The Bazaar of Bad Dreams

They weren’t done, couldn’t be done. Not yet. Wesley in particular was anxious to press on. Although he hadn’t slept for more than three hours at a stretch in days, he felt wide awake, energized. He and Robbie walked back to his apartment while Don went home to help his wife put the boys to bed. When that was done, he’d join them at Wesley’s place for an extended skull session. Wesley said he’d order some food.

‘Good,’ Don said, ‘but be careful. Ur-Chinese just doesn’t taste the same, and you know what they say about German Chinese – an hour later you’re hungry for power.’

For a wonder, Wesley found he could actually laugh.

‘So this is what an English instructor’s apartment looks like,’ Robbie said, gazing around. ‘Man, I dig all the books.’

‘Good,’ Wesley said. ‘I loan, but only to people who bring back. Keep it in mind.’

‘I will. My parents have never been, you know, great readers. A few magazines, some diet books, a self-help manual or two … that’s it. I might have been the same way, if not for you. Just bangin’ my brains out on the football field, you know, with nothing ahead except maybe teaching PE in Giles County. That’s in Tennessee. Yeehaw.’

Wesley was touched by this. Probably because he’d been hurled through so many emotional hoops just lately. ‘Thanks, but remember there’s nothing wrong with a good loud yeehaw. That’s part of who you are, too. Both parts are equally valid.’

He thought of Ellen, ripping Deliverance out of his hands and hurling it across the room. And why? Because she hated books? No, because he hadn’t been listening when she needed him to. Hadn’t it been Fritz Leiber, the great fantasist and science fiction writer, who had called books ‘the scholar’s mistress’? And when Ellen needed him, hadn’t he been in the arms of his other lover, the one who made no demands (other than on his vocabulary) and always took him in?

‘Wes? What were those other things on the UR FUNCTIONS menu?’

At first Wesley didn’t know what the kid was talking about. Then he remembered that there had been a couple of other items. He’d been so fixated on the BOOKS submenu that he had forgotten the other two.

‘Well, let’s see,’ he said, and turned the Kindle on. Every time he did this, he expected either the EXPERIMENTAL menu or the UR FUNCTIONS menu to be gone – the sort of thing that would happen in a Twlight Zone episode – but they were still right there.

‘Ur News Archive and Ur Local,’ Robbie said. ‘Huh. Ur Local’s under construction. Better watch out, traffic fines double.’

‘What?’

‘Never mind, just goofin. Try the news archive.’

Wesley selected it. The screen blanked. After a few moments, a message appeared.

WELCOME TO THE NEWS ARCHIVE!

ONLY THE NEW YORK TIMES

IS AVAILABLE AT THIS TIME

YOUR PRICE IS $1.00/4 DOWNLOADS

$10/50 DOWNLOADS

$100/800 DOWNLOADS

SELECT WITH CURSOR YOUR ACCOUNT

WILL BE BILLED

Wesley looked at Robbie, who shrugged. ‘I can’t tell you what to do, but if my credit card wasn’t being billed – in this world, anyway – I’d spend the hundred.’

Wesley thought he had a point, although he wondered what the other Wesley (if there was one) would think when he opened his next MasterCard bill. He highlighted the $100/800 line and banged the Select button. This time the Paradox Laws didn’t come up. Instead, the new message invited him to CHOOSE DATE AND UR. USE APPROPRIATE FIELDS.

‘You do it,’ he said, and pushed the Kindle across the kitchen table to Robbie. This was getting easier to do, and he was glad. An obsession about keeping the Kindle in his own hands was a complication he didn’t need, understandable as it was.

Robbie thought for a moment, then typed in January 21, 2009. In the Ur field he selected 1000000. ‘Ur one million,’ he said. ‘Why not?’ And pushed the button.

The screen went blank, then produced a message reading ENJOY YOUR SELECTION! A moment later the front page of The New York Times appeared. They bent over the screen, reading silently, until there was a knock at the door.

‘That’ll be Don,’ Wesley said. ‘I’ll let him in.’

Robbie Henderson didn’t reply. He was still transfixed.

‘Getting cold out there,’ Don said as he came in. ‘And there’s a wind knocking all the leaves off the—’ He studied Wesley’s face. ‘What? Or should I say, what now?’

‘Come and see,’ Wesley said.

Don went into Wesley’s book-lined living room-study, where Robbie remained bent over the Kindle. The kid looked up and turned the screen so Don could see it. There were blank patches where the photos should have gone, each with the message Image Unavailable, but the headline was big and black: NOW IT’S HER TURN. And below it, the subhead: Hillary Clinton Takes Oath, Assumes Role as 44th President.

‘Looks like she made it after all,’ Wesley said. ‘At least in Ur 1000000.’

‘And check out who she’s replacing,’ Robbie said, and pointed to the name. It was Albert Arnold Gore.