Biomedical Self-Engineering 1 ***
Author: Jon Svenson
Date: 2020-05-17T04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: LitRPG
Publisher: BookBaby

Copyright © 2020 by Jon Svenson and Aryeh Publishing

Cover art licensed from Christopher Doll.

Editing courtesy of Karen Simmering.

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-09830-744-8

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author or the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. This novel’s story and characters are fictitious. Certain long-standing institutions, places, businesses, and public offices are mentioned, but the characters involved are wholly imaginary.

Other novels from Jon Svenson

The SyStem: Multiverse

Book 1

Book 2 (to be released in 2020).

Book 3 (to be released in 2020).

Novella (to be released in 2020).

Biomedical Self-Engineering

Book 1

Book 2 (to be released in 2020).

Microbrewer Alchemist

Book 1 (to be released in 2020).

The Tree of Life

Book 1: Yesod (to be released in 2020).

Book 2: Hod (to be released in 2020).

Biomedical Self-Engineering

Book 1

Book 2 (to be released in 2020).

Table of Contents

- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Interlude I
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Interlude 2
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Epilogue
- Author’s Note
- About the Author
- Endnotes

Chapter 1

“Hand me another beer.” The ham radio was crackling as Carl turned the dial, trying to find their favorite program. It tended to change frequency frequently, for reasons of ‘security,’ but Carl thought that probably had more to do with tax avoidance or something shady.

An ice cold PBR was shoved into his left hand just as he found the right frequency.

Tonight, we’re looking at military conspiracies. This includes but is not limited to Tunguska, the US military assisting coups in other countries, secret bases on the moon, other planets or underwater, the Philadelphia experiment, the Liberty – although I think we’ve talked that one to death, Area 51, secret outsourcing of UFO sourced materials to Boeing and McDonnell Douglas to make Earth-borne UFOs, and much more. Stay with us as explore what the military is hiding from the sheeple.

Carl turned the volume down so they didn’t have to listen to the commercials, the cold in the basement making both of his knees and one ankle ache.

“How was work today, Gene?”

“Same old, same old. They think because I have police experience that I can run a ten-second hundred-yard dash. My hips are about done for, not that we ever see anyone around the bank at night. By the way, I have to head out in an hour. I’m pulling graveyard tonight.”

“I hear you. At least the money is good. Double time?”

“Time and half now. The unions gave in again, screwing us over in the process. At least I have my pension still.”

Carl felt his face redden, turning up the volume so he didn’t have to respond. Gene seemed to realize his mistake, but Carl pointedly turned away. His life plan after a full forty years of work had been to retire with a full pension, enjoying a well-earned retirement in Arizona while he learned how to golf.

Instead, his wife met somebody younger and had taken half his pension in the process. Now he was working as a security guard for an industrial plant on Swan Island north of Portland.

We’re back. Today we have a noted author: Joe Berlin, Jr., who wrote The Philadelphia Experiment, Zero Point Energy and Nazis in Neuschwabenland: A History. Joe, welcome to the show.

Gene reached over to turn the volume knob down. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. It just slipped out.”

Carl nodded his head, then poured half the beer into his mouth and swallowed. “It’s not your fault. I’m just…angry, is all. I thought we had a solid foundation, and then she ups and goes off with…”

Carl caught Gene grimacing, and he stopped talking. “How about we do something different this weekend?”

Gene perked right up. “What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. Maybe get some cheap tickets to watch the Blazers? Or see a movie?”

Gene nodded his head. “The Blazers are out. I’m on a budget, and if Madge finds me spending money on the Blazers, well…you know. But a movie at the discount theater sounds good. Maybe get a good beer to go with the show?”

Carl nodded, smiling. “You got it. It will help take my mind off things anyway.”

Gene checked his watch, then stood up. “I gotta get going. I need to stop by the pharmacy to fill my meds before I head off to work.”

“It’s not a problem. Give me a call around 5pm and we can work the details out.”

Gene frowned. “You know I can just text you, right?”

Carl nodded, feeling more disconnected with the modern world each passing day. “Okay, fine, text me. Hope your shift goes well.” Gene grabbed a beer for the road, stuffing it into his pocket before trudging up the stairs to the door.

With his wife gone, the house was empty. Deep in the middle of the night he often woke up to pee, sometimes sitting down so he didn’t dribble on the carpet around the toilet. Old age was a bitch, full of doctors prescribing drugs and companies pushing medical insurance or reverse mortgages.

For a moment Carl thought of turning the volume back up to listen to the show, but then remembered he had heard this author talk before. It wasn’t that he believed in every conspiracy theory out there. It was more a way to get together with friends, although that list was dwindling the older they got.

Joe had passed last year with a heart embolism. Terence had died two years ago while undergoing a triple bypass, his blood pressure dropping too low for the docs to save him before he died. Carl found himself forgetting words and people’s names as he grew older, but acquiring a more detailed medical vocabulary.

His phone buzzed, which meant one thing: work. Not reading the text, he placed his thumb on the phone and it flipped open. Opening up the phone app, he called work.

“Precision Steel, this is Tammy.”

“Hey Tammy, this is Carl. You guys calling me in for graveyard?”

“Yeah. One of the younger guys called in sick, says he can’t make it: doctor’s orders. He better have a slip in his hand to that effect come Monday.”

“Don’t worry about it. When do you need me?”

“You’ve got the 10pm to 6am shift. That work?”

“Yeah, that works. I’ll be there after I stop to refill my thermos.”

“Thanks, Carl.”

Shutting down the ham, he then retracted the extendable antenna until it was only ten feet high. Portland could get high winds off the Columbia, especially in winter, and the ice storms were no joke either. Better to retract the antenna than take any chances.

Chapter 2

Carl always stopped at the same coffee shop. It wasn’t a fancy coffee shop, just one of the many drive-throughs that dotted the land between Portland and Seattle. Still, they were nice enough to remember his name and refill his metal Stanley thermos for the price of a large cup of coffee.

Thirty minutes later he was pressing his security pass against the reader, the metal doors slowly rolling open before he could drive through. He parked his fifteen-year-old Honda where he always parked it, then went in to push his card into the time clock. It was one of the things he liked most about this place: they respected the old ways of working. Some things were modern to be sure, but enough were old that he felt comfortable here.

He had worked as an engineer at one of the top construction companies in the state for thirty years. When they changed their pension from a defined benefit plan to defined contribution, he knew the writing was on wall and started looking for new work. Eventually he found a risk insurance company with a defined benefit plan that had him inspecting manufacturing sites for possible faults, one of which had been Precision Steel. When the risk insurance company was bought out by some faceless corporation out of state, he decided he had put in his 43 years and was ready to retire.

Or so he thought.

“Evening, Carl. Glad you could fill in.”

“No problem. I know you stayed late to make sure I showed up. Why don’t you run home to see those kids of yours?”

Tammy smiled, nodding as she gathered everything into her massive purse.

Tammy was a nice lady with a predisposition to bad men. Every guy was ‘the’ guy—until he left her behind for someone better, usually taking all the cash she had in the house on his way out the door.

“Thanks, Carl. You’re a dear.” With that, Tammy practically raced through the door out to her car, all the while trying to put on makeup.

While technically he could sit on his ass all night watching the monitors, he preferred to walk around the buildings while checking things out. If it got too cold, he would come inside, and in January there was a good chance of that happening.

Grabbing a flashlight, taser, radio and a thick jacket with the company logo on the right pocket, he headed for the front door. The taser was detuned so as only to incapacitate, not to kill. The radio had outside functionality if he needed it, and he had called 911 on a few occasions. Usually it was for hooligans drinking and doing burnouts on the road outside the building, but once he had caught someone actually trying to break in. What they hoped to walk away with at a tool and die company, he had no idea, but he had caught the intruder all the same.

The company’s unrelenting focus was on liability. Don’t taser them at full strength or they could sue. Don’t leave the company grounds or someone could sue. The book of rules for guard duty was over an inch think, and over 90 percent percent of the information was about things a person was not supposed to do in case someone sued.

Maybe that was why he’d started in on the conspiracies. It was a rebellion against the perception that everything was normal. That everything was a liability. If Bigfoot broke through the thick steel fence protecting the property, who was liable? A mythical creature?

What had surprised him the most at his first UFO conference was the number of other older people attending. Which is how he had first met Gene and Joe, who had attended for a number of years before retiring. Whatever the conspiracy was, it shook up the notion that everything was knowable. That you only had to look on Wikipedia to find what you wanted.

The air was crisp and cold as he started walking his circuit. He missed having a baton to swing around, but he had to admit the tasers put a person down quicker. Zipping up the jacket and turning the collar up against the wind, he walked the circuit. Once. Twice. Three times.

At the end of his third round, he brought the keys out of his jacket pocket and unlocked the front door. A thick hoarfrost covered the asphalt, and he was afraid he might slip and break a hip if it got much worse.

He sat down in front of an array of monitors, each one cycling through different angles every ten seconds. He had argued with management that having dedicated cameras made more sense in security terms, but they had quickly replied with, “We don’t have the money.” That had been the end of the conversation.

Stripping off his jacket, he placed it over the back of his chair and then went in search of a clean coffee cup. He knew he could use the cup on the thermos, but he liked having a cup with a handle to it. Rinsing one out that didn’t look too grungy in the sink, he headed back to the monitors and sat down for the night. The first cup was always the hottest, and he savored it as he sipped his way through it.

Hours passed, half of the thermos already gone, and he still had four and a half hours to go. Nothing moved on the monitors except for the odd car, but those were workers staying late from the other businesses in the area and not hooligans, as far as he could tell.

He was just dozing off when a flash of movement caught his eye. A wet streak ran across the asphalt, the clean layer of hoarfrost disturbed. Turning to the monitor on the southeast corner, he caught a glimpse of something again.

“What in all the hells is that thing?” Downing the rest of his cup of coffee and tightening the lid on the thermos to keep the rest warm, he pulled his jacket over his shoulders and stood up. A quick check of his taser and flashlight showed that they worked fine, with the taser fully charged.

Locking the door behind him, he stared at the wet line across the parking lot. The animal must have come out of the Willamette, which narrowed it down to an otter or something similar. It was too small for a beaver, so perhaps a large snake? Leaning down to look at the trail, he picked up a three-fingered footprint in the hoarfrost.

So not a snake. Following the trail, he walked until it left the company grounds and went off into the brush, disappearing in the thick weeds that surrounded the building. He shone his flashlight in the general direction it had gone, not hoping for much and not seeing anything.

Too hopped up on caffeine and adrenaline to plop his ass back in the chair, he made a circuit of the property to see if it had come out anywhere else. He nearly slipped halfway through, so took care with his footsteps on the way back. He saw nothing other than a handful of moths braving the cold as they buzzed around the sodium lamps overhead.

Shrugging his shoulders, he headed back to base. As his father had told him many times, nothing good happened after 2am and he had come to believe and then preach it to his own boys. They were fully grown with families living on the East Coast, calling on Christmas and Easter but never making the trip out to see him. He couldn’t complain, as he didn’t make the trip to see them as well. He knew if he did go, his ex-wife would also go and he wasn’t willing to reopen those wounds. They had a miserable détente, and he wasn’t willing to let that go easily.

Another flash of movement caught his eye, except this animal was much larger and shaped differently. It banged into the metal entrance gates, causing them to vibrate back and forth. Turning to look in the opposite direction, he saw the same animal from before on the edge of the fence near the brush, as if deciding which way to run should the other animal get through.

The larger animal had glossy skin, the lights in the parking lot making the black skin shine. He couldn’t see any eyes, but it had the same three-fingered feet.

Carl backed toward the door, the correct key already in hand. Whatever these things were, he wanted no part of them. He was paid a dollar and half over minimum wage as a guard and wasn’t willing to risk his life for such a pitiful paycheck.

He felt the door behind him, then turned and placed the key in the keyhole. His hands didn’t shake, but he could feel his blood pressure rising. He hated the blood pressure pills the doctor gave him, along with the half dozen other drugs they prescribed without ever solving the underlying issues of his aging body.

Opening the door, he gave one last look at the larger animal, as it was likely the most dangerous. To his surprise, it was heading directly at him. Fumbling with the door, he pulled it closed as fast as he could against the door frame.

With a click the door closed and he immediately turned the lock. The large animal bashed into the door, denting it a good half inch. Sighing, he wondered why the animal had charged him. The smaller animal had left him alone, and most wild animals shied away from humans.

Turning to get to the monitors, he watched in horror as the smaller creature climbed up his trousers and jacket before sharp teeth plunged into his neck. The pain was overwhelming, even for someone like him with a high pain tolerance. Fumbling to unlatch the taser holder, he flipped it free and brought the taser up to the body of the animal.

The animal’s skin had thick but short fur. That was the last thought Carl had as he depressed the trigger on the taser, the electric shock flowing from the animal to his body a millisecond later. His body spasmed, and then he fell to the ground, only the chair slowing his descent.

Chapter 3

The paramedics pushed Carl to the ambulance after one of the office managers arrived early to do some paperwork over the weekend. Animal control showed up an hour later, taking the animal off to places unknown. The officer manager shook his head, wondering at just what the hell had happened here and what the liability would be to the company. He dialed his boss, explained the situation, and drove away as fast as his BMW would take him.

Carl woke up a few hours after arriving at the hospital. Disorientated and thirsty, he brought a hand up to feel the teeth mark he remembered clearly from last night. A bandage covered the wound.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Thompson?”

“Thirsty.”

The nurse nodded. She was nice looking, late forties at the most. Not that Carl Jr. had risen to see much action much in the last decade. He refused to use any of the ED drugs men his age seemed to prefer, feeling it was demeaning to his body. He’d already cut down on red meat and stopped eating bacon entirely on the advice of his doctor, something he bemoaned every morning as he ate his oatmeal.

The nurse handed him a cup of ice chips.

“What am I supposed to do with these? I’m thirsty.”

The nurse gave a sigh, then nodded and went to get something else. Carl pushed the cup of ice chips onto the table beside his bed, wondering when lunch would be served and if it would include bacon. The way he figured it, eating bacon wasn’t cheating if the hospital gave it to him.

The nurse reentered the room and handed him a cup of water. He nodded, drinking it down in one go and then handing her back the cup. Her name tag said Barbara, and he thanked her as a gentleman should.

“Thank you, Nurse Barbara. May I ask when lunch is being served?”

The nurse smiled, not looking up from the device she was holding that was sure to be chock-full of his medical details.

“I can get you some applesauce and Jell-O. Maybe a cookie if you continue to be nice.”

“That sounds excellent.”

Nurse Barbara nodded absently, then turned to look at him. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

Carl nodded. “Some strange creature crawled out of the river. Then a bigger one crawled out, and when I retreated to the building the small one got in somehow. It attacked me, so I tasered it.”

“And tasered yourself in the process?”

Carl nodded, frowning. He’d done nothing wrong, but suspected this case wouldn’t be so straightforward based on her questions.

“Very well. The doctor should be here in an hour. I’ll bring you some food. Are there any relatives I can call? You don’t have anyone listed as an emergency contact.”

Carl nodded. “Gene Stupkins.” Carl recited the number, not knowing if Gene would be up after pulling an all-nighter on guard duty himself, but it was worth a try.

The nurse returned a few minutes later with a plate of Jell-O, applesauce and two cookies. He ate the cookies first, then the applesauce, saving the Jell-O for dessert. As a young man growing up in the sixties, his mother had served aspic salad for dinner and then Jell-O with canned fruit mixed in for dessert. He still loved the taste as it melted on his tongue.

A TV had been bolted to the wall but he didn’t turn it on, instead staring out the window toward Portland. At some point he fell asleep again, waking up when Barbara tapped him on the shoulder.

“You’ve been released. The doctor checked the wound on shoulder and I cleaned and rebandaged it. You don’t have a concussion or any other injuries, so you’re free to go.”

How in the world had he slept through all that?

“Is Gene here yet?”

Nurse Barbara nodded. “He’s waiting in the lobby.” She checked off a flurry of items on her digital device, and Carl hesitated. How long had it been since he’d done something like this? He couldn’t remember, truth be told.

“Nur—Barbara.” Carl cleared his throat as she looked up. “Would you be interested in having dinner with me sometime? Once I’m feeling 100 percent, of course.”

Nurse Barbara smiled, then hesitated. She seemed to be having an internal debate before coming to a conclusion. “I would be delighted. Let me write down my number.”

An orderly came into the room just as she handed him a slip of paper with her number on it. They both smiled, then she helped him into the wheelchair. Which was another thing he couldn’t understand. When they had their two sons back in the late sixties, he had walked out to the car while holding them in his hands. For a place where people went to die, the hospital was another place entirely too risk averse.

“I’ll check in with you next week if that works?”

The orderly looked up, not understanding.

Barbara smiled a small smile, then nodded. “That would be perfect.”

He met Gene in the lobby. Never before had his friend looked so worried, asking him question after question too fast for Carl to answer.

Finally, he held up his hands. “I’m fine. I’ll tell you all about it on the ride home.”

Gene nodded, helping him up at the hospital entrance. Then they walked over to Gene’s old Buick.

“Okay, spill.”

Carl told him the entire story, which took longer than the trip home with Gene interrupting every minute.

“Was it an alien? Maybe THE alien?”

“It wasn’t an alien. And it certainly wasn’t THE alien. You know I don’t believe in aliens as much as you do.”

“I know, I know. When I get worried, I talk.”

Carl nodded. That wasn’t the half of it. Gene ended up staying for a few hours while they watched North by Northwest for the hundredth time. The film still stood up, in Carl’s opinion, and he imagined he would watch it another hundred times if he could before he died.

Gene left and the house turned quiet, just as it always did at night. The thing that surprised him the most from the entire incident was him asking out Nurse Barbara and her accepting. He’d known certain ladies in the neighborhood were interested in him, but he wasn’t interested in them. They were old biddies who got together every other night to play pinochle, a game he despised. Either play bridge, or play something simple like crazy eights. Don’t half-ass it with pinochle.

Carl slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning as his mind played through the events again and again. Had they ever discovered what kind of animal it was? And why it had attacked him? Which reminded him that his car was still at Precision Steel, which was another problem.

He woke up drenched in sweat around 2:30am, the street lights visible through the gauzy curtains. He didn’t have to pee, which was his usual reason for waking up that late at night. At first, he thought something was stuck in his eye, a small blue dot like a laser pointed at the center of his right eye.

He focused on it, the light expanding until it filled the entirety of his right eye. Despite this unusual event, Carl was surprisingly calm as he studied the messages.

Initialization…

Version 13.31. Previous owner’s death recorded at 2:38am. Transference complete.

Assessment underway…

New user has a decreased resistance to death due to advanced age.

Significant current problem areas:

- Arthritis in both knees, left foot toes: first, second and fourth toes show medium levels of degeneration. Left ankle has mild degeneration.

- High cholesterol count of 305 indicates advancing atherosclerosis

- Nascent bone cancer in left tibia. Progress to complete metastasize: 16%

- Enlarged prostrate resulting in increased nightly urination. Enlarged prostrate is partially blocking both urinary tracks.

- Advancing glaucoma in the right eye. Blindness possible in 16 months if left untreated.

- Erectile dysfunction due to cholesterol and high amounts of fatty foods.

- Muscle degeneration in most larger muscle groups due to reduced exercise.

- One large and four small polyps in the lower intestinal tract.

Potential problem areas if action is not taken in the next 12 months

- Hemorrhoids
- Heart attack
- Brain aneurysm
- Prostate cancer
- Blindness in the right eye
- Reduced mobility
- Considerably reduced resistance to death

Carl read through the messages, his first reaction pure shock. There wasn’t a single conspiracy theory out there that he knew of that accounted for something like this.

His next reaction was that he was going to die. And sooner rather than later unless he did something about it. He didn’t smoke or drink much, but he had grown up expecting meat and potatoes for every meal. He still thought that was the best meal, which was another topic he and his now ex had argued about. She’d once tried to get him to try sushi, and he’d flatly refused to touch the stuff. Didn’t she remember WWII? What the Japanese had done in Manchuria, and the testing they had done on US P.O.W.s? His father, who had served in Europe, told him some horrifying stories from friends who had served in the Pacific.

That had been one of their last arguments, now that he thought about it. She’d wanted to travel and enjoy their retirement by trying new things, calling him an emotional Luddite more than a few times.

Turning back to the light blue screens, he wondered what the point of this information was. Exercising more and not eating meat wouldn’t heal the glaucoma he apparently had. Yes, he’d noticed that he was having more trouble reading, but hadn’t put two and two together.

Do you wish to proceed with glaucoma treatment?

Unallocated points available: 975

Points required to repair imminent glaucoma in right eye: 60

Carl hesitated, wondering if such a thing could be so simple. He desperately wanted to call Gene for his advice, but the man would prattle on and on, asking his incessant questions while fielding outlandish theories. No, this was something he needed to do on his own. He had to take responsibility for this, whether for good or bad.

“No.” He said no, not because he didn’t want his glaucoma reversed, but because there were far worse things that needed attention on the list. The worst thing he saw was bone cancer in his leg.

Do you wish to proceed with left tibia bone cancer treatment?

Unallocated points available: 975

Points required to heal left tibia bone cancer: 110

Unsure of how to talk to the blue box, he spoke out loud: “Yes. Heal the cancer in my leg.”

Pain burst through his body like a solar flare off of the sun, and Carl passed out.

Chapter 4

“One can’t learn much and
also be comfortable.

One can’t learn much and
let anybody else be comfortable.”

—Charles Fort

By the time Monday morning rolled around, Carl had spent all his unallocated points and felt a thousand percent better for it. The…boxes had apparently healed the cancer in his leg, which was enlightening in more ways than one.

First, cancer treatment is extremely painful even when a baby blue box does it.

Second, despite the pain he felt like a new man.

His second healing exercise had been reducing his cholesterol, which killed two birds with one stone by reducing the chances of a heart attack and brain aneurysm, while also removing erectile dysfunction from the list. He had always thought that issue was due to old age and not because he was eating Hamburger Helper every other night.

