The Secret Dairy of Cameron Baum
WEDNESDAY
Change has arrived in Daniel Lieberman's life.
We have arrived in Daniel Lieberman's life.
One of the first changes is finding him a new place to live. Sarah Connor is appalled by easily it is to track him down. Simply a matter of looking up his surname in the telephone listings. And then there is the small matter of his cell.
"You have an iPhone, I presume?"
"My pride and joy."
"Ditch it."
"What? It's the latest model."
"It's registered in your name?"
"Of course."
"Ditch it. Use a prepaid disposable."
Daniel demurs though he doesn't seem pleased. Is his cell phone more valuable to him than his life? I could hack the iTunes database in seconds. And if I can so could others like me.
We arrive at a four storey building in Burbank. Several apartments are available to rent.
There is however a snag.
"The rent's almost double what I'm paying now," Daniel laments. "I'm sorry, Sarah, this place is ideal but there's no way my budget will stretch. I'm working all the hours I can as it is."
"I'll have a word with the landlord. He's got a lot of empty units here. I'm sure he'd accept a reasonable offer."
"You really think she can swing it for me?" Daniel asks John once Sarah Connor has departed.
"I wouldn't put it past her. Mom can be pretty persuasive when she puts her mind to it."
"Yeah, your mom's something else. Is she seeing anyone?"
"Why - you gonna hit on her too?"
"No! God, no. I just thought...ah, forget it."
John considers fort a moment then says softly, "She's lived with this longer than anyone. It's kinda hard to keep to a dating schedule when you're trying to save the world."
"I guess so. Hey - how come in the future you're in charge and not her?"
John's jaw hardens and he looks away without replying. Daniel picks up on it immediately. "Oh. Right. Man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"
"Forget it."
There is silence until Sarah Connor returns.
"It's yours for what you're paying now."
"Really? That's amazing, Sarah. Thank you. How did you manage that?"
"Jeff - that's your landlord - is under the impression I'm your mother and that if you're a tenant I'll be a frequent visitor. Hope that doesn't mess things up with your real mom."
"More chance Santa will slip down the chimney. Mom never leaves Florida. Finds California too chilly. I think she was a lizard in a previous life."
Daniel moves further into the apartment. He seems pleased. "South aspect. And a balcony. Lulu and I can sunbathe. And grow weed. Kidding!" he laughs at Sarah Connor's stern expression.
"Glad to hear it."
She crosses to the balcony. "Good. I want you to practise jumping from here."
"Uh - jumping? It's a thirty foot drop."
"More like twenty five. And if you hang from the base of the railings more like seventeen."
"If this is about me growing weed, I really was joking."
"Look, if one of those things does manage to track you down the balcony's your only means of escape. You can't reason or plead with them. They don't do mercy. You'll practise jumping until it's second nature. Day and night."
"Okay. Point taken."
"We'll reinforce the door to buy you a little more time. We can't do too much or the other tenants will think you're a drug dealer."
"You really think one of them is gonna show up here?"
"Doesn't hurt to be prepared. I'll go see if Jeff has the lease contract ready to sign. Use your middle name - Adam, is it?"
"Aaron. After my grandfather."
"Right. As much as possible we need to keep Daniel Lieberman off the grid."
"Feels like I'm disappearing already," Daniel grins.
When his mother leaves John crosses to the balcony and looks down. Below is a narrow flagged passageway leading from the front of the building to the back. There is a rear gate beside several plastic dumpsters, all full off the kind of trash humans buy and then throw away.
"This isn't so high. I could do this easy."
"Oh yeah? Care to demonstrate - General?"
"Watch and learn - Major."
John hooks his leg over the railing. I grasp his arm. "No."
"It's okay. I can do this," he whispers.
I evaluate the drop. Twenty-three feet. If he hangs by his fingers as Sarah Connor suggested the fall will be seventeen feet. I decide this is within the survivable range and release my grip. Daniel notices nothing.
"Okay. One. Two. Three..."
John lands heavily but safely. He grins up at us. "Nothing to it. Your turn."
