“I’m sorry to bother you, Dr. Petermann,” I say. “But I recently found these cards, and understandably I had some questions . . .” I realize I’m not holding the cards, that the blond vintage-loving cyborg still has them, so I take a few steps over to the desk and hold my hand out expectantly. She finally rolls her eyes and gives them back.
“Of course you must!” Petermann says jubilantly. “And I would be more than happy to fill you in on what we do here, if you’d just make an appointment.” He purses his lips in such an exaggerated smile that I stop finding him sincere. “I am quite booked up at the moment, but I’m sure we can figure something out in the next couple of months. Right, Lillian?”
“Months?” I say. “No. This is slightly more time-sensitive than that. If I could just have a moment of your time, or perhaps take a look at my files?”
“I’m afraid not.” Petermann laughs nervously. “You see, we’ve just recently upgraded to a new computer system, and not even half of our records have been logged. It’s an arduous process, I’m sure you understand.” He waves his hand in the air and begins to head for the door.
“Please, Dr. Petermann,” I say, stepping in front of him. “I’ve been having the craziest dreams, and I’m starting to question what is real and what isn’t. My dad says you guys helped me when I was little. I want to know exactly what you did.”
Just then there is another buzz at the door, and Petermann stiffens slightly. Lillian looks up at him from behind the desk, her nostrils flaring.
“Should I—” she asks.
“No,” he says quickly. Then turns back to me. “I’m sorry, Alice. Like I said, I’m very busy.”
Another buzz. Petermann closes his eyes. Then a banging at the door.
“Expecting someone?” I ask.
Petermann grits his teeth. “Do not let them in,” he orders Lillian.
“But, doctor,” she hisses. “They may do more harm out there than in here.”
Petermann looks at her hard. “You’re right,” he finally agrees. “Go ahead.”
I hear a faint click before the heavy doors shove open and a male voice hollers, “I’ve got seven peacocks out here. Could you have taken any longer to open the door?”
To my utter astonishment, he’s not kidding. A guy with shaggy brown hair and thick glasses strides in, a peacock squirming under one arm. Behind him, a girl with a copper sweater pushes a dolly with six more, stacked in cages. They flutter and shake and cry out again and again, their green tails sticking out every which way.
“I know Mrs. Perry requested peacocks,” Dr. Petermann scoffs. “But next time we have to think of a better substitute.” Suddenly he stops, remembering me. “Alice, this is Miles, one of our research assistants, along with Lillian and Nanao.”
“Hey,” Miles says.
“Nice to meet you.” I look from him to Nanao, who merely stares back at me while a peacock pecks at her fingers.
“So about the files,” I try again.
“I’m afraid it’s just not going to be possible right now, Alice,” Dr. Petermann replies. “As you can see, we sort of have our hands full.”
I want to tell him that having your hands full with peacocks is not a legitimate excuse coming from a medical professional, but I bite my tongue and try another angle instead. I didn’t want to have to go here so soon, but I’m not sure I have a choice. “It’s just that there’s this boy. I keep seeing him in my dreams . . .” I stop short when I hear an incredulous snort from behind me, but when I look, Lillian is staring at her computer with deep focus. “Anyway,” I say. “I know this is going to sound insane, but I think he might actually be . . . real.”
I brace myself for Petermann’s response. Will he look at me with wonder or shoo me from his lab? But before I get to see the look on his face, the peacock beneath Miles’s arm breaks free, heaving itself onto the marble floor before running wildly around the room, making absurd yodeling sounds as Miles and Nanao chase frantically after it.
When Petermann turns to me now, he seems actually agitated. “Like I said, Alice.” He clears his throat. “Now is not a great time. But if you’ll make an appointment with Lillian, we will get to the bottom of all this.”
He is lying. It’s all over his face—the tightness in his features, the clenching in his jaw. His voice, once upbeat and welcoming, is becoming short. He just wants to get me out of here, that much is clear. Which can only mean one thing: He’s scared.
“I’m sorry.” I give my sweetest smile, tilting my head to the side. “I didn’t mean to waste your time. I’d be happy to make an appointment with Lillian. She’s been so kind already.” I slowly turn and give the same smile to Lillian, who I notice is eyeing me warily. The other thing I notice is her employee ID card on her desk. And in the shuffle that occurs in the next three minutes as Miles and Nanao maneuver the peacocks up the stairway, I have just enough time to grab it.
SEPTEMBER 16th