Mysteries Unlimited Ltd.. Donald Ph.D. Ladew
kissing every one of them,” Claire said.
“I don’t have any problem imagining that,” Baby Ruth said wistfully.
Claire took her hand and pulled her out of the office down the hall to William’s office.
He sat with his feet up on the dormer, staring out the window. Claire Alice knocked on the door frame. He turned quickly and stood up.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Mr. Tallboys. I’m Claire Alice and this is my friend, Jessie Ruth. We work in research. We decided to welcome you to the great mystery of life.”
William grinned charmingly. “Uh, thanks. I’m William. I’m a computer banking person, but I’m not really sure what I’m here for yet.”
Baby Ruth blushed and held her hand over her chest where the two undone buttons made her feel naked.
“If you need to know anything about research you should ask Jessie,” Claire said. “She’s a double Ph.D., history and geography.”
“Wow! That’s great, I will certainly do that.”
Claire saw that Baby Ruth was incoherent and took charge.
“Well, we have to get back to work. You be sure to come see us anytime. We have the best coffee in the place.”
“Okay, I will.”
Claire dragged Baby Ruth out of the office.
“Jesus, Baby, this is going to be harder than I thought.”
In his office, William sat back down and continued to stare out the window. Doing nothing was driving him up the wall. He sat forward and jumped to his feet. He had more energy than three men, but he didn’t know how to wait. He wandered out into the general research area and met a strange little man named, Jenkins. William introduced himself.
“Maybe you can tell me what’s going on, what’s he like? You know, Mr. Lee,” William asked.
Jenkins raised an eyebrow as quirky as a Koala Bear. All the features of his face moved independently.
William watched him curiously. The man’s a little mad. William almost spoke out loud. He sure looks mad.
Jenkin’s head was shaped like a wedge; bald on top, rimmed by a tonsure of carrot-colored hair. His glasses were as thick as the bottom of a wine bottle, and he had a fine little girl’s nose over a mouth so small, William wondered how he ate.
He looked at William out of the corner of his eyes, and pulled his lower lip slowly downward, exposing tobacco-stained teeth and let it go. He repeated this several times, producing a peculiar popping sound.
Jenkins seemed unaware of his idiosyncratic twitching, pulling, and jerking.
If this is body language, William thought, it must be one helluva a speech. The man’s thoughts are completely disconnected from his nervous system.
“Different,” Jenkins said, squeezing out another chuckle. His answer was followed by another concatenation of ear-digging, nose rubbing, side long glances plus a strange swaying fore and aft that reminded William of Orthodox Jews at prayer.
“Uh, well, sure, I gathered that. Perhaps you could tell me in what way he is different?” William was being very civil.
Jenkins treated William to more silent dialogue. After another ten minutes of fruitless questions, William gave it up.
“Tell you what, Jenkins, I’m going back to my office. You stop by, or give me a call when you think you have an answer of more than one syllable.”
He got another sidelong glance. Jenkins’ eyes crinkled up, and he coughed abruptly, trying to hide laughter.
As William left the research area Jenkins spoke. “Will do, Count Drogo.”
William chuckled. Jenkins had caught the obscure reference in William’s middle name, William Mantes Tallboys. William’s relatives had been around since the Norman invasion of England.
Interesting, William thought. How many people read the Domesday Book...and remember it!
All this peculiar non-conversation was by way of an ad William answered. In itself, it was as strange as the people he met when he arrived. He tacked the ad to the cork board in his office as a reminder that maybe he wasn’t as normal as he thought. He wasn’t. It said:
Wanted. Renaissance programmer.
Must be capable in all known languages
since the beginning.
Jesus! Since the beginning of what? Time? Western civilization? Planet earth? The local Galactic Cluster? There was more:
Versatility and creative programming skills a must. Knowledge of large banking systems, inter-communications networks. Will supply all equipment requested by acceptable applicant.
Contact, G. Spotea Box 21317 LA 91305
William’s resume’ said he was lecturing first year engineering students at Cal Tech when he read the ad.
It had to be a joke. No one ever provided everything a researcher asked for. Even so, the ad was irresistible. And the facts were, he did know something about most known computer languages. He’d written a book about it. So he banged out a new resume on his PC and lied a lot. Whoever read it must have expected him to float through the door in long white robes, healing everyone in sight.
In the normal course of seeking employment, William was definitely over qualified. He’d taught programming for three years, written books about it, and had two PhD’s in related subjects. His students called him Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, like Major, Major, Major in Catch-22.
When the Gods gave him all the physical goodies, they also gave him an IQ of 185, and parents whose idea of stability was to start a mink ranch on the edge of death valley, and failing that, open the first Soya Burger franchise in East Los Angeles. This was only a partial list of his father’s entrepreneurial efforts.
William had moved so many times before he was ten, he was convinced there were only two kinds of people; his parents and all the other people he would never get to know.
It wasn’t that he was socially inept, he just hadn’t been around people long enough to understand how they thought.
He was sure he needed stability and security, the way some people need success. Yet, on his own, he took all manner of chances. This anomaly worried him. He wouldn’t have answered the ad, but he had no choice, he had received orders.
Computer Banking was his specialty.
At his first interview, he discovered he might be working for a company called, MYSTERIES UNLIMITED LTD. He admired whimsy, figured it was one of man’s greatest weapons in the on going war against middle class seriousness.
MYSTERIES UNLIMITED LTD. was located in the hills near Roosevelt Golf Course in the Los Feliz district. The building, a combination of Kremlinesque onion domes and Art Deco brick, had once been an exclusive Jewish boys school. The Mezuzah was still beside the entrance to the main building.
William thought about kissing it, but as a certified goy, figured it might be in bad taste.
The building was on five acres surrounded by a stone fence thicker than the Maginot line. Inside the gate were gardens, and more gardens: rose gardens, cactus gardens, a vegetable garden, even a Japanese rock garden.
The building was red brick, and leading up to the entrance was a pale yellow brick road. The significance was not misplaced.
He hadn’t seen any cables—telephone or power—coming in from the street and assumed they must be buried. Around the back, on a wing that extended into a grove of pines, were three satellite dishes and numerous antennae.
This is good, this is real, he thought. His perspective had been fading into the middle distance.
After