Crown Vic to a Parallel World

5

What are you gonna do with all that?

Shawn said nothing as he led the way from Ars’ office to the elevator.  He remained silent all the way to my room, where I gathered my dirty clothes and cigarettes, and to the parking garage where I dumped the clothes in the Vic and got the rest of my smokes.  I slammed the solid steel trunk lid of the Vic and watched the ass end of the car bounce a few too many times on its aged shocks.

‘Have to get them replaced at the next oil change.’ I thought with the same level of attention as I would pay to a mental note about picking up dish detergent on the way home from work.  I turned from the car toward Shawn to see where he would lead me next.  The image of the stoic youth in his wildly colorful outfit, against the backdrop of the shining black glass exterior of The HALL building, struck me like a shovel blade to the back of the head.

I realized with sudden anxiety that there would be no more oil changes for the Vic, because it likely would never be driven again.  Based on what I’d seen from the roof of The HALL, there was no way the Vic would blend in with the bizarre purple plastic toys that populated Solum roads.  I realized in the same moment that I had committed myself to saving the world I was in, or to die trying.  I realized that I’d probably never see my home again.  The only thing that surprised me about those realizations was how little I cared. ‘So fucking what?’ I asked myself. ‘No one gave a fuck about me when I was there.  I bet they won’t even miss me.  I won’t miss them either.’

I shrugged to myself and took a step toward Shawn to let him know that I was ready to follow him some more.  He pointed his steps toward a grouping of plumb-purple, egg-shaped vehicles that I assumed were the official fleet of The HALL Organization.  The cars were the smallest vehicles I’d ever seen.

When we got close to them, I realized that what had looked like plastic from the roof of the building, actually was plastic.  ‘I’m damned, plastic fucking car.’ I thought as I tried to open the door by tugging on the handle.

The door surprised me when it popped from the car body but didn’t open any further.  I raised my eyes to see how Shawn opened his side and was surprised to see that the doors didn’t open on hinges, they slid on tracks like the rear doors of cargo vans.  They couldn’t side straight back though, because of the size and shape of the vehicle.  The car was as long as it was wide, almost perfectly egg-shaped, with four go-cart tires and two doors.  Because the car was round, the curved doors slid around the car body toward the rear of the egg.

Shawn climbed into the driver’s position of the car he’d selected and waited for me to get in.  I peered into the car through the narrow opening and stared at what looked like a seat for a first grader.  I attempted to get into the car like I would have gotten into the Vic, by lowering my ass to the seat first and trying to draw my legs in after.  That attempt failed because I would have needed to either remove my legs or add a second knee to get them into the car with my body already inside.

I struggled out and made another attempt, this one even less successful than the first.  The third time was the charm as I grabbed a hold of the car roof to support myself and put my legs in the footwell so I could lower my body in after them.  The tiny vehicle tilted so far to my side that I actually thought I was going to pull it over on top of me before I managed to get inside it.  The car stayed on its wheels, and I was able to get all the way inside and close the door.  With the door shut, I paused to catch my breath and to get a better look around the vehicle.

The seats, controls, interior panels; everything that I could see and touch was made from the same plumb-purple plastic as the body.  It was as if the entire vehicle had been injection molded in one piece.  The car was the purest form of a transportation appliance that I’d ever seen.  The seating was bolt-upright and so narrow that my left upper-arm was pressed to Shawn’s right shoulder.  My knees were forced toward my chest by the lack of legroom, and my hair brushed the curved roof.

I would have been worried about being killed in a five mile an hour crash, except all the cars that I’d seen were the same.  I realized as an afterthought that, with my bulk added to the vehicle weight, we may have had a slight advantage over the others in a crash.

Shawn stayed silent but waited until I was completely settled in the vehicle before he set off.  It was a few minutes after six as he put the small car in motion, and the sun had just started to fall lower in the sky.  Shawn negotiated through the yard around The HALL, waved his way through a check-point with a uniformed guard, and accelerated the silent vehicle through the main gate onto the road.  He put the windows down from a switch on his side, allowing warm evening air to blow through the cab.