With that done, he moved on to the glaucoma. Which had the added bonus of returning his eyes to 20/20. He promptly deposited his reading glasses in the drawer on the side table where he read.

The cysts in his intestinal track came next, followed by improved muscles and removing the arthritis. He still had 20 points left, but nothing to spend them on.

Smiling, Carl did a little jig on the carpeted floor. Normally he woke up tired, assuming he slept for a full night at all. This morning had been different: he’d slept for a full night, not getting up a half dozen times to pee, and then woke up full of energy.

Instead of cooking up some bacon and eggs, Carl headed for the café just down the road. They weren’t cheap, but he could walk there and think about what he wanted to do in the future. He felt like a 35-year-old and could probably pass for mid to late fifties if he dressed nicer.

The fundamental truth of healing his body so quickly was that he didn’t want to go back to his old life. Of shuffling through each day until night came, and then rinse and repeating the next day. He wanted to live, and he chuckled mirthlessly at the irony. He goddamned sound like his ex-wife right now.

Ignoring that last thought, he started thinking of what he needed most. It only took a split second, but the answer was clear: he needed money. Money brought security, and it brought opportunity. With the right amount of money, he could purchase a small business and become a self-made man. Or perhaps let other small business owners seek investment opportunities from him, while he stayed in the background counting his money.

He knew physical labor wasn’t the answer. No, he’d never been a blue-collar worker, but that was still close to what he had done his whole life. He didn’t regret it but he knew it wasn’t for him.

Carl pondered the question while walking to the café, a few morning walkers from the neighborhood surprised to see him out. They didn’t wave, and he didn’t either, but he could sense that they didn’t understand what he was doing out of the house this early.

Sitting down at an empty table, he ordered a cup of coffee and a healthy bran muffin without butter. Then he opened the newspaper, reading through the classifieds for what he would do next.

The coffee tasted richer, the receptors on his tongue reacting like crazy to the bitter liquid. The muffin was soft and delicious, not too sweet but equally not too healthy. Pushing away the classifieds as a useless endeavor, he perused the rest of the paper.

The front page was chock full of negativity, just like the nightly news. Which is why he ignored them both with a passion. Turning the page, he delved into the paper until he found the financial section. Most of it was made up of corporations doing this or that, but one small article stood out.

North Portland Homeowner finds Cache of Rare Coins.

Jan 24th: Jim Tready, 46, of North Portland found a cache of over a dozen rare coins in his backyard. Says Tready, “I was digging to put in a patio for my wife when my shovel struck something. At first, I thought it was the water pipe, so you can imagine my surprise when I pulled up an old leather bag full of rare coins.”

There was a picture of the balding man holding a few coins in his hand. Then the article continued, explaining that the estimated value of the coins was at least ten thousand dollars.

Could it be that easy?

Finishing his coffee, Carl grabbed his jacket and tucked the paper between his arm and his body. As an idea for raising money it wasn’t a bad one, with one reservation: it was slow. Finding random coins throughout the city, assuming he could, was more of a hobby than money making venture.

To find metals under the Earth’s surface, one or more of the following DNA samples are required:

- Common Mole (Scalopus Aquaticus)
- Common Dog (Canis Lupus)
- Naked Mole-rat (Heterocephalus Glaber)

Carl stumbled on the sidewalk, just catching his balance before falling into the street. Did this mean that…whatever these blue boxes were…could read his mind? He couldn’t find an answer to that question that was negative. He hadn’t spoken out loud, only thought it to himself since sitting in the café.

The next disturbing thing was that this thing wanted him to collect DNA samples. Was it sending the samples somewhere? He hadn’t researched his ancestors for the same reason: they wanted a DNA sample, and he wasn’t confident that they wouldn’t use it for nefarious purposes. Who knew what went on behind closed doors with the millions of DNA samples they had gathered?

Still…the request wasn’t that difficult. His next-door neighbor had a little yapper dog, which could solve that issue. He didn’t know what a mole-rat was, and wasn’t willing to try and find one. As for a mole, that might be easier. They sold mole catch and release traps at the local hardware store, and all he would have to do is catch one and pull a hair out of the thing.

Smiling, Carl decided to push aside his normal insecurities and headed to his neighbor’s before going home.

Walking up the stairs, he knocked three times, the dog already yapping after the first knock. He already knew what he was going to give as a reason for stopping by.

“Yes?” The door opened a bit wider, the small white dog darting out to smell his pants. Carl leaned down and petted the dog.

“Hi, Lorna. I don’t want to bother you, but I had an accident over the weekend and wanted to let you know in case the paramedics stop by again.” Lorna opened the door wider, obviously inviting him in as she stepped aside. Lorna was one of the old biddies who loved to collect gossip just like his grandson loved to collect Pokémon cards. Or so he had heard.

Lorna was older than Carl by at least a decade. One of her kids lived down the street and checked in on her regularly, mowing the lawn when it needed it and cleaning the gutters twice a year.

“Oh my. Please come in.”

Carl smiled. The older woman loved gossip, and he was going to pile it high while he petted the small dog. As soon as he sat down on the sofa, the dog leapt up and onto his lap, curling into a ball as he petted it.

An hour later Carl was tired. He had told the story twice, once in little pieces as Lorna interrupted every other sentence and once straight through. He had dog hairs all over his trousers and couldn’t be happier. He heard a little ding in his ear while they were talking, but was too busy to check on anything.

“I’ll keep an eye on the house, Carl. Please be more careful in the future.”

“I will. Scout’s honor.”

Lorna giggled, smiling at him.

As soon as he was home, he opened up the blue boxes and checked.

Canis Lupus DNA acquired.

DNA integration will be completed in: 7 hours, 37 minutes.

The only things on his list today were to check in with Precision Steel, and then call the pretty nurse back to set up a date for this weekend.

He called work first, wanting to get that over with.

“Precision Steel, this is Tammy.”

“Hi Tammy, this is Carl. I had a message to call in.”

“Carl, ohmygod—are you all right? I heard the most horrifying story about what happened that night.”

“I’m fine. I got bit by something but it didn’t get infected.”

“Thank God. We are already missing you around here. One of the other guards quit, saying it was too dangerous to work when crazy monsters were out and about.”

Carl said nothing, not certain how to respond to that comment.

“Anyway, yeah. HR wanted to talk to you. They said they had some forms for you to sign and I heard some of the managers talking.” Tammy lowered her voice to a whisper. “They’re worried you’re going to sue the company because of what happened.”

Sue the company? It wasn’t the company’s fault that it had happened, just bad luck. If they hadn’t issued him the taser, he might be dead in a pool of blood right now.

“When do they want me to come in?”

“Um…let me check.” The phone was put on hold, and classical music that had somehow been turned into something modern and even worse played over the phone.

Tammy came back to the phone a few minutes later.

“They said anytime this week is fine. They told me that you’ve been given two weeks’ paid leave, which is pretty great. If you need time off because of trauma or medical issues they’ll give you that time off with a note from your doctor.”

Damn. Carl remembered that he had promised to come in and see his doctor on Friday morning, to check up on him after the accident.

“Thanks, Tammy. I’ll try to stop by later this week.”

“Thanks Carl, that sounds—oops, I have another call. Talk to you later, Carl.”

Tammy hung up, and Carl put the phone down in the cradle. He still used his original Western Bell rotary phone that the phone company had originally leased them for thirty-five cents a month. It worked like a champ, and hadn’t broken once since he’d owned it.

Writing the appointments down on the calendar so he wouldn’t forget, Carl then pondered his next steps. He had no idea how much old coins were worth, or where to sell them. Maybe he should go to the library and use one of the computers there to check?

Then he pushed the idea away. There were hundreds if not thousands of old coins, and reading through them wouldn’t help him any. What he needed was to find some actual old coins, and then he would check.

With nothing else to do, Carl leaned back in the recliner and closed his eyes. He had a good feeling about the future, more so than he’d had in a very long time.

Chapter 5

“We have gold because we cannot trust governments.”

—Herbert Hoover

When Carl woke it was bright outside. A small dot bounced off and on in the corner of his eye, but he was too sleepy to recognize it for what it was.

When the sleep faded, he smiled as he opened up the blue screen. Sure enough, the little yapping dog DNA had been integrated with his own body somehow. There was never a better time than right now to see if his scheme would work.

Before he managed to sit up from his chair, smells beyond number assaulted his nose. He coughed a few times, eventually running for the bathroom, where he spewed up this morning’s breakfast and everything else in his stomach.

This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to smell out metals, not everything disgusting on the planet. How did dogs survive the onslaught of smells every minute of every day?

Flushing the toilet, the number of smells began to decrease until only the most prominent were disturbing. He had a can of Folgers in the cupboard that smelled rancid and bitter, and the toilet cleaner under the sink smelled of nasty chemicals, bleach and chlorine all tossed together.

Opening a window and pushing his head out, he thought through the problem. What did they do when they wanted dogs to follow escaped criminals in the movies his ex-wife had loved? That’s it! They gave the dog a sample so he knew what to smell for as he searched the forest. Not every dog was as smart as Lassie, and most needed a shove in the right direction.

Closing the window, Carl held his nose closed with two fingers as he raced toward the formal dining room. His ex-wife had taken most of the sterling silver, but not all of it. His mother had left some to him, and he dug through the drawer until he found the box.

Opening it, the smell immediately hit him. It smelled metallic, but with a hint of sweetness. Pulling a normal stainless-steel spoon to his nose next, he could tell the difference easily. The silver smelled natural, like it came from the Earth, while the stainless steel smelled…manufactured with hints of furnace smoke baked into it.

Taking the spoon with him, he walked up the street, sniffing all the way. If he had his car with him, he would have driven into downtown Portland, but that would have to wait for later.

He found his first silver Mercury dime two blocks away from his house, just under the grass. Pulling out a small pad of paper he kept with him so he remembered things, he wrote down: Get small garden spade.

That done, he kept walking until his feet ached and his back hurt from bending over to dig coins out. His fingernails were covered in dirt, but the right pocket on his jacket pulled itself down due to the weight. A few people had laughed at seeing him sniffing the air, and especially when he got down on his hands and knees to sniff the grass to locate the coins. He didn’t care one whit, because this was going to make him wealthy. He was sure of it.

When he got home, he dumped everything on the kitchen table, then began to sort through it. He had eighteen Roosevelt dimes, three Mercury dimes, fifteen Washington quarters and a lone Kennedy half dollar. In raw currency value it wasn’t much, but he hoped it would be worth more to collectors.

Tired and not wanting to cook, he called Gene. It was seven o’clock in the evening, and Gene was usually up around 5pm. Although they’d asked him many times just to be certain, Gene swore he didn’t mind eating dinner for breakfast before heading off to his shift.

“That sounds good. I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.”

“Thanks, Gene. See you then.”

Gene pulled up in his Buick and they drove to a diner in Sellwood. It was owned by a man even older than they were, and the cook knew his business. The food was hearty, filling and in large portions.

“So, what’s up?”

The waitress had brought their coffee while she placed their order. Carl hesitated for a moment, then relaxed. “Nothing. I was just tired, and didn’t feel like eating dinner on my own tonight.”

Gene nodded. “I know. It gets lonely and the house is so quiet it almost hurts.”

“Actually…I have a date this weekend.”

Gene smiled, then reached across the table to slap him on the arm. “Way to go. Anyone I might know?”

“No, no. I met her at the hospital. She’s a nurse. In her forties if I don’t miss my guess.”

That really caught Gene by surprise. “That young? That’s amazing!” They both chuckled, the small talk continuing until dinner arrived.

Just as they were finishing up dessert—lemon meringue pie stacked tall with light, fluffy meringue—Carl got to what he really wanted to ask.

“Gene, if you’re not too busy tomorrow, could you take me down and get my car?”

Gene bopped the palm of his hand against his forehead. “I can’t believe I forgot. Of course, of course. I’ll take you down to pick it up. I’ve got graveyard again tonight, so how about 3pm tomorrow? I should be up by then.”

Carl nodded, smiling. He didn’t like feeling so helpless that he needed to ask favors from a friend, but that was life. He’d make it up to Gene some other way. Maybe one of those fancy donuts from the new donut chain he’d seen while driving around. Gene had told him too many times how much he loved the one with bacon on top.

“Thanks, Gene. I really appreciate it.”

Chapter 6

“If you are not willing to risk the unusual, you will have to settle for the ordinary.”

—Jim Rohn

Gene picked him up a few minutes after 3pm, and then drove him down to Swan Island as expected. His car had a good layer of old leaves and dirt on the windshield, but the battery was only a few months old and should start right up.

“Thanks, Gene. You’re a good man.”

“Don’t get mushy on me, you old fool. Are we on for Friday night?”

“Let me check to make sure. I’m going to call in a few hours and set a night for our date.”

“Nice! Where are you taking her?”

Carl coughed, unsure he wanted to tell Gene. He relented only because Gene had done him a favor. “I was thinking the diner. It’s nice, has good food and it’s quiet.”

Gene was flabbergasted. “The diner! No, no, no. You have to take her someplace nice. A fancy restaurant with valet parking, that kind of thing.”

“Gene, that’s not who I am. You know that.”

“I know, I know. You do it your way. Whatever day you take her out, can we meet on the other day? I think Paul would like to come too.”

Carl grumbled under his breath. “Paul’s a naysayer. If he starts going off on how UFOs don’t exist, I’m throwing him out. End of story.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve already warned him. He says he’ll be on his best behavior.”

Carl didn’t like it, and he thought Paul was a pretentious ass who didn’t know what he was talking about, but he owed Gene now more than ever.

“Fine. It’s fine.”

Gene smiled widely. “Thanks, buddy. Let me know which night works best and I’ll come over with those frozen tater tots you like with the good ketchup.”

Damn. He really did like those frozen tater tots. They were like tiny hash browns he could hold in his hand.

Waving goodbye, Carl headed for the front entrance to sign whatever forms they wanted him to sign.

“Carl! How are you feeling?” Tammy rushed over and gave him a big hug, her breasts pushing uncomfortably into his chest.

Gently pushing the woman back, he smiled. “I’m feeling fine. The doctor gave me the all clear.”

“I’m glad. I was so worried about you. Not having you around feels like the world is off kilter, you know?”

Carl said nothing, not sure how to respond to her rhetorical question.

Tammy’s cheeks reddened, and she pointed toward the stairs that led up the to the managerial offices. “Ned from HR wants you to sign some indem…indemfin…some forms.”

Carl nodded. “Thanks Tammy. I’ll head up now if that’s all right.”

The phone rang, so Tammy rushed back to her desk to answer while waving at him to go up. Turning to the stairs, he walked up, all the while surprised that his knees didn’t hurt any longer. It really was a miracle, those little blue boxes.

The stairs turned 180 degrees into a long hallway, with offices and meeting rooms on each side. HR was at the far end, so he kept walking until he was outside a closed door with a nameplate that read:

Ned Johnson

215 Human Resources

Knocking, Carl heard the shuffling of papers inside a few moments before the door opened wide. Ned was in his fifties, and had less hair on his head than Carl did. He had a thick paunch that stretched his shirt tight, while the belt that held up his pants was lost under a mound of flesh. Carl had never got in the habit of criticizing others, feeling it went against the golden rule his parents had instilled in him at a young age. Having said that, Ned could do with losing a few pounds.

“Carl! I’m glad you showed up today. I have your paperwork ready if you have a few minutes.”

They shook hands briefly, Ned’s hand wet and limp like a dead fish.

“That’s why I’m here.”

Ned laughed, but it felt false. Perspiration could be seen on Ned’s brow, and Carl wondered if something else was afoot here.

Offering Carl a chair on the opposite side of the desk, Ned quickly walked to the other side and sat down. He then flipped through a pile of paperwork on his desk, pulling out a folder with Carl’s name on it.

Ned handed Carl the folder. “Here’s the situation, Carl. The company is concerned that you might take legal action against them for what happened last Saturday morning, so they are prepared to offer you a settlement in the amount of twenty-five hundred dollars in exchange for an indemnification against you suing them.”

Carl opened the folder, perusing through it. There were little sticky notes that pointed at places he should sign, along with a check in front of the paperwork made out to him for the amount Ned had mentioned.

He almost agreed. In fact, he was about to when something unusual happened.

New DNA acquired: five.

Points for new DNA acquired: 100

Carl paused. His mouth was half open as he tried to understand this new blue box. Apparently, the blue box didn’t report on every new piece of DNA it acquired, only when it hit certain limits. A veritable lightbulb went off in his mind: this was a resource acquisition game.

The formula seemed to be: acquire resources, then spend the points. Not very complex, but he could only imagine what was going on in the background. He hadn’t thought about it much since he had repaired most of his ailments, but there was nothing so modern on Earth that could repair arthritis, cancer, and glaucoma that easily. And without surgery. Overnight.

Which led to the question: what did the DNA represent to the blue box? The blue boxes wanted more DNA, but they hadn’t pushed him in any way to acquire more. He didn’t feel compelled to go after more DNA, but perhaps that was the trick. If someone tried to compel someone else into doing something, they usually pushed back. But if they turned compulsion into enticement and made participation optional? That was a different game entirely.

Which gave Carl his second goal since the blue boxes appeared. He needed more DNA. A lot more DNA.

“Carl, are you all right? You seem to have spaced out there for a moment.”

Carl pushed the thoughts aside. “I’m fine, Ned. The meds the docs gave me make me a bit loopy, that’s all. I’d like to review these documents for a few days to make sure I understand everything.”

Ned hesitated, his brow now slick with sweat. “Carl, there’s no need for that. It’s a simple indemnification document.”

Carl studied Ned. The man was obviously under pressure to get Carl to sign, but why? “I think the amount is too low. I’m already out $1,500 at a minimum due to the high deductible medical plan.”

Ned sighed in relief. “You want more money. I can’t promise anything, but let me see what I can do. We should be able to work this out in a day or two, no more.” He nodded, already standing up. “If you don’t mind, I’d like the paperwork back so I can modify it.”

Nodding, Carl pulled the check out and handed it to Ned. “I meant what I said, Ned. I’m going to review the documents until I’m satisfied that I understand what they mean.”

With that, Carl walked out the door. His first reaction was to make a beeline for the stairway and get out of here, but then he paused. He might dislike Ned and not entirely trust the company managers, but he had a mission to gather more DNA.

A few people were conversing in the hallway, so Carl walked up and introduced himself while reaching out with his hand to the nearest man.

“Hi, I’m Carl. I’m the guard that was attacked over the weekend.”

The executives were nonplussed but polite, each of them shaking his hand while spouting platitudes. When he shook the fifth person’s hand, another dot appeared in his vision. Carl smiled.

Getting into his car, the first thing he did was drive to the Wal-Mart on 82nd Ave. He despised the company for their business practices and the way they drove out small businesses across the country, but they did have one thing he wanted: a job as a Wal-Mart greeter.

After asking around, it turned out the application form was online at a small kiosk next to the pharmacy. He filled out the form, then the machine spit out a piece of paper that regurgitated his information along with a contact number to track his application process.

The first thing the kiosk had told him was that the pay was minimum wage, and that he would not receive medical coverage for the first year. As his mind was still catching up to reality, he almost walked away. Almost. Then he realized that he no longer needed medical coverage. As long as he had new DNA coming in, he would be hail and healthy.

When it asked how many hours a week he wanted to work, he said fifteen to twenty-five hours. He didn’t want to work full time, but he did want to ensure that he gained enough DNA to not worry about his health for a good long time.

That done, he stopped to fill up with gas before heading to a law office he knew just down the street from his home. The building was nice but not too nice, which he hoped translated to quality work without a high price.

A pretty young woman greeted him as soon as he entered the office. As was becoming a custom, he reached out to shake hands with her.

“Hi, I’m Carl Thompson. I’m looking for a legal review of some documents my company gave me.” He pointed with his left hand at the folder he had in his right hand.

“We offer a half hour initial consultation if you’re interested for $149 dollars. That way you can share what worries you about the documents with a member of our qualified legal team.”

Carl knew this was the standard pitch. And that if he did this, he would have to go hunting for coins the rest of the week for sure to offset the cost.

“That sounds fine.”

“Excellent, Carl. Just wait a moment while I check their calendars.”

Carl waited politely while the receptionist typed into her laptop. Should he get a laptop? He had always been more hands on in all his previous jobs, never a worker behind a desk. Still, if he planned to sell his coins for the most money possible, he had heard from Gene that online auctions could do that. He had no idea how they worked, but it was an idea.

“How would Tuesday at 9am work, Carl?”

Carl nodded. He knew he wouldn’t be working graveyard for a while, and surely, he could put off Wal-Mart for a few days if he got the job. “That sounds fine. Can you give me a reminder so I don’t forget? I don’t have a laptop yet for that kind of thing.”

“Of course, just a moment.” The pretty receptionist filled out a reminder card, which made him think he was at the dentist. Smiling, he knew he wouldn’t be going to the dentist for a very long time, if ever again.

The office had three doors with name plates on them, along with a conference room off to the side with windows he could see through. It was empty.

The receptionist handed him a card.

“Should…should I give you the documents now so they can review them in advance?”

“If you don’t mind, that would give them a head start. I’ll just make a photocopy and you can keep the originals.”

Carl nodded, handing her the folder.

A few minutes later she handed the folder back. Then the phone rang, so instead of saying goodbye, he waved. It was a quarter of an hour before 6pm, which is when the coin shop just two blocks down the street closed.

Instead of hopping in his car, he walked to the coin shop, entering a few minutes before they closed.

“We’re closing up. You buying or selling?”

“Selling.” He had brought the coins with him, wrapped up in newspaper so they didn’t rattle around when he walked.

Unfolding the newspaper, he pulled the coins out one by one. The man behind the counter came over with a magnifying lens that he held to his eye, checking the details on certain coins. He only glanced at the Kennedy half dollar, not examining it with the lens.

“I’ll offer eighty bucks. The Mercury dimes are in good condition. The Roosevelts are okay, but some collectors like the silver value more than the coin value. The half dollar is good but they’re pretty common.”

