely into place; best guesses and long shots all flowing together, like pieces of an especially accommodating jigsaw puzzle.

The other day, after my conversation with Kyle, I dug a couple of his things out from the dumpster behind his building. In particular, a short-stack of yellowing, dog-eared pulp novels dating from the 1940s - featuring none other than the Green Lama himself. The Agency produced dozens of titles like these back in the day, as a way to gauge public opinion about the heroes popping up across the country. I figured maybe I'd advertise them on Craigslist, just to see what somebody would be willing to offer - but then I got around to actually reading them.

So - the Green Lama: rich kid Jethro Dumont travels to Tibet to become a Lama, learns the secrets of the various "realms" of Buddhist cosmology, acquires mystical powers, swears to battle evil in all its forms, dons emerald jammies, yada yada yada.

The Lama is one of those early ones who never bothered to keep his identity a secret. I've searched for him plenty of times, on Google and the Vaig database, in order to honor his request from my dream. So far I've come up empty.

But wait! According to the April, 1940 issue of Double Detective, Dumont didn't have just one alter ego. If a given situation didn't lend itself to an appearance from either an adventurous playboy or a super-powered mystic, Dumont would adopt the guise of a Buddhist priest called "Dr. Pali".

Google - Database - Strike Two.

But wait! - Kyle seemed pretty sure that Dumont has been living out his days somewhere just outside of Boulder. On one hand, finding a Buddhist in "The People's Republic" is a little like trying to find a needle in... a swimming pool full of needles. Or - more to the point - like trying to find a needle in a swimming pool full of thumb tacks, while the tacks are all explaining to you that they, in fact, are a needle, and what does it matter anyway (?) because all are one. On the other hand, with all that hot, ego-eviscerating action in town, they've at least got resources.

I called around to a couple of different temples and meditation centers, even a college offering doctorates in "Integral Zen Psychology" (but they were all way too baked to answer any questions) Finally, I found a website for a twice-weekly meditation gathering in the basement of a YMCA, and contacted them.

No; he had never heard of any Dr. Pali. Yes; he was absolutely sure. But when I asked him about a "penchant for green" he nearly gagged on a mouthful of herbal tea.

"Waitaminute... you don't mean the Doc?"

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So my Lama candidate is a derelict who turns up a few times a day at a downtown Chipotle  for food. (the voice on the phone practically spat the name of the restaurant - a chain. Boulder.)

So - now all I have to do is get myself to the foot of the mountains... and wait. No problem. I'll order chips.

Feeling sure of my quest, I stood up from my cubicle to face my last obstacle - asking Tim for the day off work. Vacations requests have to be submitted 2 weeks in advance (a lie in and of itself - everybody pretty much had their time off requests in by January first). So I'm playing the corporate equivalent of a "get out of jail free" card: the paid personal day. If this whole wellspring of info had bubbled up a few weeks ago, I would've just called in sick, but that was before the new attendance policy went into effect. If my homeless derelict turns out to be just a homeless derelict, well... it sure would be a shame to lose my stock options.

I thought that our little misadventure at the strip club the other night would have put Tim and I on a more even footing, but he's pretty much been ignoring me outright. Even when I showed up to his office, he averted his eyes, like maybe I'd just walk on by.