I still felt dizzy sometimes, so I was laying down among soft blankets and pillows, while Nora and Mrs. Levi nursed me to health. I was starting to feel better. But feeling physically better was not entirely good. The healthier I felt, the more clearly I could remember what had happened at Marine Air Terminal. And the more I remembered about what happened, the more sad and humiliated I felt. Our mission had been a failure.
There was a sound of someone knocking on our front door.
“Ah, that must be Dr. Rozzozzo,” said Sal. “I’ll get it.”
Sal went to open the front door and I tried to get up.
“Keep down!” said Nora. “You’re still too weak to get up. Remember what the doctor said?”
“No, I don’t remember,” I said. “I was unconscious!”
“Oh, right,” said Nora. “Well, I was conscious, and I remember what the doctor said. He said you should stay in bed until tomorrow morning. So, you can bet I’m not going to let you get up until tomorrow morning. Got that, mister?”
“But I need to talk to Dr. Rozzozzo,” I said. “I asked her to come here because I need to tell her the wrist TV computers don’t work! I have to yell at her and get my money back.”
“Yell at her?” asked Mrs. Levi. “Why yell at her, dear?”
“Why?” I asked. “Well, because that’s what my granddad would do if he bought something and it didn’t work. He’d go back to the store and yell and then ask for his money back.”
“Well, Trueman,” said Nora, “I respect your granddad, but most of the time yelling just makes things worse.”
“Yeah,” said Mrs. Levi. “Yelling’s not a good idea most of the time. Better to just keep it civilized, if you can help it. Unless, of course, you’re dealing with a real yutz who really gets on your nerves. But, most of the time, you should try not to yell at people, Trueman dear. It doesn’t help anything.”
“But her wrist TVs don’t work!” I said. “When Buckley used it to determine the murderer of Eddie, it said the Latino man was the murderer! That was just wrong! So, what can that mean? It can only mean that her wrist TVs don’t work properly!”
“Well, how do you know it wasn’t correct?” asked Nora.
“Because…” I said.
I stopped talking because I realized that I might not want Nora and Mrs. Levi to know the truth. Buckley’s wrist TV had said the Latino was the murderer and when I used my mind to use the crime-fighting equation, it said the black-haired man was the murderer. Either the wrist TV didn’t work correctly or my mind didn’t work correctly. Or maybe my crime-fighting equation didn’t work? I didn’t know what the answer was, but I preferred to believe the wrist TV didn’t work. Because if it did work, then there was something wrong with my mind or with my equation.
“Nothing,” I said. “Never mind.”
I decided not to talk about it until I knew for certain what wasn’t working. I was scared they’d discover there was a problem with my mind or equations, and they’d stop admiring me.
The doors opened and Sal walked in, followed by the unmistakable figure of Dr. Lucretia Rozzozzo. She was dressed in a yellow laboratory coat, which she customized with many pockets and belts. A variety of small contraptions were strapped to her body, and continually made mechanical noises. She had a strange odor that was not unpleasant, but was impossible to identify. She wore a hat made of leather belts and topped with a metal ball. Her gray hair poked out from between the belts and stuck up in the air, making her head look like a peacock’s tail. I had intended to yell at her, but her dark, intense eyes expressed power. Her eyes always intimidated me, and I couldn’t say anything. I lay on my settee and stared at her.
“Hello Trueman,” said Rozzozzo. “Why are you lying down? If you want to go to sleep, why’d you ask me to come here? I’m busy, you know. I’ve got over eighteen inventions I’m working on.”
Her tone of voice was also powerful and intense, and I was still too intimidated to talk. I continued to stare silently.
“What’s wrong with him?” asked Rozzozzo.
“He’s not feeling too good,” said Mrs. Levi.
“Yeah,” said Nora. “He had an accident and fell off a building. He has to lie down until tomorrow morning.”
“Fell?” asked Rozzozzo. “You should have used the CCC! Then you wouldn’t have fallen. Now, what do you want, Trueman?”
“Um…” I said. “It’s about the wrist TVs.”