“Ninety and they’re yours.” The man behind the counter grinned. He had a beard that wasn’t fully filled in and long hair that went past his shoulders. On the walls were quotes about the intrinsic value of gold, along with other quotes about the imminent failure of fiat currency.

Ignoring all this, the man counted out four twenties and a ten.

“Thank you. Could I ask for one more thing, and then I’ll leave.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Do you have a gold coin I could see? It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as it’s not covered in a wrapper.”

The glass cases held hundreds of different coins, some American and some foreign. There was a thick row of what looked like brand-new gold coins, and the man pulled one out and handed it to him.

“You a collector?”

Carl nodded, his nose already picking up the unique scent of gold. It smelled…refined. Not like refined metal, but refined like a beautiful old car that had been restored lovingly, or perhaps a fine wine. The odor wasn’t strong, but it was distinct.

Nodding to himself, Carl handed the coin back. “Thank you very much.”

Back in his car, night had already fallen and there was only one thing left on his list for today. Tomorrow morning, he had an appointment at the doctor’s office, which he was honestly looking forward to.

He parked the car in the garage, then went into the house and pulled out a number.

“Hello?”

“Hello. I’m looking for Barbara Tommins. She is a nurse at the hospital.”

“Just one moment, I’ll put you through.”

The phone rang a few times, and then a voicemail picked up. Carl sighed, but didn’t hang up.

“…leave a message at the beep.”

The beep sounded and Carl spoke. “Hello, Barbara, this is Carl. I was a patient last weekend, having been attacked by a strange animal. I’m following up with you about our date. Give me a call back when you have a chance.” Carl left his number and then hung up.

Pulling a chicken pot pie from the freezer, he placed it in the oven and then sat down in front of the TV. Scanning through the guide, he saw that The Apartment with Jack Lemmon had just started. Quickly turning it to the right channel, he turned the volume up a bit so as not to miss a single joke.

When the commercial came on, he focused on the blue dot until it turned into the blue box.

Unallocated Points Available: 250

Actual Age: 73

Imputed Age: 79

Causes: smoking (ages 16 to 41), drinking excess amounts of alcohol (ages 14 to 63), lack of exercise (ages 47 to 73), other minor causes.

Carl froze. Not only was this new, it was terrifying information. He’d been friends with an actuary once who’d told him that the average age for men to die was 78 and for women was 81. That had been almost thirty years ago, so it might have changed since then but probably not by much.

If his imputed age was 79, then he was already in danger of dying. Even with the blue boxes, people couldn’t live forever.

But…could he use the blue boxes to change his imputed age? Changing his actual age was impossible, but changing his imputed age shouldn’t be. If the blue boxes could cure cancer, they could surely rectify the effects of aging to some degree.

Would you like to change the current imputed age?

Cost for reducing a year of imputed age: 100 points

Carl grumbled, but only for a bit. Right now, he could only change his imputed age down to 77, but he was just getting started. All it took was more points. More DNA.

He could feel the excitement bubbling up. It would be silly to spend the points now in case something happened, but once he had enough points—well, who didn’t want to feel young again?

Chapter 7

“The older I grow, the more I distrust the familiar doctrine that age brings wisdom.”

—H.L. Mencken

Barbara called back at 8:30pm, just as the movie was ending. Carl felt stuffed from the chicken pot pie, having eaten the whole thing when he usually only ate half and saved the rest for the next day.

She had agreed to go out Saturday, leaving the details up to him. He quickly wrote down her address before saying goodnight. She’d apparently had a long day, pulling a double shift because someone was off sick.

;

Carl couldn’t help but feel happy inside. It was something he’d never thought he would feel again, but Barbara was a nice, loving woman. He didn’t know where things would go, and he most definitely was not a one-night stand kind of guy. His tried and true approach was to get to know a woman over numerous dates, discover what made her heart sing, and become solid friends before becoming anything more.

Then a blue dot appeared in his vision. He opened it, wondering what was happening. He hadn’t found any new DNA, so what could possibly be the problem?

Emotional Understanding: 54%

Spiritual Understanding: 21%

Physical Understanding: 87%

Mental Acuity: 73%

Cost to change 1%: 2 unallocated points

The blue boxes continued to surprise Carl with their inventiveness and responsiveness to his thoughts. By the order the blue boxes had placed things in, his guess was that he could become more emotionally understanding. If he was willing to spend some of his DNA points.

As an expense, it wasn’t much. He could push emotional understanding up to 100% and spend less than a hundred points, but did that make sense? And what did it mean to have 100% emotionally understanding? Would he become a blubbering fool?

No, that didn’t sound right. The blue boxes had been nothing but helpful, which meant that he would become someone who could intuit the emotions people were feeling and be more helpful to them when they were feeling down. Carl had always thought of himself as a logical man, smoothing the edges of the harsher emotions until they were dull knives. Instead of getting angry, he would talk things out logically. Instead of becoming overwhelmed at the birth of his children, he was happy, but not beyond the point where he still remained logical.

He still thought that was the right approach, with one caveat: it hadn’t worked. He never saw his kids or grandkids, and because he was emotionally unavailable his wife had ultimately left him just after his retirement.

Unwilling to continue down a path that had proven incorrect, Carl spoke to the blue boxes. “I agree. Up my emotional understanding to 100%, and my spiritual understanding to 60%.” He had already calculated that he would have one hundred and one points remaining after this change.

As was becoming a common occurrence, Carl passed out.

He was really getting tired of passing out each time he made an upgrade to himself. Maybe it would be best if he waited to look at the blue boxes until it was bedtime next time, and do the upgrades then.

That decided, Carl got up and made himself a sandwich. He had just finished eating it when the phone rang. It was the recruiter from the local Wal-Mart. They were impressed with his background, and offered him a job starting next Tuesday if he was interested.

He said he was and thanked them for getting back to him so quickly. He was told to arrive thirty minutes early so they could show him around and get him his blue vest for working as a greeter.

Carl put the phone down, excited about this new development. It wasn’t so much about the money as it was about buying more from the blue boxes, and that had him more excited than he’d been in a very long time.

Then he caught himself. His emotional understanding kicked in, and he realized without a doubt that he wouldn’t have felt this way before the upgrade. He would have felt good, but it would have been just that: good, but not great.

He felt great. He was looking forward to the rest of today, and to tomorrow, and to the rest of his life. It was as if he’d woken up from a long dream, only now seeing how much of his life he had missed feeling.

Which in turn led him to understanding what he would do when he had enough money.

Chapter 8

“In a state where corruption abounds, laws must be very numerous.”

—Tacitus

Carl heard from the lawyers the next morning. The news was unfortunately a mix of good and bad, but it was all explained in detail by what sounded like a middle-aged woman doing her best to deal with a difficult client.

“They’re being fair? That doesn’t sound right. I was attacked on company property, for goodness sake.”

“You were attacked on company property, there is no doubt of that. I notified the company that you had retained a lawyer, and they upped the payment to $20,000 plus full coverage of all your medical expenses.”

Carl let that sink in. That was a good amount of money, no question, but if they were offering that, then his reparations were surely worth more. He wasn’t a money grubber, but he expected fair recompense due to the trauma and injuries he’d withstood.

“And you don’t think I should push for more?”

“That’s your decision entirely, Carl. If you wish I can go back with the message that you need more, but at some point, the company will decide that paying you more is going to be equal to or less than the cost of fighting it in court. Are you prepared to undertake what could be a long and emotionally draining litigious case?”

Carl’s mind caught on one phrase: emotionally draining. Truthfully, he had no desire to take them to court, and didn’t wish them to take him to court either. He had already lined up a new job, and with some extra found coin money he could easily be making equal to what he had been making as a guard. And not be working through the night while doing it.

“I accept their offer, with one addition. I’d like an additional clause added to the agreement that they will outfit current and future security guards with Kevlar clothing. I don’t want what happened to me to happen to anyone else.”

He could hear his lawyer – whose name he couldn’t remember – smiling as she spoke. “A wise request. I’ll add it immediately and let the company know that you won’t budge on that clause.”

“Thank you. For everything you’ve done.”

Carl hung up, feeling better about life. Any immediate financial concerns could be put away. He knew the lawyers would take 15 or 20 percent of what he made as their fees, but that would still leave him with over $15,000 before taxes.

Seeing that there was blue sky outside, Carl went on a walk, all the while sniffing for gold and silver coins. Instead of walking randomly, he made the walk into a big loop that took him ten blocks in every direction. Even if he didn’t find any coins, it would be good exercise.

His first find was a gold ring. It was thin and too small to be a man’s ring, and whatever stone had sat in it was long gone. Pocketing it, he continued walking.

In the end, he found six rings: two women’s and four men’s rings. One of the men’s rings was garish and weighed more than all the other rings combined. Putting them in the sink with the stopper in to keep them from accidentally going down the drain, he cleaned them carefully. Only one ring had an inscription inside, but it was generic: To love’s eternal glory.

Part of him desperately wanted to return the rings to their rightful owners, but he didn’t know how to do that. Or if they were even still alive.

He also found five Mercury dimes and thirteen Roosevelt dimes, along with five Kennedy half dollars. Instead of heading to the coin shop, Carl decided to wait until he had a good quantity. He had a feeling he would get a better price for his coins if he brought in a large volume of them instead of a few at a time.

That done, Carl put a frozen lasagna into the oven and sat down with a book. He quickly dozed off, the timer on the oven waking him back up. As a retiree, he had gotten in the habit of staying up to eleven or eleven-thirty before hitting the sack.

Tonight, he felt different. He had a quick dinner of lasagna and a side salad from a plastic container, along with a glass of red wine. As a man he rarely drank wine, but something in him decided that it would go nicely with the meat lasagna. A dozen or more bottles gathered dust in one of the kitchen cabinets, and he had opened one at random. Sure enough, it had paired nicely with the lasagna.

The dishes done and put away, Carl headed to bed. He slept soundly, not getting up once to pee during the night.

Chapter 9

“The senses deceive from time to time, and it is prudent never to trust wholly those who have deceived us even once.”

—Rene Descartes

The lawyer called him early Friday morning to tell him that his offer had been accepted. His final tally less the law firm expenses would be just over $17,000, more than he had anticipated. He promised he would stop by either today or Monday.

Knowing he had to go to the doctor in an hour anyway, he decided to swing by the law firm to sign a few documents and pick up his check. Once that was done, he walked two blocks and deposited it in his savings account.

Carl walked back to his car, sniffing the entire way. Surprisingly, the bank didn’t have a very strong smell of any kind of coin. He had thought that there would be a good amount of gold in the safe deposit boxes, but that wasn’t the case—or the gold was behind too much metal for him to sniff it this far away. There was a little bit there, but it barely registered compared to the overpowering smell coming from the coin shop a few blocks away.

As he got closer to his car, he did pick up a scent. Most of the coins he found were in the common area between the sidewalk and the curb, but this scent was just on the other side of the sidewalk.

Looking both ways to make sure no one was watching him, Carl leaned down and sniffed the ground. Yes, this was the spot. The smell was strong, and the same scent he had picked up at the coin shop.

The problem was that he still didn’t have a spade to dig into the ground. Noting the address of the house, he walked over to his car and wrote it down in his note pad so he wouldn’t forget. Then he drove to his local hardware store. He would be a few minutes late for his doctor’s appointment, but that was fine. He already knew he was in the best shape of the last twenty-five years of his life.

As he entered the hardware store, a red-vested man came over to ask him if he could help him find anything. Carl put his hand out to shake, which the red-vested man with the name tag of ‘Dean’ gladly reciprocated.

“How can I help you today?”

Carl answered while surveying the rows around him, hoping to stumble upon the item he was looking for. “I’m looking for a spade. Not too big, and not for gardening.” Carl already had a story prepared that wasn’t far from the truth.

“What are you using it for?” Dean asked.

“I have a metal detector and I go around looking for old coins.” Carl averted his eyes, not wanting to lie to the man while looking him straight in the eye.

“Really? Found anything interesting?”

“A few Mercury dimes, a lot of Roosevelts and a half dozen Kennedy half dollars.” By the look on his face, Dean wasn’t an old coin guy.

“That’s great.” Dean walked until he came to an aisle with gardening implements. “If you don’t want a round one, I have one flat bladed spade. It’s for pulling weeds like dandelions, but it could work for what you need.”

Dean pulled one off the pegboard and handed it to him. The spade was stiff and didn’t bend when he applied pressure.

“This’ll work. Thanks again.”

Dean smiled, then walked away to help another customer.

By the time Carl was back in the car, a blue dot was flashing in the corner of his eye. He’d shaken hands with his lawyer, then a second lawyer who was walking to the bathroom, Dean, the cashier, was number four and his fifth was with another man in a red vest who was just walking by. He honestly couldn’t wait until Tuesday when he started his new job.

In the end, he was fifteen minutes late for his doctor appointment. The receptionist chastised him briefly, then informed him that the doctor was running late and to have a seat. Before he did, Carl reached over to shake her hand and apologized.

And found that he meant it. It didn’t matter that the doctor was running late. He could only control his own actions, and keeping appointments with other people was the same as showing them respect. The fact that the doctor didn’t – or couldn’t – wasn’t his issue.

Carl’s logical mind was shocked at the thought, but his emotional and spiritual mind were in agreement, and basically shouted down the logical mind. Carl was oblivious to all this as he picked up a fly-fishing magazine. It was seven months out of date, but he didn’t care.

The magazine was fascinating. He’d never had an interest in fly fishing, but Oregon had numerous rivers known for fly fishing, or so the magazine article told him. Maybe it would be something he could try out. He knew he could talk Gene into it if he omitted the fly-fishing aspect and told him that they might find hints that Bigfoot had been in the area.

Carl finished the first magazine and picked up a second, this one on golf. While nearly as interesting as fly fishing, golf seemed expensive with the fancy shoes, clubs, clothing and greens fees.

“Carl Thompson?” the receptionist called into the crowd of people.

Carl looked up and nodded, then followed the nurse into the waiting room. A nurse entered a few minutes later, taking his weight, height, blood pressure and numerous other health indicators.

“Your blood pressure is excellent, Carl.”

Carl smiled. “Really? What was it?”

“I have you at 115/70. That’s excellent progress. The medicine is doing a great job.”

Carl hesitated, then plunged ahead. “I stopped taking the medicine last week. Just didn’t think I needed it anymore.”

The nurse looked up, surprised and dubious. “You should have called the doctor’s office before taking such radical action.”

“Really?” Carl didn’t mean it spitefully, but really? Even if she didn’t know his health was excellent, he did. And it seemed the facts spoke for themselves.

“I need to inform Dr. Peshgaski. Are you still taking your other medications?”

Carl shook his head. “I dropped them all. I’m still taking the multivitamin and B-complex, but that’s it.”

The nurse harrumphed, quickly typing into her device. “The doctor will be in shortly.”

Almost thirty minutes later, a portly man walked into the waiting room, staring at his device. He looked up briefly at Carl, shook his head, and then placed the device next to the computer.

“I’m told you dropped all your medications, Carl. That is extremely worrying.”

Carl smiled, not backing down. “Really? I feel great, and my blood pressure reflects that.”

The doctor shook his head. “Blood pressure is just one indicator. You’ve dropped your blood thinning medication, and your cholesterol has never been good. You could be putting yourself at risk of a heart episode.”

Carl shook his head. “Dr. Peshlaski, here’s the deal. I’ll let you take as many tests as you want today. Do your absolute worst to prove that what I did was wrong. However, if your tests reveal nothing then I would like an apology, and my appointments reduced to once a year.”

Dr. Peshlaski’s mouth hung open, revealing numerous silver crowns. He seemed to come to some kind of decision, and nodded. “Fine. I accept. But if I’m right, I want to see you every other week until you are stabilized on your medications again.”

Carl nodded. “I agree.”

The doctor turned and left, and the nurse reentered the room. Saying nothing, she took eight vials of blood for testing. When that was done, she had him remove his shirt.

Pulling up the bandage, she looked confused. “Our records show that you were attacked by an unknown animal on your shoulder.”

“That’s correct. I was, and it was painful.”

“I see.” The nurse went back to her device, rapidly typing in her report. While she did so, Carl looked over at his shoulder and smiled at what he saw. Which was pale, unblemished skin.

Forty-five minutes later he was free to go. The nurse had informed him tersely that his results should come back in ten days, and they would call him if they found anything then. Carl only smiled before remembering to reach out his hand so they could shake.

Reluctantly, she did. The nurse was young, maybe twenty-four at the most, and looked completely confused by what she was seeing. Dr. Peshlaski couldn’t be the nicest doctor to work for, which meant that she was between a rock and a hard place.

Instead of heading home, Carl drove to the Willamette waterfront. There was a nice walkway along the river, and a greenway right beside it where he hoped to sniff for hidden coins. Pulling the packaging off the spade, he stuffed it into his jacket pocket and headed for the walkway.

Carl discovered two things in his time walking the waterfront: first, there were a lot more people out and about in the city than in his small neighborhood in the afternoon. Many of the people looked at him oddly when they got close enough to hear him sniffing for scents.

Second, people took an interest in what he was doing. His first find was a Barber dime, although he didn’t know what it was exactly until much later. He just knew that it was older and likely worth more. He found a full dozen Mercury dimes, and almost thirty of the Roosevelt dimes.

A few people asked how he found the coins without a metal detector. Instead of lying—or telling the truth—he told them it was a family secret. Which, in a way, it certainly was.

Still sniffing, he found a diamond wedding ring, the diamond not large but good sized. He found a few war pennies, the silver content so low that he almost missed them. But his biggest find by far, and the one that garnered the most attention when he pulled it from the ground, was an old silver watch. It looked to be from the 1920s, the leather worn away and the watch face encrusted with grime.

In total, he found almost sixty coins in three and a half hours. He was hungry and a bit tired, but too excited to let either get to him much. The first thing he did on his way home was stop by an old watch repair shop.

An older woman with her gray hair pulled up in a bun greeted him as he entered.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

Carl leaned forward and put his hand out to shake. Smiling, the woman inclined her head and gave a dainty half shake.

“I found this recently and wondered if you could tell me what it is and if it’s worth restoring.” More than a little embarrassed, Carl pulled it from his pocket and placed it on the glass counter. A small pile of dried dirt fell off, creating a circle of filth around the watch.

The woman looked from the watch to Carl. “We would need to clean this further before I could tell you much. I can’t even read who made this watch. If you agree to a standard cleaning, that would be $79 dollars.”

Carl nodded. These seemed like trustworthy people, so he filled out a card she handed him with his contact information before handing over eighty dollars.

“We will give you a call as soon as we know anything.”

“Thank you.”

Carl headed to the diner. It was well past lunch, and he loved their meatloaf sandwiches. They used a thick bread so the ketchup wouldn’t seep through from the meatloaf, and they warmed it under a grill just before serving. It was magnificent.

“Carl, I’m surprised to see you in here for lunch.”

Instead of shaking her hand, Carl opened his arms and hugged Chloe, the diner’s most well-known waitress.

“My, my, Carl. My husband might get the wrong impression.” A few diners overhead and laughed.

“You know I didn’t mean it that way, Chloe.” He winked to emphasize his point.

Chloe led him to a seat at the counter. “What’ll you have?”

“Any meat loaf sandwiches left?”

Chloe nodded, taking a note down on a pad of paper. “Coffee?”

Carl nodded. “You know me too well, Chloe.”

The meatloaf sandwich was perfection. Just hot enough to eat without scalding the top of his mouth, and the meat still juicy enough that it left a dozen drips on the plate. All of it washed down with endlessly refillable coffee.

Skipping dessert, he left a twenty on the counter. It was a healthy tip, which Chloe thanked him for profusely.

Before he left, Carl motioned Chloe over and asked a favor. “Can you save a booth in the back for me tomorrow night? Say around 8pm?”

“Carl, why, you old dog. Do you have a date?”

“That I do.” He could feel a blush building on his cheeks, but ignored it.

“You got it. I’ll make sure of it personally.” This time it was her turn to wink.

“Thanks, Chloe. You’re the best.”

His next and final stop was the grocery store. With Gene and a friend coming over tonight, he wanted to have some beer on hand. The fridge had grown a bit bare as well, so he did a full shopping trip, loading up enough food in his cart to last for a week.

He bought good beer this time, something he’d tried once at a dinner party with his ex. It cost eight bucks for a six-pack, but it was amazing beer and brewed right here in Portland. He also bought a half rack of PBR for Gene, who he knew wouldn’t try the good stuff no matter what he said.

That done, Carl headed home and got the groceries unloaded. Gene was due to show up around 9pm, so he ordered two large pizzas at 8:45pm.

Right on time, Gene knocked on the door before opening it.

“Glad you could make it. Pizza should be here in a few minutes.”

“You got pizza?”

Carl nodded, smiling. “And good beer, although I doubt you’ll want to try it.”

Gene laughed as a second man entered the house, closing the door behind him.

“Carl, Paul. Paul, Carl. I know you two have met, but I don’t remember when.”

Carl held out his hand to shake, and they shook.

“It was at the McMinnville UFO convention.”

“That’s right.”

“You two going this year? It’s only three weeks away and I hear tickets are going fast.”

Carl shrugged, but Gene nodded. “That sounds fun. We haven’t done a road trip in a while.” Seeing the unenthusiastic look on Carl’s face, Gene upped the pressure. “Come on, we haven’t done anything like this in a while. It would be good to get out of the house.”

Not about to bullied into committing to something, Carl replied noncommittally, “Maybe. Let’s talk about it later and work out the details.”

Turning to Paul, he said, “Do you know who the speakers are?”

“They’ve lined up a guy who is doing the history of UFO sightings as the keynote speaker. He’ll talk on Saturday night. There will be a couple of locals Saturday morning, but I don’t think they’ve announced who is speaking on Friday night or Saturday afternoon.”

“I hope they bring back the guys who spoke on Bigfoot sightings last year. He was awesome.”

