Isadore went back to work and Mrs. Hart went back to her usual solitude. To her usual nothing.
She went to the kitchen— she didn't need to cook lunch: Izzy had already filled the fridge with dishes and lunch boxes with the menu for the whole week. She then inspected the surfaces of the furniture—not a little speck of dirt had survived his cleaning. Was there any trash to take out?—no: Izzy had already taken care of that. Perhaps he left his bedroom untidy, since he always went to work in a hurry?—oh, it seemed not, for everything was in its place and the bed was perfectly made.
The floor? So clean that one could eat on it. The pantry? Full. The laundry? Already dry, folded and in its place.
Izzy had left her nothing to do...
He probably thought he was doing his grandmother a favor, but he had actually stripped her from something close to a purpose. What to do now until he came back from work? What was she supposed to do all alone at home? Just sit in front of the television and let the hours pass by? No! Not her! She had never been that lazy! She liked movement, excitement, feeling useful! So she guessed she would go back to the bedspread she was sewing. It seemed, as long as Isadore was around, she would have plenty of time to make as many as she liked...
Or maybe not. Like it happened the previous day, it took her eyes just a few minutes to find the outside world more interesting. Never mind her efforts, they looked through the window instead. Most concretely, at the Murphies' lawn.
There he was, once again. Little Pip. And once more, he was all alone.
After some minutes of futile struggle, Mrs. Hart surrendered to the truth: she was not paying attention to her work. Since it was so, there was no reason to keep lying to herself and acting like she wanted to do something she didn't. She left it all aside and told herself she would go to church and ask Father Stewart if he needed help with the parish's charity activities, the children who received classes or anything, anything at all, since the sky showed no signs of raining any way soon and her Izzy wasn't there to worry about her.
It was not her intention to end up stopping by the neighbors' door. Or maybe it was from the beginning. Either way, the way to the Main Street necessarily implied passing by, and Mrs. Hart couldn't resist peeping. Pip was lying on his stomach on the grass, playing with a couple of monochrome plastic toys, of a well-dressed boy and a cat wearing overalls. He was muttering the dialogues like he wanted no one but himself to hear what they were saying.
Upon noticing that he wasn't alone, the boy rose his head. Mrs. Hart was shook then by the sight of the bluest eyes she had ever seen, open wide in surprise.
"Hello." Words escaped from her mouth.
"Hi." Pip timidly replied.
A little pause. "Are those Beans and Buddy?"
Pip turned his eyes at his toys like he wanted to be sure the old lady was talking about them. "Yes."
After getting his implicit permission, Mrs. Hart took the figures and looked at them closely, from different angles.
"I used to watch their cartoons when I was your age." She said. "Not many could afford having a television at home at that time; we went to the cinema to watch them. My father used to take me on the weekends."
She gave them back to Pip and he caressed them distractedly. "I watch them on TV." He said. "My Dad wouldn't take me to the cinema anyway."
"How so?"
"He's always working. He's a sales...uh...sales m...sales manager! Yeah. He's always visiting people and on the phone. He's never got the time."
"And your mother?"
"She's out of the house all day too, doing stuff she thinks is important. The kindergarten children see her more than I do."
"Don't you have friends to go with?"
"Sure, there's Carman and Nathan, and Sean too, I guess, but they're out of town during the summer."
"That's too bad."
Pip shrugged, like he was used to it, even if he didn't like it. Then he became more timid, like he realized he had spoken too much.
"Are you afraid to talk to strangers?" Mrs. Hart tried to guess his change of attitude. "I've known you since you were born. I do not intend to hurt you."
"I know you wouldn't. And I know I've seen you before..."
"I guess we old ladies are just a bunch of nosy mummies."
"You're not!" Pip stood up quickly, like fearing he had somehow called her that. "But...please don't tell Mom and Dad..."
"Of course. Everything you've told me is between us. Not having anyone to talk to about the things that happen to us can feel very bad, don't you think?"
Pip nodded silently.
"If it makes you feel better..." Mrs. Hart smiled, "I am alone most of the time, but, unlike you, I've got no toys to kill time with, and my grandson Izzy is too old to watch cartoons."
"...Maybe you'd like to watch them with me?"
That offer took Mrs. Hart by surprise. She gazed at Pip for long and saw he was serious.
A gentle smile grew on her face.
"You are such a nice boy, and I would love to." She finally replied.
He smiled back at her. It was probably the first time she had ever seen this shy boy smile, and oh, did he look like a cherub when he did so. That something she had felt inside before, it returned with greater intensity. What she didn't know, because it was still too soon for Pip to confess, was that he felt the exact same thing when he looked at her.
Was it possible to feel such a strong feeling of comfort with someone one just got acquainted with?
Kath was cleaning the windows when Ben returned from work. They exchanged a brief look before Ben disappeared inside his home. Kath wished he had said something to her, just hello, or even that he had stared at how well her sport top fitted her. Not that she liked men to drool like wolves in her presence, but it would have meant he was alive, felt something, had blood running through his veins. It was scary, how much of a robot he looked. He seemed to live to work, to just exist—like a chair or a lettuce. Did he even have a moment of fun, did a little mischief from time to time, had dreams?
