13)
Zeta had no time to respond, if he could think of a response, since Mrs. Gwennie returned to the room. In her slim, liver-spotted arms she carried a photo album and a digital picture viewer. Instead of returning to her chair, she stood between Zeta and Ro, and waved a hand at Zeta. "Move your bum on over, cowboy, I'm coming through. God forbid you two should be separated from each other for more than a minute."
Jas covered up a grin using the back of his hand. He didn't want to offend by thinking Mrs. Gwennie's unexpected humor of Ro and Zeta's close relationship was funny, especially Ro and Zeta.
Gwennie sat beside Ro, and Zeta moved to a spot beside Jasper. Jas stared at Zeta, as a cowboy, and even managed to smile at his image.
The pages of the photo album were unfurled first. The first page was dabbled with colorless snapshots of a young Mrs. Gwennie and her family. "I was born in 1946, in Templeton, Indiana." Gwennie let out a little laugh when she noticed Ro's astonishment. "Yes, dear, I am very old. If you're good at your math you'll know I'm ninety-seven. Anyway, my whole family came from Templeton. Most of the Rowens did. Two hundred years of Indians! Oh, we're all from Ireland originally. Did you know that, dear? Your people are from Ireland?"
"No," Ro said blankly, "I didn't know that."
"Must be nice to know, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is." Ro's butterflies were slowing down their active wings, no longer tying her insides into tight, unalterable knots. Her mouth, however, was resolutely grim. She thought through the names of those relatives that she knew. Irish names. "I guess that would make sense. Pierce, Delores, Casey, Rosalie. Pretty Irish names, if you ask me."
"Oh, absolutely." Mrs. Gwennie's eyes never wavered as she leafed through the snapshots from her childhood and beyond. "Well, most of them went back there not too long ago. When the North finally got their republic, and after the war, some of the more influential Rowens went over there to help in restoration of government. Some of them, unfortunately, died. The rebels were angry and wanted Northern Ireland back the way it was. They fought like children with army figurines, but with real humans, and they died like real humans. Fools!" Old Gwennie shrugged one shoulder, in mock sympathy. "That's just fine. At least the North has their union with the Republic now. What it mess it all was, and I remember it so well, though it's been barely ten years since the Common War ended. Blasted war." Gwennie leered a scholarly somewhat sour expression to Ro, whose stupefied gape offered no understanding. "Good heavens, didn't they teach you any of this in school?"
"It's really hard not to know a thing about the Common War, Mrs. Gwennie. A person would have to be dead not to know of it. It's been a while since I was in a classroom, but I've heard a thing or two about Northern Ireland, and the consequences, I guess, it had on the rest of the world."
"Probably just as well. I swear they can't get education systems right since the war. That's what happens when you elect Republican leaders into office for three straight terms!" Gwennie purposely let the political topic disintegrate. It always frustrated her. "Let's see," Gwennie paused, holding up a snapshot of at least ten of her relatives. She pointed off the faces in the photo and said their names. When she was through, she asked if any of the names sounded familiar. Ro had to say no. "This might be too far back to do us any good. Maybe we need to take a big leap forward in time." She shoved away the photo album to the floor by her feet, where the cat sat primly, and brought up the digital view screen she promptly set it in Ro's lap. Ro took it in her hands and gave the fairly old contraption, built sometime in the twenty-teens, a brief investigation. Mrs. Gwennie was shuffling through data cards, examining the dates marked on each. "Let's see. What year were you born, Rosalie? About twenty-twenty-five?"
"Twenty-twenty-six, Gwennie. In May."
"Right. Here's one from about that time." Gwennie popped in the cartridge and turned the viewer on. Ro shuffled through the images one by one, examining each face meticulously. "This is from twenty-twenty-six, in the summer, from a reunion I went to back in Templeton. You would've been about six months old then."
None of the pictures displayed on the four-by-six LCD screen hit a valuable, resounding chord in Ro. As soon as the portraits began to repeat, she handed the viewer back to Gwennie.
"I don't think I'm going to find them, Mrs. Rowen. We might not even be related."
"Possibly not," Gwennie agreed. She feathered through arthritic fingers some of Ro's soft blonde locks. "You do have the Rowen look."
Ro had caught a glimpse of her own bright blonde hair and angularly shaped face mimicked in some of the portraits, but it was hardly conclusive. If her brother had sandy hair, what was to stop her other relatives from being anything else but blonde and blue-eyed? Ro sighed to admit defeat.
Gwennie was not going to allow Rosalie to leave bereft of optimism. "If the internet is still good for anything, use it to look into the Common War. A whole lot of your ancestors died fighting in that business, and it would do you good to know a thing or two about it. And I say that if you have the opportunity, Rosalie, you should go to Templeton. Oh, I know it's a long way from West Country, Oregon, but you might find something there."
