Hallow

3

  They were sitting side by side on a flowery sofa, with the large painting of The Last Supper looking at them from the opposite wall. Jesus averted his gaze, like he was appalled by their actions and preferred not to see. On both sides of him, all the apostles seemed to direct judgmental looks at them. Even Judas was doing it.

  Walt adjusted the box on the coffee table in front of him. It had originally contained a set of 'professional bottle openers', but the twenty-two disk cases fitted perfectly, like they were meant to be there. The lacquered wood finish on the dark-brown plastic gave it an almost distinguished look, combining well with the label they had made in a print shop.

  "She's taking too long," whispered Zachary, sticking a finger inside his shirt collar. "And your suit doesn't let me breathe. I feel an asthma attack coming." Zachary, the blogger, computer wiz and learned man was yielding his place to Zachary, the hypochondriac, another frequent fixture of his personality.

  "Just relax," Walt said, trying to reassure him. "It's going well."

  They had spent a couple of days visiting churches of different denominations and filtering the ones that fitted the plan. Daily miracle sessions, celebrity ministers with their own TV shows, posters calling for protest gatherings in front of planned parenthood clinics, sex-shops and any place that displayed rainbow flags on the windows. Those were all good indicators that they were on the right track.

  Afterwards, they moved to the second phase. Most churches had notice boards and on some of those they found picnic attendance sheets, crayon drawings advertising free puppies or kittens and all sorts of services being offered, from taking care of children or incapacitated seniors to cake baking , landscape gardening and a wide assortment of menial jobs.

  It was on one of those boards that they found Mrs. Jade Parker's announcement of a garage sale selling only porcelain bears. There was a photo inserted on the printed word processor invitation template showing a row of porcelain bears in different costumes and poses over a mantelpiece, with adequately affluent surroundings. They copied the address and decided to make a move. Walt decided to make a move, that is, while Zachary insisted he didn't want anything to do with it.

  She tried to get rid of them when she opened the door and heard that they were selling something, but Walt mentioned 'the importance of giving children a proper education in a world that surrounds them with the wrong kind of influence' and that got her attention and made her invite them inside.

  "Let's go while we still can," Zachary whispered, restless. "She's calling the police."

  "No, she isn't," Walt reassured him. "Calm down. You're beginning to sweat and that's my suit you're wearing."

  "I didn't want to—" he started, but Walt shushed him.

  Mrs. Jade Parker returned from the kitchen, carrying a tray with a teapot, three cups, a plate of cookies, a sugar bowl and a small milk jug, all in flowery porcelain that matched the sofa almost perfectly. She placed the tray on the coffee table, handed them their cups and started serving.

  "Sugar? Milk?" she asked.

  "I always have mine straight, thank you," said Walt. He hated tea almost as much as he hated flowery patterns. Zachary didn't manage to say anything. He only shook his head briefly, raising the cup to his lips too fast and letting a couple of drops fall on his lap. The hostess didn't notice. She was busy putting two sugar cubes in her cup and pouring some milk. Walt saw Zachary squirm when the scalding tea touched his skin and wondered if it would leave a stain.

  "You have a lovely family, Mrs. Parker," he said, nodding at the large framed photograph hanging over the fireplace. It showed Mrs. Jade Parker sitting on the foreground, with a tall, stern-looking man in a blue suit behind her with his hand on her shoulder and three blond kids looking about the same age. Two boys with side parted hair and a girl with braids and shiny braces tainting a winning smile. "And what adorable bears!"

  "Thank you," she said, after blowing on the tea. "The bears belonged to my late mother-in-law. That's just a small sample. She collected them for decades. We have boxes full of them in the garage and thought it was time to let them be adopted by someone who could care for them like she did. We're having a sale next weekend, in case you're interested."

  "I'll make sure to pay you a visit," lied Walt.

  Mrs. Parker sipped the tea. Walt did the same. It burned his lip and smelled vaguely of warm urine, but he didn't allow his revulsion to become apparent.