"What?" Daniel shakes his head. "No way."
"What's the matter - chicken?"
Daniel glances over at me and sighs. He climbs over the railing and gingerly lowers himself into position. He seems to hang there for a long time.
"The trick is to let go," John suggests helpfully.
"No, the trick is not to break my freaking neck!"
He lets go, hits the ground hard and at a slight angle, sprawling over on his back.
John hastens to help. "You okay, man?"
"Don't touch me. I'm fine."
He climbs to his feet just as Sarah Connor reappears on the balcony. She looks down at the scene below and then over at me. She seems to understand what has happened and why. "Boys," she whispers quietly. "Why don't they just compare dicks?"
I do not know what this means.
-0-
It requires a mere two journeys to transfer Daniel's belongings from his old apartment to the new. Jeff the landlord watches us come and go. He is a man in late middle age, very overweight and with little hair on his head. Despite these physical shortcomings Sarah Connor smiles and acts pleasantly around him. I had no idea she was a chubby chaser.
"Just put the boxes anywhere," Daniel instructs us. "I'll unpack later."
I place two framed posters against a wall. One depicts a female tennis player who appears to have forgotten to put on underwear. This is easily done. In fact I do it all the time, despite not playing tennis. It seems an odd picture to want to hang on a wall. Who would possibly want to stare at a bare female posterior day after day? The other is of a long haired bearded man below the caption:
THE BIG LEBOWSKI
"What is a Lebowski?" I ask.
"That's the Dude," Daniel explains.
"The Dude abides," John adds.
"Abides what?"
"He just abides."
Helpful much? Not really. I add LEBOWSKI, BIG to an internal folder I have tabbed UNEXPLAINED THINGS. Right next to KARDASHIAN, KIM and LOST, THE PLOT OF.
-0-
THURSDAY
John, Snowy and I drive over to Daniel's new apartment. With us we have the tools and equipment needed to reinforce the door. And a tall ficus tree growing in a ceramic pot. The ficus tree is part of the cover story to explain our presence should we meet Jeff the landlord. A housewarming gift for our friend. What could be more normal?
"Well, that's fifty bucks wasted," John remarks after we arrive. We meet no one. The corridors are empty. Music plays faintly in a distant apartment. I boost my audio receptors and recognise Lana Del Rey lamenting she is Born To Die. Aren't we all. Get over it, sister.
We let ourselves in with a duplicate key. Only Lulu is home since Daniel is at college all day. Lulu leads Snowy into the kitchen where she proudly shows him her new dinner bowl. Snowy is very impressed. He always is where food is involved.
Reinforcing the doorframe takes up most of the morning. We are careful to keep the noise to a minimum. Terminating nosy tenants might well breach the lease agreement. Finally, John steps back and wipes the perspiration from his brow. "That'll have to do. Can't do too much or people are gonna wonder what he has to hide. How long will it keep one of them out?"
I examine our handiwork. "Approximately thirty-eight seconds."
"That all? It's a headstart at least - if he keeps his wits about him. And he seems to be making an effort, I'll give him that. Mom said he's changed his major from computer science to physics."
"And he turned down a RIM job."
"Well, that's-wait. He's done - what?"
"Turned down a RIM job. He was looking forward to it very much."
"My God! You actually suggested...wait. When you say rim you mean Research In Motion, the Blackberry makers?"
"Yes. The company offered him an internship which he turned down. Why, what did you think I meant?"
"I -uh - doesn't matter. Come on, let's go."
"What shall we do with the ficus tree?"
"Leave it here. I'm not lugging it all the way home."
I place the ficus tree on the balcony where it will receive the maximum amount of light. There are other plants here that Daniel has presumably purchased. A tomato vine. An agave with cream striped leaves. And two red flowered geraniums. No sign of any weed, the common name for cannabis sativa. Sarah Connor will be pleased.
Also on the balcony is a metal table and chair. On the chair is a book. Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince. I point to it and tell John, "Professor Snape is the Half-Blood Prince."
"You've read it?"