Carl nodded, remembering the speaker. He had almost written him off as a wannabe, but the bearded man had spoken quietly but lucidly on what he had found searching the Cascade mountain range in Oregon and Washington. His theory was that the bigfoot species had been coerced into doing the dirty work for certain alien species, and that they had a very unique trait: they could phase shift into a different dimension, which explained why they were seldomly sighted and few tracks were found.

Gene couldn’t restrain his enthusiasm. “He was awesome.”

Seeing the odds stacked against him, Carl hesitated, then spoke. “Fine. I’m in, but let’s stay closer to the convention than we did last time. That was a pain driving thirty miles back and forth just to save ten bucks a night. If you want, I’ll cover the extra.”

Gene grumbled a bit, but then agreed. “Excellent. I’ll buy tickets tomorrow for the two of us. Paul already has his ticket.”

Paul spoke up. “I’ll bring some venison jerky too. If I remember right, you guys loved it.”

Gene nodded rapidly back and forth. “That stuff was really good. Terrible farts but tastes great.”

The pizza arrived a few minutes later, and they all headed down to the basement with pizza and beer in hand. Once he found the right channel, Carl settled in for a relaxing night. No matter whether the conspiracies were true, he enjoyed spending time with Gene, and Paul wasn’t too bad either. He was a hell of a lot more knowledgeable about UFOs than either of them, but that wasn’t Carl’s focus.

Carl liked the more down-to-earth conspiracy topics, such as the imminent failure of fiat currencies. How there was no more gold left in Fort Knox. HAARP in Alaska. Contrails. When he’d been working a full-time job and had a bit of spending money, he had bought a lot of books on the topics that interested him most, and had amassed a sizeable library full of odd topics. He rarely went into that room anymore, but maybe that was another thing that needed to change. He knew he had at least twenty or thirty books from years past that sat on the shelf unread.

Paul and Gene called it a night around eleven. Gene had a rare night off, but found he couldn’t sleep on those nights so planned to work on his second car, a wrecked Miata he had bought for five hundred dollars. He was doing the work himself and on the cheap, but Carl couldn’t fault him: it was a damn good hobby, even it wasn’t something he was interested in doing.

Carl collected the empty bottles and stacked pizza boxes next to the front door to take out to the trash tomorrow morning, He then set his alarm for 2:30am. He had something to check on, and wanted to do it with as few people around as possible.

Chapter 10

“The root problem with conventional currency is all the trust that’s required to make it work. The Central Bank must be trusted not to debase the currency, but the history of fiat currencies is full of breaches of that trust.”

—Satoshi Nakamato

Carl parked his car a few blocks from the address he had written down, then got out and walked quietly toward the location with his spade in his jacket pocket. He wasn’t dressed in black, as that only implied guilt.

No, he was an old man who couldn’t sleep and had decided to take an early morning walk. At least, that was what he planned to say if he got caught or asked what he was doing out this late.

Walking to the location, Carl looked both ways. All clear. He then knelt down and started digging. He first cut out a small square of grass over the spot where the smell was the strongest. Then he dug, hitting something less than twelve inches down.

Scooting his fingers around the obstruction, he knew it wasn’t a rock almost immediately. Clearing out a bit more dirt, he was able to rock whatever it was back and forth until it started coming loose. A few minutes later, it popped free from the ground.

Cleaning the dirt away, Carl found himself holding an old coffee can. It wasn’t Folgers, but some older brand that hadn’t survived the intervening decades. All he could see was a large K, but couldn’t make out the rest of the word.

He used his spade to lift the metal lid, and it creaked against the rust until it came free. Holding the can up under the streetlight, Carl saw dozens of gold coins.

All of sudden nervous for being on the street alone while holding gold coins, Carl quickly pushed the dirt back in the hole and then put the square of cut sod back on top. The hole was a little depressed, but didn’t stand out too much.

Looking each way again, he didn’t see anyone on the streets or a car in either direction. He counted out the coins, then split them into two piles: he placed half in his pocket, and the rest in the can. Walking slowly up the porch, he left half the coins for the owner of the house. They were hidden behind a planter so they weren’t visible from the street, but the homeowner should find it easily come morning.

Scampering back to his car, Carl turned the ignition and then sighed. Turning on the dome light, he held a coin up to the light. They were American, but beyond that he couldn’t tell much. He was far too excited and could feel his heart racing. He had fourteen coins in total, having found twenty-seven coins total and then rounded up in his favor. He thought that was fair, as he seriously doubted that the homeowner knew about the coins.

The clock on the dash said it was 3:34am, and he yawned. Putting the car in gear, he headed home.

Chapter 11

“Love, whether newly born, or aroused from a deathlike slumber, must always create sunshine, filling the heart so full of radiance that it overflows upon the outward world.”

—Nathaniel Hawthorne

After a late breakfast, Carl divided his coins into sandwich baggies of the same types. He was just about to leave the house to go to the coin shop when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Yes, this is Joe’s watch repair. We’ve had a look at your watch and thought you might like to know what it is.”

“So soon?”

“Yes. Well, it was quite exciting, I must say. Despite the poor condition it arrived in, the watch is quite rare. One sapphire was damaged, but that has been replaced and it’s working like brand new now. We went ahead and repaired it given its value.”

“You still haven’t told me what it is.”

“I’m so sorry. My husband usually works on modern electronic watches, so he was very excited when he saw your watch. It is an old, very old, Audemars Piguet jump hour watch.”

Carl was dumbfounded. He had never heard of Audemars before, and had no idea what a jump hour watch meant.

“I’m sorry, let me explain. Audemars Piguet is a very old company based in Switzerland. They were a watchmaker for the wealthy back when this watch was made, and they still are. The watch you found, despite its condition, cleaned up exceedingly well. If the glass had cracked the watch would have been ruined, but it was airtight inside. Or so my husband says.”

Carl heard a man whispering in the background.

“Oh, yes. My husband would like to ask what you intend to do with the watch.”

Carl didn’t know. To him, it was exactly the same as the coins: something to sell and make enough money to live on. He didn’t need to carry a fancy watch on his wrist to prove anything, and he knew himself well enough to know that he would only worry that he might break it if he did.

“I honestly haven’t thought of it. I have no need of it, so I will probably sell it.”

“Hmm. May I…make a proposal, if I am not too forward?”

“What do you propose?”

“There are two options. You may sell the watch to my husband to be part of his collection. The second option is that you allow us to keep it on consignment.”

Sitting down in his favorite chair, he said, “I don’t think I can make a decision unless you can provide what you think the watch is worth.”

The woman on the other end sighed before speaking. “Well, that is the thing. This watch is very unique. If you were to sell it to us…” Carl again heard fierce whispering in the background.

The older woman spoke again, sounding like she was choking on the figure. “We would pay twenty-five thousand.”

Carl was stunned. “And if on consignment?”

“There is no guarantee on consignment. All I can promise is that it would not sell for less.”

“And you would provide insurance if I kept it on consignment?”

“Yes, although the cost would be deducted from the final selling price.”

The money hungry part of Carl, the part that had been hurt badly by his ex-wife taking half his pension, wanted the watch put on consignment to get the maximum value. The softer part, the emotional and spiritual part of Carl that had only recently grown up, didn’t. That part of Carl knew that things came and went, and that there was more to life than what he owned.

“I’ll sell it to you. It sounds like it would make your husband very happy.”

“That is very kind, Carl. We will have a check ready for you on Monday, and will keep the watch in our safe for protection. Feel free to stop by at any time.”

“Thank you. And I never got your name?”

“Apologies, my name is Helga. And it is true, my husband is making a fool of himself right now. He is exceedingly happy.”

Carl laughed, then hung up the phone after promising he would stop by on Monday. It would have to be Monday, as he started his new job at Wal-Mart on Tuesday and would likely be working at least two other days afterwards. He quickly marked it on the calendar so he wouldn’t forget.

That done, he got in the car and headed to the coin shop. He didn’t bring all the coins from his middle of the night foray, only one. He didn’t know the gold or silver market very well, and knew collectable coins even less.

A different man was behind the counter this time, which made Carl debate whether he should wait for Monday and head back then.

Then he caught himself. At the very least he should shake the man’s hand, and see what he had to say.

“Looking to sell or buy?” The man spoke distractedly, as he studied a page in a large book.

“Sell. I’m Carl, I was in earlier this week.”

The man looked up from whatever he was doing. “Yeah, Jeb mentioned you. Hi, I’m Randy, the owner.”

Randy had a black leather vest on with various Harley-Davidson patches sewn on. He also had a large patch showing a fisted hand filled with gold coins, while paper dollars burned all around the hand. Yes, this was most definitely the owner.

“What do you have?”

Carl carefully pulled out his pennies, dimes and nickels, while saving the gold coin for last.

Just as Jeb had done, Randy pawed through the coins, quickly separating them into piles. These piles weren’t by coin, but seemed to be by quality instead.

“This is a nice haul. I haven’t seen a war penny in a long time. And the Barber dime, while not rare, isn’t something found very often out West. It’s much more common in the East.” Looking up from the coins on the glass counter, Randy eyed Carl. “What kind of equipment you using?”

Carl didn’t react to the probing question. “I’m afraid that’s proprietary. I’ve adapted some of the commercial models for a better signature.” Carl based his answer not on any knowledge he might have of metal detectors, and more of what he knew of oscillators. The older oscillators weren’t reliable unless the owner got into the guts of it and replaced the capacitors and any burnt wires.

Randy smiled. “You an electrician?”

Carl shook his head, speaking confidently. He hated lying, but what he said next was nothing but the truth. “Engineer. Over forty years of experience.”

Randy whistled, clearly impressed. “You keep bringing in stuff like this each week, I might have you look at my equipment. I thought it was top notch, but I rarely find Barbers anymore. Mind sharing where you found it at?”

Carl smiled but said nothing.

“That’s fine, you won’t offend me keeping your secrets. Us gold bugs aren’t known for sharing information freely.”

Pulling a small ten-key calculator next to him, Randy started adding things up. “I calculate it out as $285, but I’ll make it $300 for a steady customer. That Barber is used but in very good condition, and the WWII penny is a prize I’ll keep for display until someone shows me the money.”

Carl pulled out his trump card: the gold coin. “How much do you think this is worth? I’m not saying I’m going to sell, just trying to get a price.”

Randy nodded, then turned around and pulled a thick reference guide that looked like a telephone book with a cover showing various coins. It was different from the one he’d been studying earlier when he came in, but Carl couldn’t tell why it was different.

He spoke while still leafing through the book, searching for the right page. “That is a damn rare coin you have there. It’s an 1857 five-dollar liberty, which is very collectible, but there are differences depending on where it was minted that determine value. That’s what I’m searching for now.”

Carl nodded, looking around the store. There was a smattering of foreign currency notes and a few Confederate bills, all of them in the $5-100 dollar range.

Randy slapped the book, surprising Carl. “I knew it! I had a gut feeling, and this proves it. Damn, you’re a lucky man.”

“What is it?”

“This is an 1857-S coin, which means it came from the San Francisco mint. Any coin that early from the San Francisco mint is worth good money. I’d rate this somewhere between very fine and extremely fine. It’s been handled, but not much. Any gold coin has value, but this one here is rare.”

Carl said nothing, waiting for the value. Randy seemed to be deep in thought before meeting Carl’s eyes and coming to a decision. “I’ll pay twenty grand for the coin. You might get more on an auction site, but there’s no guarantee.”

Truth be told, Carl didn’t need the money. He also didn’t need the coin, just like he didn’t need the wristwatch. Quickly adding up the numbers, including the check for the watch, he realized he had found three hundred and five thousand dollars in a day. Day and a half, tops.

Which presented a problem. The money in general wasn’t a problem, that wasn’t it. The problem was what to do with his money. With a new lease on life, he didn’t want to invest it in the stock market. That game was rigged, and he had no intention of investing his money in a corrupt game.

No, that wasn’t the answer. Maybe he could buy a business? Or maybe…

The thought sent shivers down his back. Selling the coins would give him the seed money, and from there he could grow. He’d have to hire someone else to do the work, but it was entirely feasible. Assuming he did his homework and was smart about it. He already knew where he would be stopping on his way home.

“I’ll sell it.”

Randy nodded his head, then looked Carl straight in the eye for the second time. “You have more of them, don’t you? I’m just guessing, but I’ve been doing this for a long time.”

Carl didn’t have any reason to lie. “I do. As does someone else. You might call them a silent partner.”

Randy nodded. “I can’t cash you out all at once. My business isn’t that liquid. Give me a few days and I’ll line up a line of credit. Do you have a number I can call?”

Carl wrote the number down and passed it over to Randy. The two shook hands for a second time, and then Randy turned and got busy preparing a check.

Getting in the car, Carl stopped at the bank next and had the cashier verify that the funds were available to cash the check. He could have called the bank to do this, but didn’t want to unnecessarily offend Randy.

“I can confirm the funds are available. Would you like to deposit the check into your account?”

Carl nodded, smiling. Then he held his hand out to shake the bank teller’s hand.

Chapter 12

“When injustice becomes law, resistance becomes duty.”

—Thomas Jefferson

Carl’s next stop was at the law offices, who were open for a half day on Saturday. The receptionist seemed surprised to see him and reached across to shake his hand. He already had her DNA, so this was a social gesture more than anything else.

“I’d like to make an appointment if I could.”

The receptionist studied her computer before replying. “Absolutely. When are you thinking?”

“Monday would be good. Monday afternoon if possible.” Carl surveyed the office for the second time, not seeing anything new.

“I have Monday at 2:30pm available with Rebecca. She was your previous lawyer, if you recall.”

Randy nodded. “That works. Could you—”

The receptionist handed him a reminder card.

“Thank you. I’ll see you on Monday.” Smiling, he showed himself out.

Carl bought a few more things to prepare for this evening, then headed home. Today had been a whirlwind of a day, and so he took a short nap. The alarm woke him at 5:30pm, then he got up and showered and shaved. He took his time getting dressed, then made sure he still had Barbara’s address. He did.

He dressed casually, wearing a freshly pressed pair of trousers along with a button-down blue shirt and a soft sweater over the shirt. Then he pulled on the suit jacket, checking his appearance in the mirror.

He took care to clean and polish his shoes, putting newspaper over his pants so none of the shoe dye got onto his clothes. That done, he put on one squirt of the only cologne he had ever worn: Chanel Pour Monsieur. His wife had gifted him his first bottle on their tenth wedding anniversary, and he never felt the need to try anything else. He thought it smelled great, and hoped Barbara agreed.

At 8pm he got in the car and drove over to pick up Barbara. His mind battled back and forth like a ping pong match whether he should follow his gut and take her to the diner, or follow Gene’s advice and go someplace fancy. The problem was that he didn’t know anyplace fancy. And didn’t have reservations for a Saturday night at anyplace other than the diner.

That settled, he arrived at her address. Barbara lived in North Portland, on a street of half gentrified homes. The neighborhood looked to be on the upswing, and he imagined that she lived here less because she loved the neighborhood and more because it was affordable for a single woman.

He parked the car and pulled a small bouquet of flowers off the front seat, then walked to the door and rang the doorbell. She opened the door quickly, as if she’d been waiting for him to arrive.

Barbara appeared even younger than he remembered her. She looked radiant, dressed in a powder blue dress with a long overcoat. Even better, she was smiling. A woman smiling when a man showed up at her door was always a good thing.

“Thank you for the flowers, Carl. They’re lovely. If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll put them in some water.”

Carl nodded, not willing to enter her house without her permission.

Barbara came back and locked the front door. Carl held his arm out and she took it, escorting her to the car, where he opened the door. He knew he was rusty, but some things were timeless.

“Where are we going?” The car pulled away from her house.

“I debated that for some time. My friends told me to take you to a fancy restaurant, but you work long hours on your feet. You probably don’t need more stress while on a date, so I booked us a booth at my favorite diner.”

Barbara let out a sigh of relief, relaxing back into her seat. “You made the right call. They asked me to work an extra half shift today, so I had to rush home to get ready. I had just finished putting on my makeup when you rang the doorbell.”

“You look exquisite, Barbara.”

Barbara’s face flushed a rosy pink. “I haven’t...” She coughed, clearing her throat. “I haven’t been on many dates since my husband passed. If I’m awkward, well…that’s why.”

“I’m so sorry. May I ask how he died?” Barbara told the story of his passing. Her husband had been a policeman, shot in the line of duty. The police still drove by her house every night, checking up that she was all right. He had passed not quite five years ago.

“And you? Were you ever married?”

Carl nodded. “I was married for forty-three years. She decided she wanted to try new things, and that wasn’t where my head was at the time. I wanted to relax and enjoy retirement, and she wanted to travel and see new cultures. Honestly…”

It was Carl’s turn to cough. He still had a difficult time admitting the truth. “She was right. I was stuck in my ways back then, and it cost me my marriage. Don’t get me wrong, we were both at fault. It wasn’t until the last few years that I’ve started to grow again as a person. To move away from my old way of thinking.”

“It sounds like we’ve both had a tough time of it. Love is fantastic, but when it ends it hurts like the devil.”

They talked the entire time as Carl drove to the diner. It felt natural, like they had known each other for much longer than they really had.

Chloe met them at the door, grinning like a fool. “Carl, your booth is reserved in the back just as requested. I don’t mind telling you that I’ve had more than a few cantankerous couples asking why they have to sit at the counter instead of using the open booth.”

“Thanks, Chloe. This is Barbara.”

To Carl’s surprise, Chloe held out her arms to hug Barbara, and it sounded like she was whispering something into her ear.

“Right this way, you two. Can I get you anything to drink?”

Barbara nodded. “Red wine will be fine.”

“A red wine for me as well.” Chloe raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Two red wines coming up.” She winked at him, then spun around to get their drinks.

Barbara hung her jacket on a hook, then they both sat down in the booth. Carl wanted to ask what Chloe had said, but he knew it was none of his business.

“Chloe is very protective of you.”

Carl tried to feign ignorance, giving Barbara a look that told her that he didn’t know what she was referring to.

“I know you overhead her, but I’ll tell you anyway. She said that you’ve had your heart broken badly in the past, and not to toy with your affections.” Barbara smiled, taking a drink of water and giving him an interesting look. “That is, of course, assuming I have your affections.”

“I’ve been coming here for a long time. It’s become sort of a home away from home. Cooking for one is fine, but it does get lonely. And as for affection…well, I wouldn’t have asked you out if I didn’t think there was a spark between us. We’ll just have to wait and see where it goes.”

Barbara nodded at his response. “So, what should I order? I don’t mind telling you that I’m starving. I had a protein bar at five o’clock and that was it for lunch.”

“Their roast chicken and potatoes are excellent. The pork chops are also good, and they make their own mint sauce instead of spooning it out of a jar. My favorite, though, is the meatloaf. My mother used to make meatloaf every Sunday night, and it was my favorite meal of the week because it wasn’t vegetables and it wasn’t leftovers.”

The two made small talk before ordering. They talked of their families, interests, work, and a dozen other topics all swirled together.

“I’m so sorry, Carl. You haven’t seen your grandkids in seven years?”

Carl shook his head, still chewing the goodness that was homemade meatloaf. “I plan to change that if my business plans work out. I’d like to remodel the house, maybe add a bedroom downstairs and add two bedrooms upstairs. Then my sons’ families could visit without staying at a hotel.”

“That’s amazing. I thought you said you were a security guard, though…”

Barbara let the sentence dangle. Its meaning was clear without being spoken out loud.

“I used to until I got injured. We came to an agreement and they paid me some money so I wouldn’t sue. I’m using that money to invest in…” Carl stopped speaking, unsure whether he should reveal his plans when they weren’t fully developed.

“It’s fine, Carl. We both have baggage. I would like to hear your business plans when you feel comfortable sharing them. It sounds like you have ambition, which I like quite a lot. My husband…anyway, he was the same way. Always had two or three things going on the side whether for fun, or to help others, or to make a bit of extra money so we could go on vacation.”

Her smile was both wistful and radiant as she compared Carl to the husband she had lost. Carl was obviously older, but she could imagine him growing into someone similar to Carl. Handsome with some white hair on the edges, but still fit and always looking for an angle.

Carl said nothing, understanding that Barbara was reliving some of her past. They ate in silence for a few minutes before she looked up and broke the silence.

“I would like to get to know you better, Carl.”

It was Carl’s turn to smile. “I would like that very much as well. If you’re free next weekend, perhaps we could visit a museum? I haven’t been to the art museum in at least ten years.”

“That would be lovely. I haven’t been there in at least that long. Let me check my schedule on Monday and I’ll call you. I should have either Saturday or Sunday free. It’s one of the perks of being an RN.”

Once the plates were cleared away, Chloe talked them into dessert. Carl ordered the lemon meringue pie, his favorite, while Barbara ordered coconut cream with lots of whipped cream on top.

Carl drove her home just shy of 10pm, and she rested her hand next to his as they drove. When they arrived, he got out and went around to the other side of the car to open her door.

“I had a wonderful time tonight, Carl. One of happiest nights in…a very long time.”

He held his arm out for her and walked her to the door. “I did as well. It’s like I’ve woken up after sleeping for the last ten years. I can’t express how refreshing it was to simply eat with another person.”

Instead of waiting for a kiss, Carl leaned forward and kissed Barbara on the cheek.

Barbara flushed. “You’re a very proper gentleman, aren’t you?”

“I’d like to think that I am. My mother raised me right, and I’m grateful to her even when she did pull the wooden spoon out to correct me.”

They both laughed, their breath fogging the air. Barbara hesitated as if she had something to say, but seemed to decide that now wasn’t the right time.

“Good night, Carl.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. “My mother wasn’t quite so strict.”

Carl blushed, nodding. “There’s nothing wrong with a woman who knows what she wants.”

Barbara watched him walk back to his car before turning and putting the key in the lock. Her stomach fluttered a bit, in the best kind of way. Carl was much older, but at a year shy of fifty herself she didn’t find that she cared much either way. She intuitively knew that she could always trust herself around him, and that he would protect her no matter the cost. She hadn’t felt that way in far too long.