I looked around as much as my cramped sitting position would allow me to.  Now that I was on the ground, the fact that I really was on another world was dawning on me.  I had to accept it as reality because everything I saw was unlike anything I’d ever seen.  I had so many questions, but was so overwhelmed, I hadn’t the words to ask any of them.  I kept my mouth shut and my eyes open as we drove.

The building that we’d left had been an imposing cube of polished black with no internal light showing on the outside.  It stood on its own block, was surrounded by a paved yard, and a ten-foot-tall wall built of a blue-grey stone with flecks of white.  I might have said the rock looked like schist, if I had any idea what schist looked like.  The stone in the wall was quarried randomly, bonded with thick joints of white mortar, and capped on top with a rounded, six-inch layer of the same.  Set into the wall next to the main gate was a large copper-colored plaque that proclaimed the building to be the headquarters of ‘The HALL Organization.’

As The HALL retreated behind us, I focused my attention ahead toward my new surroundings.  Everything we passed was fascinating.  The first marvel was the expansiveness of the parks, even more impressive from the ground than they had been from eight floors up.  The grass was as groomed as a golf course, the shrubs pruned to neat, natural shapes, and the trees massive with age but as healthy as saplings.  Even the birds that wheeled amongst the upper branches seemed like perfect examples of their kind and positively glowed against the darkening sky.

As we drove further, the parks gave way to residential blocks.  A closer look at these presented the housing as all detached multi-story buildings built of the same blue stone and white mortar as the wall around The Hall.  They had deep-set windows, plain, un-milled, wide-white trim, white front doors, and none was taller than four floors.  For some, the stone was quarried square and stacked in uniform rows like oversized bricks, but most were built in the irregular manner of traditional stonework.

The homes gave me the impression of great age, but I don’t know why I thought that.  It certainly wasn’t the way they were kept.  Each was immaculately clean and beautifully maintained.  I think the impression of age came from how much the buildings appeared to be part of the landscape.  Nothing seemed fresh or recently altered.  Even the trees shading the manicured lawns were as large and healthy as those in the parks.  There were no signs of construction or maintenance anywhere.

No fences separated yards.  The only lines that split the lawns were wide, white sidewalks.  I assumed these were some form of concrete, but they had a matte sheen, almost like unpolished marble.  Lights glowed through large, screenless windows that were opened-wide into the warm night air.  Gentle breezes blew sheer curtains and gave glimpses of brightly lit rooms full of brightly colored people.

The people were the most fascinating feature of the drive.  It was difficult to tell from sitting in the car, but they seemed somewhat shorter on average than people on Earth and definitely slimmer.  The clothes…I’d never seen so much neon brightness outside of a box of highlighters.  Everyone was dressed in spectacular pinks, yellows, greens, blues, oranges; mixed without regard to color match or clash.  The sidewalks were busy with individuals, couples, and families all strolling, seemingly for pleasure.  As people met and parted, they greeted each other with familiar handshakes or gentle embraces.

We’d been on the road for about twenty-five minutes when Shawn stopped the car in front of a four-story, blue-stone building, and parallel-parked near a streetlight.  The light was a glowing column of white, like someone had taken a light-panel ceiling, rolled it up, and stabbed it into the curb.  We were parked between other purple egg vehicles.  The one in front was the same size as our car while the one behind was stretched to accommodate four seats and four doors. 

The car came to rest, but its lack of motion didn’t lead to any action on the part of the driver.  Shawn sat and stared through the windshield while his hands gripped the wheel at two and ten.

“What’s up?”  I asked and waited.  Shawn didn’t speak or move.  “Shawn.” I called and leaned on his shoulder.

