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BlinAI
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Dataset card Data Studio Files
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"I will," I said, and answered the call subvocally. "Julius here."
"Hi, Julius. It's Dan. You got a minute?"
I knew a thousand Dans, but I recognized the voice immediately, though it'd been ten years since we last got drunk at the Gazoo together. I muted the subvocal and said, "Lil, I've got to take this. Do you mind?"
"Oh, _no_, not at all," she sarcased at me. She sat up and pulled out her crack pipe and lit up.
"Dan," I subvocalized, "long time no speak."
"Yeah, buddy, it sure has been," he said, and his voice cracked on a sob.
I turned and gave Lil such a look, she dropped her pipe. "How can I help?" she said, softly but swiftly. I waved her off and switched the phone to full-vocal mode. My voice sounded unnaturally loud in the cricket-punctuated calm.
"Where you at, Dan?" I asked.
"Down here, in Orlando. I'm stuck out on Pleasure Island."
"All right," I said. "Meet me at, uh, the Adventurer's Club, upstairs on the couch by the door. I'll be there in --" I shot a look at Lil, who knew the castmember-only roads better than I. She flashed ten fingers at me. "Ten minutes."
"Okay," he said. "Sorry." He had his voice back under control. I switched off.
"What's up?" Lil asked.
"I'm not sure. An old friend is in town. He sounds like he's got a problem."
Lil pointed a finger at me and made a trigger-squeezing gesture. "There," she said. "I've just dumped the best route to Pleasure Island to your public directory. Keep me in the loop, okay?"
I set off for the utilidor entrance near the Hall of Presidents and booted down the stairs to the hum of the underground tunnel-system. I took the slidewalk to cast parking and zipped my little cart out to Pleasure Island.
#
I found Dan sitting on the L-shaped couch underneath rows of faked-up trophy shots with humorous captions. Downstairs, castmembers were working the animatronic masks and idols, chattering with the guests.
Dan was apparent fifty plus, a little paunchy and stubbled. He had raccoon-mask bags under his eyes and he slumped listlessly. As I approached, I pinged his Whuffie and was startled to see that it had dropped to nearly zero.
"Jesus," I said, as I sat down next to him. "You look like hell, Dan."
He nodded. "Appearances can be deceptive," he said. "But in this case, they're bang-on."
"You want to talk about it?" I asked.
"Somewhere else, huh? I hear they ring in the New Year every night at midnight; I think that'd be a little too much for me right now."
I led him out to my cart and cruised back to the place I shared with Lil, out in Kissimmee. He smoked eight cigarettes on the twenty minute ride, hammering one after another into his mouth, filling my runabout with stinging clouds. I kept glancing at him in the rear-view. He had his eyes closed, and in repose he looked...
Surreptitiously, I called Lil's phone. "I'm bringing him home," I subvocalized. "He's in rough shape. Not sure what it's all about."
"I'll make up the couch," she said. "And get some coffee together. Love you."
"Back atcha, kid," I said.
As we approached the tacky little swaybacked ranch-house, he opened his eyes. "You're a pal, Jules." I waved him off. "No, really. I tried to think of who I could call, and you were the only one. I've missed you, bud."
"Lil said she'd put some coffee on," I said. "You sound like you need it."
Lil was waiting on the sofa, a folded blanket and an extra pillow on the side table, a pot of coffee and some Disneyland Beijing mugs beside them. She stood and extended her hand. "I'm Lil," she said.
"Dan," he said. "It's a pleasure."
I knew she was pinging his Whuffie and I caught her look of surprised disapproval. Us oldsters who predate Whuffie know that it's important; but to the kids, it's the _world_. Someone without any is automatically suspect. I watched her recover quickly, smile, and surreptitiously wipe her hand on her jeans. "Coffee?" sh...
"Oh, yeah," Dan said, and slumped on the sofa.
She poured him a cup and set it on a coaster on the coffee table. "I'll let you boys catch up, then," she said, and started for the bedroom.
"No," Dan said. "Wait. If you don't mind. I think it'd help if I could talk to someone. . . younger, too."
She set her face in the look of chirpy helpfulness that all the second-gen castmembers have at their instant disposal and settled into an armchair. She pulled out her pipe and lit a rock. I went through my crack period before she was born, just after they made it decaf, and I always felt old when I saw her and her frie...
Dan closed his eyes again, then ground his fists into them, sipped his coffee. It was clear he was trying to figure out where to start.
"I believed that I was braver than I really am, is what it boils down to," he said.
"Who doesn't?" I said.
"I really thought I could do it. I knew that someday I'd run out of things to do, things to see. I knew that I'd finish some day. You remember, we used to argue about it. I swore I'd be done, and that would be the end of it. And now I am. There isn't a single place left on-world that isn't part of the Bitchun Society. ...
"So deadhead for a few centuries," I said. "Put the decision off."
"No!" he shouted, startling both of us. "I'm _done_. It's _over_."
"So do it," Lil said.
"I _can't_," he sobbed, and buried his face in his hands. He cried like a baby, in great, snoring sobs that shook his whole body. Lil went into the kitchen and got some tissue, and passed it to me. I sat alongside him and awkwardly patted his back.
"Jesus," he said, into his palms. "Jesus."
"Dan?" I said, quietly.
He sat up and took the tissue, wiped off his face and hands. "Thanks," he said. "I've tried to make a go of it, really I have. I've spent the last eight years in Istanbul, writing papers on my missions, about the communities. I did some followup studies, interviews. No one was interested. Not even me. I smoked a lot of...
"You were too late," Lil said.
We both turned to look at her.
"You were a decade too late. Look at you. You're pathetic. If you killed yourself right now, you'd just be a washed-up loser who couldn't hack it. If you'd done it ten years earlier, you would've been going out on top -- a champion, retiring permanently." She set her mug down with a harder-than-necessary clunk.
Sometimes, Lil and I are right on the same wavelength. Sometimes, it's like she's on a different planet. All I could do was sit there, horrified, and she was happy to discuss the timing of my pal's suicide.