Sunday, November 17 1963, 12:37 p.m.
The sky is now entirely blue, without a cloud in sight, as Klaus parks the long Chrysler Imperial Crown berline - which he borrowed from Kitty's garages - in the alley at the side of the police station. I'm still wondering how he manages to maneuver this vehicle, given that he already doesn't have much control over his own limbs, but - at least - I got him not to drive barefoot. He put on horrible ans smelly sandals. Finally, I wonder what I liked better.
My stomach somewhat growling with hunger, I sit in the back seat, having left the front one to Ben. From the outside of the car, people - not able to see ghosts - probably think that Klaus is my driver or something like that, which is highly unlikely, given the way we both look. He turns off the car engine, puts his sunglasses back on, and Ben leans his elbow on the back of his seat, with the expression of a Colonel about to brief his troops. He's worked out the whole plan, and looks like he's about to have a one-in-a-deathtime adventure.
"Okay," he says, opening both his hands flat on the leather of the seat, in a sign that he's about to sum up the strategy.
"Rin, you deal with the one or two cops in the cells wing downstairs, while I handle the one in the front office, in the corridor upstairs. If we scare just one, he'll think he's going nuts. But if there are several witnesses, they'll really freak out.
His air has the intelligence of a Machiavellian in a black hoodie and jacket. He adds:
"Invisibility, immateriality, except what's necessary to interact with objects with our fingertips. No silly booing or Scooby-Doo-like antics: it's disrespectful to real ghosts. Klaus, are you with me?"
Klaus leans his head back and looks at us one after the other. I have the feeling that he felt somewhat robbed by Ben of the rescue mission he had himself proposed to Allison.
"I'm just a lookout as usual," he says. "I'm fine with crashing into the seats, even if they're butt-hurting. I'll find a good reason to be here."
Ben bends toward him.
"You have to materialize my fingers too, got it? Rin will be busy downstairs."
"Yes, yes. Materialize all your extremities, I know."
"Klaus, I'm serious."
"So am I!"
Ben sighs and turns back to me.
"Any way you can perform some scary little light effects for us, Rin?"
I smirk at that.
"Don't worry. If there's anything electronic or mechanical, I'll have fun."
We both seem to be on the same wavelength, no pun intended. After a brief silence, I give Klaus a pat on the shoulder.
"Come on, let's get your brother-in-law out of this hole, and let's make this quick, I've got TVs to fix."
I instantly make myself invisible, so that passers-by only see Klaus getting out of the car. He seems to suddenly realize the relevance of what I've just said. His face lights up for a moment, and - speaking alone in the eyes of the lady walking her poodle nearby - he says:
"Damn, you're so right, he's literally my brother-in-law! I love chestnuts: his name is so much easier to remember than Patrick's. It took me years, and in the end I never saw him..."
The dog lady gives him a wary look, and he cracks her a charming smile as he crosses the street. Ben and I follow, and I look at him: he looks like he's gone on a commando mission, as if he's missed it terribly, even though I know he always hated it, back in his Academy days. Now, however, his ordinarily gloomy expression has turned to mischievous resolution.
Since our travels, I've sensed Ben's immense and paradoxical desire to 'live'. To fall in love, to see the world, to interact with reality and to do things such as what we're experiencing today. I don't know if I'm sad or happy about it. Ben is constantly trying to prove that he exists, sometimes to Klaus's disadvantage, as when he wanted him to stay in San Francisco despite his own life. In a way, he's claiming his right to exist, and I'm afraid he'll be painfully disappointed when reality sets in.
But that is not the point, this lunchtime. The matter here is getting Raymond Chestnut out of his unfair incarceration, and I intend to have a good time, too. We step onto the sidewalk and walk towards the entrance to the police station in the sunshine, Klaus's nonchalance only equalled by our invisible hilarity in his wake. He passes through the glass doors, then the wooden ones, into the austere, checkered-tiled corridor. He scans the premises, turns into the adjoining corridor where the reception counter is located... then says to the cop standing there, busy rummaging through his little lunch bag:
"Hello..."
He glances at his name tag, his voice all honey.
"... Brigadier Harris."
The guy seems more interested in the prospect of his sandwich than in him, but stares at his blue-and-orange striped shirt, unable to contextualize him. It has to be said that from yesterday's cult leader to today's simple beatnik, there's practically a world of difference, including in terms of haircut.
"I stayed in your comfortable facilities a short while ago," he tells him, "and I wanted to know if ~by chance~ you'd found my... my wedding ring. I seem to have lost it somewhere in here".
Klaus shows his ringless 'Goodbye' hand, and I nearly choke on a silent laugh. Brigadier Harris rummages around the counter in a drawer, then - finding nothing - says to him:
"I'll make a call downstairs and ask if they've found anything. You can have a seat in the waiting area."
"You're an angel," Klaus replies with a smile, certainly too broad for the scenario he's interpreting. Then he turns on his heel and heads back down the corridor through which we arrived, settling into the available green armchairs as if he were at the beach.
The Brigadier's phone call only takes a minute, then he hangs up and returns to his eggs and mayonnaise sandwich, which he unwraps and places prominently on the counter in front of him. Clearly, it takes very little to brighten up his low-level police employee's day: he won't be disappointed. Ben doesn't see me, but I briefly make the neon lights on the ceiling flicker to let him know that I'm on track, and - safely hidden in my intangibility and invisibility - I step through the glass doors facing the counter. I give an inaudible laugh and make my way down the few steps to the cells aisle. I leave Ben to his own mischief: I know he'll be brilliant.