  Zachary felt he should do as they did and lifted the cup to his lips with trembling fingers and placed it on the saucer again without even wetting his lips.

  "Now then," said Mrs. Parker, putting her cup on the table and carefully picking a cookie that she placed on the saucer. "What is it that you gentlemen are selling?" She looked at the box containing the CDs and appeared moderately interested.

  Walt put his cup on the table, glad for an excuse to do it, and Zachary did the same a couple of seconds later, enough time for the gesture to appear natural.

  "Tell me, Mrs. Parker," Walt began, after looking briefly at the shelf containing a small number of books that seemed more like decoration than actual reading material. "Do you own a set of encyclopedias?"

  She looked surprised, clearly not knowing what was the correct answer to that question.

  "Well... I suppose... I'd have to check..."

  "That won't be necessary," said Walt, smiling. "Your words have given me all the information I required to confirm a well known fact."

  "What fact would that be?" Her curiosity had been piqued.

  "Were you aware that only less than two quarters of families have encyclopedias in the house?" asked Walt.

  "No, I wasn't aware," answered Mrs. Parker, still not getting where he was going with that.

  "If you don't mind me presuming," Walt went on, "is it safe to say that you also didn't know that the nation's most successful students all come from those two quarters?"

  "Really?" She seemed impressed. "So you're saying there is a relation between encyclopedia ownership and academic success?"

  "No," said Walt. "I beg your pardon, but that's not what I'm saying.

  "It isn't?"

  "No. What I'm saying is that there is a relation between academic success in children and teenagers of all ages and the existence of good encyclopedias in their homes.

  "I see. Now that I think of it, we do have one. It's in the study upstairs. Red leather covers with embossed golden letters."

  "Is it good?" asked Walt.

  "To be honest, I wouldn't know. I think they are only removed from the shelf so the maid can dust them," explained Mrs. Parker. "And they were put back immediately after."

  Zachary had been watching the dialogue, moving his head from one to the other like someone following a tennis match. He decided he should say or do something to justify his presence there.

  "Then they can't be any good," he said. Mrs. Parker looked at him like she had forgotten he was there. Her blue eyelids fluttered for a moment.

  "Why is that?" she asked.

  Zachary felt his sudden bravery implode, but, luckily, Walt was there to come to his rescue.

  "Because a good encyclopedia begs to be opened and isn't easily put down," he said. "Knowledge is truly addictive."

  Mrs. Parker seemed impressed.

  "I see," she said. "And how does all of that relate to this?" She pointed at the dark plastic box containing immaculately ordered the CDs. It had been Zachary ordering them.

  "This," said Walt, "is one of the most advanced and accurate encyclopedias in the market. The Atkinson Encyclopedia of Revised Human Knowledge. Are you familiar with the name James Atkinson?"

  "I am not."

  "It's not surprising," said Walt. "It is increasingly frequent in our day and age that great minds don't get the recognition they deserve. James Atkinson was one of the most brilliant men of our era. A successful entrepreneur who devoted his life in equal parts to philanthropy and to the pursuit of knowledge. He spent years compiling the full exte
nt of his vast knowledge and making sure it would be made available for the advancement of mankind, putting this noble venture above his own well-being and above the well-being of his own family!"

  "Remarkable," said Mrs. Parker. "Truly remarkable."

  "Indeed," agreed Walt. Zachary was so impressed by Walt's words that he found himself nodding vigorously despite knowing the real story.

  "This is the result of a life of hard work and dedication to the common good," he moved his hand theatrically over the box."A masterpiece that would occupy several volumes presented in twenty-two convenient CD-ROMs, the most advanced information technology available."

  A decade ago, added Zachary mentally.

  Walt pulled out one CD case and gave it to Mrs. Parker. She looked at the cover with the planet and the glowing brain and it was clear she didn't know what to make of it.

  "I must confess I'm no good with computers," she said. "We have one but I never touch it. The electrical typewriter is my machine of choice," she proclaimed, proudly. "I took a course before I got married and was one of the best students in my class."