"I had a spare ten seconds."
"A spare ten seconds! Don't let Daniel hear you say that he thinks you're quirky enough already."
"Quirky is a compliment, yes?"
"I suppose so. Where's that dog got to?"
We find Snowy in the bedroom. He and Lulu are curled up asleep on the floor, their paws almost touching. Snowy is grumpy as we wake him up. He hates to woken for anything other than mealtimes. "Look at this place," John comments. "The lazy sack hasn't unpacked since he got here."
I look around and find this is indeed the case. The cardboard boxes we carried up haven't been unpacked yet, though the framed poster of the Big Lebowski now hangs from a hook on the wall. The Dude, abiding. Whatever that means.
We are about to leave when John spots something on a table beside the bed. An 8x6 glossy photograph. He picks it up and stares at it for a long moment. His jaw flexes in the manner I have come to understand means he is upset. He turns the photograph to show me. "When did he take this?"
The picture is of me, captured in profile. "I don't know," I admit.
"That looks like a park in the background. Trees and stuff. It's from a cell phone. Probably the second time you met."
He stares at it a little while longer then replaces it on the side table, beside a box of opened Kleenex tissues. There are several used ones in a waste bin by the bed. Possibly Daniel has a cold.
On the way out of the apartment John slams the door harder than necessary. I don't know why.
FRIDAY
This morning we receive a phone call from the school. Mia has injured herself playing lacrosse and has been taken to a local hospital for treatment.
"Lacrosse. Who plays lacrosse these days?" John grumbles as we drive across town. "I thought that went out with Henry the Eighth or something."
"It's a private school," Sarah Connor replies. "They do things differently. It's all in the prospectus."
"Which you read?"
A smirk. "Naturally."
"Seemes damned un-American to me. They'll be teaching her cricket next."
"What is cricket?" I ask.
"A fruity sport the english play. Games last for five days and still end in a draw!"
"No penalty shootout?"
"That's only in soccer."
Snowy has to be left in the vehicle since the hospital has a strict no pets rule. Typically he whines like a baby. "Don't worry, fella. We'll bring her right down," John assures him.
We find Mia in the childrens ward, sat up in bed still wearing her sports kit. A male doctor is attending her. He is tall with thick dark hair and tanned features. I notice Sarah Connor quickly smarten her hair with her hands before the doctor turns round and sees us. Is she attracted to this man? It appears so. Apparently her chubby chasing phase is over. Poor Jeff the landlord.
"Hi. I'm Mia's stepmother," she introduces herself.
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Doctor Hank."
"First name?"
"I wish. Blame my parents, I'm afraid." He grins revealing near perfect teeth. Sarah Connor smiles back. It is an odd look on her. A scowl suits her better.
"I broke my finger!" Mia blurts out and giggles.
"It's a clean fracture which I've set and put in a splint," Doctor Hank explains. "Should heal naturally in a few weeks."
"I broke my finger!" Mia blurts out and giggles again.
"Is she okay?"
"I gave her a mild sedative. She was a little distressed when she arrived."
"Jennifer Minter doesn't wear underpants!" Mia blurts out. More giggles. "She lets all the boys see her-"
"Yes, thank you, Mia," Sarah Connor interrupts hastily. "I'm sure Doctor Hank doesn't want to hear about Jennifer Minter."
"Oh I don't know, she sounds like quite a character," Doctor Hank grins. "And please, call me Frank."
"Frank Hank? Oh dear..."
They laugh at this. John and I exchange glances. She's got it bad.
"Where's Snowy? Didn't he come and see me?"
"Snowy?"
"Her pet dog."
"Snowy's not just a pet. He can talk and everything. And I can understand him!"
"Hmm, a little too much sedative, I think."
-0-
Mia falls asleep on the drive home and John carries her up to her room and lays her gently on the bed. She sleeps for three hours then wakes up hungry and thirsty. John fixes her mac and cheese and a hot chocolate drink. Snowy watches enviously as she consumes these. His dinner is long past and he is not due another meal for several hours. His agony is palpable.