It scares me how easily I find my way around police stations. But it's like riding a bike or having sex: it seems that some configurations are impossible to forget. I quickly make my way downstairs, and spot the small room at the end of the cells' aisle, where two more cops are also having lunch without the slightest concern for Klaus's lost 'wedding ring'. The place smells like a mixture of their food, cleaning detergent, grease from the cell door hinges... and sweat of the poor guys locked up there. All of them are quite silent, sadly resigned, except for one drunk guy ranting nonsensical words. I don't know which one is Ray Chestnut. But - boy - this brings me back so many fond memories.
I don't want to scare the inmates: it would be completely unproductive to do so. So I stand behind the glass of the warden's room, and with a smile they'll never see, I make the neon light above their table flicker. The first time I do it, they don't even notice, but the second time: they look up. This is the moment I choose to switch on their little stereo, and - all of a sudden - Elvis starts singing. Ironically, the song is 'Jailhouse Rock', which would have made me laugh out loud if I hadn't been intangible. One of the guys flinches, the one called 'Miller', judging from his uniform. He switches it off while digging into his mac-and-cheese. And of course... I immediately turn the music back on.
"What the hell is going on with that thing?" he says to his colleague, whose eyebrows have just furrowed over a jar of peanut butter. The one seemingly named 'Thompson'.
"It's the batteries," he replies, inexpressively.
"If the batteries were fucked up, it would just keep silent- HOLY SHIT, where is all this water coming from?"
Oh? It seems they've just noticed that I've activated their coffee machine, and that the pot isn't underneath. The coffee is dripping onto the floor in a long stream, and Thomson gets up to try and stop it. It's pointless: I don't intend to release the switch until there's no more water in the tank. And I've also switched the kettle on, and it starts whistling. To set the mood.
"Damn it!" Miller exclaims as the light flickers on the ceiling again.
He grabs the phone to call his mate upstairs, but I'm already having fun infiltrating the energy of the rotating dial to make it spin. 6... 6... 6... And 666 is also what is displayed on the big calculator on the table, next to the files. Miller drops the phone, which topples over the edge of the desk and onto his foot. Thomson has just thrown the calculator against the alcohol photocopier I'm also currently operating. I want to laugh so badly: if this goes on, I won't have to do anything more: they'll turn the place upside down all by themselves.
"John! What the fuck have you done!"
"Nothing! Why would I do anything! What about you, motherfucker?"
Are they going to have a fight? Oh, how perfect that would be. I turn up the power in the electrical distribution system. The neon lights on the emergency exits go crazy, probably also on Ben's floor, where I can also hear the can dispenser emptying itself of its contents.
I only have time to turn up the volume on the little stereo to make Elvis bawl even louder, and panicked footsteps can already be heard approaching. It's Harris, the sandwich-Brigadier from upstairs, who rushes in - disheveled - having literally lost his cap over his scared face.
"This is the work of the devil!", he squeaks pathetically, his expression filling with dread as he watches the devices in his colleagues' room being switched on, everywhere around their baffled faces. If only he knew that the 'devil' is having a good laugh, and that once again 'it takes three to tango'.
"Free... Free Chestnut!", he almost cries. "He's the one the devil wants!"
To add a little extra, I make the lights flicker again, this time in the entire corridor. The prisoners barely look up. Some are asleep, and most of the others are too bored to be surprised by anything.
At that very moment, I feel Ben's energy approaching, a small gleeful smile on his so often dull or inexpressive face. He's having an adventure like he's been missing for a long time. Feeling more alive than ever. I think the only time I've seen him this ecstatic was when Jill decided to try body painting. And meanwhile, Harris has grabbed his colleague's shoulders and is shaking him urgently.
"Randall! Free Chestnut!" the Brigadier repeats.
"Are you out of your mind, Dustin? Do you really believe in all that crap?"
"My grandmother's barn was haunted! You have no idea!"
Thompson is literally shaking, I almost feel sorry for him.
"He's right, man. My grandfather worked at the Old Red Courthouse on South Houston Street, I don't want us to end up the same way!"
Even I've heard of this famous haunted building in Dallas, in front of which JFK will unfortunately drive a few minutes before being shot, on Friday. Ben is laughing his ass off. And he chooses this perfect moment to unhook the bunch of cells' keys from Miller's belt. Violently, he throws them out of the office, towards the cell where Allison's husband is. The bunch of keys slides across the floor with a sound of metallic chaos, which I accompany with an electrical surge that makes the neon light explode in sparks. Okay, maybe that's too much. But a little pyrotechnic effect to finish the job off sounded to me like a good idea...
The three cops look at each other, their eyes literally filled with the most chilling terror. A second passes in Elvis's electrically distorted voice... then the three of them rush down the corridor, now almost fighting to be first on the keys and at the lock. Ben crosses his arms, as proud as a pheasant, and I approach him, still invisible. I contemplate one last time his satisfied expression of success, I see Miller win the battle against his colleagues and turn the key in the grate that will free Chestnut... then I make my larynx tangible again, just enough to whisper to my acolyte in mischief:
"Are we done, boss? Can I go back to work, now?"
Notes:
Ben's rage to live is something I find really interesting to explore in this season. I think that otherwise, we can't fully understand his disappointment, when he realizes that it's futile, and that even possessing Klaus's body for a while, his existence isn't sustainable, and that he'll never have the same reality again. It's a journey that's necessary to fully comprehend the scene where he lets himself go to the Void.
Here, anyway, his enthusiasm and mischievous strategic skills enabled to free Ray... and Rin to have an amazing time.
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