i booked us ringside seats at the polynesian luau, riding high on a freshround of sympathy whuffie, and dan and i drank a dozen lapu-lapus inhollowed-out pineapples before giving up on the idea of getting drunk.
jeanine watched the fire-dances and the torch-lighting with eyes likesaucers, and picked daintily at her spare ribs with one hand, never avertingher attention from the floor show. when they danced the fast hula,her eyes jiggled. i chuckled.
from where we sat, i could see the spot where i’d waded into theseven seas lagoon and breathed in the blood-temp water, i could seecinderella’s castle, across the lagoon, i could see the monorails and theferries and the busses making their busy way through the park, shuttlingteeming masses of guests from place to place. dan toasted me with hispineapple and i toasted him back, drank it dry and belched insatisfaction.
full belly, good friends, and the sunset behind a troupe of tawny, halfnakedhula dancers. who needs the bitchun society, anyway?
when it was over, we watched the fireworks from the beach, my toesdug into the clean white sand. dan slipped his hand into my left hand,and jeanine took my right. when the sky darkened and the lightedbarges puttered away through the night, we three sat in the hammock.
i looked out over the seven seas lagoon and realized that this was mylast night, ever, in walt disney world. it was time to reboot again, startafresh. that’s what the park was for, only somehow, this visit, i’d gottenstuck. dan had unstuck me.
the talk turned to dan’s impending death.
“so, tell me what you think of this,” he said, hauling away on a glowingcigarette.
“shoot,” i said.
133“i’m thinking—why take lethal injection? i mean, i may be done herefor now, but why should i make an irreversible decision?”
“why did you want to before?” i asked.
“oh, it was the macho thing, i guess. the finality and all. but hell, idon’t have to prove anything, right?”
“sure,” i said, magnanimously.
“so,” he said, thoughtfully. “the question i’m asking is, how long cani deadhead for? there are folks who go down for a thousand years, tenthousand, right?”
“so, you’re thinking, what, a million?” i joked.
he laughed. “a million? you’re thinking too small, son. try this on forsize: the heat death of the universe.”
“the heat death of the universe,” i repeated.
“sure,” he drawled, and i sensed his grin in the dark. “ten to the hundredyears or so. the stelliferous period—it’s when all the black holeshave run dry and things get, you know, stupendously dull. cold, too. soi’m thinking—why not leave a wake-up call for some time aroundthen?”
“sounds unpleasant to me,” i said. “brrrr.”
“not at all! i figure, self-repairing nano-based canopic jar, massenough to feed it—say, a trillion-ton asteroid—and a lot of solitude whenthe time comes around. i’ll poke my head in every century or so, just tosee what’s what, but if nothing really stupendous crops up, i’ll take thelong ride out. the final frontier.”
“that’s pretty cool,” jeanine said.
“thanks,” dan said.
“you’re not kidding, are you?” i asked.
“nope, i sure ain’t,” he said.
they didn’t invite me back into the ad-hoc, even after debra left inwhuffie-penury and they started to put the mansion back the way itwas. tim called me to say that with enough support from imagineering,they thought they could get it up and running in a week. suneep wasready to kill someone, i swear. a house divided against itself cannotstand, as mr. lincoln used to say at the hall of presidents.
134i packed three changes of clothes and a toothbrush in my shoulderbagand checked out of my suite at the polynesian at ten a.m., then met jeanineand dan at the valet parking out front. dan had a runabout he’dpicked up with my whuffie, and i piled in with jeanine in the middle.
we played old beatles tunes on the stereo all the long way to capecanaveral. our shuttle lifted at noon.
the shuttle docked four hours later, but by the time we’d beenthrough decontam and orientation, it was suppertime. dan, nearly aswhuffie-poor as debra after his confession, nevertheless treated us to ameal in the big bubble, squeeze-tubes of heady booze and steaky paste,and we watched the universe get colder for a while.
there were a couple guys jamming, tethered to a guitar and a set oftubs, and they weren’t half bad.
jeanine was uncomfortable hanging there naked. she’d gone to spacewith her folks after dan had left the mountain, but it was in a long-haulgeneration ship. she’d abandoned it after a year or two and deadheadedback to earth in a support-pod. she’d get used to life in space after awhile. or she wouldn’t.
“well,” dan said.
“yup,” i said, aping his laconic drawl. he smiled.
“it’s that time,” he said.
spheres of saline tears formed in jeanine’s eyes, and i brushed themaway, setting them adrift in the bubble. i’d developed some real tender,brother-sister type feelings for her since i’d watched her saucer-eye herway through the magic kingdom. no romance—not for me, thanks! butcamaraderie and a sense of responsibility.
“see you in ten to the hundred,” dan said, and headed to the airlock. istarted after him, but jeanine caught my hand.
“he hates long good-byes,” she said.
“i know,” i said, and watched him go.
the universe gets older. so do i. so does my backup, sitting in redundantdistributed storage dirtside, ready for the day that space or age orstupidity kills me. it recedes with the years, and i write out my lifelonghand, a letter to the me that i’ll be when it’s restored into a clonesomewhere, somewhen. it’s important that whoever i am then knowsabout this year, and it’s going to take a lot of tries for me to get it right.
135in the meantime, i’m working on another symphony, one with a littlebit of “grim grinning ghosts,” and a nod to “it’s a small world afterall,” and especially “there’s a great big beautiful tomorrow.”
jeanine says it’s pretty good, but what does she know? she’s barelyfifty.
we’ve both got a lot of living to do before we know what’s what.