Chapter 13

“Without contraries is no progression. Attraction and repulsion, reason and energy, love and hate, are necessary to human existence.”

—William Blake

Carl spent Sunday relaxing, watching a football game while he thought on the future. By halftime of the Detroit vs. Seattle game he’d come to the conclusion that he lacked one key item: information.

He had eschewed computers when they first came out, then reluctantly used them because it was a part of the job. But he never kept one at home, because he’d seen too many men—and women—become sucked into the lifeless machines, almost always doing nothing of real import.

Gene still maintained to this day that computers were nothing more than alien technology that had been first developed by the US government. Then again, Gene prattled on time and again about alien bases on Deimos and Phobos, as well as the dark side of the moon. The only thing about the whole topic that interested him was how Jonathan Swift had known that there were two moons around Mars when writing Gulliver’s Travels, yet they weren’t actually discovered until a century and a half later by Asaph Hall, Sr. That fact still astounded Carl to no end.

The reality was that his life was changing for the better, and to take advantage of the blue boxes and his new skill he needed more information. Yes, he could go to the public library and use the computers there, but it was tedious, and many sites were blocked that had nothing to do with porn.

Turning off the TV, Carl got into his car and drove into the city. He knew there was a small computer shop on 2nd Ave, so he headed that way hoping all the while that they were open.

They were. The bell over the door chimed as he pushed it open, a young man behind the counter looking up but saying nothing. A few people were wandering around in the shop looking at computer parts and video games, but that didn’t interest Carl.

“Hello.”

The young man looked up. “What?” He looked slightly confused as to what was happening.

Carl firmed his voice. “I said hello.”

The young man rolled his eyes. “I know. What do you need?”

“A computer where I can research different topics.” That was all the young man needed to know.

The young man brightened up at the prospect of a sale, and Carl held his hand out to shake his hand. “I’m Carl.”

“Sven. Do you have anything in mind? A price range maybe?” The young man said this hopefully.

“I don’t need anything fancy. I want something reliable and easy to use.”

The young man looked down at the floor, forlorn. “The only thing we sell here is gaming equipment. I…you remind me of my grandfather so I have to tell you the truth. You should head over to the Apple store on Yamhill. They have exactly what you’re looking for.”

Carl nodded. “Thank you for being so forthright.” The young man looked confused by what he said. “Thank you for being direct.”

The young man nodded. “No problem. If you ever decide to start gaming, come back and see me. I’ll get you set up right.”

Carl headed back to his car and drove to Yamhill. He would have walked but it was raining out, and he hadn’t brought an umbrella.

Pushing the door open, a boy even younger than the last one greeted him. He wore a device in his ear and had an electronic tablet in his hand.

Carl reached out his hand. The blinking blue light had gone off after ten minutes of ignoring it, and hadn’t come on after he shook the previous young man’s hand.

The boy reluctantly shook Carl’s hand. After twenty minutes of back and forth, with the boy explaining in simple terms what he thought would work best for what Carl wanted, he bought a laptop with a few programs pre-loaded onto it. He decided to spend an extra $300 so that the laptop would come with a spreadsheet function, which he thought would be necessary to track his business expenses.

He walked out with a package under his arm and his bank account almost two thousand dollars lighter. The worst part of it was that he still didn’t know how to use the laptop, the boy recommending that he attend a community college class for adults to learn how to use it.

Which is exactly what he signed up for on Monday morning.

Chapter 14

“Old age may have its limitations and challenges, but in spite of them, our latter years can be some of the most rewarding and fulfilling of our lives.”

—Billy Graham

Monday morning came with sunlight streaming through the windows and a thick frost covering the grass and plants. After dressing and downing a cup of coffee, he headed for the diner before starting his day.

“Good to see you, lover boy.” Chloe chided him a bit, but she did it with a smile on her face.

“Can I get the usual, Chloe?”

She nodded, still smiling as she went behind the counter and put his order in.

Breakfast consisted of a bowl of fruit, a thick homemade apple oatmeal muffin, a second cup of coffee and hot oatmeal with sliced bananas on top. Carl savored every bite, feeling more energized than he had in a very long time.

Waving at Chloe as he left the diner, Carl headed for Portland Community college to sign up for adult classes. After being redirected a few times to the registration desk, he filled out his information and after consulting the brochure, signed up for a class entitled Computers for Adults. It was the introductory class, and if he needed more knowledge after that class, he could sign up for the next one in the sequence.

That done, he headed to Joe’s Watch Repair. Helga greeted him at the door, and for the first time since he’d visited her husband Joe came out from the back of the building and greeted him personally.

“Carl, I can’t tell you how happy you have made me. Not only is it a rare watch, but after thoroughly cleaning the insides I found a maker’s mark initialed on the inside. I haven’t found out who made the watch yet, but I will.” Joe shook his hand vigorously for a solid twenty seconds.

“I’m happy to help. If I happen across any other watches, I’ll bring them to you, Joe.”

“Please do.” Joe leaned in so his wife couldn’t hear. “I’ll give you a twenty percent discount on any repairs if the watches are as unique as the one you brought in last week.”

Carl looked over to Helga, who’d clearly heard her husband making promises he had no authority to give. She shook her head sternly, and Carl nodded. Any woman who was as hardheaded at business as Helga deserved to be paid full price.

Joe handed him a cashier’s check, which Joe folded and placed in his wallet.

“It was very nice doing business with you, Carl. Very nice.”

“You as well, Joe.” Carl looked over to Helga. “I look forward to coming here many more times in the future.”

Helga muttered something about going broke under her breath, but Carl couldn’t hear all of it. Assessing the situation, Carl made a polite exit, not wanting to get involved with the imminent domestic battle.

It was lunch time when he drove home, and he made himself a quick PB&J before taking a short nap. He set the alarm so he would wake up at 2pm, which should be plenty of time for him to get to the law offices.

As it was, Randy called at 1:30pm, explaining that the line of credit was in place and that he could come in at any time. He also mentioned something about Carl’s silent partner, saying he would explain when he arrived.

Carl puttered around the house, vacuuming and dusting until it was time to leave. He didn’t have a cleaning lady, and didn’t think he needed one. He was an adult man, and he could clean a house just as well—and for less—than hiring a cleaning service.

He entered the law offices at 2:25pm, the receptionist directing him to a meeting room. Rebecca walked in a few minutes later.

“Carl, I was surprised when I saw that you had made an appointment. Is everything all right with the settlement?”

“Oh yes, that’s fine. I actually wanted to talk about something else.”

Rebecca pulled out a yellow legal pad, then clicked her pen in preparation for taking notes.

“I want to set up a business. Like an LLC, although I’m not positive that’s the correct terminology.”

“We can do that. Do you have an idea of what your annual income might be for this business? Not immediately of course, but in a few years?”

Carl hemmed and hawed, eventually blurting out an answer. “If things go in the direction I’m hoping they will, I would think a couple million a year. Maybe more. There are quite a few variables.”

Rebecca’s finely plucked eyebrow went up in surprise. Carl was an older gentleman, either late sixties or early seventies if she had to guess. Her father was in the same age group, and he was spending his time relaxing in Palm Springs while he worked on his short game.

Intrigued, Rebecca involuntarily leaned forward. “There are two types of LLCs: a S and C-corp. Type S is much simpler, and is designed for businesses that have only a few employees. Type C is more complex, and is designed for businesses with higher incomes and a larger number of employees. Based on what you’ve described, I think a C corp LLC would best suit your needs.”

Carl nodded. “That sounds fine. I assume there’s a lot of paperwork that has to be filled out to get one going?”

Rebecca eyed Carl. The man wasn’t stupid, and she wondered what he could possibly be doing so late in life that would bring in that kind of revenue. When she had started this business, she had hoped to be making that kind of money in ten years, but sixteen years later, she was barely making six figures. It wasn’t a bad salary, but it was far less than what she’d hoped for.

“That’s correct. There will be a number of filings, along with regular quarterly filings. They can be done online, but if you’re uncomfortable doing them on your own I can recommend a company that will complete the filings for you. They charge a very competitive fee.”

“I’ll have them do it. I’m still learning how to use the laptop I just bought. First computer I’ve ever owned.”

Rebecca had no response to that comment. Until she had passed three short years ago, her ninety-six-year-old grandmother had been emailing her on a regular basis. How was it that Carl was so far out of date?

“And the purpose of your business?”

Carl smiled enigmatically. “Gold and silver exploration.”

Rebecca maintained a professional smile on her face, but groaned internally. Any kind of speculative market was challenging, but mining ores was one of the riskiest businesses out there. What was the old man thinking? If he wasn’t careful—and even if he was—he could lose everything he had in no time at all.

“I’ll draw up the paperwork and have you come back in a few weeks to sign and file.”

Carl smiled, reaching out to shake Rebecca’s hand. It had become a habit now, no matter whether he had acquired any new DNA or not.

Leaving the law offices, he walked until he came to Randy’s coin shop. Randy was waiting inside with a customer who was perusing different coins. Seeing him out of the corner of his eye, Randy called out, “I’ll be with you in a minute, Carl.”

Carl nodded, looking at the coins behind the cases just as he had done when his wife took him shopping with her. It was a dull glaze borne of boredom, the coins not really registering with his brain. They were simply things to be looked at, nothing more.

The customer left, and Randy went over to lock the door and turn the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed.’

“I met your silent partner. She was thrilled, by the way, but dumbfounded as to how the coins showed up on her porch.”

Carl shrugged his shoulders noncommittally.

“She has an autistic son who needs surgery. She was desperate, applying to different agencies for the surgery. She said, and I quote, ‘The money was a godsend.’”

Randy eyed Carl intently. “You don’t even know who she is, do you?”

Carl tried to play coy, but failed miserably. “Not really, although I’m glad her son is getting the surgery he needs.”

“You know, Carl, I’ve been in this business for over twenty years. Not only were the coins you found exceedingly rare, but I can’t think of a single person who would have left those coins behind. Not one. Except you.” It was hard to tell whether Randy was impressed, or chastising him for giving away what amounted to free money. Maybe it was a bit of both.

He shrugged his shoulders. “It seemed the right thing to do.”

“Oh, it was. When I passed her the check she cried, then hugged me like I was Jesus. It’s one of the top five days I’ve had in this business.”

Carl smiled. “You should probably get out more.”

Randy grinned, shaking his head. “I probably should. But you know that’s not my point.” Randy seemed unable to understand Carl’s motivations. Since he’d found the coins on her property, it was only right that she receive half. Well, a little less than half. But still basically half.

“Come on back and I’ll cash you out.” Randy led him into a small room with a large safe cemented into the wall.

Randy pointed at the safe. “It’s from the old Ladd & Tilton bank that used to be on the corner of First and Stark. They went out of business in the ‘80s and my dad bought their smallest safe.”

“It’s a beauty.”

Randy tore off a check and handed it to Carl. “This isn’t the right amount.”

“It’s not what we agreed, but I found a buyer and they’re paying a premium for the coins. Doesn’t seem fair that I take all the profit. I gave your silent partner the same amount per coin.”

The check was made out for $306,475 dollars. Carl looked up. “Thank you, Randy. I can’t promise I’ll have more coins anytime soon but if I do, I’ll bring them to you.”

“You do that. You’re a good man, Carl. I hope you know that.”

Carl’s throat thickened from the unexpected emotion, so instead of speaking, he nodded his head. Then he croaked out, “You too, Randy. You too.”

Carl folded the check into his wallet before heading to the bank just a block away.

After waiting in line for a few minutes, he walked up to the teller.

“How may I help you, sir?”

“I’d like to make a deposit.”

If the teller was surprised by the amount on the check, she didn’t show it. She pulled up his account information and had him run his debit card through the reader for confirmation, only looking up at him at the end.

“If you will wait a few minutes, the manager would like to have a word with you.” She held a hand out in front of her to try and direct him in the right direction. He dutifully followed.

Carl nodded, taking his deposit receipt and folding it before placing it in his wallet. The manager’s office was more ornate, and Carl could see through the glass panels that the manager was a portly balding man in a suit just a size too small.

Five minutes later the manager came out to greet him. Carl held out his hand to shake.

Sitting down in front of the manager’s wood desk, the manager looked Carl straight in the eye. “Carl, you’ve been a long-time customer of this bank. Your recent deposits, however, have put you over the FDIC insurance limit. If you have the time, I’d like to talk to you about our money markets and CD deposit options. Our rates are very competitive.”

Carl shook his head. “I need the money to be liquid. I’m starting a new business and will have some expenses to cover.”

The manager looked up in surprise. “Do you wish to open a company bank account?”

“No, not right now. The paperwork is being drawn up, and then I’ll open a business account. Can’t you just put a hundred thousand into three accounts and call it good?”

“Well…” The manager coughed, not wanting to let a customer of Carl’s size get away so easily. “…we certainly could, but the interest return would be much lower. Our CDs are returning almost 2% a year, and…”

Carl cut him off, not willing to be put through the paces when he’d already stated what he wanted to happen. “Excuse me, but I’m running short of time. Please put them into however many savings accounts are necessary to stay under the FDIC limit.”

Giving a short wave, Carl moved too fast for the manager to intercept him. It wasn’t that he was busy really, but he did need to go shopping so he could make his lunch and snacks for his first day of work tomorrow. Despite the low pay, Carl was truly excited to see what having so much new DNA would do to the blue boxes. At a minimum he could change his imputed age to something reasonable, and who knew what the limit was beyond that?

Chapter 15

“Feeling confident—or pretending that you feel confident—is necessary to reach for opportunities. It’s a cliché, but opportunities are rarely offered; they’re seized.”

—Sheryl Sandberg

Carl reported in forty minutes before work started. They had him down for the 10am-7pm shift, with an unpaid hour for lunch at 2pm. With more money in the bank than he had ever had before, he didn’t let the low, hourly rate of pay bother him one bit.

A man with a different color vest had started showing him the ropes as soon as he arrived. “Here is the timeclock. Make sure you press your timecard in firmly, or it can get stuck sometimes. Check in every day before and after work. Make sure you try and call twenty-four hours in advance if you can’t come in so we can schedule a replacement.”

The line manager was an older man. He was the kind of man that tried to be nice, but life had beaten him down so much that he found it difficult to let niceness shine through. His voice was the very definition of weariness.

Carl followed him as he went into the locker room. “Here’s your locker. It’s been cleaned and disinfected. The cleaners won’t have the combination so it’s up to you to clean it on a regular basis. We have biweekly meetings on Saturdays for full-time staff members, so you won’t need to worry about that right now. Do you have any questions?”

Carl shook his head. “No, it’s been very clear.”

The line manager sighed in relief. “Good. I’ll have another team member work with you today to show you the ropes. It’s very straightforward: if they have any questions, direct them to the right department. More than a few will have returns, so show them to our returns department. Other than that, be pleasant and helpful and you’ll do a great job.”

“Where am I working?”

“We start new greeters out in the right front clothing and dry goods entrance.” The man pointed to the general entrance. The grocery entrance was much busier, but he was the new guy. He knew how it worked.

“Sounds good.”

The man grumbled under his breath as he tried to find another greeter to help him.

“Tanya, come here and meet the new guy.” Tanya was a young black woman with medium length hair who pointedly looked away from the older man. The manager made to go over and drag her back, but Tanya made herself scarce and disappeared from view around the corner.

Shrugging his shoulders in helplessness, the manager said, “I’ll find someone. Why don’t you head over and start? If you need a bio break, just let someone else know where you are. You can also take a fifteen-minute break between starting time and lunch, and another between lunch and quitting time. The only thing we ask is that you don’t take the second break just before quitting time.”

“Got it.”

With that, Carl headed over to the designated entrance. It was wide with four doors leading into the store and four doors leading out. There was a metal divider between the in and out doors that held grocery carts. An ancient coin-operated car ride sat near the exit, the paint chipped and the edges dented. On the entrance side was a large array of candy for fifty cents, along with a sanitation station and some tiny towels to wipe hands or the cart handles down.

A young woman with a young child on each hip came in, tossed the kids in the cart and walked past Carl, ignoring his outstretched hand and his invitation to ask her what she needed.

She was quickly followed by an older couple. Carl fast-walked over and asked, “Is there anything I can direct you to?” all the while reaching his outstretched hand toward the older man’s hand.

The husband smiled and shook Carl’s hand. “We’ve been coming here for almost ten years now, and you’re the first person to shake my hand.”

His wife ignored her husband, simply holding a battered doll box. That seemed to reflect everything she wanted to say. Carl directed her to returns, which he had passed on his way to this entrance.

“Enjoy your stay at Wal-Mart!”

Within an hour, Carl had shaken hands with over forty different people. The hard cement floor hurt his feet a bit, but he ignored it as more people came in at lunch and he shook as many hands as he could. No one came over to train him, so he did what felt like the right thing to do.

During his break he walked briskly to the grocery and bought a massive bag of different flavored lollipops out of his own pocket. He also bought two small cups of yogurt and ate them quickly before heading back. He hadn’t brought food for his breaks, only food for lunch.

When his lunch time rolled around at 2pm, he had shaken hands with one hundred and thirty-two people. All of them unique, and all of them counting toward his DNA collection. He pulled his lunch from his locker before sitting down at a grimy table in the break room.

Before he took his first bite of his sandwich, he reviewed how many points he had acquired.

New DNA acquired: 149.

Points for new DNA acquired: 2900

Unused DNA remaining: 4

It was good, but he needed more. A lot more. If he had to pick a goal, he would say ten thousand points should do it. He couldn’t even imagine what new options the blue boxes would offer, but he had no doubt that they would come up with something he’d never thought of before.

Carl munched down his sandwich while idly thinking on the blue boxes. They were odd, there was no doubt of that, but they didn’t seem to be anything but positive. But then, why had the strange creature attacked him? Was that a late stage issue with anyone who used the blue boxes?

Before he knew it, lunch was over. Carl walked back to his post, checking that the lollipops were still hidden away. They were. They had been a huge hit with moms overwhelmed with their young children, some of them taking two or three for a single child. Carl always made sure to shake their hand once the child was squared away.

The afternoon was slower, with people trickling in but nothing like the flood at lunch. It wasn’t until 4pm when more people arrived, and it picked up even more at 5pm. By the time 7pm—quitting time—rolled around, Carl was tired, his feet were sore, but he was smiling from ear to ear.

New DNA acquired: 227.

Points for new DNA acquired: 4500.

Unused DNA remaining: 2

His points total was the highest it had ever been at 7,519. But he knew better than to upgrade anything until he was safely ensconced in his own home.

Carl drove toward the diner, too tired to even contemplate cooking dinner. Chloe greeted him at the door.

Her smiling face immediately transformed into a frown. “You look beat, Carl.”

Carl nodded. “Started a new job today. I’m going to have to get a pair of those shoes you wear for being on your feet all day.”

She nodded, patting him on the shoulder. “Sit yourself down and I’ll bring you a cup of coffee. You want the meatloaf?”

Carl nodded wearily. One day of work had proven that this was the right path forward, but he was getting too old for this stuff. The store manager didn’t seem to care what he did, so he would have to rethink his approach to make it easier on his old bones.

A coffee cup appeared in front of him and Carl drank deeply, the bitter liquid rejuvenating him a bit. “Thanks, Chloe.”

She smiled. “Your meatloaf sandwich will be up shortly.”

After eating, Carl pushed away from the counter. His stomach was stuffed to the breaking point.

“You ate like a hungry lion tonight. That new job must have done a number on you.”

“It did, but I’ll beat it. This one isn’t about the money.”

His comment caught Chloe’s attention. “I’ve known you for over twenty years, Carl. You were boiling mad when Jenny took half your pension, and money’s been bothering you ever since. You win the lottery or something?”

Carl smiled enigmatically while leaving a generous tip. “Something like that. I’ll see you tomorrow, Chloe. Stay warm tonight, it’s a cold one out there.”

The next morning Carl woke up feeling much better. All the aches and pains of the previous day were gone, and he wondered briefly if it was due to the blue boxes. It probably was, causing Carl to smile.

Instead of showing up forty minutes early, Carl came in a half hour early to buy some new shoes. Sure, he could have gone somewhere else, but he received a ten percent discount for being an employee here now. Waste not, want not.

The first thing Carl did was shake the salesman’s hand, then explained what he was looking for in his new shoes.

“I’m a new greeter and my feet were killing me yesterday. You got anything that can help with that?”

The salesman nodded knowingly. “Absolutely. Most everyone in the store is on their feet all day, and they all come here. We’ve got some shoes that look professional, but have thick soles to keep your feet happy all day.”

The salesman brought out three different brands for Carl to try on. Two were black, while the third was a dark brown. They all could be worn in a professional office building, and they all had at least half an inch of soft rubber soling to keep his feet from aching as they had done yesterday.

In the end, Carl brought the brown pair. He slipped them on right away, not willing to torture himself for the second day in a row. The salesman nodded, completely understanding.

“That’s a great choice, Carl. I’ve got a pair of them at home, but I prefer black shoes for work.”

With that done, Carl clocked in and headed to his entrance. The extra lollipops were still in his locker, and he had brought a rag from home to wipe down the carts so that the mothers didn’t have to do it while holding a child.

Stuffing his blue smock with lollipops, he whistled as he waited for his first customer. He didn’t have to wait long.

People flooded through the entrance, more than a few shaking hands with him as they had done yesterday and some of the kids racing to meet him so they could get lollipops. He always checked with a parent first before handing them out, and took care to clean the handles of the grimier cart handles before letting customers touch them.

Carl ignored his break, enjoying his time meeting people and watching the points rack up from new DNA. When lunchtime came, he got his paper lunch bag from his locker and sat in the employees’ lounge.

An older lady—a cashier if Carl remembered correctly—came over and said hi.

She had brought a tuna salad sandwich which filled the small break room with its odor. “Some of my customers were raving about you. They said you were handing out lollipops to the children and wiping down the carts so the customers didn’t have to?”

Carl nodded, smiling. “Not every cart. Just the dirty or sticky ones.”

“You’re making a difference, and that’s all that matters.”