Maybe not...Maybe that was why he stayed there, in Warner Falls, after graduating...
She looked at her own reflection on the glass. Look who was talking!
Before she could start with the usual ruminations, a certain sound distracted her. A sound so familiar, which brought so many good memories it attracted her full attention. She left her chores and walked out of the house to find Sheldon dunking in the cheap mini basketball hoop he had installed many, many years ago above the door of his garage, never to use it again.
"Uhm, hey."
She walked to his encounter, her hands inside of her pockets.
"Wanna join me? One to one, come on." Sheldon offered her, a big grin growing on her face, bouncing the ball defiantly. "Come on, have you forgotten?"
Of course she hadn't. In fact...she would often think about it.
Kath nodded and they played for a while. Kath completely kicked his ass, scoring seven times, while Sheldon never got to keep the ball for more than three seconds. But he tried. No one could say he didn't try.
"Gee, what have you had for breakfast?" Kath asked, stopping to wipe the sweat running down her forehead.
"Just the usual." Sheldon smiled.
"Did you get good news or something? Got that job? A girlfriend? Spit it out."
"No, nothing at all. But I don't know. I feel full of energy."
"I can tell. Mind if you share some?"
They both sat at Kath's door. "I don't know. It's quite strange, actually. I haven't been sleeping much lately. Just an hour from time to time. But I feel...full of energy. I've never felt like this before, like...if I don't run around and do a thousand things at the same time, I'm gonna burst!"
"Maybe you're prepared to fight, after that guy broke into your house and shouted at you in the face?"
"Hmm..."
"Your brain might be worried he comes back or something like that happens and is keeping you alert."
"That might be it...I am still thinking of what that guy told me. I thought I didn't understand a word he said, but I've got some of it here, in my head, like a broken record."
"What?"
"...I don't know. I dream about it, but when I wake up, it's all gone. I remembered I dreamed about something exciting, my heart's still pumping like mad when I get up, but I try to remember what it was actually about and...poof!"
"Then it's nothing worth remembering."
Sheldon gazed at the ball, took it in his hands, watched it like there was something interesting about it.
"...The thing is, that was the most exciting thing that's ever happened to me...ever...And it's really sad...And I wonder...is this what life is supposed to be about? Live to work from 9 to 5 to pay the bills, until you grow old, too old to do the things you like, and just expect death to come? Spend day after day trying to make the best of what comes to you?"
"Wow, the lack of sleep has had quite an effect on you..."
"I'm serious, Kath."
The girl sighed and rested her head in her hands. "...And what do you expected life to be? A never-ending carnival? Maybe for some people, but for the great majority...That never happens."
"When I was a kid, I wanted to be in pictures, be a Broadway star...I've been thinking 'hey, that's where I should be, not here'...This feels like the wrong place to be, like...I should be somewhere else...And it's all because of what he said...He insisted we were on...Matrix or something like that. Ever since he appeared, I've been thinking...there must be something more than this...Everything around us...is rubbish..."
"It is, but it may seem like so to you because of everything you are going through now, your firing, the assault... Not that there's a conspiracy going on."
Sheldon paused. He noticed the way she was looking at the ball in his hands.
"You miss it, don't you?" He muttered.
"What?"
"Basketball. They told me you were great at it. Good enough to become a big name of the WNBA, live in a mansion, have your name on cereal boxes, your own brand of sportswear..."
Kath looked away. "I was a kid. When you're a kid, you think you'll get to do all the things that make you happy all the time but..."
Her gaze turned to her house. She hushed to listen attentively—to try to perceive her mother's pleas.
"...You grow up and reality hits you in the face."
She looked away, then added in sotto voice:
"...Well...Sometimes it's the other way round: reality hits you in the face and the pain makes you grow up."
Sheldon replied nothing to that. Kath shook her head.
"You could have made a great showman." She said in a merrier tone, even drew a smile. "The Sheldon Schwimmer Show. Darn, it sounds good."
"I know, right? They don't know what they're missing."
"Just don't think about it. The restlessness will go away with time, when you realize that man is gone and will never bother you again, you will see."
"Yeah, probably."
What was what that guy called him? Daffy Duck? The Daffy Duck Show...That sounded even better to him.
"Billy, hey Billy."
Billy looked at Warren without really looking at him. Was he sniffing him? Anyway, that man looked more like an animal than a person.
"Do you know who I am? I am Warren, remember? The sheriff. You know I want to help you."
Billy's response was a roar, and Warren had to step back to escape from his hands sticking out the bars to catch and scratch him. Well, it was no use. The doctor had said it was just a matter of time he would be back to his senses (a few months at the mental hospital would do wonders, he said), but Billy seemed indefatigable. His throat was even sore from so much snarling and yelling; it had to be painful for him and yet he didn't stop. He didn't sleep, he barely ate...Where did he get that energy from? It was really dreadful.
