Dream thief

14

… Y0U ARE LOOKING CHIPPER this morning!"

Spence turned as Ari entered the room. She was dressed in a fresh, green, tunicked jumpsuit with a high collar. Her hair spilled over her shoulders in flaxen curls. She appeared the picture of health and good will.

"I am. I'm leaving."

"When?"

"Right now-or just as soon as the nurse comes back with my clothes."

She cocked her head to one side. "Are you sure you're up to it?"

"Of course. I only slipped in the shower. I'm fine. Besides, if I stay here much longer, I'll starve. The food is like… don't ask." "You still sound like a frog. Your poor throat-" "Dr. Williams says it will clear up in a day or two. The chemical isn't harmful, but it doesn't do to inhale it in quantity, that's all. He says if I can stay out of the rain I won't catch pneumonia.

There's no reason to keep me here."

"Can you breathe all right? Does it hurt?"

"Not too much. What's all this? Don't you want me to get out?" "Certainly I do. But I don't want you to have a relapse." "Relapse?"

"You know-another spell or whatever."

Spence stared at the ceiling for a few moments before speak inn again. And when he did, the bantering tone had none out of his voice.

"Ari, what do you think has been happening to me?" "I don't know. Honestly."

"What has Dr. Williams told you?"

"Nothing. He's as puzzled by all this as anybody."

He considered this. "Listen to we, Ari, I-" He was inter rupted by the arrival of the nurse with his clothing.

"Here we are. Good as new, Mr. Reston." Everyone was Mixter to the nursing staff-that was the only way they could distinguish the medical doctors from all the other varieties abounding on Gotham. She laid the neatly folded gold and blue bundle of his jumpsuit at the foot of his bed.

"I'll wait outside while you change, Spence," said Ari. She left with the nurse.

When he emerged from the sick bay ward he looked fit and rested and better than Ari had seen him. She wondered if she had been overconcerned; surely Spence knew what was best. He turned his head when he saw her and she saw the "sun-burned" portion of his face. No, she was right to be worried. He needed looking after.

Dr. Williams stepped up to dismiss his patient as Spence met Ari at the portal. "I hope you'll think about what I said, Dr. Reston. My offer still stands."

"I'll think about it. But I don't think I'll change my mind." The physician shook his head. "It's up to you. I'm always available."

"I appreciate that."

The panel slid open. Spence and Ari stepped through. "Goodbye, doctor. I'll try to stay out of trouble for at least a week."

"Please! I need my beds for sick people." The sliding door cut him off.

"Well, where to?" asked Ari. "How about lunch? I'll buy." "Yes, to lunch. But I'll buy. I have a favor to ask you." "All right. Where shall we go?"

"Belles Exprit is okay with me. Okay with you?"

"My, it must be some favor. But I'm game. Let's go."

They made their way along the trafficways of Gotham to the so-called leisure level, taking several lifts and a shunt tube to their destination. When they arrived in the plaza there was a line of people waiting to be seated in the restaurant.

"Ah, perfect timing," said Spence. "That's the trouble with a good beanery. Word gets out and the tourists take over. Want to go someplace else?"

"It's worth the wait. Let's stay."

The line moved slowly and the two filled the time talking about mundane items of Gotham news. Spence did not mention again his reason for the rendezvous, but Ari let him work up to it in his own way.

At last they were ushered to a small table and sat facing one another over a stiff, white tablecloth. Spence hardly glanced at the menu and put it aside. Ari decided he was getting ready to tell her what he had begun to explain in sick bay.

"Ari-" The waiter, attired in a black suit with white shirt and tie and looking very continental, appeared to take their order.

"What would you like, Monsieur?" Even the French accent was commendable. Spence decided that the waiters for the various restaurants were recruited for their acting ability as much as for their efficiency. They seemed to be the flower of their flock, and far better than any Spence had had the fortune to run into on Earth. Perhaps they were in fact French waiters after all.

"We will have the artichokes vinaigrette to start. And the sole."

"New peas or cauliflower, Monsieur?"

"New peas. And I think I would like a nice Beaujolais."

"Shall I bring a bottle, sir?"

"A half bottle will be fine, thank you."

It was only after the waiter had gone that he realized he had not consulted his guest for her order. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I neglected to ask you what you wanted."

She laughed. "Don't be embarrassed. You read my mind."

"I do this so seldom, I'm afraid I'm out of practice."

"And don't apologize. There's nothing to apologize for."

"Just the same, next time I'll let you do all the talking."

"I'm not complaining, Spencer. A girl would be a fool to scorn a free meal."

The waiter returned with the wine. He showed Spence the bottle and Spence pretended to read the label. He then deftly uncorked it and splashed a swallow into Spence's glass and handed it to him, laying the cork at his hand. Spence took the cork and sniffed it, not knowing what he was smelling for, then took a sip of the wine. It was smooth and good, warming the palate with a vibrant charm.