  "Remarkable." Walt managed to say it in a tone that conveyed to anyone who knew him that he found what he had heard absolutely ridiculous. "But computers are very useful machines. Your children will use it, no doubt, as a study tool. Think of the added potential of a convenient digital encyclopedia such as this. Containing in itself all the knowledge they could acquire from the internet and without exposing them to the perils I'm sure you'll be aware of."

  There was a sudden look of anger on her face.

  "I am aware," she said. "My husband controls their internet hours so they won't have to come in contact with things that would scar them for life. I've heard of some of the things that people put out there. Pornography and such."

  "And things more nefarious than pornography, I'm afraid," said Walt, sounding adequately somber.

  "Like what?" asked Mrs. Parker. "What could be worse than pornography?"

  "Pornography, at least, is easily recognizable for what it is," said Walt. "But there are things that corrupt young minds with the same ferocity and that are commonly seen and forced upon them as science or fact."

  "Oh... I see," said Mrs. Parker. "You're right."

  "I am, unfortunately. Nowadays, it's becoming harder and harder for a child to leaf through a book in search of knowledge without being bombed with vicious theories and statements that go against the word of God."

  "I know what you mean," said Mrs. Parker. "Like that nonsense about human beings descending from apes."

  "Exactly. That is a perfect example."

  She picked up her forgotten cookie and dipped it in the tea.

  "And this encyclopedia of yours is different?" she asked.

  "Certainly," said Walt. "James Atkinson was a man of God. That's why it is called 'revised'." And he pointed at the label.

  "I see," said Mrs. Parker. She took a bite of the soaked cookie and seemed lost in thought for a moment. Finally, she said: "You know what, you got my attention. It's always a privilege to deal with people who think alike. How many of these encyclopedias can you provide?"

  Walt seemed taken aback and, for a second, his pious encyclopedia salesman act faltered.

  "What?" he asked. After gathering himself, he turned to Zachary: "How many can we provide?"

  Zachary was already thinking about a number and answered almost immediately.

  "I'd say around thirty. Give or take."

  Mrs. Parker looked like she was making a mental calculation.

  "I think that would be ideal," she said. Zachary and Walt waited for her to clarify. She did. "Richard, my husband," and she pointed at the photo hanging over the bears on the mantelpiece, "is a minister of our church. He and some associates are setting up a school in Africa to spread the Word and to educate those poor people. It's the decent thing to do."

  "Of course," said Walt, waiting with growing interest to see where that was going.

  "It will be paid exclusively by contributions from our congregation and we managed to gather an interesting sum of money," she continued. "Enough to pay for a sturdy building, with classrooms for about two hundred students, and also to provide the necessary teaching implements. The teachers will all be younger voluntaries from the church, and there will be a computer room. I don't remember how many computers Richard mentioned, but it will probably be close to the number you mentioned. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

  The greedy glow on Walt's eyes made abundantly clear that he did.

  "That sounds very promising," he said.

  " It's just an idea," said Mrs. Parker. "It will be my husband's decision, of course, but he's a reasonable man and I'm sure he'll agree with me that our project would be benefit from Mr. Atkinson's remarkable work. Will you speak with him?"

  Zachary whimpered audibly. As Mrs. Parker was turning her head in his direction, Walt said: "Of course."

  "Very well. I'll go get you his card so you can arrange for an appointment." She got up. "I'll also talk to him later today so he'll be expecting you. I'll be right back."

  She left the room, leaving Walt and Zachary alone with the porcelain bears, the disapproving looks of the apostles and the flowery patterns. Zachary grabbed Walt's arm.

  "Are you mad?" he whispered. "Why would anyone in their right mind buy thirty sets of this shit? All the computers could share the same set!"

  Walt pointed to the room around them.

  "Isn't it obvious that we aren't dealing with people in their right mind?"