Carl held out his hand. “I’m Carl.”

“Rita. I cashier in grocery.”

“Nice to meet you, Rita.” Until she smiled, Rita looked like a dour old woman, her back slightly hunched over.

“It’s easy to let this place get you down. Management isn’t going to do anything positive, so it’s up to us to change this place from the bottom up.”

“I like that. How many years have you been working here?”

“It’ll be ten years in April.” Rita looked at her watch. “I’ve got to get back to work, but it was a pleasure meeting you, Carl.” She winked at him before turning and heading to the door.

Rita’s comment caused Carl to pause for a moment. He had thought of this as only a means to an end, but what if more could be done with it? He didn’t know if that was possible, but it was an intriguing idea.

Putting the thought aside, he focused on the blinking dot until the box opened up, visible only to him.

New DNA acquired: 194.

Points for new DNA acquired: 3800

Unused DNA remaining: 1

Below that sat his total points: 11,319. Doing the calculations quickly in his mind, he could now change his imputed age all way back to zero. And past that if he wanted, although he didn’t know what a negative imputed age might mean in reality.

A thought burst free in his mind, and Carl’s body froze. Was this…could this be?

Immortality?

Not true immortality, but something close? His real age would always be his real age, but if his imputed age always remained in his twenties, would that mean he would be a young man walking around in an old man’s body?

He desperately wanted to know, but didn’t dare experiment while at work. Closing the blue box with a thought, he pushed the idea aside as he opened his lunch bag. But the thought wouldn’t go away. It was like an earworm of his favorite song, something that just couldn’t be pushed away easily. It stuck with him through his next shift, all the way until he pulled in the driveway after eating at the diner.

Chapter 16

“I am incapable of conceiving infinity, and yet I do not accept finity. I want this adventure that is the context of my life to go on without end.”

—Simone de Beauvoir, La Vieillesse

The shoes had done the trick, just like the salesman had promised. His feet hurt a little, but nowhere near the almost excruciating pain of yesterday. The thick rubber soles made them a little wobbly to walk on, but he soon got used to it.

Or so Carl thought as he kicked his shoes off shortly before reclining in chair. The TV was on but muted as he pulled up the blue boxes again.

Would you like to change your imputed age?

Current imputed age: 79

Current actual age: 73

Cost for reducing a year of imputed age: 100 points

He had more points than he’d ever had before, and even better a way of making more them stretch far out into the future. Which meant that spending a couple thousand points tonight wasn’t a problem. Even better, he didn’t have work tomorrow so if he needed to sleep in due to the aftereffect of changing his imputed age, he could.

The big question was: what age to aim for? Any age below twenty-five was a non-starter. He remembered those years, and his libido didn’t need that much of a jump start.

Thirty-five? Or forty? Both were reasonable ages. Mature while still having some of the vigor of youth. Or more precisely, youth from the perspective of a 73-year-old man.

In the end, Carl decided on thirty-five mainly because it was close to half his current age. Carl took a deep breath, and thought yes.

New imputed age?

Note: changes to imputed age can take longer when healing broken DNA strands, removing smoking damage from lungs, healing broken neuron connections, healing micro-tears in muscle and ligaments, and repairing any physical damage due to age.

Carl felt a shiver go down his back. He had thought that changing his imputed age would result in him feeling like a thirty-five-year-old, but now it seemed like he would basically be a thirty-five-year-old. Except that he wouldn’t look like one.

Yes, that had to be correct. He wouldn’t look like one, because his actual age wouldn’t change. Feeling like he was back on solid ground, Carl thought his response: 35.

A wave of heat passed through his body before he passed out.

Interlude I

“We’ve received an influx of data recently, Epistimonas.”

“Really? Which location?”

“That…is not clear. Already over a thousand unique data points have passed through the gravitational singularity, but the origin is not known.”

Epistimonas looked less than thrilled, although as the lead scientist even he had to agree it was a fantastic amount of data.

“Has it been analyzed?”

“Ongoing, sir. It is a basic double helix form, but with some unique nucleic acid markers.”

“Have any triple helix forms been encoded?”

“None, sir.”

Epistimonas frowned. Double helix forms were too simple to save the cryogenically frozen population of his former planet. He needed triple helix samples at a minimum, and quadrihelix would be better as it was the natural form of DNA within his population.

Still…perhaps he could adapt the double helix DNA to possibly fix some of their most pressing issues? Such simple life forms had very limited value normally, but their current circumstances required that he pursue every possibility.

“Load the samples, and let’s see if we can find something useful.”

His assistant grunted in approval.

Chapter 17

“The desire for safety stands against every great and noble enterprise.”

—Tacitus

Carl woke with a crick in his neck, and his back groaned as he sat up from the recliner. It was daylight outside, and he felt discombobulated for a moment until he remembered what he had done last night.

His stomach growled, and Carl sat up from the chair to get something to eat. Looking down at his arms, he saw muscles in his biceps, and his legs had a springiness to them that hadn’t been there since his early fifties.

Instead of eating, Carl ran into the bathroom to see himself in the full-length mirror. He felt amazing. Like he could run a marathon if he wanted, but only if he ate first.

Quickly stripping down, Carl stared at himself in the mirror. His formerly slightly flabby body had toned muscles, and his skin glowed like he’d just returned from Hawai’i. His face looked the same, but the wrinkles around his eyes were much reduced, and his grayish-white hair had turned brown again. Just like it had been when he was younger.

He didn’t know how imputed and real age worked together, but it seemed to be far more complicated than he had first believed. Part of him not only felt younger but looked younger. The other part looked older, but not quite as old.

His hands, for example, didn’t have varicose veins sticking up any longer. His skin was taut, meaning the folds of his neck were gone, and the flab of his cheeks had disappeared as well.

Looking down at his boxers, he pulled them open. Damn straight, in every possible meaning of the phrase.

Carl grinned like a thirty-five-year-old fool.

Then his stomach growled again. He dressed quickly, grabbed the keys off the counter and got in his car. His trepidation grew as he neared the diner, wondering what Chloe would say, but he was too hungry to worry about it. He could always say he’d gone to a day spa for a treatment. He didn’t know if they worked like he thought they did, as he had never gone to one, but his ex-wife swore that they rejuvenated her skin every time.

Chloe greeted him at the door. “No work today, Carl?”

He nodded, turning his face just slightly away from Chloe. “Nope, day off and I’m famished.”

Chloe called back to her husband, the short order cook. “One order of the works!”

Carl took a seat at the diner, a cup of coffee appearing in front of him seconds later. “Thanks, Chloe.”

Chloe turned to her other customers, not saying a word about his appearance. Carl let out a sigh of relief.

Breakfast came and he shoveled it in, almost inhaling it. The dessert menu applied 24/7 in the diner, but few customers ordered dessert for breakfast. For the first time in his life, Carl did.

“I’ll have a slice of pumpkin pie and refill on the coffee.”

Chloe nodded, pulling the pie out of the pie stand and cutting a thick slice before easing it out onto a plate.

The woman next to Carl left just as Chloe placed the pie down in front of him. Then she leaned in so only he could hear her. “The hair dye looks good, Carl. Makes you look five years younger.”

Carl nodded dumbly. As his brain caught up to the comment, he nodded. “I did it for Barbara. She’s younger than I am, and thought it might…well, you know.”

Chloe patted him on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you getting out there again. And whoever did the dye job did a bang-up job!”

Carl ate his pie in silence, washing down every other bite of sweetness with coffee. He paid his bill plus a nice tip for Chloe, then made his way out to his car.

Honestly, it had gone better than he expected. Why hadn’t he thought of a dye job as an explanation? He’d never dyed his hair once in his life, but he knew other men his age who did. They looked like fools in his opinion, with their too thick and too dark hair, but if that excuse got him a pass, he would take it every time.

When he got home, he checked his calendar, and the only thing he had on it was to call Barbara and finalize plans for their date on Saturday. It wasn’t even 11am yet, so he would do that later.

Which left the question: what to do today? He could search for more coins, but doubted he would find another stash like the one he’d found last week. Spending the day making two or three hundred bucks had been fun, but something inside him was pushing him to do more.

He still had over seven thousand points remaining, but what to do with them? If he could use the blue boxes to sniff out metals, what else could he sniff out?

Ideas both intriguing and illogical passed through his mind. His first thought was to prove the existence of Bigfoot. He could probably do it, he realized, but to what end? No one would believe him, and the bigfoots—bigfeet?—as a species might take offense. Deadly offense.

Maybe he could prove what was in contrails? He had long suspected they were government sponsored, but no one knew definitively what they were intended to accomplish. And in doing so he might offend whatever government agency was behind the contrails, which was dangerous as well.

No, neither of those were what he wanted. His best success had come financially, so what could he do that wasn’t just sniffing down metals like a dog could?

An idea began to form, and Carl pulled a small notebook over to jot down some ideas. There were millions of small businesses out there, along with millions of smart people trying to make their inventions work. What if he could sense…success? Or possible success?

If he could do that, he could help those people either financially or some other way and take a cut of the profit. He had an uncle, since deceased, who had tinkered in his basement for years on improving the instrument flight rules for pilots. He never made any money at it, but that was only one example. There had to be others out there like his uncle. Along with hundreds of thousands of small businesses that needed help to become better, but didn’t know how to do it.

The blue box responded to his thoughts instantaneously.

To sense the emotion of success in other humans requires two or more of the following DNA samples be acquired and integrated:

- Domesticated Horse (Equus)
- Domestic Dog (Canis lupus)
- Magpie (Pica Pica)
- Northwestern Crow (Corvus Caurinus)
- Raven (Corvus corax)
- Honeybees (Apis mellifera carnica)
- Domesticated Cat (Felis catus)

Carl grinned, ideas racing through his head as to how to acquire each piece of DNA. Then he frowned.

This wasn’t right. Emotions were too volatile, and there was no way of knowing whether depressed emotions were due to poor business conditions, a bad marriage, a death in the family or something else entirely. Perhaps they were the results of taking drugs. Either way, this wasn’t the answer.

Other than talking to people and doing research the old-fashioned way, he needed to find a way to…sense where opportunities were available.

Calculating…

Analyzing…Altering new inputs and requirements

New output available.

In order to ‘sense’ where new business and/or money-making opportunities exist, three of the following DNA samples must be acquired.

- Dog (Canis Lupus)
- Dolphin (Delphinus delphus)
- Geese (Branta canadensis)

- Various species known for their murmurating or swarming phenomena:

- Starlings (Sturnidae)

- Auklets (Aethia cristatella)

- Colony insects: bees, hornets, wasps, nematodes, locusts, biting midges, others not listed.

- Fish swarms: anchovies, minnows, sardine, herring, others not listed.

Carl smiled again, hoping that the blue boxes understood what he was after. He already had the dog DNA, with meant he needed two more. Bees would normally be easy, but it was winter, which also held true for wasps and hornets.

As for the species listed in the sea, Carl had no idea how to go about gathering their DNA. He had to touch a live animal, not a sardine packed into a can of olive oil.

The geese, however, were still migrating north. They didn’t travel over Portland really, usually flying over open grassland where food and water were readily available. Still, it might be worth taking a chance.

Not willing to give up, Carl pulled his jacket on and walked around his house. Every year he sprayed the small wasps that made hexagonal paper nests. Those wasps weren’t very aggressive, especially when compared to the paper wasps. Those nests could grow quickly, from a tiny nest no larger than a golf ball to one twice the size of a football. For those he called out the pest services so they could take care of them.

Walking out the door, Carl started walking around the garage first, as he rarely went behind the garage and might have missed a nest. Sure enough, as soon as he rounded the corner, he caught sight of a wasp nest only ten feet above him. He immediately went into the garage to grab the ladder, something he had shied away from for risk of possible injury before his imputed age had been reduced to thirty-five.

Pulling one half of the ladder out until it was tall enough to reach the nest, he gently laid the ladder against the garage and started climbing once he was sure it was set. Ten seconds later he was at the top, using his fingers to pull apart the small nest to find the young eggs that had been laid inside.

It took him a few tries before a flashing dot appeared in his vision. That left one more type of DNA to acquire before he had the new ability.

Carl walked all the way around his garage and then his house, finding two more of the same nests. Not willing to give up, he walked over to his neighbor’s house and walked around it. He knew that the owner was at work all day, so he took his time checking.

Nothing. Still unwilling to give up, Carl walked down the street, checking house after house in search of hornets and wasps. He was three blocks away when he found it: a small paper wasp nest, no bigger than a baseball. Most of the mature wasps would have already died in the cold weather they’d been having, but some of the babies inside might be viable. And best news of all was that he could simply reach up and grab the nest without using the ladder.

Carl walked up to the front door, ringing the doorbell once. He heard footsteps inside and smiled to himself.

“Hello?” An older woman’s voice penetrated the door, and he thought he saw a shadow behind the peephole.

“Hello. My name is Carl Thompson and I live a few blocks over. I was out walking and noticed you have a wasp nest just a few feet from your front door. I wanted to offer to take it down for you. The wasps are a menace, and the nest will grow much larger in the spring.”

Carl heard the door being unlocked, and an older woman opened it fully. “That’s very kind. I tried to get my son to come over and take care of it, but he says he’s too busy.” She scowled, giving Carl the impression that this wasn’t the first request her son had ignored.

Carl smiled, nodding. “It will only take a moment, but I do recommend that you step inside in case there are any wasps still alive inside.”

She brought both hands to her face. “Oh dear. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I’ve taken down many nests without issue before.” That was true, but only the easier nests.

“You’re very kind. You said your name was Carl?”

“Yes ma’am.” He smiled like a true Samaritan might.

“Thank you, Carl. Let me get my door shut and you can take it down.”

The woman not only closed the door but locked it too, for reasons Carl couldn’t fathom. Did she think the wasps might sneak in somehow?

Walking over to the nest, Carl tapped it with a finger. No wasps came out, so he reached up and eased it free from the eave. He walked back and held it up in front of the peephole. “All done. I’ll dispose of it now. Good day.”

The door was unlocked and opened again. “Thank you, Carl. That was very nice of you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Carl noticed an adult wasp walk groggily out of the nest, the cold air making its movements sluggish. Pinching the wasp between his forefinger and thumb, Carl killed it. The smaller hornets were aggravating and annoying, but wasps could truly be dangerous. When they stung, their stinger didn’t come out like and kill the wasp like it did when a bee stung, which meant a wasp could sting an animal or person over and over again.

Tossing the nest to the ground, he stomped on it until it was completely flat. He then walked until he reached the intersection, looking each way like he was lost while he mentally opened the blue box notification.

Two unique swarm type DNA samples acquired.

Do you wish to integrate these samples? Estimated time: 16 hours.

Carl boggled at the time required to integrate the two samples. The dog DNA hadn’t taken anywhere near that time.

Then he reconsidered. Dogs were mammals, just like humans, so non-mammal DNA probably should take longer. Wasps were insects, and insect DNA had to be different…somehow. He didn’t know exactly, but it did make a certain kind of sense.

Carl closed the blue box, unwilling to collapse onto the cement pavement. He raced home, starting at a fast walk and then increasing his pace to a jog. He couldn’t believe what his body was capable of now. It was amazing, truly amazing and almost overwhelming.

I should join a gym. He unlocked the front door and walked over to his calendar, marking the idea down for Sunday. For the first time in twenty-four years, Carl was going to go the gym again.

Chapter 18

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.

—Plato

Before he did anything, Carl checked the clock on the wall. It was just after noon, which meant that he would wake up again just after 4am. He had to be at work tomorrow at 10am, which still gave him time to pack a lunch and eat breakfast at the diner.

Taking off his jacket and shoes, Carl went into the bedroom and laid down, moving the pillow around until he was comfortable. Then he opened up the notification, anticipation combined with adrenaline as he thought about the possibilities of what he would be able to do when he woke up.

Carl passed out, a few microseconds faster than last time.

* * *

When Carl awoke, it was like he was fading back into reality from a dream. Before he could do anything, he raced for the bathroom, stubbing his toe on the door in his race for relief.

It was dark outside, just like he had expected it would be. Except all the lights in the house were still turned on. He felt good, really good. Most mornings he woke up a tiny bit confused, but not this morning. This was the kind of morning where you felt excited at the prospect of a new day. It was the kind of morning that usually followed a night of vigorous lovemaking.

Just the thought of sex caused Carl Jr to come to attention. He’d been celibate for a long time now, over twelve years if he was counting it right. It felt like double that this morning. Like all the rust between the gears was gone, and now his equipment had been oiled up and was raring to go.

Shaking his head, Carl pushed the thoughts away. There was only one possibility for relief at 4am, and it was never a good option. He wasn’t that desperate, and never would be.

Thoughts of sex faded away eventually as he thought of the new DNA that had been integrated. At times the blue boxes were frustratingly lacking in details, and this morning was a prime example. What would he sense when opportunity was available? How would he know?

Not willing to sit on his thumbs and not tired in the least, Carl got in his car and drove across the Sellwood bridge and up Macadam until he entered downtown Portland. To start, he drove down First and Second, hoping something would signal an opportunity.

When that didn’t work, he turned the heat up and rolled the windows down. He felt a vague tugging in one direction, and quickly turned the car down Salmon Street.

He felt the tugging sensation again, this time much stronger. There was a unique one-way system in downtown Portland, and because he didn’t know where he was going exactly, he constantly had to reroute until he felt the tug grow stronger.

The feeling was almost like radar. He felt a few small tugs in other directions along the way, but none of them were strong enough to overwhelm the primary tug he was following.

In the end, he passed the business three times until he was tuned in enough to feel the tugging fade as he passed it. On the fourth go around, he slowed the car to make sure.

This area of Portland was a mix of restaurants, some sit down and some fast food, along with small businesses and a few doctors and dentists’ offices. Parking the car out front—illegally, but he wasn’t worried at this hour—Carl got out of the car and walked up to the building that had drawn him here.

The building itself was a bit shabby, which was surprising for downtown Portland. It wasn’t bad, but he could see where repairs would be needed if the owner ever decided to give it some attention.

There were four companies listed out front: an engineering company, a bike courier service, a printing company that advertised posters and political signs, and a coffee shop. Carl ignored the other three, focusing solely on the bike courier service. Reaching out, he touched his fingers to the sign and the tugging sensation went silent, as if it had never existed. He’d found his first failing business.

A bike courier service? He of course knew about them, and had used them on occasion as an engineer in his younger days. As far as he was aware, it was the kind of company that attracted young people who didn’t know what to do with their lives.

Still…as odd as it was, Carl found that he couldn’t dismiss it. This small company was the best opportunity in the dozen or more square blocks he had driven through tonight. Running back to his car, Carl opened the glovebox and pulled out a pad of paper to write the phone number down. He didn’t see any hours listed, but he would leave a message if they didn’t answer.

Carl drove home feeling giddy. Yes, it was only one opportunity and possibly a meager one at that, but it was something he never would have known about without the blue boxes. The blue boxes that had changed his life.

The diner opened at 6am, so Carl took a leisurely drive until the diner was open. He didn’t use his new ability, just enjoying the early morning stillness in a city that was just waking up.

Chloe’s eyes went wide as she saw him step through the door. “What in the world are you doing up this early?”

Carl shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep, and I missed dinner last night so decided not to wait.”

Chloe smiled, happy to see one of her favorite customers. “Take your pick. Only Adam beat you here once we opened.”

Adam was a policeman in Milwaukie, a city just to the south of SE Portland. Carl had no idea if he was just about to start a shift or just getting off a shift, but company was company.

“Adam, you mind?” He asked before sitting down next to him.

“Help yourself. Haven’t seen you in a while, Carl. Heard you were working nights down on Swan island.”

A hot cup of fresh coffee was placed in front of him. “I was, until I was attacked. Now I’m working at the Wal-Mart on 82nd.”

Adam’s eyebrows went into his forehead. “Really?” Adam paused for a moment, realizing that he was close to disparaging Carl’s new job. “Good work?”

“It’s not bad. Better hours, and I meet a lot more people.”

“That’s true. The night shift is brutal. Betty’s been at me to switch to the day shift, but I like it at night. It feels comfortable, you know what I mean?”

Carl nodded, taking a sip from his cup of coffee.

“That I do, Adam.”

The two men made small talk, talking about everything and nothing until Adam excused himself. It seemed that his shift had just ended, and he needed to get home to his wife.

Carl finished up his waffles and left a generous tip. The clock above the counter said it was 7:10am, which was probably too early for a courier service. Waving to the busy Chloe, Carl went home and watched the morning news.

When 9am rolled around, Carl pulled the pad from his jacket and called the number he had jotted down five hours ago.

“Fastcycle couriers. This is Evan.”

“Hi, Evan. My name is Carl and I saw your shop a few days ago. I was wondering if I could come in and speak with the owner.”

Carl could hear a deep sigh on the other end. “I’m the owner. What’s this about?” Evan’s voice was unfriendly, almost hostile.

“I wanted to see if you were interested in possible investors? Or maybe even selling the company?”

Evan spoke before his brain had fully caught up to what had been said. “Are you serious?”

“I am, Evan. Could I meet you early tomorrow morning, say around 7am? Sunday would work as well.”

“Tomorrow morning is great. Meet me here?”

“Will do. See you then, Evan.” Carl hung up, more than a little disturbed at Evan’s bipolar behavior. Then again, if the company was in trouble it made a certain sort of sense that the owner would be worried. Angry, even.

Carl marked the appointment on his calendar. He also made a note to stop by and see Rebecca at the law firm on Monday, although he didn’t yet know what his schedule would be next week.

The only reminder he had for tonight was to call Barbara and schedule their date for the art museum.

That done, Carl grabbed his lunch and got in his car to head to work. He’d spent a good number of points by reducing his imputed age, and he wanted to get his safety net back up to ten thousand points at a minimum. One hundred thousand would be better still.

A short drive later and Carl clocked into work. He had a note taped to the front of his locker, and when he opened it was a request to meet with the store manager during his lunch hour.