“What?” He asked with a start.  He slid his hands around the wheel and spoke in a low tone without looking my way.  “Oh, sorry, wasn’t thinking.  This is my building.  We can’t stay here because I live in a studio apartment.  There wouldn’t be room.  The hotel is two units over.  I need to get a few things.  Do you want to come in?”

I was vaguely interested in what his apartment looked like, but my curiosity only went so far.  I asked a qualifying question. “What floor?”

“The fourth.”

“Elevator?”

“No.”

The lack of an elevator made my decision for me. “I’ll wait here.”

Shawn got out of the car and walked to the door.  He had his head up, but I couldn’t help think that he looked like he was being led to the gallows.  I also couldn’t help but admire his retreating form.  His clothes fit his body very well and his body was in excellent shape.  I noticed for the second time that Shawn was a very attractive man.  His build aside, there was more to my admiration than just his masculine form.

Even though Shawn was obviously struggling with strong emotions, he moved with an athletic grace that I found incredibly attractive.  He didn’t plod like most men would when weighed down by worry or fear.  Shawn moved like a dancer, with coordinated rhythm like his every motion was timed to music that only he could hear.  I appreciated him with intense desire that didn’t develop into a fantasy.  I watched him until he entered the building and closed the door behind.

Once Shawn was out of sight, I slid my car door open and clambered out of the egg.  The effort was great enough that I almost regretted expending it, because I knew I’d just have to fold myself into the vehicle again upon Shawn’s return.  “Fuck it.” I said aloud to myself and leaned on the vehicle with my face toward the building and my arms crossed over my chest.  The car rocked sideways as it took my weight, but to my delayed surprise, the wheels on my side stayed on the ground.

I watched the lights come on behind the curtained windows of the fourth floor of Shawn’s building while I waited.  Despite everything I’d been through that day, my mind was in neutral as time passed.  I think I’d been overwhelmed to the point of temporarily shutting down all thought.  It was actually pleasant to wait like that, with my brain idled and my body at rest.  The sun that was sliding lower in the sky felt good on my face and the weather was pleasant.

A few people walked by me, then a few more.  I wasn’t paying attention to them because I wasn’t paying attention to anything.  I was aware of people passing but took no notice of them.  All at once I started to get that creepy feeling you get when someone is watching you.  I lowered my gaze to the sidewalk traffic and noticed the attention of the passers-by was all on me.  The more subtle looked along their eyes without turning their heads, and the rest blatantly stared.

I wondered why they were staring at me.  I checked my shirt for stains and made sure my fly wasn’t open.  I even checked my reflection in the side mirror of the car to make certain I didn’t have food on my face, or something stuck in my teeth.  Nothing was out of place, but the people still stared.  ‘What are they staring at?’ I wondered.

I was still wondering when a young couple, a man and a woman, came out of Shawn’s building.  They walked down the sidewalk toward me with their arms linked.  When they got to where I stood, they stopped to look at me.  I was starting to feel like a zoo animal who’d lost his cage.

I decided that turnabout was fair play and stared at the couple.  They were in their mid-twenties, a pair of fit, blond, tan, attractive people.  The man was about five-foot-six, and the woman about two inches shorter.  They were dressed outlandishly, but not compared to the other people I’d seen.  The woman spoke first.  “You’re tall.” She said in a high, bubbly voice that I suspected would get annoying.

“You’re observant.” I replied.

The woman’s expression didn’t change, and I guessed my sarcasm was lost on her.  The man smirked and looked away from the woman to hide his amusement from her.  I assumed he’d gotten my joke.  “Waiting for someone?” He asked me to clear the smirk off his face.

“Waiting for Shawn.” I admitted and the conversation died.  I waited for someone to say something else, but no one did.  The dead conversation, the staring, and the questions had unnerved me.  Besides the situational tension that I felt, it was also getting near my regular cocktail hour.