"That's very good," he said. The waiter poured their glasses half full and then left.

The glasses stood before them, casting faint crimson shadows on the white cloth. Spence did not lift a hand toward his glass, so Ari folded her hands on the table and waited.

"I want to tell you something-it's about what has been happening. "

"You don't have to say anything."

"I want to-I want you to know." He raised his eyes from the white expanse of the tablecloth to meet hers.

"All right, I'm listening," she said gently.

"Ari, I don't know what's happening to me. Not really." He looked at her and for a moment she saw how frightened he was. He shook his head and the fear receded, pushed back behind its barrier once more. "But I don't think it's me. At least not entirely."

"Oh?"

"I know what Dr. Williams thinks. And I have a fair idea what he must have told you. But he's forgetting that I am trained in psychology, too. I know the symptoms and the causes.

"I don't think I fit the profile. I mean, I'm hardly manicdepressive, and I'm not schizophrenic. At least, I don't think I am.

The waiter returned to lay the glistening green-gray artichokes before them. He unrolled the napkins and placed them on their laps, arranged their silver, and then vanished.

Spence continued as if the waiter had never been there. "At this point, I realize I would have a very rough time proving my sanity."

"Nobody thinks you're insane."

"Dr. Williams might dispute that."

"Nonsense. He's concerned, and I am too. You have to admit, though, we haven't a lot to go on."

"Granted. These past few weeks, however, I have doubted my sanity. I could feel it slipping away and there was nothing I could do to stop it. It was like I was being drained, bit by bit, only I didn't realize it at first. I tried to tell myself that it was overwork, pressure, new surroundings. But I don't think so anymore."

He sampled some of the artichoke. Ari, who had been nibbling all along, laid down her fork. "I don't think I'm getting all of this, Spence. Perhaps you'd better start at the beginning."

"You're right." He nodded and took a few more bites of his food. "I can't remember the beginning. There are a lot of things I can't remember. Whole chunks of my memory are missing.

"But it was some time after I came here, though not long after. A couple weeks, that's all. It started with the dreams."

"Dreams?"

"Don't ask me what they're about, because I don't know. Sometimes I am almost on the verge of remembering-I can almost see a picture in my mind. A word or a sound will trigger it, but then it's gone. Everything goes blank.

"But I can tell you this: they are strange, frightening dreams. I wake up in a cold sweat, trembling. Once or twice I believe I have screamed. I know I have cried in my sleep.

"There is no pattern to it that I can see. Sometimes it happens during a session-the experiments, you know-and sometimes when I'm asleep in my own quarters. But the emotional impact stays with me for a while, lingering over me like a ghostly presence, haunting me."

"That's horrible!"

"It gets worse."

"Your order, sir." The waiter materialized out of nowhere to place several steaming dishes before them. "Enjoy your meal, Monsieur, Mademoiselle."

"Uh-oh," said Spence. "Something's wrong."

"What is it?" said Ari, afraid that some new horror had descended upon Spence.

"Red wine with sole. How gauche." He pulled a wry grin. "Ari, you are dining with a gauche person."

She laughed and the sound was a bubbling of music. "Down with convention! I don't care. Besides, you know what they say."

"What do they say?"

"Foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds."

"Is it?"

"Well, Emerson thought so. He said it."

They both laughed then and Ari saw the lines of strain ease from around his eyes and mouth. He let go; the ice had been broken. He had trusted her with his secret; now he would confide in her. She, too, relaxed, discovering she had been sitting on the edge of her chair since they were seated.

"Cheers!" said Spence, lifting his glass and clinking it against hers. He took a sip of wine and then dug into his food with the haste of a hungry man. They ate in silence until he pushed back his plate with a motion of finality. He had reached a decision.

He launched back into his confession willingly. The words spilled out in a torrent; the floodgates had opened. Ari sat spellbound as she listened.

"The blackouts began a week ago-five days, to be exact. Nothing in my family history would indicate a condition such as this. No epilepsy, catalepsy, or anything of that sort. It's completely original with me, whatever it is.

"What takes place during the blackouts, I have no idea. Neither do I know how long they last precisely. I estimate anywhere from six to ten hours, working backward from the time I can last remember until I wake up again. Obviously I am fairly active during these episodes, judging from the fact that I seem to be able to get myself into varying degrees of difficulty." He raised a hand to the red side of his face.

"These self-destructive acts, as Dr. Williams calls them, are well known in psychological literature-especially in association with blackouts or amnesia. It is not unusual for a blackout to result from the trauma of a very destructive or threatening act. In other words, the mind blocks the memory of the episode because it is simply too painful to remember.

"In my case, however, I believe it is just the other way around. I can't prove anything one way or the other, but something inside tells me I'm right in the assumption. I thought about it all last night as I lay in sick bay. It's just a gut hunch, but right now it's the best I've got."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"What I'm trying to say, I guess, is that in my case the blackouts come first and trigger the self-destructive acts. Only I don't think the point is to destroy myself."