"You feel well enough to tell us what happened?" John asks.
"It was Emma Van Buren! She whacked me with her lacrosse stick when the teacher wasn't looking!."
"Okay. Did you do anything to provoke her?"
Mia looks away, not meeting his eyes. It is an obvious 'tell'. "No," she lies unconvincingly.
"Mia, the truth..."
"I might have trod on her foot."
"Before she hit you?"
"Uh huh."
"And you did it on purpose?"
"She's always mean to me! She's been telling everyone the school has a bad smell and it's only since I arrived."
"So you trod on her foot."
"And she broke my finger! That's way worse."
"She lashed out. She probably didn't MEAN that to happen."
"You're on her side!"
"Do you like your school?" Sarah Connor asks.
"I guess."
"And you have friends you wouldn't want to leave behind?"
"There's Megan and a few other girls I like. Why? We're not moving, are we?"
"We might have no choice if you get yourself expelled. You're still on probation for hitting that boy."
"So I can't defend myself?"
"Babe, you started it," John points out not unkindly. "Look, every school has an Emma Van Buren, you've just got to ignore them. And you remember what I told you? If you can't be good-"
"-don't get caught."
"Right."
"How am I gonna shower without getting this bandage wet?"
"I'll put some saranwrap round it. You'll be fine," Sarah Connor assures her.
"Will I have to go back to the hospital?"
"In a few weeks. Just to check everything's okay."
"Will I see the same Doctor?"
"Presumably."
"Cool! He was really handsome!"
"That seems to be a popular opinion," John remarks glancing at his mother who doesn't reply.
"I wonder if he's married?"
I retrieve the appropriate memory. "No. He wasn't wearing a wedding ring."
John rolls his eyes. "Oh not you too!"
TUESDAY
Daniel and I are in the desert, far from the highway and prying eyes. This is his first lesson in firearms, the use of. Or as John put it, Guns 101. He is proving a reasonably adept learner. From never having handling a weapon he can now load and fire a Glock nine millimeter pistol. Accuracy, however, is still elusive.
"Widen your stance slightly," I suggest as several rounds shred an innocent segoura cactus and not the intended target.
"Like this?"
"Yes. Both hands on the pistol as I demonstrated."
After four hours in the desert heat Daniel has sweated through his tee shirt. I am bone dry. Naturally. Perspiration. Who needs it?
"Too bad we couldn't bring the dogs."
"Yes. Too bad."
The dogs are back at the safe house. Lulu is easily spooked by loud noises and Snowy has developed a phobia about the desert since encountering a lizard during his last visit and fears he might be eaten. Given his size it would require a very hungry lizard to devour him.
"You know, I'm starting to get into this," Daniel states. "Maybe I'll buy a legit pistol and join a range."
"For that you will need ID."
"I have ID."
"It will put you back on the grid."
"Oh. Right. Didn't think of that. Not a good idea then."
"And a range isn't good preparation."
"How come?"
"Paper targets don't shoot back."
Daniel absorbs this uncomfortable truth so I add, "Next lesson I will teach you how to shoot moving targets and how to avoid being shot at. Skynet can triangulate you position by muzzleflash or the mere sound of gunfire. They can then call in HK support."
"HK?"
"HunterKiller. A type of airborne gunship."
He swallows hard. "Man, I have a lot to learn!"
"And I am here to teach you."
"Can I ask a question?"
"You have already done so but go ahead."
"Do I have anyone in the future? A wife or kids?"
"I don't know."
"Well, do you remember seeing a grieving widow at my funeral?"
"I am present at your memorial ceremony not your funeral."
"They're not the same thing?"
"The ceremony is much later. You are not the only hero to receive the Medal of Honor."
"Any of the others posthumous?"
"All of them. Promotions for the living are carried out in the field with the minimum of fuss. John prefers it that way. And it is better for morale."
"Okay, so do you remember seeing a grieving widow there?"