Pushing the note into his pocket, Carl quickly purchased another large box of lollipops and headed for his entrance.

Things started out slowly, but picked up just before noon. At one point, Carl was shaking hands with customers using both hands, and he found that he was less worried about gathering DNA and just happy to be helping people. There were a few grumpy people who weren’t pleased when he reached out offering to touch them, but he didn’t let them get him down.

By the time lunch rolled around, Carl was sweating. He had two large stains around his armpits and a ring of sweat around his collar. Not wanting to present himself to the store manager looking like this, Carl went shopping and found a shirt that was decent, if not of great quality. It would do for the second half of his shift, and he would make sure to bring a spare shirt every day he came to work going forward.

The blinking notification light didn’t come on today, as if the blue boxes knew that he didn’t have time to look at it.

Freshly dressed and still feeling energetic in his younger body, Carl walked up to the store manager’s office on the second floor of the building. He knocked on the door a few times and then waited politely.

“Come in.”

Carl opened the door into a shockingly messy room. Piles of paper were strewn everywhere, and one corner had what looked like broken toys and small appliances. The desk was covered in a half dozen used coffee cups, a few of which Carl could still see the sticker on.

“Carl, correct?”

“Yes, sir.” Carl reached over the desk to shake the store manager’s hand. The store manager was distracted, moving between different reports and took a few seconds to realize what Carl was doing.

“Oh, sorry. A bit distracted here is all.” The store manager—Terry was his name, based on the nameplate at the front of his desk—had a limp handshake, and it was wet to boot. Carl discreetly wiped his hand on his trousers before sitting down.

Terry pulled a file from under the mess on his desk, opening it and nodding. “Yes, this is it. I understand you’ve taken an unorthodox approach to the store greeter position.”

“Excuse me, sir?” Carl knew he was doing a good job and brightening people’s day, and while he would always be polite and respectful to someone with a senior position, he didn’t plan to back down.

Terry set the papers down and quickly picked up another one. “Oh. I just meant that you’re not our standard greeter. Many of them laze around and barely talk to people.”

Carl said nothing, having noticed the same behavior in his peers. A few seemed angry that he was doing more, but the others didn’t seem to care one way or the other.

“I need you to stick to the script. If our store gets inspected, we could be flagged for not following procedure.”

Carl sighed under his breath. “Let me propose something else, if I may.”

Terry, again distracted, looked up from something on his desk. “Go on.”

“Put me in charge of the other greeters. I’ll teach them the new approach, and instead of not following procedure, when the store gets inspected, you’ll be praised for your innovation.”

“That sounds risky.”

“How is it risky to make people happy when they enter the store?” Carl knew that some of the people he greeted were leaving feedback at the customer help desk, all of it positive.

“Well…I don’t know, exactly.”

“Have you seen the feedback from customer service? What our customers are saying about the new approach?”

Terry shook his head. “No, I haven’t. That’s a good point. Let me call them right now.” Terry pulled out his cell phone and called down to customer service. Not wanting to overhear the conversation but not having many options given where he was sitting, Carl could hear Rita yelling at him.

“I sent that report two days ago! Are you telling me you haven’t even looked at it yet?”

Terry scanned the folders on his desk, then the folders on the floor next to the desk.

“Got it! Is it the one with the customer service report tag on the front?”

Rita hung up.

Terri seemed unfazed by this action, as if Rita hung up on him every day. Terry put his cell phone back in his pocket.

Carl refused to use cell phones, citing the University of Washington report that cell phone radiation penetrated the fat around the ear and could cause cancer. Carl had never read the report all the way through, having heard it from Gene, but it was good enough for him. It had been another point of contention for his ex-wife.

“Damn! You weren’t kidding.” Terri looked up from the report. “I’ll be honest with you, Carl. The store isn’t performing well. Our shrink rate is up over a percent above other stores in the area, and our turnover is 11 percent higher than the Wal-Mart in Vancouver, WA. Sales are steady, but the regional manager is pushing for growth that I can’t seem to deliver.”

If Carl had been another ten years younger, he would have rolled his eyes.

Instead, he decided to take another risk. “Do you mind if I make a suggestion?”

Terry nodded his head. “Go ahead.”

“Get out of this office. Go down and talk to customers. Talk to your employees. Get to know them better. Listen to their concerns. Don’t stay in this office all day. If you need someone to help with the paperwork, hire a secretary.”

Terry grimaced. “Carl, they’re not called secretaries anymore. They’re administrative assistants.”

Carl raised his voice just a bit. “It doesn’t matter what they’re called, Terry. Hire someone to organize your office to free you up from this kind of work.” Carl waved his hands at the mess that encompassed the entire room.

Terry held his head in his hands. When he pulled them away there were tears in his eyes. “Will you help me?”

Carl nodded, unsure what he had just gotten himself into. “I’ll help, but I won’t do it for you. You’ve dug yourself quite the hole, and it will take a while to get out of it. Why don’t you get out of here and go down to meet people, and I’ll head over to HR and get you a secretary.”

Terry almost corrected Carl for the second time, then smiled and got up from behind his desk. “HR is just down the hall. Tell Bryn I sent you.”

Carl thought he saw a mouse moving in between the mass of broken small appliances and sighed. Terry hadn’t approved him taking over the greeters, but he would do it anyway. The man simply had too much on his plate to operate effectively.

Getting up out of his chair, Carl walked down the hallway until he came to a door marked Human Resources. The door was already half open, so he knocked on the door frame. A young woman looked up, dark hair half covering her left eye until she pushed it back behind her ear.

“May I help you?” She looked distracted. And beautiful.

“May I come in?”

Embarrassed by the faux pas, she stood up and waved him in. “Ohmygod, I’m so sorry. Yes, please. Come in.” The HR manager’s cheeks blushed a lovely red, contrasting against her olive skin. “Let’s start over. How may I help you? I’m Bryn, by the way.”

Carl introduced himself and then recounted his story with Terry, the HR manager nodding consistently during the retelling.

“You want to hire an administrative assistant for him?”

Carl nodded. “Correct. She should be older, late forties or early fifties. Firm, direct and someone that can’t be pushed around. And of course, she should have excellent organizational skills. She would act as the front line to Terry, and also keep him on point so he’s doing what he should be doing.”

She leaned back in her chair, pushing her breasts forward so much that Carl couldn’t ignore them, no matter how much he tried. “God knows he needs it. I’ll get on it right away. And you’re dead on that she should be an older woman. Carl hired me, and I think he thought it would turn into a torrid love affair. If he’d asked, he would have known that never would have happened.”

The HR manager’s cheeks flushed a little. Carl wasn’t that old that he couldn’t read between the lines. Whoever the other woman was, she was a very lucky lady.

The HR manager seemed to realize that she had said too much and coughed to cover her embarrassment. “I’ll get on this right away, Carl. Hopefully we’ll have a few candidates by the end of next week. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in interviewing them with me?”

He smiled. He liked this woman, and anything he could do to help her he would. “If you need the help, I suppose I could. Depending on my schedule, of course.”

She waved his concerns away with her hand. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure any time spent on interviewing is paid.”

“All right. I’d be happy to help.” Carl was more than a little confused. Why would the attractive Human Resources manager be interested in him? She had already admitted she didn’t swing that way.

Carl reached his hand across the desk to shake hands. Bryn took his hand demurely, and it felt like she was almost caressing his hand instead of shaking it.

The smiled, the red lipstick making her lips more pronounced. “See you around, Carl.”

Carl scampered—politely, of course—out of the HR manager’s office.

Chapter 19

“Do you want to know who you are? Don’t ask. Act! Action will delineate and define you.”

—Thomas Jefferson

Carl inhaled his sandwich, then washed it down with water from his thermos. The water tasted slightly of coffee, which only enhanced the flavor.

Once he was done eating, he headed over to the other greeters in the store and called an impromptu meeting. Not a single one argued with him when he told them he was in charge, just following him blindly into a booth at the restaurant near the grocery entrance.

“As I’ve already mentioned, Terry has put me in charge of the greeters. Which means we’ll be changing things up immediately. I’ll train with each of you until you get it down, and then randomly stop by each day to make sure you’re following the new procedures.” Carl only mentioned that last part because procedures seemed to be a large part of how this store operated.

An older man spoke up. “I never got the memo.”

“The memo will be coming shortly. In the meantime, listen up. We have customers coming in right now who aren’t being greeted properly.” Carl spent the next ten minutes explaining how he wanted things done. The group didn’t respond well, half of them apathetic to any kind of change and the other half seemingly stuck in their ways. Carl knew that with time and attention they would all change eventually.

“I’m adding a new feature as well. For every 100 customers who give you positive feedback, the company will pay you two hundred dollars. Negative feedback counts as minus five bucks. If you’re only in this job for the money, well, now is your chance to make some.”

The entire group perked up, which then led to questions.

“100 customers are a lot. Why not make it ten customers instead?”

Carl remained firm. “We’ll keep it at 100, and see what happens. Next?”

An older man with white hair seemed personally affronted by the proposed changes. “Why am I losing five bucks for negative feedback? Shouldn’t it be one buck, or nothing at all?”

“Negative feedback means that you changed someone’s opinion from neutral to negative. That takes some doing, and while I agree that some people are just disposed to being negative, we’re going to stick with losing five bucks.”

Once all the grumbling was done, Carl excused himself from the group and went over to customer service. He didn’t have approval for any of this, which meant he had to do it on his own.

Madge led customer service with an iron fist, but she liked Carl. He was polite, good looking and his body—even when hidden behind clothes that must have come from his father—looked to be solid, with a nice, tight ass.

“How can I help you, Carl?” Madge smiled, forcing the frown lines on her face to bend in the other direction. It gave a slightly horrific look, but Carl ignored that and smiled back.

“Looking good, Madge.” The customer service lady blushed, blotchy red spots breaking out on her cheeks. “I need to ask a favor. I’m running a competition, and I was hoping you could track the positive and negative feedback for every greeter.”

Madge smiled even wider. “Carl, you silly goose! We already do that. The report goes to Terry every week.” Her face soured when she said Terry, but then brightened back up after that.

“That’s wonderful news! I’m in charge of the greeters now, so could I also have a copy of the report when it comes out?”

“Really! Congratulations, Carl! You’ve done a great job with the customers, which means the complaints I receive have gone way down.”

“I’ll be training the rest of them to do the same thing, which should make your life even easier. Maybe you can take a vacation in Hawai’i with all the extra time you’ll have?”

Madge laughed out loud, a lifetime of smoking making it sound like she was hacking up a lung. “That doesn’t sound half bad.”

“I’ve got to run, Madge. See you around!”

“See you, Carl.”

He was walking away when he heard Madge turn to a friend and say loudly, “Isn’t he a dream?”

Carl sighed.

For the rest of his shift, and an hour beyond that, he helped the grocery entrance greeter get the hang of the new system. Carl’s biggest problem was getting the man to smile. He only seemed to do so when Carl mentioned the extra money. He tried showing the man how to do it by example, but Carl could have sworn the man was being purposefully obtuse.

Pulling out the small notepad from his back pocket, Carl wrote: Tim – possibly replace. He liked Tim as a person, but couldn’t allow the man to slack off while on the job. Not anymore.

By the time Carl drove to the diner, he was exhausted. It was 7:35 on a Friday night, and he hadn’t called Barbara yet.

“Chloe, could I bother you to borrow your phone? I need to make a quick call.”

“Sure thing, Carl.”

He had memorized Barbara’s home and work numbers already. Knowing Barbara, she was probably still at work. The line rang a few times before it picked up.

“Nurse office 13-B.”

“Yes, hello. Is Barbara there?”

“I’m sorry, she just left for home. Can I take a…wait a minute. You wouldn’t be Carl by any chance, would you?”

He couldn’t help but grin. It seemed Barbara had been talking about him to her coworkers, which was a good sign. “One and the same.”

The woman on the other end of the phone giggled. “She’s told us so much about you. You’re going to the art museum tomorrow, aren’t you?”

“I’m hoping to. I was calling to confirm when she was free.”

“Just a sec, let me check her schedule.”

Carl could hear shuffling paper in the background.

“She’s got the 4-2pm shift tomorrow. She’ll be free in the afternoon.”

“Will she have to work a double shift?”

“No, we made sure of it. She’s covered for us so many times, it was the least we could do.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind.”

The woman giggled again, then an indistinct voice could be heard over the speaker system in the background.

“I’ve got to run, Carl. It was nice speaking with you.” The woman hung up before he could say goodbye.

Carl called Barbara’s home number, but the call went to voicemail. He left a nice message asking what time she wanted to head to the art museum, and said that he was looking forward to tomorrow night.

Which he truly was. No matter what his imputed age might be, in reality Carl was a seventy-three-year-old man who thought like a seventy-three-year-old man and was attracted to women roughly in his age range. The fact that he was now thirty-five, at least partially, in a way he didn’t fully understand yet, didn’t change that outlook.

Tired and more than a little confused by the entire situation, Carl turned on the TV and reclined back in his chair. Hawaii 5-0 was on, something he hadn’t watched since the original series. He turned the volume down so he could focus on the gains he had made today.

New DNA acquired: 402

Points for new DNA acquired: 8000

Unused DNA remaining: 3

Eight thousand points in one day? Carl was stupefied. The day had been a blur as he helped the other greeters, and he had worked longer than he usually did. Then it clicked: he had worked at the grocery entrance, and not the general entrance. Grocery pulled a lot more traffic than the other entrances, with the worst being the Garden Center entrance, especially this time of the year.

A blinking light halted his revelry. Had something else happened today? Mentally pulling up the notification, he looked on in amazement.

Anomalous DNA detected.

Anomalous DNA acquired*.

Total Anomalous DNA samples: 3

Total point value: 12,000

How could three samples be worth twelve thousand points when a normal DNA sample was worth twenty points?

Carl focused on the asterisk, and another screen appeared.

*Anomalous DNA sample descriptions.

Sample 1) Mixed Human/Silicon life form Z-type DNA.

Sample 2) Genetically altered DNA hybrid.

Sample 3) Plutonium altered single/double strand DNA hybrid.

He read through the descriptions four times, only a few words standing out as significant. Genetically altered human DNA wasn’t possible as far as he knew, although he remembered a report on the nightly news about the possibility of animal DNA being genetically altered. Was some secret organization altering human DNA? And had one of those subjects passed him by why he shook his or her hand?

It boggled the mind.

Carl read the list again. The first sample made no sense to him. He looked over at the new laptop still sitting in its box on the table. He would open it tomorrow during his first community college course, but right now it might as well be a paperweight.

The third sample made some sense, but it would be a stretch to say he understood it. Plutonium implied nuclear reactions, which directly led to the military. He would have remembered someone in uniform today, but whoever they were they hadn’t been in uniform.

As his heart rate came back to normal, he tried to think of what he would do differently now that he knew these kinds of…altered…people were out there. The only answer was to keep the blue boxes open all the time, which would take some getting used to. He could still see through the blue boxes, but when they opened his eye was naturally drawn to read whatever the message was inside.

Unsure what to think or do about the situation, Carl turned the volume up and let his mind unwind as he watched TV. It worked a bit, but he couldn’t stop wondering how many more people were out there with changed DNA. He had come across three in one day in a mid-size city, so it wasn’t hard to imagine that the number would probably be in the hundreds of thousands if not millions.

Chapter 20

“The Earth is a farm. We are someone else’s property.”

—Charles Fort

The alarm went off at 6am, pulling Carl out of an odd dream. He couldn’t remember it all, but it was about the people with different DNA. In the dream they had been an advance force coming down from the sky to take over the Earth, which sounded an awful lot like the books Gene liked to read every night. Which was probably where he had picked the information up from.

After a quick shower and shave, Carl drove over to the diner for breakfast. Adam was there and they chatted for a while before Carl had to excuse himself and leave. He didn’t want to be late for his meeting with Evan.

Parking on Saturdays in Portland was easier than during the week because the parking meters were free, which meant Carl only had to walk a few blocks to the courier company. As he walked up to the door, the lights were on inside and he saw a few people drinking coffee as they got ready for their day.

The door squeaked loudly as Carl pulled it open, a few heads turning in his direction before going back to their conversations. A desk had been placed next to the front door with dozens of different stickers placed over it, giving the business a look that didn’t scream professional.

Carl waited for someone to come and help him, but when no one did he walked over to the group. He would bet money—not that he gambled—that there wasn’t a single person over twenty-one here.

“Would one of you please direct me to Evan? I have a meeting with him this morning.”

A few people looked around the room as if Evan was just hiding around the corner. When they didn’t see him, someone asked, “Has anyone seen Evan?”

A small, impish woman with short, green hair shook her head. “I don’t think he’s in yet.”

A tall, lanky kid shook his head. “No, I saw him when I came in. Maybe he’s down at the shop working on his bike.”

The green haired girl frowned. “I was just down there and I didn’t see him.”

Carl waited for the ping-pong replies to come to an end. When it did, he asked again. “Would one of you please take me to see Evan? Or perhaps go find him?”

A young woman with tattoos covering both arms sighed loudly. “Fine. Wait here and I’ll do a quick search.”

It was close to ten minutes later when the woman walked back with a young man also covered in tattoos. His blond hair hung in clumps, and his biking clothes were much too tight for Carl’s comfort.

Evan sized him up quickly, then frowned. “You the man that called earlier?”

Carl ignored it, wanting to get down to business. “I am. Do you have a quiet place we can talk?”

“Follow me.” Evan led Carl through a warren of small rooms and disjointed hallways, then down a set of stairs into the shop that had been mentioned previously. The shop was a mishmash of bicycles, some working and many more not working with a few partially broken down into parts.

From there, Evan took a sharp right into a room covered with posters that looked to be for bands. A desk made up of cinder blocks and an almost flat door without a knob sat in the middle.

Evan sat down behind the makeshift desk, although it was difficult to tell which side was the front and which side was the back.

Evan glared at him before speaking. “How did you know the company was in trouble?”

Carl nodded. It was a fair question. “I have a…sense for these things. Can you tell me what kind of trouble you’re in?”

Evan leaned forward until his elbows were on the desk, then ran his hands across his face. “Where do I even start? Look, before I say anything further, I need to know if you’re legit. You have money, right?”

Carl nodded. “I do, but we’re quite a few steps away from making the decision to invest in your company. Can you share with me what the problems are?”

“We have some good contracts with big companies, but rider turnover is killing me. I used to just ride the jobs myself to make up for it, but there are too many jobs now and not enough riders. Also…” Evan took a deep breath, averting his eyes as he did so. “Okay, here goes. I haven’t paid our city or federal taxes in two years. We’re behind on paychecks for a few riders, and that caused morale to go in the shitter. We’ve missed a few deliveries, and our biggest clients have threatened to leave us. Our prices were competitive, but I dropped them to keep the clients.”

Carl’s first reaction was shock. Once that passed, he calmed down and starting looking at things piece by piece. “Do you have an accountant?”

Evan laughed. “Are you kidding? I pay Kris a few bucks extra each week so she can balance our books. She took accounting in high school.”

In any other circumstance, Carl would have walked away. Gotten up out of his seat and walked out the door. Except for one thing: the blue boxes had never been wrong so far, and they had singled out this business.

Carl pulled out a pad of paper he had brought with him. “Let’s start making a list.”

It took almost three hours to cover all the problem areas, and Carl suspected there was more that Evan wasn’t telling him. Still, it was a start and he now had twenty-three pages worth of notes covering all the deficiencies of this company.

Setting his pen down to shake out the cramp in his hand, he looked at Evan. As the story continued to unfold, Evan seemed to be folding in on himself, as if the weight of everything was too much for his shoulders to bear. “Before we go any further, I need to ask whether you want to sell the company outright, or have me as an investor.”

Evan hemmed and hawed for a few moments. “I don’t want to sell, but you can tell that I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Carl folded his hands in front of him. “I understand. We’ll hold that decision for later. Here’s what I propose we do. I’ll contact my lawyer and have her draft up new contracts for all your riders. The contracts will include thirty-day termination periods, so you have time to hire new riders once a current rider tells you they’re leaving.”

Evan immediately protested. “I’m not so sure—”

Carl wasn’t done speaking, and he had a feeling Evan would need some tough love to get through this. “Second. I’ll hire an accountant and have them go through the last three years of your books. Until we know your financial situation, it will be impossible to determine whether you want to sell or not.”

Evan said nothing this time, only nodding.

“Third. I need you to make a complete list of all your clients, including the monthly or annual value of their business. Fourth, I will need details on your lease and back taxes. Have all this information ready for the accountant. If we get lucky, he or she will show up sometime next week.”

Evan again said nothing, waiting for point five. When it didn’t come, he stared at Carl.

Carl felt bad telling the young man what to do, but there was no other way around it. “Did you write that down so you remember?”

Evan scrambled to find a piece of paper. Carl was just about to tear a sheet out of his pad and hand it to him when Evan found a permanent marker and wrote down his tasks on the wall.

“So…what should I do next?”

Carl gave him a small smile. “Don’t lose any clients, and don’t reduce prices. We’ll meet again after the accountant reports back. Sound good?”

Evan nodded vigorously. “Thank you, Carl.”

Carl stood up, then reached out his hand to shake with Evan. “We’ll get the company back in shape, but it will take time and a lot of changes to your current business practices. Make sure you’re on board with this by the time the accountant is done or I’ll back out. I don’t want to force you into anything.”

Evan shook with Carl, his head bobbing up and down and his eyes wet. “You don’t know how desperate I was. I thought I would have to close the company and find a regular job. I didn’t finish high school and, um, well, I have a felony against me that would make it hard to get a regular job.”

Carl sighed, then patted Evan on the shoulder. “Please don’t mention that to anyone else. But thank you for sharing.”

With that, Carl left through the shop entrance. Instead of driving over to the law offices to meet with Rebecca, he pulled out his ancient flip phone and called. The receptionist answered and put him through.

“Carl, it’s good to hear from you.”

“Hi, Rebecca. I have a few things for you. Do you have a note pad in front of you?”