"I'll try," Ro promised, and lifted briskly to her feet. She was ready to be on the road, ready to leave Glenview and West Country. Going to Templeton, Indiana, was the last thing on Ro's mind. There was someone else she wanted to visit first, if she wasn't already too late. And Ro wouldn't find her in Indiana.
Jas was munching on his third crustless sandwich, and shoved the few remaining bites into his mouth. He chewed slowly as he rose, and Zeta stood beside him, the spurs on the heels of his cowhide boots tingling like sleigh bells. Ro was reminded of his costume, and felt both embarrassment but also, like he said, amusement. Mrs. Rowen looked Zeta up and down for a second time.
"You're very formidable," she acknowledged. She poked him on the shoulder with a dagger-like finger. "You keep your girl out of trouble, you hear?"
Zeta tipped his head in a moderate affirmative bow. "I do my best, Mrs. Rowen. She keeps me out of trouble, too."
"I'm sure she does. Rosalie's a girl who knows how to handle things. The trick for you is to know when she ought to handle something herself, and you keep your nose out of it."
Ro found herself complimented by the remarks in almost modest bashfulness. She enjoyed being respected by elders, particularly those who did not really know her so well. Still, Mrs. Gwennie's intuition with Ro seemed more pronounced than what it ought to have been, considering how briefly the two had known each other. Perhaps it was a sign they were related.
Jasper felt the inclination to say something that was on his mind, about Zeta and Ro. "They take care of each other, Mrs. Gwennie." He meant it as a further compliment to Ro's capabilities to handle anything thrown at her, no matter the size of the weapon, the infinity of strength--or if it was just the mediocrity of everyday life she wrestled through.
"I'm sure they do, Jasper." Gwennie was escorting them to the door, this time walking with the use of an elm wood cane, engraved and ended with flat brass covers. The tabby cat in his silken brown coat stepped on padded mitts next to Gwennie, to whom he was ever loyal. She turned and rapped on the teen's round belly, the part that was exposed, though the boy was mostly hidden behind Rosalie. "I'm sure they do. I never heard of a robot who could be as caring as this one seems to be, but I suppose there are a few out there, with glitches in their brains."
Ro fell dead in her tracks, then Jas bumped into her side, then Zeta bumped into Jas and Ro, and Ro set a firm foot forward to keep her balance. Gwennie admired their shocked appearance, relished in it, even. She had always waited until the right moment to surprise people, being in possession of such enormous theatrical and comedic timing.
"No one ever knows what's going to come out of Gwennie Rowen's mouth next!" Gwennie lifted her head and let out a mirthful guffaw that filled the room corner to corner, edge to edge, ceiling to floor. She pointed the end of her cane, a worn scratched bottom, to Zeta. "I knew it from the almost the first second I saw you. I knew what you were."
Hostile and newly unsure of the situation, Ro grabbed the end of the cane. She neither appreciated nor understood Mrs. Gwennie's outburst. "Wait, Gwennie, he's not evil."
Gwennie set the stick quietly to her side. Ro had misjudged, too quick to think ill of people. Gwennie hadn't meant to condemn Zeta in any way. "Dear Rosalie, I never said he was."
Zeta spoke up, though he lingered shyly behind Ro. "How did you know, Mrs. Gwennie?"
"Oh," Gwennie's eyes, which had seen so much of life, dispatched a youthful playfulness, "I suspect I knew along the same lines that your Rosalie knows." She waved her stick at Zeta crazy outfit. "You don't have to wear that getup on my account. Actually, take it all off--show me what you really look like. I'm curious." Gwennie squinted and took a cautionary step backward, as though she expected some fowl monster born in the underworld to form before her. But once Zeta appeared before her as a synthoid, she took his new shape with ample and focused calm. Zeta allowed her to be near him, close enough so she could inspect, and she did so thoroughly, lifting her thin-rimmed spectacles to her nose now and then, which, when not in use, dangled from a chain around her neck. "Synthoid, aren't you?" she asked, just out of the blue, looking up to Zeta's white lenses. She was not afraid of his scanning her with robotic eyes, of his doing everything almost automatically.
"Yes," Zeta replied. He tilted his head at an angle, then transformed back to his normal hologram, complete with gray shirt, black pants and long violet-blue overcoat.
Mrs. Gwennie approved of his new appearance. "Much better," she said, giving a nod. "How these things have changed!" She laughed again, at the elapse of time and the growth of technology. "You're not quite a masterpiece, but you're unique. Adamantium frame, complex wiring, you've got it all. I'd say you're built pretty well, very sturdy, but I don't know my technology like some of you kids do."
Zeta's gape at Gwennie, although penetrating, was more inquisitive rather than blank. "How do you know of synthoids?"
Mrs. Gwennie just grunted characteristically. "The government and I have a nice and cozy history together."
