Chapter 7

"How could... what does... but if... what?" she sputtered.

"Lauren," I said, "Consider some things. First — how much of that story she told you did you already know — about the Berkeley scientist and how the machine was built?"

"Not much," she admitted. "When I was there we were trying to get him to tell us how to work the machine, not how it was built or anything."

"Right," I agreed. "That makes sense. But apparently, after you left, she found the time to have a long conversation with him about the history and theory of the machine. She had enough background material to film a freaking docudrama about the thing. Why does a woman desperately trying to escape get all that?"

Lauren shrugged.

"OK. I said. Point one. Maybe she just did. Point two: I admit I'm not the person to ask; I have no memory of any Courtney Collins. But you do. Did you ever hear that she was a physics expert?"

"No," she said slowly. "But I didn't exactly study her life. It could be true."

"Sure," I said, "It's possible. She'd have to be very bright. Certainly she wouldn't be a 'pretty face' that just read the news from the teleprompter — right?"

"Oh, she is. When she interviewed me after my win, she did a great interview. She didn't just ask all the same questions everyone else did. She..."

"Right," I interrupted. "Precisely my point. She was a smart woman and a good journalist. So how come she has no idea who Senator Kerry is?"

"What?"

"In the coffee shop, I made a comment about the two front runners for the Democratic nomination for President for next year's election. I mentioned Kerry and Dean. They are the front runners, yes. But I said that Senator Kerry was from Nebraska. There is a Senator Bob Kerrey from Nebraska, but he's not running for President. Senator John Kerry of Massachusetts is. So the comment I made to her made no sense at all. And before you tell me that she just didn't bother correcting me..." I saw Lauren had been about to say something and I steamrolled right over it. "Trust me: I was watching her and she — he, I should say — had no idea what I was talking about."

I got up and began to pace back and forth as though I was delivering a closing argument. "Now, it makes no sense to me that a nationally televised journalist who is smart enough to not only be recognized as being sharp at her own job, but is also smart enough to have completed a bachelor's in physics, would not know which Kerry is running for President. But it does make sense to me that a physics assistant wouldn't be quite sure about who the candidates are a year before the election.

"Nor are those the only pieces of evidence. The first time he mentioned the name of this Dr. Yehuda person, I said something like, 'And Victor?' to him. I meant it to say 'And what happened to Victor?' but he simply heard 'And Victor?' and he automatically responded, 'Yes?'"

I turned to face her. "Consider also that as he told the story, he 'outsmarted' this Dr. Yehuda. That was the word he used: 'outsmarted.' Now, it seems to me that if that were really Courtney telling the tale, she would have characterized it as 'betrayed' or 'double-crossed.' But the man who actually did it would be much more likely to call his own action 'outsmarted'. Yes?"

I saw her nodding slowly. "She has been kind of... weird. She sure didn't want to talk to me privately back at that Tombs place. But how..." she froze suddenly.

"The machine," I said, filling in the blank for her. "We really need to come up with a name for this stupid thing, by the way."

"What?" she said.

"You know. The Reality Bender. Equaso-force. The Change-anator. Something cool."

She stood stock still for an instant, and then burst out laughing. "You are really insane, aren't you?" she said wonderingly.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "You," I told her, "started it."

She grinned.

"Anyway," I continued, "yes. The machine. If it can make Person A fall in love in Person B, and make Person C no longer exist at all... is there any reason we should believe it can't make Person F look like Person D?"

"So he... but why? Why would he do that?"

I sat down again. "I don't know." I sighed. "I have a suspicion that very little of what he said happened after they sent you home actually happened. And I think that somehow, he needs you back there. I don't know why, and I don't know exactly what we're going to find, but he's so eager to get us all on the road to Ithaca that he practically peed in his no-doubt unfamiliar panties."

"So we just won't go!" Lauren almost yelled.

I looked at her sadly. "Lauren," I said, "that would work just fine for me. But..."

She looked down. "Oh," she said in a considerably smaller voice.

"Right — we have no way of getting you back to being you unless we go. If we had any way to find the machine on our own, I might ditch Victor-Victoria out there and go on our own. But we don't. So we have to go, and we just have to watch our backs and make sure he doesn't get anywhere close enough to do something to us."

"But why... if it is him, why wouldn't he just do the same thing he did before? Make me, or even us, fall in love with him? We'd follow him like a slave, believe me."

"I do believe you, and I don't know. Again, my guess is that he needs you back there for some reason and that tool isn't available to him. I have no idea why." I paused, thinking again about the story he had told. "If you think about it, he left enough plot holes in the story he told to drive a truck through. I don't care how advanced a computer system you have; I refuse to believe you can tell it, 'Make Lauren Tremont fall in love with me' and have it spit out 'By your command'." I did the last words in my best Cylon voice and Lauren looked at me curiously. "Battlestar Galactica. That was a Cylon." I looked at her blank face. "Made about ten years before you were born. Never mind."

She looked at me and rolled her eyes, which I took as a signal to continue.

"There has to be something more to the process, something he deliberately left out."

"When we were trying to get him to talk to us, he said that it would take voice commands," she offered.

"OK, voice commands I buy, but for pre-programmed things," I said. I hefted my cell phone. "I can press a button and tell this thing 'Call Molly' and it will call my paralegal's desk... but only because I pre-programmed her number in. It won't go out to the phone book and start looking up people named Molly for me. No, no — there's something we're not seeing here."

"I'm sorry, Rick," she said morosely. "I wish I had paid better attention. I just wanted to get out."

I stepped forward and took her hands in mine. "That's not at all what I meant, Lauren, and it isn't your fault at all. You did fine. We just have to play this out and see what develops."

She returned my stare and I flushed, realizing how close we were standing to each other. She obviously felt it too but made no move to pull away.

"Um..." I said. I let go of her hands and stepped back a bit. "Anyway, that's it. I was going to let this play out without telling you, because I figured you'd be more nervous if you knew than if you didn't. But... you were right. You need to be able to trust me."

She smiled. "It's funny," she said. "You're so incredibly confident. When you were walking around here proving that Courtney wasn't Courtney, when you were in court standing up for me, you were just so completely in control of everything. And yet here we are now and you're nervous standing next to me."

"Yes. I am."

"Why?"

"Because we're in a hotel room, Lauren, and no one knows we're here, and because you're a gorgeous and desirable young woman and I'm old enough to be your... " I paused. "Your really older brother," I finished jokingly. Lauren returned my smile, but there was a warmth and depth in hers that belied any joking around.

"So?" she said.

"So... remember the bad idea conversation?"

"Yes," she said, "and I still don't think this is a bad idea." She came closer to me, her blue eyes fixed on mine. "I know all the reasons it's a bad idea. Shit, Rick, I don't even exist right now. And I've been through hell and it's probably screwed up my judgment. I know that. And I know that if all of this had never happened, I probably never would have met you. And even if we met, we wouldn't be together like this. I know all that, OK? But... I think about you. A lot. And..."