"What is the point?"

"To escape. Flight is one of the oldest animal reflexes. It's basic, universal. Even the most timid creature will flee into an unknown danger in order to escape a known one."

"But, Spence," Ari gasped, "who or what would want to harm you?"

"I don't know-yet. But I mean to find out." He glanced al Ari's worried face; she was chewing her lower lip and scowling furiously. "I know how fantastic this all sounds. You must think I'm a raving madman. Why invent invisible enemies? Why concoct outrageous theories when the same facts can be explained more simply with known principles? I've asked myself those questions a thousand times in the last twenty-four hours. But there's something inside me that won't let me accept the other alternative. And right now that's all I have."

Ari leaned across the table and placed her hands on his. She looked him full in the face and said, "I believe you, Spencer."

"You do?"

"Yes, I do. For one thing, no one could talk the way you do – so objectively, so logically-who was suffering the kind of mental distress you describe. So I believe you."

"I didn't think it would be that easy. I mean, there's every reason to lock me away before I hurt myself or someone else. But… you don't think I'm going crazy?"

"No, I don't. Whatever it is that's causing these-these seizures, it must be something outside yourself."

"That's it, Ari. You've said it. Something outside of me. I've felt it hovering over me. A presence… I can't describe what it's like."

"How can it be, though?"

Spence clenched his fist. "I don't know. I scarcely believe it's possible. But that's the feeling I get sometimes."

"Did you enjoy your meal, sir?" the waiter asked. How long he had been standing there Spence wasn't sure. He was surprised to see the table cleared of the dishes; he had been so wrapped up in his story he had not noticed them being taken away.

"The meal was fine, thank you."

"Very good, sir. I will bring your check." "Thank you, Spence. It was a lovely meal." "If somewhat gruesome."

"No, I mean it. I can't say I enjoyed the conversation-knowing what you have been through. But I've enjoyed being with you."

The waiter brought the check on a silver tray and placed it before Spence, handing him a silver fountain pen at the same time. He signed his name and personal accounting code.

"Thank you very much, Monsieur. Join us again very soon. Adieu." The waiter turned and snapped his fingers and a white – coated young man appeared with a silver coffeepot and filled their china cups. He placed between them a tiny silver bowl which contained four delicate pink rosebud mints.

Spence sipped his coffee thoughtfully. Ari could see him weighing his next words carefully.

"Ari, I've told you all this because I want to ask a favor of you."

"Go ahead."

"It's a small thing, but it's important to me. You'll probably think it's silly."

"No, I won't. Not after all you've told me today. I don't think any of this is silly. I think it's extremely serious."

"Well, your father asked me to join the research trip to the terraforming project on Mars."

"I remember. I was there when he asked you."

"Right. The thing is, I've decided to take up his offer. I'm going to go on the trip. Only no one can know. That's where you come in. I want you to fix it for me so that all the necessary arrangements are made without anyone beyond your father and his staff knowing about it. Can you do that?"

"I think so; I can try. But, Spence, do you think that's wise? You'll be away a long time-anything could happen. You could have blackouts again, and out there no one would be able to take care of you, no medical facilities."

"I have to get away, don't you see? The blackouts started here, and if I stay they'll continue. They may happen out there, too, I realize that. But I have to take that risk."

Ari was not convinced. She frowned. "I don't like it-it's too dangerous. Why don't you stay here and arrange to have someone monitor your activities-your assistant maybe. Or, let Dr. Williams check you over. That would be the sane thing to do."

"The sane thing?" he snapped.

"Sorry. Unfortunate choice of words. But you know what I mean. He offered to let you come in for a complete physical and psychological. And he'd keep it off the record."

"He told you about that? What else did he tell you? What have you two got cooked up?"

"Nothing, Spence. I didn't mean anything-"

"What was the idea? Keep me talking until I convinced myself to check in as a psycho? Was that what you had in mind?"

The sudden shift in Spence's mood frightened Ari. She did not know what to do, so she said, "Listen, Spencer, I'll do as you say. I'll get your trip cleared and I'll arrange it so no one will know. But I want a favor from you. Let Dr. Williams look you over before you go. It couldn't hurt."

He leaned back in his chair and fought to regain control of his temper. He still glared at her, and the look on his face scared her. "I'll think about it," he snapped.

The next moment he was on his feet, jumping up so quickly that he sent his chair crashing to the floor. Heads turned as he stormed out of the restaurant, and diners at the tables all around stared at Ari and talked behind their hands. She colored under their scrutiny. The waiter leaped forward instantly and righted the chair.

"No trouble, Mademoiselle," he said and graciously helped her from her seat.

She hurried from the cafe, her cheeks burning scarlet.