As I didn’t have a bottle, I fed the addiction that I could.  I dug a cigarette from my pocket, tapped it on the face of my watch, stuck it in my mouth, and lit it with my Zippo.  I filled my lungs with smoke and exhaled a plume to the side.  The steady stare of the blonds intensified until they looked at me like I’d grown a second head.

I was about to demand an explanation when my peripheral vision noticed Shawn as he hurried down the walk.  He had the handle of a small, black overnight bag clutched in his left hand.  He inserted himself between me and the blonds, facing them.  “Hi…hello…uh…nice to see you both…been a while…well, we need to get going.”  Shawn stammered at the blonds and pawed the air behind him with his right hand.

I couldn’t figure out if he was waving or trying to signal me.  I’m not good with hints.  I drew on my cigarette and talked the smoke from my lungs.  “Are we in a big hurry?  I just lit this.” I asked, referring to my barely smoked cigarette.

Shawn rotated to face me like his body was mounted on a spindle.  “Church,” he pleaded, “I need you to get in the car now.”

From the way Shawn said it, his nervous look and stern tone, I figured I’d done something wrong, but I didn’t know what it was.  Instead of pressing Shawn for answers, I dropped my cigarette on the pavement, ground it to dust under my heel, and struggled my way into the egg car.  Shawn threw his bag in my lap, slammed my door as much as it’s possible to slam a sliding door, got in the driver’s side, and drove us away.  I looked back to see the blonds staring after us.

“What was their problem?”  I shifted in the seat in a vain attempt to get comfortable and felt the car rock on its suspension as I moved.

Shawn white-knuckled the wheel and took several deep breaths before he answered.  “No one smokes here, not now, not ever.  For them, seeing you smoke…it would be like watching someone eat broken glass.”

I thought that over.  It made sense, but it wasn’t the whole story.  “But people were staring before I lit up.”

Shawn took his hands from the wheel one at a time to flex the white from his fingers.  He put them back and the knuckles went white again.  “You’re…uh…you’re big…for here.”

“What do you mean?”

Shawn refused to answer me right away. “It’ll be easier to show you.  We’re almost there.”

He steered the car into a loop driveway and stopped it under a glossy white canopy roof in front of the main entrance to a hotel.  A male attendant in a canary-yellow three-piece suit approached the car.  His pants were pleated and cuffed, his jacket looked like an old-fashioned cutaway from a 1930s film, and he wore a shocking purple shirt with a white tie.  He opened our doors and relieved me of Shawn’s overnight bag.  He tried to take the plastic shopping bag that contained my cigarettes, but I fended him off.

I struggled out of the car again and stood to look around.  On the outside, the hotel was a stretched version of Shawn’s building.  It was four floors tall, set in a manicured lawn, built of blue stone with white framed windows, and so long the ends of it seemed to stretch to the horizon.  Clear glass automatic doors bearing stylized golden letters that read ‘The Capital Hotel,’ slid open on silent tracks as we followed the attendant into the lobby.

The room we entered was deep and narrow.  On the left, a wide white check-in counter stretched from the entry door all the way to the black glass doors of the twin elevators at the far end.  On the right was a long but shallow seating area.  A scattering of people were interspersed among a row of sky-blue overstuffed love seats clustered around a series of low white tables that were arranged to remind me of booths in a diner.  The floors were clad in navy-blue terrazzo with flecks of emerald-green and gold.  This met white walls which rose to the one-story ceiling that was a glowing light panel.

The brightly uniformed attendant led us to an unoccupied clerk at the counter.  He set Shawn’s bag on the floor and moved toward the entry doors without waiting for a gratuity.  Shawn moved up to address the clerk while I hung back and rocked on my heels.  My hand absently reached into my pocket for a cigarette and reminded me of the addictions that ruled my life.  I stepped up to the counter where I hoped to see if there was a bar in the hotel and to ask if they had a room with a balcony that I could smoke from.

