Why Do Birds

CHAPTER 8

The young man walked into the lobby of the Mitsubishi Building and held up his clipboard and ID. "Sir, were you here earlier?" asked the Sikh in the cage.

"Who, me? No."

"Is your name Sherman B. Cohen?"

"That's right."

"A person named Sherman B. Cohen was here earlier today. His hair was light, and yours is dark. "

"Oh, that's my brother Sherman. He has different color hair."

"Sherman B. Cohen is your brother?"

"Right."

"And your name is also Sherman B. Cohen?"

"Yeah, that's right. See, his middle name is Bill and mine is Bob. That's how they tell us apart." The young man reached up and lifted his cap, snatched the wig off and replaced the cap.

The Sikh flickered. "Sir, were you here earlier today?"

"I just told you, that was my brother Bob."

"Your brother is named Bob?"

"Right, and I'm Bill."

The Sikh flickered again. "Sir, was your brother here earlier today?"

"That's right." The young man lifted his cap, replaced the wig, put the cap on again. "Listen," he said, "I think there's something wrong with you. Are you supposed to keep flickering like that?"

The Sikh flickered violently. "One moment. Diagnostic complete. Reset. What office are you visiting, sir?"

Stone held up the clipboard. "Thank you, sir," said the Sikh. The door clicked open. Beyond it was the row of elevators.

Carrying the parcel, the clipboard, and his shabby raincoat, the young man entered the reception area of Yallow and Moore.

"Yes, is that for us?" said the receptionist, and held out her hand for the parcel.

"It is, yeah, but I have to give it to Mr. Yallow or Mr. Moore."

"Mr. Yallow passed over several years ago. Give me the package and I'll see that Mr. Moore gets it."

"Uh, that's nice of you, but I have to talk to him about a project."

"What project would that be?"

"I want to build a box big enough to put the whole human race in."

"I see." The receptionist reached under the desk and buzzed for assistance. "I'm afraid Mr. Moore is much too busy to see anyone today. If you'll leave your name and number-"

"Ed Stone. I haven't got a telephone, I just got here."

"Well, the best thing would be, call later in the week, or better yet, make it next month."

"Okay, thanks." Stone put out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Miss-"

She took the hand and felt a curious cold shock. "Kathy McCarthy," she said without intending to. She felt a little dizzy. "Wait a minute, let me - I can at least let you talk to Mr. Moore's secretary. "

"Could you? That would be swell."

A uniformed guard came in and approached the desk. "That's all right, Ken," said McCarthy. "It was a mistake."

"Yes?" The guard looked at Stone. "What's your business here?"

"I'm waiting to see Mr. Moore. My name is Ed Stone." He put out his hand.

"It really is all right, Ken," said McCarthy. "I hit the button with my knee."

"Okay." The guard shook Stone's hand. "Sorry about that, but we can't be too careful." He grinned. "There's so many almond cakes around - you understand."

"Sure. Well, nice meeting you."

"Same here." They smiled at each other; the guard left with visible reluctance.

"He liked you," said McCarthy.

"Yeah, I guess he did."

"Well, I'm going to take a chance and buzz you in to see Mrs. Rooney, Mr. Moore's secretary. Through there, tum right, and it's the last door on the left."

"Say, thanks a lot."

"Good luck."

Florence Rooney looked up as the young man entered her office. "Yes?"

"Miss McCarthy sent me in. My name is Ed Stone." They shook hands; he sat down in her visitor's chair and put his funny hat on his knee. "Mrs. Rooney, I need to see Mr. Moore about a big project."

"Well, perhaps I could squeeze you in- What sort of project is it?"

"I want to build a box and put the whole human race in it."

"You do? That will be quite a costly project."

"I know."

"Well, let me see." She pressed a button. "Mr. Moore, a young man named Ed Stone is here to see you. Can you give him ten minutes?"

"What's it about?"

"A very unusual project. He can explain it better himself."

''Okay.''