Chapter 24: RAISING CANE and ABLE

I’m glad Sally isn’t incarcerated in the lamp with stinky Lou, per the original plan.

After Sally’s apparent reset as an innocent child again, a better candidate offered herself. Maggie had a choice. Slave to the lamp, as she had planned it for me, or my friends would lock her in a cage and drop her in the sea. As a slave, I couldn’t manage it solo. Friends help friends with the tasks impossible to do alone.

A thousand years against forever? May the comparison comfort Lou and Maggie over the long stretch. Can’t do the time, don’t do the crime. Maggie accepts poetic justice. Lou welcomes her. They conspire in a sociable sharing arrangement in the cramped lamp that eases anxieties and serves as a time consuming fun diversion.

Speaking of fucking, but first, I digress.

Gidget has been quite successful mining salvaged data and valuable information from Tony’s disparate, segmented, breadboard reassembled computer components.

Existence of Tony’s lab, complete with expensive diagnostic gear, prompts ferry teleports between the lab, and our midship hold, recently converted to hydroponics farm. Now a growing things oxygen enriched, combined high-tech medical bay, green scented herb garden lab, and bonus tomatoes, squash, leeks, and peppers.

Gidget also gained important insights into Sally’s condition, and causes. Sally’s situation isn’t medical. Can’t be cured with medicines. Prescriptions won’t help and are unnecessary. No doctors need apply.

Gidget isn’t a medical doctor but she is genius at anything, mechanical, electrical, electronic, or cybernetic. Computer programming, systems analysis, hacking are companion skills and expertise. For Gidget to master the mysteries of the Cat-scan and electron microscope, and additional sophisticated lab equipment, didn’t require long. Gidget is more sophisticated than the equipment, and the technicians trained to operate it. She analyzed the controls, and simply trained herself.

Mom has opted out of Cabinet meetings. Guardian angelship over Sally is a full time endeavor. Randy elects to take her place. Elected himself. I object. A man to boy, serious talking-to, is long over due. The bridge is too crowded for our numbers anyway, because of the extra lookouts Laura trained, scheduled and has posted. We are crossing busy shipping lanes. Laura also excuses herself from the meeting, citing attention to the bridge has priority.

Partial attendance cabinet meeting is to reconvene, this time in the lab, in one hour. That should be enough time to put a rational fear of Big brother Phil into snot nosed, wet behind the ears, adolescent Randy. I take him outside onto Regina’s front porch. I dunno why the idea to “Take him outside” just popped in my head, but it carried a hint of satisfaction in it. So, I invited Randy outside.

Leading the way, I’m mentally rehearsing my preamble to the lecture to follow, while passing through Regina’s parlor, but Randy is running his mouth already.

“I’m glad we’re having this man to man talk. I’ve been meaning to have it out with you for several days. I’m sick of you bird dogging my tracks and trying to undermine me with the women...” and that’s as far as he got.

I was already waiting and ready for him, in battle stance, when motor-mouth stepped through the door onto the porch. He didn’t long remain. I cleaned him off the porch with a roundhouse right to his left ear. Randy sailed out into the yard.

I hurt him. I can see it in his eyes, there is pain and wariness there. And the way he gently massages his ear and cheekbone is a strong clue. I surprised the hell out of him. He never saw this coming? That’s because he thinks his shit don’t stink. After I rub his nose in it some, he’ll be a wiser and smarter, more realistic lad.

“Your ear hurt? Now you know where it is. You got two of them, another like it on the other side of your blockhead. I can help you find it too, if need be.”

Randy is smart. He stays down, and stays quiet. He doesn’t appear angry. Just curious and suspicious. Surprised and a little scared. Good, I’ve got his attention.

“You better learn to use those two ears, starting now. This is not a man to man, it’s a man to boy talk. Where the man does the talking and the boy does the listening. If he knows what’s good for him. Don’t know? Stand up, and I’ll drop you again.”

“We have a serious problem. Your careless attitude is the problem. I own the problem, and I have the solution. Never again, will I want to bruise my knuckles on your hard head, but only if you can avoid acting like a punk. Punks get their eyes opened, split open. Punks are self made. That’s how they become punks. They won’t listen to anybody, won’t learn how not to be a punk, because they think they already know it all. You may be man tall, but you’re just a kid. Listen, learn, and maybe you’ll live long enough to reach manhood. Avoid going toe to toe with men, until you’re big enough and can take them on with at least some chance at winning. Right now, you’ve zero chance of even surviving a head on.”