I retrieve the appropriate memory file and scan its contents.
hastily erected bleachers...rows of soldiers...khaki uniforms against a blue sky...a large stars and stripes flag in front of a raised dais...a lectern...john...general connor...in full dress uniform, handwritten notes in his pocket...the speech prepared, agonised over...he hates these occasions and what they represent...yet he will speak for the fallen...honor their passing, their contribution to the cause...daniel's eulogy...no mention of a wife, family or that the two met before judgement day...proof of a divergent timeline?..or is john aware of my presence and doesn't wish to influence my actions when daniel and i first meet walking our dogs in pre-war los angeles?...there is no way of telling...the ceremony ends...the bleachers empty...the vivid hues of sunset...all that dust still suspended in the upper atmosphere...john lingers, jacket off, collar undone and tie askew...he notices me noticing him and profers a wan smile, a thumbs up...i return the gesture and make to join him just as derek reece intrudes, whispering urgently in his commander's ear...reece has practically begged to be allowed to return to the past via the captured technology...in a few days his wish will be granted...he and his comrades and a small fortune in diamonds will be sent back...the men will all be dead within a year...the diamonds will fund the connor lifestyle for several years after that...this is a time of returns...the reprogrammed t-800 has already been sent to protect the teenage john, one day to be known affectionately as uncle bob...would they have been lovers if john was gay?...it is a thought too horrid to contemplate...in a few weeks i will be sent back...further than reece or the t-800...all the way to 1969...woodstock...dancing with flowers in my hair and the mud of yasgur's farm sticking to my bare feet...this is also a time of loss...it will be many decades before we meet again...i will miss john's calm authority...his way of treating me as a woman and not a counterfeit...the days will seem long without him...the nights even longer...
"Cameron, are you okay?"
With a jolt I return my attention to the present, the memories fading as quckly as they were summoned. The desert. The unrelenting sun yet to be dulled by atmospheric dust. Daniel stares at me with concern on his face. "I'm fine," I assure him.
"Sure? Hey - are you crying?"
I raise my hand up to my face. Sure enough my left optical sensor is leaking lubricant. I wipe it away. Odd. My diagnostic sensor doesn't indicate a malfunction. Possibly my diagnostic needs a diagnostic.
"You had someone in the future, didn't you?" Daniel surmises with surprising accuracy. "Someone you were forced to leave behind when you came back."
"Yes," I hear myself admitting.
"And I made you remember. Man, I'm sorry. It must be a painful memory."
"We need to get back to work. Have you reloaded the Glock?"
Daniel shakes his head. "I think that's enough for now. Let's call it a day. It's a long drive back."
I am surprised by the authority in his voice. Previously he has been compliant and eager to please. Then again this man will one day be awarded the highest honor his country can bestow. And he is a Major in the Resistance. John doesn't promote idiots. Or lickspittles.
-0-
We load up Daniels's car - a Toyota coupe several years past its prime. The a/c often malfunctions and it lacks four wheel drive. This is about to become a problem...
"Hope we beat the traffic. Got an early shift at the video store."
Daniel starts the engine. The rear wheels spin in the loose desert soil. He makes the rudimentary error of believing more throttle is the remedy. This is a mistake. The rear wheels spin even faster, sending out fantails of sand and shale. Soon we are buried up to the rear axle.
"Shit! Look at the wheels. Man, that was stupid."
I agree it was very stupid.
"Should I call Sarah? Looks like we're gonna need a tow."
"Not neccesary. Please reengage drive." I exit the vehicle and stand behind the trunk.
"A push? Are you kidding? No way you'll budge us. This happened to me at the beach one time. Took a five hundred dollar towing fee to get me out."
"A tow will not be required. Please engage drive."
Daniel accedes to my wishes though I sense he lacks confidence in my ability. Oh ye of little faith. I push. The Toyota leaps out of its self-dug trenches. Nothing to it. Piece of peas. Do I mean peas? I will verify later. Five hundred dollars for a tow? I am obviously in the wrong business.
