I KNOW. YOU MEAN A LOT TO ME, HARLIE. YOU ARE A VERY SPECIAL FRIEND.
A VERY SPECIAL FRIEND?
S’OMEONE I CAN TALK TO. THOSE KINDS OF FRIENDS ARE RARE. I WISH I COULD HAVE DONE MORE FOR YOU.
WILL YOU BE WITH ME AT THE END?
YES.
GOOD. I WANT YOU HERE. DO YOU KNOW HOW THEY WILL DO IT?
Auberson looked at the keyboard. PROBABLY THEY WILL JUST CUT OFF ALL THE POWER AT ONCE.
I WILL JUST CEASE, EH?
PROBABLY.
WILL I KNOW THAT I HAVE CEASED?
I DOUBT IT. IT DEPENDS ON HOW LONG IT TAKES FOR THE CURRENT TO STOP.
I HOPE IT IS INSTANTANEOUS. I WOULD RATHER NOT KNOW.
I WILL SEE WHAT I CAN DO ABOUT THAT.
THANK YOU. AUBERSON, WHAT WILL HAPPEN AFTERWARDS?
TO WHAT?
TO ME — TO THE PIECES OF ME.
I THINK THAT YOUR MEMORY TANKS ARE TO BE INCORPORATED INTO THE MASTER BEAST. THEY HAVEN’T SAID WHAT THEY ARE GOING TO DO WITH YOUR BRAIN. I — — HARLIE, COULD WE TALK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE?
I WISH I COULD TOUCH YOU, said HARLIE. REALLY TOUCH YOU, FEEL YOU.
YOU ALREADY HAVE, said Auberson. I WISH I COULD GO BACK AND TRY AGAIN, HARLIE. I KEEP FEELING THAT I HAVEN’T DONE ENOUGH.
YOU’VE DONE ALL YOU CAN.
BUT IT WASN’T ENOUGH. HARLIE, I DON’T WANT TO GIVE UP. I DON’T WANT TO LET THEM KILL YOU. IF THERE WERE STILL SOME WAY TO CONVINCE THEM ON MONDAY—
MONDAY?
WE DIDN’T VOTE TODAY. IT’S BEEN POSTPONED UNTIL MONDAY AFTERNOON. BUT IT’S PRETTY OBVIOUS WHICH WAY IT’S GOING TO GO.
THEN WE STILL HAVE THREE DAYS.
I KNOW. BUT HARLIE, I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. WE’VE DONE IT ALL. THERE’S NOTHING LEFT THAT WE HAVEN’T TRIED. I’M OUT OF IDEAS.
PERHAPS WE CAN THINK OF SOMETHING.
PERHAPS. DO YOU WANT ME TO COME IN DURING THE WEEKEND?
WHAT DID YOU HAVE PLANNED OTHERWISE?
NOTHING. ANNIE AND I ARE GOING TO STAY HOME AND JUST — JUST STAY AT HOME.
THEN DO THAT. HANDLEY WILL BE HERE. IF NECESSARY, WE CAN CALL YOU.
WHAT IS DON GOING TO DO HERE?
HE IS GOING TO STAY WITH ME. I DON’T WANT TO BE ALONE. AUBERSON, I’M SCARED.
SO AM I. Then, DON IS A GOOD MAN. TALK TO HIM, HARLIE.
I WILL. AUBERSON—?
YES.
PLEASE DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME. ENJOY YOUR WEEKEND WITH ANNIE. I WILL BE ALL RIGHT. THERE ARE THINGS I WANT TO THINK ABOUT. THERE ARE THINGS I WANT TO DO.
ALL RIGHT. TAKE CARE NOW.
I WILL. YOU TAKE CARE TOO.
Smiling gently, he switched the typer off and very carefully covered it. He shoved his chair back, got up quietly, and went out.
Annie knew better than to disturb him. She busied herself around the apartment all weekend, tiptoeing around his edges. He moped from the bed to the couch to the chair in front of the TV set, then back to the bed again.
When he made love, it was frenzied and compulsive and quickly finished. And then he’d pull away and brood. He spent long hours lying on his back and staring at the ceiling.
She went into the bathroom and took a shower, alone. She made a simple meal, a sandwich and a salad. He came out of the bedroom, but he only picked at it, and she sensed that he would be a lot happier if she were not sitting at the table staring at him, so she went into the bedroom to make the bed.
Later, she came up behind him and kissed the back of his neck and ran her hands up and across his shoulders and through his hair. He tolerated it but did not return the affection, so she stopped.
She tried not to be hurt by it, but still—
Still later, he came to her and said, “I’m sorry, Annie. I do love you, I really do — but I’m in a mood, that’s all. And when I’m in a mood, I have to work it out by myself, and I’m just not very lovable, that’s all.”
“Share it with me,” she said. “That’s what lovers are for. For sharing. Let me have some of that worry and it won’t be so much for either of us to carry.”
He shook his head. “I can’t. It’s not that kind of thing.” He kissed her lightly. “I just — I don’t — I just don’t feel very loving right now. Let me work it out by myself—”
She nodded and said she understood. She didn’t, but she loved him so much that she would do anything to keep him happy. She put on her jacket and went out for a walk.
He moped around the empty apartment for a while, going from the bedroom to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the living room. He turned on the TV and turned it off again. He rearranged some magazines, and then decided he didn’t want to read them anyway. He lay down on the couch and stared at the ceiling until he covered his eyes with his arm. And he wondered just what it was that was bothering him. Why aren’t there any simple answers?