“What about them?” asked Rozzozzo.
“Well, I’m not criticizing you…” I said, “but I was just curious about something. Although I’m not criticizing… um…”
“Come on, Trueman!” said Rozzozzo. “Spit it out!”
I lifted my hand and felt if there was anything on my lips.
“Spit what out?” I asked. “There’s nothing in my mouth.”
“Oh, right,” said Rozzozzo. “You don’t like expressions? Well, ‘spit it out’ means stop hesitating and speak.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, the thing that confuses me is this. Earlier today, Detective Buckley and I were searching for a murderer at La Guardia airport. We were in two different terminals and using my crime-fighting equation to find the murderer. And we both found two separate murderers.”
“So?” asked Rozzozzo. “Congratulations catching two murderers. That’s even better than catching one, isn’t it?”
“No!” I said. “You don’t understand! There was only one murderer! The equation could not possibly have identified two murderers! I tested the equations many times and I know there was only one murderer of Eddie Sipple!”
“Fine,” said Rozzozzo. “How does this concern me?”
“Well, there can only be one murderer,” I said. “So, either I was wrong or Detective Buckley was wrong. I got my result from executing the equation in my mind. Buckley got his result from executing the equation on the wrist TV.”
“So, you think the wrist TV’s computer doesn’t work?” asked Rozzozzo. “What if the detective inputted the data wrong?”
“No!” I said. “I checked that. He did it correctly. Now, my brain probably works fine, so the only explanation is that your wrist TV computers don’t work! When I bought them, you told me they’d work! I want my money back! Immediately!”
I slammed my fist against the nearby table. I was mimicking the way my granddad would protest, when he was demanding his money back for defective merchandise. I had forgotten all about Rozzozzo and had become concentrated on my memory of how my granddad would yell and demand his money back. After I hit my fist on the table, I looked at Rozzozzo and immediately regretted my protestations. She was looking at me with her eyes narrowed. I couldn’t interpret her emotions, but she looked more intense than ever, and I hoped she wasn’t angry.
“Is that what you think, Trueman?” asked Rozzozzo.
I didn’t answer. I was so intimidated by the way she had asked that question that I was paralyzed from terror. This powerful woman was walking closer to me, and it seemed to me she’d descend on me, like a hawk or an eagle, and tear me to pieces. I lifted my arms and hid my face underneath them.
“I’m sorry!” I said. “Don’t hurt me!”
“What?” asked Rozzozzo. “What nonsense! Who said I was going to hurt you? Just let me see that wrist TV of yours!”
Rozzozzo grabbed my arm and removed my wrist TV. She walked to a nearby table and sat down. She removed some kind of bizarre tool from her belt and started examining the wrist TV.
For a few minutes, everything was silent, apart from Rozzozzo’s loud breathing and the symphony of electrical noises that always accompanied her. This woman emanated such an aura of power and intensity that no one dared speak, for fear of disturbing her concentration.
“Okay,” said Rozzozzo. “I think I can guess what went wrong. There’s a zero in your equation. This zero makes all the results equal one. So, it must be a mistake.”
“All answers equal one?” I asked. “So, that means it would always give an affirmativ
e answer?”
“Yes,” said Rozzozzo. “Everyone is the murderer.”
“So, there is a problem!” I said. “It doesn’t work!”
“Yes,” said Rozzozzo. “I must have made a mistake. I thought this was a zero. What is supposed to be there?”
Rozzozzo held up the wrist TV so I could see it. I recognized a part of my crime-fighting equation displayed on the TV screen. There was definitely a zero that was not supposed to be there.
“That should be an infinity symbol,” I said. “Not a zero.”
“Aha!” said Rozzozzo. “Now I see what went wrong. I always hate not knowing what my mistake was. You can’t solve your problems unless you know what they are first, right?”
“Oh, I agree,” I said. “So, now that you know what the problem is, you can fix it, right? The wrist TVs will work?”
“No,” said Rozzozzo. “I’m afraid I can’t fix it.”