Zeta tried to select appropriate questions for Gwennie, though so many were running through his mind at a rapid, ungraspable speed. "Do you know of Dr. Selig? Dr. Eli Selig?"
Gwennie gave a throaty laugh and, in place, shuffled her withered feet. "Only by his amassed reputation as one of the top geniuses of the last fifty years. But I've never had the pleasure of meeting him."
"There's some speculation that he's dead," Zeta offered, as though it was merely suggestion, not fact.
"I haven't heard that. And I think I would find out. The last I heard he was working on something at Cryobin. But that was months ago at least. He hadn't been there in ages. Are you looking for him?"
"Yes," Zeta said, Ro saying the same word congruently. Then Zeta added a comment which was often displeasing to him. "He doesn't work for Cryobin any longer. His last business---"
Gwennie cut him off. "Of course not. Dr. Selig is too valuable to the development of technologies for the government's use. And now that Cryobin is so out in the open, I'm sure he's vanished."
"How do you know of Cryobin?"
"Everyone knows of Cryobin," was her tart answer. "At least," she paused on her way to the door, as though she still wished they would leave, "everyone knows of Cryobin who wants to know of Cryobin. They weren't always who you think they are now. I'm sure they'd rather that I not elaborate."
Ro stood beside Gwennie. This was some new thread being tossed into the conversation, and Ro forgot about the Rowens entirely, and pushed it far from her mind in favor of Zeta, whose hope of freedom always seemed more obtainable than her hope of finding family. She could forget, sometimes without trying, who she was when Zeta's chances of liberty surfaced. "Will you tell us what you know of Cryobin? Early Cryobin?" It seemed useless to follow up on Cryobin's history, yet Dr. Selig had worked there, and it may lead to something they hadn't considered before.
Gwennie stared at Rosalie for a dour moment, then a smiled touched her face, and a pale pink appeared in her sunken cheeks. "I knew someone who worked there. He was one of the Cryobin founders." She saw the stirring of hope in Ro's clear eyes, but dismissed it in brief nonchalance. "But that was years ago, when it was a part of the government's covert operations, a section of the NSA no one talked about. Back then, Cryobin didn't exist. And you," she looked at Zeta, "were just a glint in the government's dreamful war-driven eye. They had big plans for your kind!" She huffed annoyingly, again sick of the government, then reposed. "I know someone who works there now. Not in an esteemed position, mind you." Gwennie tapped her stick on the floor as a demonstration of her urgency and surprising burst of the emotion within her. "I will make a phone call to look into your friend Dr. Selig. Wait here." She floated lightly, unhampered by dry thoughts and livened by the temptation of revenge. As soon as she disappeared through the same pocket door as before, Jas gripped Ro's arm.
"Ro," he said, "this is amazing. Imagine that batty woman knowing someone who works for Cryobin. I'd never heard anything about that before!"
Zeta remained taciturn. "She keeps her secrets. There are many."
Jas ignored him, still excited at this arisen opportunity. "I don't know who this doctor is that you're looking for, or much about Cryobin, but if you're looking for him and she can help, I'm--I'm so glad that we met and I could bring you here. Talk about your coincidences!"
"I know!" Ro exclaimed, her volume not as hushed as it should've been. If Mrs. Gwennie was listening just across the wall, she would not care. Ro held to Zeta on the cuffs of his jacket, unable to contain her new fervor. "Zeta! You might find out if Dr. Selig is still alive! Someone at Cryobin might know."
He was more sanguine than he appeared.
"Well? What do you think?" She expected some burst of action from a pleased Zeta, but found the synthoid to be uncommonly reserved, even for him.
"I will say something," he said intently, "when I really find out. Just wait, Ro." He would not feel optimism, no matter how trivial an amount, only to have the optimism crushed to pieces. He closed his eyes briefly, as though tired of the tedious waiting, the tedious hope, just as Mrs. Gwennie returned to her company in the drawing room.
Again, she tapped her stick on the floor. "The man I know who works there is out of the country, and won't be back for a while. He has business in Melbourne. I didn't pry. Instead, I left a message and he'll call me when he can. If you two must return to the road, I will give you my address and number. You call me in a few days. And I will have some answers for you then."
Zeta felt neither hope nor disappointment. Ro was displeased. She'd expected something of foundation, but would live with hope for as long as there was still hope. Mrs. Gwennie glimpsed Ro's saddened heart, and she touched the girl affectionately on the chin.
"Never fear, my dear. I'm here to help you. Anything I can do to thwart the business of Cryobin, or the NSA or the government in general, the happier an old lady I'll be."
"Why?" Ro asked, her brow drawn together in curiosity. "What did any of them do to you?"
"Let's just say they stole a few things that were very precious to me," she patted Ro's fleshy cheek and blinked away the lingering melancholia, afraid that Ro might notice what haunts were in the past. "I'm sorry I couldn't help more with your family dear. Wait," she suddenly said, having an idea, "let me see that picture of your brother again."