“Any future talks, if necessary, like this one, will be more brother to brother. Cain and Able. I’m able to take a cane to your seat of reason, and I’ll give you a red ass diploma. Now, threats aside, let’s be reasonable.”

“Several results will be the harvest of this grim reaping. First! You will return the credit card you stole from my desk. Do you have it on you? Give it to me. Second! you are only permitted in my quarters by permission. That involves, knocking on my door, and waiting for an invitation to enter. Never enter without an invitation.”

“Third! You assume too much, and that stops now. You are not free to go and do as you please. You ask permission first. Want to borrow a bike or a horse for a ride? Ask. Want to drive a car, truck or bus? Forget it. Don’t even bother asking. Want to go out with, or squire a young, or older lady? State your intentions, and ask first.”

“Nothing except the clothes on your back belongs to you. Your house is only lent you. Lent the use of it. If you want to sit in on a meeting and learn? Ask if it’s OK, and allowed. If you are permitted to attend, you open your eyes and ears but close your mouth. Remember, you have only the clothes on your back. That means, you have no opinions or ideas of any value or interest to share. If you think you are having a brain fart, after the meeting, you can bring it up with me. If it strangely somehow has merit, I’ll know where to share it. Kids are best seen, not heard.”

“Finally. Regarding sex. Hands off the girls younger than fourteen. Hands off my wives, moms, my in-laws, close friends, and any women I’m having affairs with. How do you know if they’re already taken and off limits? Ask first. Ready for the meeting? It’s time. Remember, you are a student, a pupil, a disciple, not on par with a teacher, maestro, or professor. You’re a seaman apprentice. Not a seaman, an officer, not the Master, or a Captain. Ready?” I offer my hand to help him up.

Randy refuses my hand, leaps up, and runs off upset, feet tearing out clods. Not even capable of a descent teenage response. A little spoiled brat’s reaction, instead! Next episode? Probably a Cane and ably wielded.

Stopping by the galley on my way to the lab, for a take out coffee, I chat with Lindsay for a minute. She has a large bowl tilted over about twenty degrees off level, and whisking the batter contents with heavy handed rapid beats. Never misses a beat while conversing with me.

Suddenly she turns at a hissing noise behind her. A simmering pot is trying to boil over, and frothy foam is escaping around the rim of the lid, hissing into steam as it flows onto the hot electric burner plate beneath. Lindsay snatches the too heated pot over onto a cold area of the range top, and lifts the lid, allowing the steam to escape, and the high foaming contents to subside.

Very interesting. The batter bowl remains at the tipped angle Lindsay held it at, by itself, and the whisk hasn’t missed a beat, whisking away all by itself. While Lindsay is distracted by the pot boil over. It’s uncanny, watching this no hands auto-pilot batter beater.

“Lindsay?” When she turns back to face me, I point to aim her attention at the bowl merrily whisking along on cruise control. The batter bowl rights itself and the whisk stops, when Lindsay faints. I got her. Carry her to the table and sit down, holding her on my lap, gently rocking her like a dozing child.

Unconscious Lindsay looks peaceful, so innocent and lovely, asleep in my arms. And she smells wonderful, like vanilla, butter, and cinnamon. Her soft warm bottom presses on my stiffening johnson. I kiss her, not being able to resist. After a minute, he arms slowly lift to encircle my neck. She’s kissing me back. Right now, right here, isn’t the place to fuck, though I’m sorely tempted to risk offending people, by fucking too near the food preparation. I let her go. She says she has work to do, but if I’m still interested later? Lindsay leaves the invitation dangling.

“About the batter being whipped by unseen hands?” I remind her. “Has anything like that happened before?”

She isn’t sure. Earlier, she was washing some dishes, and remembered she needed to pull some frozen chickens from the walk in freezer to thaw. Thawing takes time.

Leaving the remaining dishes and pans unwashed, she went to get the chickens. When she returned, all the pots, pans, dishes were washed, neatly stacked to drain dry, and the stainless sink emptied and polished shiny. She has no idea who to thank for the help. Could it be the same ghost?

“No ghost, Lindsay. It’s you doing it. I’m sure. Try an experiment. Bring me a paper napkin from the table’s opposite end, without you moving to get it.”

A napkin extracts itself from the dispenser. Floats to me through the air, unaided by human hand. Wonderful. Amazing. Lindsay looks more scared than pleased.

PSYCHIC SYMPTOMS OF SALLY’S NANO INFECTION ARE BEGINNING.

“I will definitely see you later, Lindsay. Meantime, keep news of this phenomenon quiet, secretly held information, try to prevent or hide more episodes, if you can.”