“But why not?” I asked. “You said you can’t fix a problem unless you know what the problem is! Now you know—so fix it!”
“I just can’t,” said Rozzozzo. “You see, computers don’t have an infinity symbol. Infinity isn’t a number! I didn’t even know you could use infinity in a mathematical equation.”
“You didn’t?” I asked. “How could you not? It’s an important mathematical concept. It was used in ancient Greece!”
“Well, I’m an inventor, not a mathematician,” said Rozzozzo. “Sorry, but until you make a new equation without any of those infinities in it, or until society invents a computer that can understand infinity, I’m afraid you’ll have to forget about putting that equation of yours onto a wrist TV.”
I was disappointed to realize that my equation was not transferrable to computers. I remembered the excitement I recognized on Buckley’s face when he imagined he could solve any crime with his wrist TV. He said I would be a hero. Now, I wouldn’t be a hero. Instead, I’d be ridiculed. Because it didn’t work on the wrist TV, everyone would think my equations simply don’t work. I hid my face behind my hands and sighed.
“Don’t be sad, Trueman,” said Nora. “It’s not that bad. Maybe you can make a new equation without infinities in it? At least you can be proud knowing you’re smarter than a computer!”
I was too upset to give full attention to Nora. But her words made me think of something. I may not be able to give Buckley the power to solve crimes by himself, but my equations still worked. The only condition was, they needed to be executed by human minds. Maybe if I called Buckley and explained that, he wouldn’t be disappointed in my equations.
“Quick!” I said. “Nora! Give me your phone, please!”
Nora grabbed her mobile phone and gave it to me.
“Who are you gonna call?” asked Nora.
“Buckley,” I said. “If I hurry, I can talk to him before he realizes the Latino man is innocent. Then he won’t be disappointed in my equations and I can still be a hero.”
Rozzozzo coughed loudly.
“You might want to look at this, before you make that call,” said Rozzozzo. “I think you might be too late.”
Rozzozzo took a newspaper from under her coat and began reading it aloud.
“Mathematical genius botches police case,” she read, aloud.
“What does ‘botches’ mean?” I asked.
“It means you failed to solve the case,” said Rozzozzo.
I hid my face behind my hands. I was terrified and my stomach began feeling tight. I wondered if I might faint again.
“Trueman Bradley,” read Rozzozzo, “the Reade Street genius who has recently become New York City’s latest celebrity, reportedly caused the police to arrest an innocent man. It is reported that Mr. Bradley’s famous ‘crime-fighting’ equation gave an incorrect answer and seems to indicate that his equations are not as perfect as previously reported. Detective Buckley, of the NYPD, who made the arrest, refused to comment pending…”
“Stop it!” I shouted. “Just stop it!”
“Stop reading!” said Nora. “Can’t you see he’s upset?”
“Sorry,” said Rozzozzo. “I didn’t realize.”
I held my face as tightly as I could and tried to escape reality. My worst fears were coming true; everyone thought my equations didn’t work. The public wouldn’t acclaim me anymore, Buckley wouldn’t respect me anymore, Nora wouldn’t love me anymore. This horrible situation made me moan with misery.
“No!” I shouted. “I just can’t endure this!”
The doors of the agency office opened and I was shocked to see Detective Buckley. He stopped in the waiting room and looked at me. The look on his face resembled the look I’d seen on the face of mourners at a funeral. This made me think that he would say something horrible. My skin turned cold from fear. I knew he would tell me how disappointed he was in me. I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to live in this reality.
I closed my eyes and counted.
“2, 3, 5, 7…”
13
The Court Case
I could feel someone grabbing my shoulders and shaking me. I kept my eyes closed and counted louder. I didn’t want to acknowledge this person who was shaking me and wanted to tell me how completely I had failed. I put my earphones into my ears and pressed them tightly, so they wouldn’t fall out.
“Trueman!” said Buckley. “Did you hear what I said?”
The music from my earphones had stopped and I could hear Buckley shouting at me. I looked down at my portable music player and noticed my earphones were no longer plugged into anything. Buckley had unplugged my earphones and held my portable music player in his hand.