Zeta took it from his pocket and handed it to Mrs. Gwennie. She lifted her spectacles and examined the picture a second time, but with no more thoroughness than before.
"If it's all right with you, I think I'll scan this and send a copy to my nephew in Indiana. Maybe he knows someone . . . . It's possible." She waited for Ro's approval.
Ro hesitated, and she wasn't sure why. For guidance or support, she looked to Zeta. He gestured widely with a hand to symbolize an indifference. It was her decision, he let it be so and would not interfere. He tried to do as much as he could so Ro could find family members who'd remained illusive, but this was something she had to decide for herself. There was no harm that he could foresee. Ro turned back to Gwennie and nodded her compliance.
The photo was scanned and handed back to Zeta. Gwennie wrote out her number and address for Ro, but told Zeta he ought to memorize it. He immediately did so. Before showing them to the door, Gwennie called out for the maid, who appeared precipitously. The maid was instructed to take pictures of Mrs. Gwennie with her new friends. It was done and printed out for her guests in a matter of minutes, even one of just Ro and Mrs. Rowen. The pictures were for Ro to keep for herself, in case she should "end up in Templeton," Gwennie said. The pictures could provide proof that Ro Rowen knew Gwennie Rowen. Ro was most thankful, and tried to remain hopeful that someday she would know who her parents were, and give a name to the sandy-haired brother in the picture.
Jas and Zeta returned to the horses, while Ro lingered in the doorway a moment with "Batty" Gwennie, who did not seem quite so strange any longer. Ro, facing the front lawn and about to step out, reversed promptly. She made her way back into the foyer, and closed the door behind her. Gwennie and Ro shared a simultaneous look of profound sincerity.
"What's his name?" Gwennie asked quietly, and gave the picture of Ro's brother a lift.
"Casey," Ro answered. "Casey Rowen MacCurdy."
Gwennie nodded affectively, and she gave the copy of the photo back to Ro. "I won't be needing it, not as long as I have his name."
Ro took and, after creasing it a couple of times, shoved it in her pocket. "I think we were born in California, but while he stayed after our parents died, I somehow ended up in East Country, on the opposite side of the world, nearly."
On a stand in the foyer, beside the start of the wide stairs, Gwennie found a pen and paper and wrote out the name Casey MacCurdy.
Ro frowned in a moment of loneliness. "Everyone I know is dead, except him."
"And you want to find someone who knew your family?"
"Exactly, if it can be done."
Gwennie held Ro's pointed chin in the palm of her hand, lifting it a little. Ro's pout disappeared. "It can be. I'll do what I can. Call me in a few days, Rosalie. We may be related yet." She kissed the girl on the cheek and shooed her on the way.
Ro waved farewell through the ajar door as she passed on her horse, in a trot to catch up with Zee and Jas already at the end of the driveway. Then, as she rounded the corner of the portico, Ro turned away, unable to face Mrs. Gwennie any longer. Mrs. Rowen had been a help, the batty old woman who lived in Glenview's most esteemed mansion, who was something of a notable recluse, who had suspicious ties to Cryobin, and who was madly bitter toward the government.
--
Notes
The Common War
Since the rest of the series tends to evolve around what happened during the Common War, you ought to know what it really is, right? Well, if you don't want to spoil the surprise, then stop reading this note. I had a note for it in another store, hmm, early in Journeys, I think. From said book, it's described best:
It began in the mid-twenties, perhaps 2025, but no one was absolutely certain since the usurping rebels had been underground for so long, planning and scheming the downfall of British rule. It wasn't until 2029 that the bloodiest battles were fought, drenching the soil and streets of Ireland, Scotland, England and Wales in bodies and rubble. The Irish Rebellion turned into a Scottish Rebellion by early 2030. Then, like wildfire, any oppressed commonwealth or country across the world rebelled: The Common War had begun. It ended four years later as it'd started: in Ireland, with the Irish Rebels crowding the disrupted urban mess of Belfast, commanding peace when they had sparked the war.
Adamantium frame...
Whoa, isn't adamantium like . . . that weird metal that Wolverine's claws and skeletal sheaths are made out of? -- Very perceptive, my little comic-book reading disciples! In the show, Zeta was made out of boring old titanium alloy, to date the most indestructable metal. I decided I'd give a little spice to that by bringing into a DC Comics world a bit of Marvel's universe. If I was in the mood for a huge overhaul, which I'm not, I'd use the name of a metal that I came up with in place of adamantium, called litamtium.
East Country
Ro did end up on the east coast, in Maryland. Unlike in the show, which had Hillsburg as a dinky logging town in Oregon (possibly after Roseburg), my Hillsburg is Hagerstown, Maryland.