A shower cooled him down from his run. He walked out on the balcony and called his mum. Pictures of his mum walking out in the passageway and heading towards the phone came in to his mind. Her shoulders were not hunched, but tall and straight. That was the image he wanted. One where she is strong and on the mend. It had only been a few weeks but he wanted these things. He didn’t want to think of his mum struggling with the loss of her husband.
Aaron told his mum that he would drop round, pick up his fishing gear and have a cuppa with her. He would bring her up-to-date with what he was up to. He told his mum he’d catch the ferry there, and asked if it was all right to borrow the car. That was fine.
Aaron planned to work things out with a fishing rod in his hand.
Chapter 6
THE WHITE VAN CRAWLED along. Movement was snail’s pace, at times even slower, the congestion due to the incident. Lucas had to get the Professor to walk a few blocks before he could pick him up.
After a good hour or so he finally picked up the Professor, then manoeuvred the van onto the Pacific Motorway and relaxed. Lucas told the Professor that he saw one of their ‘test dummies’ sitting on a bench. They hardly spoke the rest of the trip. They nearly hit a wallaby as they turned into the property, which generated a brief sparkle of excitement in the van.
Lucas pressed the button and watched the garage door open. He drove the van in and told the Professor he would join him soon, as he needed to shut down a few things first. After tidying up things he went over to the shed. He saw a mannequin on the floor and assumed that they must have done some testing. It was just as well they didn’t do a transfer, as this would have spooked the people. They slipped up—it should have been removed. He picked it up and carried it out with him and threw it on a pile of rubbish. The face on the mannequin stared back at Lucas, so he covered it with some of the other rubbish.
He lit up a smoke because he knew he wouldn’t get another chance for a while. The image on the cigarette package was gruesome. It reminded him of the face of the mannequin. He hoped they’d fixed things up, because he wouldn’t want to see these things happening to humans. There had been signs of problems—the first human test they did, the man stayed intact. He died from the fall, not a deformity. He thought of the man with the red and blue cap—he was intact and seemed to be functioning okay.
Another car was coming down the road. It was his boss, the Minister for Urban Movement. He quickly put out his cigarette as the minister didn’t particularly like smokers. Tony the chauffeur got out of the car, raised his arm towards Lucas, and pretended to get him in a headlock. The chauffeur opened the car door for the minister. The minister nodded to the chauffeur and headed for the steps. He waved Lucas over.
“How are you, Lucas?”
“Not bad, sir.”
“You’re nearly looking as good as my chauffeur. Maybe you two should get into wrestling and form a tag team or something.” He laughed.
Lucas had heard it all before. In fact, the minister’s constant referral to his chauffeurs and wrestling gave birth to Tony getting the nickname of Tag. Lucas missed out on a nickname. He wondered if he might end up being called Tag2.
“I heard we had to delay things this morning. Bit of an accident, I believe,” the minister said.
“That’s what I heard.” He hoped the minister would expand a bit more, because Lucas hadn’t heard much.
“Sad, a person died, just because she didn’t follow the rules. What are we meant to do with these idiots? They think they’re immortal.”
Lucas just nodded.
“Come join us, Lucas. You’re a part of the team. And one other thing Lucas . . . you’re not immortal either, so you better give up those cigarettes. You people just don’t realise, you can smell a smoker a mile off.”
Lucas followed. He imagined grabbing the minister in a head lock and blowing smoke in his face. They both reached the top of the stairs when the door opened.
“Ah,” the minister said. “The mad professor. Are we safe to enter your domain?”
“Of course, there are no mannequins inside, only my spiritual guides.”
The minister turned to Lucas. “He believes this stuff.”
They walked in. “But don’t you, Minister?” the Professor asked.
“What? Believe that stuff? No . . . no. I’m a Christian, mate. God forbids us to consult such things.”
Their talk concerned Lucas. He looked around the house. He sensed an evil presence.
Lucas heard something.
“I must stop calling you the mad professor because you’re not mad, but a good friend. Lucas probably doesn’t even know your real name. Do you, Lucas?
Lucas, still looking for the source of noise, turned back towards the minister. “Yes, I know his name. It’s the nutty professor.” His humour always came out when stressed. He wasn’t afraid of much, but invisible things and voices in his head spooked him.
They laughed. They sat around the coffee table. The minister placed his phone on the coffee table.
“No it’s not the nutty professor. It’s Bruce Starke, if you all don’t mind.
“I knew that,” Lucas said.
The Professor walked out of the room and came back with some beer cans. He threw one to Lucas and another to the minister.
“You know, Lucas,” the Professor said, sitting on a chair facing them, “someone once asked me where thoughts come from. That question sent me off on a journey. I started reading lots and lots of books, new age books as they’re referred to. I met many people also looking for the source of their thoughts. I came to believe in reincarnation and started visiting people who could tell the future and some who fixed up the holes in my aura.”
“Holes in the aura?” Lucas mentally changed the man’s name to Mad Nutty Professor.
“That’s why he’s so skinny, Lucas. Things leak out of him.” The minister laughed, “He needed to be patched up. And Lucas . . . you know that impressive thing on your face, the goatee and moustache? If you removed the moustache and trimmed the goatee, just leaving a small patch, do you know what the remaining patch is called?”
“You got me there.”
“A soul patch.” The minister paused, thoughtfully. “I think that blends in with what we’re talking about.”
The Professor continued, ignoring the minister’s attempts at humour. “I know it sounds far-fetched, but when you venture into the spiritual world these things become clear. I’m sure you’re familiar with things like tarot cards and séances. I started communicating with angels of light who I have come to know as spiritual guides. I don’t see them but sense their presence through people, things, and coincidences.”
The minister shook his head. “It’s all hogwash, Lucas, and downright dangerous stuff to get involved in. Those angels of light aren’t necessarily angels of light. I keep telling him that, but he says it’s a hobby. As long as it doesn’t affect his work, it’s okay with me. I think these beliefs move on, you know, like a passing fad.”
“Don’t think so, Minister. I believe they helped me develop the technology. Anyway, enough about me. We might have to find out a little about Lucas sometime.”