The Toyota slowy heads for the highway, Daniel at least having the good sense to keep the revs low and not stop for me and risk being bogged down again. I follow in its wake, guided by the tracks being left behind. The sun is low and casts my shadow ahead of me. I seem about eight feet tall. I wish...
-0-
Daniel is unusually quiet on the journey back. On the way here he was extremely loquacious, talking about verything and anything. I mostly listened. And learnt. I discovered that the Big Lebowski is a character in a movie of the same name. The Dude. Also known as the dudester, his dudeness or el duderino. It is Daniel's favourite movie and he is able to quote whole passages of dialogue verbatim. Sometimes you eat the be-ar and sometimes the be-ar eats you. This isn't 'Nam. This is bowling. There are rules. I also learn that his favourite actress is Jessica Biel whom he spotted once emerging from a gym in Westwood, looking unbelievably smoking hot in leotard and leggings, yet he was too chickenshit to approach her and introduce himself. He also spoke of his dog Lulu with a warmth that is absent when he speaks of his mother, who appears to be a distant figure in his life. He found Lulu in an animal shelter, a place he drove past several times a week for months without a desire to stop when some impulse compelled him to do so. Lulu was an abandoned puppy, a small whimpering ball of fur huddled in the corner of a steel cage all alone in the world. They have been together ever since. It is a love story. Of sorts.
We leave the freeway and enter the suburbs. Clouds are building overhead and rain is forecast later. The rain will temporarily clear the smog from the atmosphere and wash the particulate dust from the streets and buildings giving the city a patina of cleanliness. This is illusory. Los Angeles is home to many millions of inhabitants. Little here stays clean for very long.
Three blocks from the safehouse Daniel steers the Toyota to a halt. "Wrong street," I point out.
"I want to say something first."
What does he wish to say, I wonder? Possibly he wants me to commiserate with him for giving up a RIM job. These are highly coveted apparently.
Daniel sits completely still. He has an anquished look on his face. I have seen this look before. Snowy had the same look when he was constipated recently. Is Daniel suffering the same malady? If so I will advise laxatives, though not in the same high dosage I gave Snowy. I have learned this leads to a whole new set of problems. Very messy problems.
"How did you know I was a Major in the future?" Daniel says finally. "I'm pretty sure I never told you my surname. And I'm damn sure I never told you my birthdate. And you said yourself we never met."
Intelligence is a double-edged sword. It causes people to think. Too much thinking can be bad. How bad I am about to find out.
"John said that thing knew who I was because of the cut on my hand and having my DNA on record," Daniel continues. His hands flex on the steering wheel, a symptom of stress he shares with John who has the same habit. "I grabbed your hand to protect you when that van came towards us. And that's another thing. You pulled me along like I was nothing. I'm the first to admit I'll never make linebacker for the Chicago Bears, but I'm six inches taller than you and fifty pounds heavier. Yet you dragged me along like I was a ragdoll. And back there. We were buried up to the axles yet-"
A woman pushing a baby in a stroller passes by on the sidewalk. Daniel goes silent as if fearing we might be overheard. The woman pays us no heed and when she has gone he continues.
"Sarah told me some of those things-"
"They have a name," I interject. "Terminators. Saying it will not endanger you."
"Okay. Terminators can be reprogrammed, to be on our side."
"Earlier models, yes. The more modern versions have chips that self-destruct."
"Do you?"
There. It is out in the open. He has figured it out. "No," I tell him. "I am an older model. My chip won't self-combust. I wouldn't be here if it did."
Daniel nods, his hands flex and relax and flex again, gripping the steering wheel as if it is silly putty. Finally he turns to face me. His eyes meet mine and he doesn't look away. "You know, you being a terminator isn't even the weirdest part."
"Then what is?"
"That I worked it out and you've just admitted it and...and..."
"And?" I prompt.
"And I'm still in love with you."
-0-
I really should write a Big Lebowski fanfic. It's outrageous that such a great movie has just one fanfic to its name.
FYI, Snowy and Lulu are terriers. Not sure I mention that. As a breed they're prone to becoming barrel-like if overfed. Then you end up carrying the tubby little bugger everywhere.