  Mrs. Parker returned and extended Walt a business card. It read 'Rev. Richard Parker, Pastoral Church of the Divine Light and Glory, President' and had his number and business address beneath in smaller type. There wasn't an email.

  "I recommend you try calling him around lunchtime," Mrs. Parker said. "He's usually very busy during the rest of the..."

  The bell rang, startling Zachary.

  "I wonder who it could be at this time? It's still too early for the kids to return from school and I'm not expecting any visitors. Give me just a second, will you?" She left again and they heard her walk to the hall and open the door.

  "She called the police!" said Zachary, trying to keep his voice low and failing. "I knew it."

  "Why would she call the police? We did nothing wrong," said Walt. "We were only... Oh shit."

  "What?" asked Zachary. Walt was looking at the window next to the Last Supper. There was a face there, pressed against the glass, looking in. An old face. With crazed eyes and lacking teeth. He saw Walt and started hitting the window with his fingertips. "Do you know him?"

  "Not him exactly, but... It's a long story. I'll tell you later." They heard Mrs. Parker close the door. "Just play along."

  The hostess returned and saw the old man looking through the window. Another one joined him. They were both wearing dirty suits.

  "What in tarnation...?" she said. She walked to the window and tried to shoo them away. "Go on, then. Go away or I'll call the police." And she pulled the curtains over the window, looking at Walt and Zachary. "The strangest thing. Two old drunkards wanting to come in to see you. Do you know who they are?"

  Zachary swallowed a lump in his throat, but Walt managed to deal with it.

  "I am really sorry about this, Mrs. Parker," he said. "They're two poor homeless souls I've helped on occasion. But they've gone back to their old drinking ways and I told them I couldn't help them anymore if they didn't sober up. They must have followed me here."

  She seemed both horrified and moved at the same time.

  "Oh my... I understand. We try to help people as best we can, but some have to help themselves first. When they don't, our efforts will be wasted."

  "Exactly," said Walt, with an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. He got up and Zachary did the same. "We thank you for your interest, Mrs. Parker. It will be a pleasure to participate in your husband's effort to educate the youth of Africa. They will become better men with the aid of th
e Atkinson Encyclopedia of Revised Human Knowledge.

  "I'm sure they will," said Mrs. Parker.

  "They'll be glad to know slavery was voluntary," said Zachary, all of a sudden, before he could stop himself.

  Mrs. Parker looked at him, confused. Walt seemed horrified.

  "What?" Mrs. Parker said. She had grown accustomed to seeing Zachary as the silent partner in that duo and that sudden outburst was unforeseen. Behind the curtains, someone knocked on the glass. The old men were still there. Mrs. Parker and Walt turned their heads and the impact of Zachary's words was gone. "Voluntary, you say?"

  "Yes," said Zachary. "Once in a while. According to the encyclopedia."

  "I didn't know," she said. "You live and you learn."

  "Exactly," said Walt. "We'll be going, then. Thank you once again for your time and patience. We'll make sure to schedule an appointment with the reverend." He pocketed the card while Zachary closed the encyclopedia's box. "Is there a back door we could use?" Walt asked, pointing briefly at the curtained window.

  "Sure," said Mrs. Parker. "Don't you worry. If they stay there much longer, I'll call the police."

  "It will be for their own good," said Walt.

  She took them through the house and opened a door in the kitchen that opened to a well-kept backyard. There was a swing and a tree house on top of a short tree in a corner. She pointed at the gate on the prefabricated picket fence.

  "Through there," she said. "Just go down that way and you'll eventually reach the main road. I hope you didn't park in front of the house."

  "We didn't, luckily," said Walt.

  They said their good-byes and Mrs. Parker went back inside as Walt and Zachary exited the yard and started walking down the road to the bus stop. Their car wasn't parked in front of the house out of luck but because they didn't have one. Zachary failed his driving test so many times he had given up and Walt was used to drive Sarah's car and never bothered to buy one for himself.