“Trueman!” said Buckley. “You hear me? I said, that’s it! I’m done! And you’re about to get yourself nailed!”
I looked at Buckley in fear. I didn’t entirely understand what he was saying. But Nora had told me that “nailed” was an expression that meant giving someone what they deserved, so it seemed to me that Buckley would punish me for botching the police case—maybe even arrest me.
“No!” I said. “Leave me alone! Don’t arrest me!”
I lifted my arms up, to protect myself.
“What the…” said Buckley. “I’m not going to arrest you!”
“But…” I said. “You said you’re going to ‘nail’ me. That means you’re going to punish me!”
“No!” said Buckley. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not the one who is gonna nail you, Trueman. It’s the police!”
“But you are a policeman!” I said.
“No, I’m not!” said Buckley.
I was confused. I knew Buckley was a detective, but he was telling me he wasn’t. People so often said things that didn’t make sense to me. I wondered if he was using an expression.
“I knew it!” said Buckley. “You weren’t listening to a word I was saying. Trueman, I told you three times already, I’m not a cop anymore! Understand? I left! I’m done with the NYPD. You understand what I’m saying here?”
I understood what he said, and the thought horrified me.
“I got you fired?” I asked. “Because of my failure I made you arrest an innocent man! And now you’ve been fired! I’m sorry, Detective Buckley! I’m sorry that I’m so stupid!”
“Trueman!” said Buckley. “Stop saying that, okay? You’re not stupid! And besides, I didn’t get fired. Didn’t you hear a word I’ve been telling you? I left because of this!”
Buckley pulled some papers out of his coat pocket and thrust them into my hands. I looked at the untidy bunch of papers. I was too scared to unfold them and look at them. I didn’t know what they were, but I was sure it was more bad news.
“What are those?” asked Sal. “Are those legal papers?”
“Yeah,” said Buckley, “I guess you could say that.”
Sal took the papers out of my hands and examined them.
“This is a subpoena, Mr. Bradley,” said Sal.
I stared in silence.
“Oh, I used to do all my own legal work,” sa
id Sal. “That’s why I know a lot about law. Yeah, I always wanted to be a lawyer, in fact… that and a detective.”
“What does it mean?” I asked.
“A subpoena means you’re being summoned to appear in court,” said Buckley. “Chief Stokowski is charging you…”
“What?” I asked. “Is he charging me with murdering Eddie? I thought you said they had no evidence against me!”
“He’s not charging you with murdering Eddie,” said Buckley. “He’s charging you with lying on your application form to get a detective’s license. According to this subpoena, Stokowski says you shouldn’t have been permitted to get a detective’s license because you have Asperger’s Syndrome.”
“What?” asked Nora. Nora ran to Buckley and started screaming at him. I could recognize the rage in her eyes.
“How dare he!” shouted Nora. “Does he think Trueman’s mentally handicapped or something? I could kill that chief!”
“Stop that!” said Buckley. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that, you understand? Now, I know you’re real angry and not serious about wanting to kill him, but if a judge or a cop hears you saying that, they’ll think you’re seriously threatening him. You can get in a lot of trouble by uttering threats to a cop.”
Nora made an effort to control her emotions and became calmer. But I could still recognize the rage in her eyes.
“Hey!” said Buckley. “I’m angry too! I know how you feel! Stokowski says people with ‘mental problems’ shouldn’t be allowed to get a detective’s license. He’s saying your Asperger’s means that you’ve got some kind of mental sickness and should be locked up in a sanitarium! I tell you, when Stokowski told me he was charging you, I got so mad I spat right in his face and walked out of the station. I quit! Right then and there. The last thing I’m ever going to do for Stokowski is deliver this subpoena to you. It says you’ve got to appear before a hearing officer of the State Department in a week. You see what I’m saying, Trueman? You’ve got to meet this officer and he’ll decide if your Asperger’s means you’re mentally incompetent. If he decides you’re not competent, they could revoke your license. They could shut down the agency, Trueman.”