Warren walked to Luc. "I'm taking care of the Martian. Can you keep an eye on Billy?"
"Bien sûr." The officer nodded.
With that, Warren walked away. Almost at the same time, Julie entered, cautiously, practically hiding behind Luc. She gazed at Billy with fear, the way he looked into space, how he seemed completely animal...
Luc realized she was there and rose his eyebrows.
"How can I help you, mademoiselle?"
"Uhm, hello, Mr..." She took a quick look at the badge on his chest. "Pourcel. I was wondering if Wyatt was around."
"He's patrolling now, I'm afraid."
"Oh. He forgot his lunch again at home."
"Again?" Luc shook his head with a tiny smile, rolling his eyes. "Well, I can take care of that, so you didn't come here for nothing."
"That's very kind from you, sir. Thank you." Julie didn't leave immediately, as she intended. Instead, driven by a powerful curiosity, she pressed her lips and tucked hair behind her ear. "Uhm...Will I offend you if I ask you something?"
"Huh? What is it?" Luc asked, surprised by this sudden question.
"That...silver lock of yours...Uhm...Is it...real? Or did you dye it yourself?"
After a second of thinking, Luc finally realized what she was talking about. That portion of white hair in his black pompadour. Instead of feeling weird, like Julie feared, his face was illuminated with a smile as he ran his hand through it.
"Yes, it is natural, mademoiselle. I never touched it. It is a medical condition, they told me when I was little. Poliosis. The hair does not have pigments of color. My mother has it. My son Maximillian has it."
"It reminds me of..."
"Skunks? Oh, yes. They used to call me 'Monsieur le Putois', 'Mister Skunk,' back in my Army days."
"Oh, people can be so cruel. I think it looks very nice on you. It almost looks like it was intended."
"You are very kind, miss Julie."
"...You were in the Army, did you say?"
"Yes. In the Légion Étrangère to be exact. Uh, the Foreign Legion."
"So you must have seen a lot."
"A lot. Yes."
"How did you end up here, in Warner Falls? Oh, sorry, I am taking too many liberties..."
"I never deny a lady the answers to her questions. And the answer is love. As simple as that."
"She must be a really special lady."
"And Gansburg is a very lucky man, to have someone always having his back and, if I may say so, so pretty as you."
Julie blushed, smiling.
"Hey, Luc, if you're done flirting with the lady, you could gimme a hand here." One of his partners called him.
Him and Julie exchanged a look and now both of them were blushing and chuckling like idiots. Luc tried to tell his partner not to say nonsense, they both had someone, but he ended up mixing English and French in such a way not even he understood himself.
"I really should get going. I don't want you to..." Julie babbled.
"It's alright. I will tell the Sheriff you said hi."
"Please do. Thank you, Mr. Pourcel."
"Just call me Luc."
Julie quickly walked out and Luc followed his partner but turned his head to watch her as she went. Maybe it was the way she wore that dotted skirt and white blouse. Perhaps she had done something to her hair, or put a bit more make-up on. But whatever that was, Luc definitely liked it. It would have distracted him from Billy if he hadn't made himself noticed with constant groans, which could be heard all over the place.
The next cell opened and Warren cocked his head. "You have an appointment, sir."
The Man from the Stars barely reacted.
"With the head doctor, of course..." He muttered, opening his eyes.
They needed to see if it was safe to let him roam the streets, given what his lunacy had driven him to do. Also, the furthest he was from someone as gullible as Ol' Billy, the best.
"If you behave, it shouldn't be that bad. Don't worry, I wouldn't put you in the hands of someone who would hurt you." Warren replied.
The Man from the Stars nodded slowly. Showing no resistance, he stood up and followed the sheriff out.
"Could I ask you a favor, Sheriff?"
"Sure, son."
"My dog will be left alone..."
"Don't worry, we will take care of him."
After a second of doubt, the Man from the Stars nodded.
"Thank you."
He made things so easy, not making a fuss. Warren ended up believing it was all just a bad night. Maybe that fellow took him for something he was not and said something to him that got him off his nerves, confronted his fixations and made him get on defense...He was out of his mind but he was a polite, nice man. He watched him hop into the ambulance docile like a little lamb, and hoped the doctors could fix him. Really. He said good morning and thank you to the driver and he, muffled by his white uniform, including a cap of the same color, saluted him with one hand and drove away.
Cian Andrews, or Commander X-2, or Marvin, sat inside of the vehicle with his hands on his lap, not allowing himself to think too much. Too much thinking was as bad as not thinking at all. It could drive him mad, frustrated. He was determined to protect his awareness at all costs and just see where everything was going.
Since he was not all that distracted he noticed the driver wasn't very good. It was almost as if the ambulance was going on its own.
A shiver ran down his spine, seconds before he felt something touching his foot. It seemed like a small red bar with a...fuse...
TNT, was written on it.
Warren was walking back into the police station when the explosion made him and everyone in the street kiss the pavement. Not a single piece of glass was left intact. A cloud of smoke took over, but he could still clearly see a ball of fire where the ambulance was just a few seconds before.