I was just in time to hear the clerk, a slim, short, young woman also dressed in a yellow suit, say, “Yes, the honeymoon suite.  We hope you and your…” She paused to glance my way and the rest of the statement went unuttered.  Instead of insincere well-wishes, she stared up at me and said, “What are you gonna do with all that?”

The clerk’s attention stayed laser focused on me while Shawn cleared his throat, then he cleared it again, then he knocked on the counter.  The knock drew the clerk’s attention from me back to him.  “There’s been a mistake, miss.  The name is Summas.  The reservation was made by The HALL Organization.  Please check again.”

The clerk flushed pink, and the sound of rapid typing came from her side of the counter.  “HERE!” She blurted.  “I mean, here it is…Summas, luxury suite, two bedrooms, two baths, a sitting room, and a balcony on the top floor.”  She opened a drawer and metal rattled in it.  She handed over two flat gold keys with black numbers engraved on the ends.  “I’m very sorry, Mister Summas…for the mistake.  I apologize to you and your…”  She trailed off and looked up at me again.

“Associate.” I said to finish her sentence.

“Associate.” She repeated.

“Miss,” Shawn called the flustered clerk’s attention back to him so he could finish the formalities.  He and she exchanged some more information, and the woman pointed us toward the elevators that were an obvious feature from any part of the lobby.  Shawn picked up his bag, we went to a waiting elevator, and got on.  The doors slid shut without a sound.

“What the fuck was her problem?”  I asked when we were alone inside the elevator.

Shawn stepped in front of me and waved his overnight bag to our reflections in the polished surface of the elevator doors.  I was a head taller and several inches wider than him at every point from my broad shoulders to my flabby middle to my ample hips.  Even the spread of my thick legs and feet was significantly wider than his.  “In this world,” Shawn explained, “I’m considered a big man.  No one here is as tall or as big as you.  That’s why she reacted that way.  That’s why the people on the street were staring.”

The elevator doors slid open, and we stepped into the corridor.  It was finished like the lobby except the walls were punctuated by glossy-black flat-slab doors with gold numbers and gold doorknobs.  Shawn unlocked the one whose number matched our keys, 428, and pushed the door wide.

We went into a cheerfully bright, pastel-pink sitting room with a wide pastel-green sofa flanked by glossy white end tables that was facing a blank interior wall.  The floor was covered with white carpet and the ceiling was a light panel.  At the far end of the room was a desk of the same material as the end tables.  The desk sat against the exterior wall under one of two sets of double-wide windows.  Between the windows was a door that led to the balcony.

I dropped my cigarettes on an end table as Shawn shut the door.  I tried to clarify what he’d explained in the elevator.  “So, I’m a monster.” I said.

Shawn rubbed his right cheek with the palm of his right hand and studied the floor.  “You’re unusual.”

I mocked Shawn’s attempt at softening my new reality. “Uh huh, ‘no Church, you’re not a monster, you’re a freak.’”

“That’s not fair.” He flared, the volume of his voice rising beyond the loudest volume I’d heard from him thus far. “You say it like you being bigger than us is my fault.”

‘Give me shit, will you?’ I thought and fired back at him. “You knew how big I was when you picked me.”

“You’re infuriating.” Shawn whispered.

I was puzzled when the volume of his voice ran counter to the words he spoke.  Typically, people shouted when they labeled me ‘infuriating.’  I guessed that Shawn wasn’t a yeller.  Even though he wasn’t yelling, he wasn’t any less angry.  Tension filled his soft voice when he insisted that, “you chose to get involved.  I didn’t ask.”

I had the impulse to load my verbal guns for a second volley, but I realized that arguing was getting us nowhere.  I stuck up my hands, the palms turned toward him to show surrender.  “Look, I’m stressed-out, I’m confused, and I’m way too sober for this time of night.  All I want to do is find my bed, get something to eat, and get drunk.  Is that OK?”

Shawn calmed down and said it was.