  "That slavery thing was unfortunate," said Zachary, admitting his blunder. "Sorry about that. I was nervous."

  "Forget about it," replied Walt. "I don't think she cared too much."

  "So, who were those old men, after all? Long stories are well-suited for long walks to the bus station."

  "I think I've become a magnet for insane hobos," said Walt, breathing in before starting to tell Zachary about the bizarre encounters in the police station and in front of his former apartment.

  3.1

  The three old men were hiding in the alley around the corner from the building's main entrance. Margrit was close enough to hear them, but they still hadn't realized she was there.

  "He has to come out sooner or later," one said.

  "I still think he went out through a back door," said another.

  "You and your stupid ideas," said the third.

  Margrit removed her marker from the pouch, opened it and examined the map on the screen.

  "The building has a door to a street on the other side," she said. The three old-timers turned around and stared at her with eyes wide open, tripping on each other while deciding if they should run away. Their attention soon turned to the marker she was holding.

  "Is that...?" asked one.

  "So small..." said another.

  "Yes," Margrit said, snapping it shut and putting it inside her pouch again. "What are you doing here?"

  The one wearing the dark suit straightened, dusted the front of his grimy jacket without any real result and said:

  "Our readings show that the target is here."

  "You all got the same reading?" Margrit asked.

  The other two looked embarrassed.

  "Well... I dropped my marker in the river years ago," one said.

  "Mine was stolen by rowdy youngsters," explained the other.

  "I allow these two agents to follow me, given their unfortunate loss of equipment," said the old-timer in the dark suit. "But the discovery should be credited entirely to me."

  "That's not fair," said the one who had gotten his marker stolen. The other one nodded in fierce agreement. "We've been helping you out all these years!"

  "I'm not saying you didn't help," said the one with the dark suit. "But we can't all be credited and, since I'll be the one making the drop..." He stopped, realizing something for the first time. "Wait a minute. I haven't made the drop yet."

  They all stared at Margrit, waiting for an explanation.

  "I'm not here because of your drop," she said.

  "Another agent got a reading concerning this target?" asked the one who had dropped his marker in the river.

  Margrit didn't answer. There were matters to attend to that were far more pressing than enlightening confused old-timers.

  "You saw him?" she asked.

  "Yes," answered one of the two markerless pioneers.

  "Right in front of us," said the other.

  "What was the reading?"

  "At first, 90%. Immediately after, it dropped to 87%," said the one in the dark suit.

  "The reading is not supposed to lower so quickly," she said.

  "My marker has been acting up for a decade or so," the old-timer admitted.

  "Why did you approach him?" she asked. "Don't you know there are rules against—"

  "He was getting away!" said the previous owner of one obsolete item of technology discarded in some black market by very intrigued thieves who couldn't understand what it was supposed to be.

  "And you planned to tie him up?" she asked.

  They all looked ashamed.

  "Creation..." said one, looking appalled.

  "Of course not," said another.

  "I'm not having this conversation again," Margrit said, more to herself than to anyone else.

  "What conversation?" asked one of the old men. She didn't know which because she had moved away to examine the front of the building. She came back and left the question hanging, replacing it with one of her own.

  "When did you see him?"

  The one wearing the striped dark suit started to think about it. Judging from his expression, he was engaged in complicated mathematic calculations.

  "Two days ago. In the morning," he said. "But not too early. Definitely not too early."

  "Definitely not," agreed one of the others. The third merely nodded with conviction.

  "And you're still waiting for him to come back again? He's probably long gone."

  The possibility pained the old-timers.

  "We were hoping he wasn't," said the pioneer wearing grey.

  "Hope all you want," Margrit said. And she started to walk away.

  "Where are you going?" asked the only old-timer in the trio who still had his marker with him.

  "I'm going to check if he's home or not."

  The old man took a moment to understand what she meant.

  "What about the rules?" he asked. "You said—"

  "I have to know for sure," she said. "Report me if you want. You can start by informing Command about how your friends lost their markers." And she started towards the door.