“Not like Minnesota, Mom. One of the reasons I moved there.”
“Hmm. And how are you doing, son? The offer’s still open on what’s-her-face. I knows deze guys…”
“Thanks, but I don’t want to have to visit you in jail.” I sighed. “Look, Mom. People cheat. It happens. We weren’t married yet. I’d have hated to find out after we tied the knot. I’m good, now. Really.”
Can you hear disbelief? My mother didn’t say a word. Maybe it was her breathing. Whatever, I decided it was a good time to change the subject. “So how’s everyone?”
“Your father’s fine. He’s in the workshop, still trying to get that pile o’ junk to start. Your sisters are here for a visit, by the way. They visit their poor ailing mother. Andrea is motioning that she’d like to mock you for a bit.”
“Okay, put her on. I need my massive ego kicked out from under me.”
There was some muffled conversation, then, “Hi little brother.”
“I’m older than you.”
“Not what I meant.”
I smiled to myself at the sound of her voice and at the traditional exchange. Andrea, Alaina, and myself were as close as siblings could be. The two girls were twins only in that they were born at the same time. They had literally twelve inches difference in height between them. And Andrea never let me forget that she had an inch on me as well.
“So, rich guy, how are things out in Silicone Valley?” I could hear the smile in Andrea’s voice. She’d been doing this comedy routine ever since I’d moved west.
“It’s Silicon, Andrea. And that’s in Frisco.”
“I watch TMZ. I stand by my comment.”
“Ooh, the butt-hurt is strong in this one…”
Andrea laughed. We spent a few minutes more exchanging insults, updating news bites, then I told her to say hi to Alaina and Dad for me.
Thank God for family. And thank God for a couple thousand miles of distance. When everyone was home at the same time, I could generally take it for about half an hour before I retreated into the basement. Usually, Dad followed about ten minutes later. There’d be the mutual eye-rolling, and we’d settle down without a word, to read or watch TV. My father and I were both loners by disposition. We could sit in the same room for hours, not say five words to each other, and both be completely comfortable. It drove my mother crazy.
***
I was surprised when the alarm went off. I hadn’t intended to fall asleep. I jumped out of bed and got ready as quickly as I could. I would be meeting the gang for dinner, but I wanted to spend some time at the actual convention. The Vortex was a three-day gyrating bag of crazy, and I wanted to catch as much of it as I could. You couldn’t truly say you’d been to a science fiction con until you’d been run over by Farscape cosplayers, threatened by at least one drunken Darth, and had bought a cheap plastic movie prop for more than its weight in gold. Woo hah.
The elevator opened, and I stepped out into the lobby. The doorman nodded to me as I approached, and held the door open. As usual, I wasn’t sure if I should tip him or not. I decided to give him a large tip when I checked out, just in case.
The Las Vegas air hit like a hammer when I stepped out of the air-conditioned hotel. I stopped and let a gaggle of Enterprise crewcritters, several Ferengi, two Chewbaccas, and a storm trooper wander past. They were loud, truculent, and appeared to have been sampling Terran alcohol to excess. After a few seconds of semi-coherent argument, they turned and crossed the street more or less as a unit.
I smiled and shook my head, then I walked the extra fifty feet to the crosswalk. I wasn’t in that much of a hurry. As I started to cross, I heard a flurry of hurled insults, blaring horns, and squealing tires.
I turned toward the noise, and everything went into slow motion. The car came around the group, the driver’s mouth moving as he leaned out the window. He turned forward and looked right at me, and his eyes went wide. Tires squealed as the car went into a four-wheel lock.
You have GOT to be kidding me!
There was a flash of light, a moment of unimaginable pain…
***
I could hear voices. Urgent voices, calling out about codes. Someone in the background declaring that they had a right to be there. Something about a power of attorney, last will and testament. Angry responses. A calm voice, much closer, mentioning time of death…
The voices and the light faded, and the world ended.
Bob Version 2.0
I snapped back to consciousness. There was no transition, none of the normal vagueness you get when you wake up. I remembered the car coming at me, which I thought was odd. I would have expected the last few seconds to be lost as they didn’t have time to enter long-term memory. On the other hand, maybe the last few seconds had been lost.
I lay there, without moving or opening my eyes, and did careful inventory. I felt no pain. In fact, I couldn’t feel my arms, my legs, or my body at all. I was getting none of the normal proprioceptive cues that would tell me if I were lying down, comfortable, or anything. Not really a good sign—complete paralysis seemed a likely explanation.
I experienced a moment of panic, followed immediately by a kind of bemused surprise. The panic seemed to be purely intellectual. I had no sensation of elevated breathing, increased heart-rate, or fight-or-flight muscle tension. Nothing. While I was normally very analytical, this seemed especially Vulcan, even for me.
Wow. Am I paralyzed from the forehead down? Maybe I’m in an induced coma? If so, it’s not a very good one.
Gathering my resolve, I opened my eyes.
Or tried to. Nothing happened. This time, I did panic. Being blind was the stuff of nightmares for me. For a few moments, my thoughts spun out of control. I thought of movies I would never see, books I would never read.
But again, the panic didn’t self-reinforce. No adrenaline rush, no nothing. I couldn’t think of a medical condition that would do that. Maybe drugs. Good ones.
I was getting a little weirded out. Over and above the panic thing, I mean. I decided on drugs as a good working hypothesis.
Determined to get a handle on things, I tried again, really thought about opening my eyes. The mechanics, the feeling of my eyes opening…
And with no transition, I could see! There are no words to describe my relief with that small victory.
I appeared to be sitting up, since I was looking at a wall instead of a ceiling. The room could be a hospital room, or a lab, or any nondescript government office. The walls were painted in that peculiar off-white tone that new construction always seemed to start out with. The far wall had a large window, currently shielded by white, uh, something. I thought at first it might be Venetian blinds, but they seemed to be actually printed on the glass.