Carl recounted the list of items he needed: new contracts, an accountant, and a determination as to whether it made sense to place this business in his LLC or not. Personally, he thought Evan would sell while remaining a shareholder, but that was yet to be determined.

“I’ll get right on it, Carl. It seems you’ve been busy.”

Carl couldn’t help but smile. “I just happened to stumble across the opportunity. The accountant will determine whether it makes sense to proceed further.”

“Well, I appreciate the business. I’ll give a call early next week once I have everything lined up.”

“Thanks, Rebecca. Make sure you get outside today. It’s a beautiful day.”

Rebecca hung up the phone. She had pegged Carl as a dreamer when he mentioned the gold and silver mining idea, but this was a solid, practical business opportunity. It wouldn’t make him rich, but it could be the start of something interesting. She’d seen other investors do a lot more while starting with a lot less.

Carl had just enough time to grab a quick coffee and donut from a shop just a few blocks down from the courier shop before getting back into his car and driving over to Portland Community College. The meeting had gone longer than he had expected, and while he was interested, he wasn’t sure that this was the business for him. His only connection to a courier company was using their services a decade or more back during his career, which didn’t really lend itself to him understanding the business in any detail.

The donut was gone in a flash as he drove north. His Honda was too old to have a cup holder, so he balanced the cup in one hand while he drove with the other.

After parking, it took Carl a few minutes to orient himself. He found a large map just outside the parking garage, and used that to guide him. The campus was nearly empty being as it was a Saturday, so he enjoyed the stroll through the manicured gardens and lawns as he headed to class.

He found the right room on his fourth try, not fully understanding the numbering system. Opening the door, he found the class to be surprisingly full. If he didn’t miss his guess, every student was over forty except for a beautiful Latina woman in the front row who spoke broken English.

“All right everyone, let’s get settled. I need to take attendance and check that all your fees have been paid, and then we’ll get started.”

Carl took this as an opportunity to open his new laptop for the first time. There were convenient plugs built into every desk, so he plugged his computer in just before opening it up. There was a “Getting Started” screen that eventually booted up, but Carl didn’t fill in the questions as he didn’t want to get the answers wrong and then have to fix them.

The teacher clapped his hands lightly, drawing attention to the front of the classroom. He was a young man, dressed smartly in a button-down shirt and some newish denim jeans. Basically, he looked like Evan except cleaned up and without the various rings that had been cut into his skin. And with a proper short haircut.

Attendance was taken, resulting in a few students leaving since they hadn’t paid yet. Once that was done, he leaned against the desk and looked out on his classroom.

“I see a few of you have opened your laptops already. That’s a great start. Quick question: how many of you have never used a computer before?”

A few hands went up. Carl actually had used a massive IBM supercomputer in an early version of CAD/CAM programming back in the ‘80s, so he kept his hand down.

“How many of you have never used a modern laptop?”

Carl raised his hand, along with the rest of the class.

“Good. This is a twelve-week course that will introduce you to how a laptop works, and we’ll start with getting you comfortable with basic laptop functions before going into a few specialized areas later on. How many of you have logged on to your laptop for the first time?”

About half of the hands went up.

“Okay, good. Today we’re going to get all of you logged in. I see that most of you brought Apple Macbooks, which will make this easier. For the few of you with Dells and HP laptops, I’ll have to work with you directly because the process is slightly different.”

The course lasted a long two and a half hours, and by the end Carl’s vision was slightly blurry from staring at the computer screen. On the plus side, he had logged on and set up his account. He also discovered that the seller he purchased the laptop from had loaded all the applications—he thought that was the right terminology—on to it, including the spreadsheet function he wanted.

He had also used the internet via the community college’s Wi-Fi, checking his schedule for next week at the store. He would be working Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Friday. He was fine with that, but had left a note stating that he could only work Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday the following week because of the UFO convention that he was going to.

Hungry and bleary-eyed, Carl walked back to his car. The fresh air brightened his spirit, and his stomach growled just as he got into the car. It was time for lunch.

He drove straight to the diner for lunch. After that he needed to drive home to get dressed for his date with Barbara.

Chloe seemed to read his mind. “Will I be seeing Barbara again tonight by chance?”

Carl coughed. He wasn’t embarrassed, but preferred to keep his love life private. “Not tonight, Chloe. Although I will be seeing her. We’re going to the art museum.”

Chloe grinned like a fool as she brought Carl a cup of coffee. “That sounds lovely, Carl. You two have a nice time tonight.”

“Thanks, Chloe.”

As usual, Carl had the meatloaf sandwich slathered in ketchup with a dab of hot sauce added to spice things up. He ate quickly, hoping to do a bit of research on his new computer before going to pick Barbara up.

Parking the car, Carl got the mail before going into the house. Most of it was junk, along with a bill from Portland Electric. Behind the stack was a letter from Rebecca’s law firm. It was a thickly padded legal size envelope.

Opening it up, he found a short letter from Rebecca outlining the accountants she recommended, along with a draft copy of the new employment contract for Evan’s employees. Glancing at the list first, he saw that Rebecca had placed a short-handwritten comment next to the first two options.

1. Thomas & Sons Accountancy. The address was listed, and Rebecca had written: Fast, professional and very talented. They’ve worked on a few cases with us and did an excellent job!

2. Heigert, Johnson, McThomas and Donsel. This firm does our company’s taxes each year.

Carl ignored the next three options. If Rebecca hadn’t bothered to put a comment next to them, then they were out of the running. Walking over his wall calendar, Carl put a note on Monday to call each of them and see about their prices and availability.

Just as he finished writing, the phone rang. If he had to guess, it was probably Gene asking if he could come over and have a few beers while they chatted.

It wasn’t. “Carl, this is Barbara.”

“Hi, Barbara. Is everything okay?” He could hear a bit of tension in her voice.

“No, it’s not. There was a huge pileup on I5 and I need to stay and work. I’m so sorry, but I need to go in and help. I doubt I’ll be free tonight, but maybe I can call you tomorrow instead?”

“Don’t worry about it. Do a great job, and I’ll see you after you’ve helped everyone.”

Barbara was silent for a long moment. He thought he heard her silently sobbing, but that couldn’t be right. “I can’t tell you how much I was looking forward to our date today, but this…” Barbara’s voice choked up even more. “I’ve dated a number of men who expected me to be home on time every night. It’s just nice to have you supporting me.”

Carl chuckled to lighten the mood. “They were dummies. Do your best, and make sure to eat something. I’ll talk to you soon.” Carl heard frantic noises in the background.

“Thanks, Carl. Gotta go.”

Barbara hung up.

Carl flipped on the TV, turning to a news channel. Just as Barbara had said, there was a massive pileup after a large freight hauler had spun out of control, bashing through the cement barrier and causing deaths in both lanes. The helicopter coverage was horrific, with traffic backed up a mile in each direction and growing.

Turning the volume to mute, Carl pulled his laptop out and turned it on. He wished Barbara the best, but there was little he could do to help. Instead, he started researching the next phase of his business plans.

Chapter 21

“Religion is regarded by the common people as true, by the wise as false, and by the rulers as useful.”

—Seneca

When Carl did look up from his laptop, it was dark out and his stomach was rumbling. He had almost twenty new tabs set on his browser for sites he wanted to keep open and research further, and had pulled his notepad out at some point and taken copious notes.

If he hadn’t found the coins, he never would have pursued this option beyond cursory interest. Now he couldn’t let it go. The biggest issues were accessibility, depth and finding a trustworthy partner. That had been the most difficult part of his research, and he still wasn’t certain who to approach should he actually find a viable gold or silver mine.

It would mean taking a few more days off work, which meant fewer DNA points, but he thought it was worth it. Just one mine—not even a large one—could be worth up to half a million dollars in output. Silver was more variable and depended on other factors, which was why he would start by looking for gold mines. In particular, potential mines that hadn’t yet been discovered.

He wandered into the kitchen and made himself two BLTs before heading back to the TV. Coverage of the accident had waned since the original incident and as more of the wreckage was cleared away, and he thought of Barbara rushing from patient to patient in hopes of saving lives.

Instead of using the dishwasher, he hand-washed the dishes and put them in the rack to dry. As a single man living alone, he rarely used the dishwasher anymore. It was easier to simply wash them after eating, then put them away in the morning.

Carl drifted off to sleep after a quick shower. His new, younger body felt tight and he knew what was on the calendar for tomorrow.

Tomorrow morning, he would join a gym.

Chapter 22

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field.

I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.”

—Rumi

“You’re surprisingly strong for your age.”

Carl smiled to himself, grunting as he pushed 175 pounds up into the air for the twentieth time. The personal trainer he had hired had started him on thirty pounds, and while Carl didn’t want to give away his secret, he needed a real workout.

“Good job, Carl. Next, hop onto the treadmill and go for a five-mile run at a 75 percent pace for the first two miles, and then reduce it to 50 percent on the third mile and a walk for the last two miles. That will be your cooldown, and then we’ll wrap up with some stretches.”

Nodding, Carl headed over to an open treadmill and pushed at the button until the speed felt right. In the past he would have stared at the monitor, counting every hundredth of a mile.

Not this time. Instead, he relaxed into the run, lengthening out his strides as he went. His knees and ankles felt strong, and even though he wheezed a bit during the last half mile of his run, the results were astounding. His first mile was sub eight minutes, the second mile just twenty seconds longer. He had never been a runner, but his new body had adapted quickly to the requirements he was placing on it.

The stretches were even better, relieving the tension and tight muscles he had felt last night. It was that satisfying feeling of pushing his body that he hadn’t felt in far too long.

“Good job, Carl. Amazing, if I’m being honest. I’d like to see you three days a week for weight training. Do your running at home on nice days like today, and come in when it’s miserable out.”

“Thanks, Matt. I really appreciate all the help.” Carl headed off to the showers, his step livelier than it had been in the last thirty years.

Matt shook his head in dismay. Carl wasn’t an exceptional athlete compared to others who came into the gym, but he sure as hell was for a seventy-three-year-old man. The man had torn through his first exercises, and he had been forced to up the reps and weight until it was a challenge for Carl.

Even more shocking, he knew Carl wasn’t pushing himself to the limit. Not even close. Two or three months from now, Carl would be comparable to a lot of thirty-year-old’s in the gym. Matt would bet on it.

Carl threw his gym bag in the back of his car and headed off to the diner. He hadn’t heard from Barbara since yesterday, and the news wasn’t really reporting on the pileup anymore. Maybe if he checked his laptop, he would get more information.

Patting his belly after eating his way through a large platter of hash browns and an everything omelet, Carl drove home and tried to think of how to spend the rest of his day.

In fact, he did scan the web for more details on the crash but found only a handful of articles that had been written today. The rest were a rehash of yesterday. Making a decision, Carl grabbed his jacket and started walking his neighborhood. It wasn’t that he needed more money, but it was a good way to use his new skills. And, he mentally added, he just might get lucky again.

The local park a few blocks away turned up little. He found a few Roosevelts but little else, so he kept walking, enjoying the day as much as he did the search for coins.

He must have walked well over a mile when his senses tingled. The feeling wasn’t as strong as the can of gold coins he had found, but it was close. The scents were…confusing, as if whatever it was couldn’t decide if it was silver or gold.

Following the scent led him directly to McLoughlin Avenue, which was littered with soda cans and fast food wrappers. The scent was hard to place, so he lowered himself to the ground in hopes of homing in on it.

In an instant he knew where the coins were. He got up and walked a half dozen feet until he stood next to a fence that acted as a partition between McLoughlin and the houses on the other side. Pulling the spade from his jacket pocket, he plunged it into the compacted dirt and rocks. It penetrated less than an inch, but that didn’t faze Carl.

Hammering his arms back and forth like a jackhammer, Carl plunged the spade in over and over again. Small chunks of dirt and rock flew away at each impact, until a small divot had formed. Still he kept at it, unwilling to give up now.

An older, possibly homeless man walked by and shook his head. “What people will do these days for a quarter.” Carl ignored the comment, only checking to ensure the man kept walking.

Close to an hour later, his spade was ten inches into the ground when it impacted something solid. It took another hour before he had cleared the hole wide enough to pull up whatever was down there.

This time it wasn’t a coffee can, but an old jar that had broken when he impacted it with his spade. Taking his time to ensure he didn’t cut himself on the glass, Carl picked out a variety of different coins. Some were small, a few looked to be foreign, but the majority were American coins and larger sized at that.

Compared to the horde of gold coins, these were far more worn. They had obviously changed hands numerous times, and at a glance it was difficult to ascertain any range of worth.

Checking twice to make sure he had all the coins out of the hole, he pushed the broken glass and dirt back in and tamped it down. Then he waited on McLoughlin until a taxi came by and hailed it.

Pulling the plastic colander out of the cupboard, Carl washed each coin before placing it to dry on a clean white cloth. The few years he could make out started with 18, but that didn’t imply great worth. It only meant they were old.

Once they were cleaned, he wrapped them up and hid them under a special hiding place he had created years ago. He’d created it after reading a book on occupied France during WWII, and it had never been found to this day.

He really had to hand it to the French. They were very inventive, and although there were no directions given, the concept had fascinated him. Enough so that the next weekend, he’d taken the bedroom door off its hinges and carried it into the garage. From there, he had drilled a hole into the solid wood wide enough to hide jewelry and money, and then made a plug out of some wood he had lying around. He lined the hole with felt to dampen the sound, and then rehung the door.

Because it wasn’t wartime, he didn’t try to match the plug to the door. After all, who would think to pull a door off the doorframe to search for valuables?

Which is exactly what he did right now. The hinges stuck a bit, so he greased them until they swung easily. He then popped the plug out using a tiny screwdriver made for remote control planes, and was surprised to see an old watch slide out of the hole.

He’d completely forgotten about the watch. It had been so long ago, a present from his ex-wife that he had come to value it more as a memento than for its monetary worth. So much so that he had hidden it here, so he would have it in retirement and could wear it proudly.

A tear threatened to spill out of one eye. Carl didn’t know if it was due to the blue boxes increasing his emotional capacity, or just one of those things where he recalled a fond memory from the past.

It was something he had tried to express to his sons many years ago just after the divorce and failed miserably at. That divorce, while heart-wrenchingly painful, didn’t mean the love from the past wasn’t there. It was a unique dichotomy where the heart could still feel the love from decades of marriage, and at the same time suffer from the pain of divorce.

The divorce had been twelve years ago, and in hindsight he could admit that it wasn’t all her fault. It wasn’t all anybody’s fault, just one of those things that comes into a person’s life like the Grim Reaper and changes things irrevocably.

Carl wiped the tear away. He briefly considered taking the watch to Joe’s for cleaning and repair, but then pushed that thought away. Let the watch remain here for the next person to find. Maybe it would be a fond memento for them, but he had no use for it. Not anymore.

He then stuffed the coins into the door, each of them packed into a fold of paper towel. It was a tight fit, but they wouldn’t be there long. He would call Randy on Monday and set up an appointment on Tuesday for him to look at them. It would be good to have some extra money on hand if the bike shop proved to require additional investment beyond what he had budgeted.

Tired from his workout and subsequent adventure, and feeling a little depressed from the memories, Carl turned on the TV before pulling his computer into his lap. A rerun of Gunsmoke was playing, so he turned the volume up and closed the computer.

Chapter 23

“The depth of darkness to which you can descend and still live is an exact measure of the height to which you can aspire to reach.”

—Pliny the Elder

Carl checked with HR after punching his timecard. He was twenty minutes early for work, but thought that the manager would approve it seeing as he was helping the man get organized.

He knocked on the closed door, then heard Bryn call him in.

“Hi, Bryn. Just wanted to check in on our little project. Have you had any luck yet?”

Bryn smiled warmly, her eyes flashing for a split second. “I did. I have two candidates coming in at 2pm today, so if you’re free I’d love it if you could come interview them with me.”

Carl’s eyes widened more than a fraction. He might be an old man, but he knew when a woman was interested in him. “Really? Yes... um, sure. That’s my lunch break, so I’ll stop by just before two if that works.”

“Sounds great. See you then, Carl.”

Carl closed the door behind him, his heart beating faster than it had during his workout yesterday. Or during his run this morning. He still wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it or not, but he would have sworn that she winked at him.

Beating a hasty retreat, Carl went back downstairs and called a quick meeting of the greeters. One person still hadn’t shown up, so he would meet with that person later.

“You guys know the routine. I want to see smiles, handshakes, lollipops and prewashed cart handles. I’ll be checking in on each of you at random times, so stay on your toes.” Two people nodded vigorously back at him, while the other two barely looked up from staring at the floor.

“Get after it today! We’re going to turn this store around, and that means all of us are on the front lines.”

Carl started at the automotive entrance, which received few customers but those that came through tended to spend more money.

The day passed quickly as Carl tried to get the greeters to be more positive and outgoing. Some of them got it, and the others…well, he doubted if they ever would. He wasn’t willing to give up just yet, but it would be an uphill battle.

When lunch rolled around, Carl headed upstairs to meet with Bryn. She was a beautiful, vibrant woman, but her aggressiveness was a bit off putting, even if he hadn’t been in a relationship. He simply chalked it up to generational differences: he’d grown up during a time when a man was expected to act properly when a woman entered the room, always standing and pulling the seat out for them. He’d grown up in the Midwest, far from the summer of love, and those values had never changed.

He knocked on the door, and Bryn called out, “Come in, Carl.”

A young woman around Barbara’s age sat across from Bryn, and the HR manager had pulled a second chair around the desk until it was right next to her. She even patted the chair enticingly for him to sit down, which he did.

“Carl, this is Sabine. She’s originally from Germany, but emigrated to the US over thirty years ago.”

Carl stood up, reaching across the desk to shake her hand. By this point the action came to him naturally, and while there was an ulterior motive, he found he enjoyed the physical contact that had been lacking in his life for so long.

“Pleased to meet you, Sabine.”

She smiled shyly. “Hello.” Her accent was still there, but it was faint.

Bryn led the interview, asking questions about Sabine’s background and her experience as an administrative assistant. Already Carl could pick out the spark of intelligence in Sabine’s eyes, and he had little doubt that she would whip their store manager into shape soon enough.

Bryn turned and leaned into his shoulder. “Carl, do you have any questions?”

Carl ignored it. Now wasn’t the time or the place. “Actually, I do. Sabine, can you share any experiences you’ve had of keeping the people you work for on task?”

Sabine gave a warm, but thin, smile. “Of course. I assume this position is to keep one of your managers doing what he or she should be doing.”

Carl and Bryn looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes.

“I see that I guessed correctly. There are three things that I’ve found work. First, the manager needs to be organized. If he isn’t, then I will do that for him. Organization is the foundation of a competent manager. Second, I’ve found that a list of reminders in his calendar either in his computer or written on a white board help immensely. And last, he needs to be aware of issues quickly. This means that I—or whomever you choose for this position—will need to be in regular contact with the other department heads. If he doesn’t know what is happening, he can’t respond appropriately.”

“You seem to be assuming the manager is a man.”

Her mouth gaped for a second, but then she nodded. “Well…yes, I do. Take a look at your office, Bryn. It is well organized with everything in its place, and I doubt much gets past you. Some men, on the other hand…well, let me just say that this isn’t their strong point.”

Bryn laughed out loud, and Carl chuckled.

Bryn brought the interview to a close. “Thank you, Sabine. We have a few other candidates to interview, but we hope to have this process wrapped up by the end of the week.”

“Very well. I look forward to hearing from you.”

Sabine left the office and closed the door behind her. Carl was just about to speak when a pair of warm lips pressed against his. For a split second, Carl found himself relaxing into the kiss before his mind caught up to what was happening.

Gently pushing Bryn back, he saw her grinning at him. “I’ve been wanting that kiss for a while now.”

Carl, still in shock as his mind warred with his body, could only stammer out a short response. “Bryn, I’m sorry but—”

Bryn pressed a finger against his lips.

Bryn smiled seductively. “I’m not looking for a relationship, Carl. And I’m guessing you were about to tell me you have a girlfriend, or something of the sort.”

Carl nodded. He could still feel her lips pressed against his, and his body had responded just as it had been designed to do.

She leaned forward, her speech becoming just a little breathless. “I don’t care what your age is, and quite honestly I doubt that you are as old as you say you are. I respond to chemistry, and I could feel the spark when you first came into my office last week. I know you’re a proper gentleman, but don’t say no just yet.”

Carl was dumbfounded. Well and truly dumbfounded.

Saying his goodbyes, he beat a hasty retreat from Bryn’s office after promising he would think about it, but that was honestly the last thing he wanted to do. The more he thought about it the more he would want her, which was an insidious move on her part.

He knew that trying not to think about something wouldn’t work, so he did what he had always done when something was on his mind: he worked.

The next entrance he needed to check on was general goods entrance, where one of the people unexcited about his new policies now resided. Carl worked with him while greeting customers at the same time. Bryn was still in the background of his mind but muted.

When the greeter decided to take a long lunch at noon, Carl had had it. He was sexually frustrated and unsure what to do about it, not willing to compromise his morals but willing to admit that Bryn’s offer enticed him. Greatly.

When Steve returned from lunch, Carl pulled him aside. It was plain bad timing, but he was going to take it out on Steve with a swift chewing out.

Carl’s voice was hard as he spoke. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Steve. Why the long lunch? And why the poor attitude?”

Steve stammered and stared at the floor. Reaching out, Carl lifted the man’s chin until he was looking Carl in the eye.

Realizing he had scared the poor man, he softened just a bit. “Always look people in the eye, Steve. To stare at the floor when someone is talking to you is disrespectful.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Steve’s eyes glanced down at the floor, but then bounced back up to meet Carl’s.

“Why the long lunch?”

Steve’s eyes seemed to bounce in every direction, as if he didn’t know where to focus them. “I don’t know.”

“That’s a lie, Steve. Why did you take a long lunch?”

“Because…”

Carl could tell Steve was on the brink of sharing the reason, but didn’t push him.

“My wife left. Just walked out, and didn’t leave a note.”

Carl nodded, finally understanding why Steve was falling behind. “My wife left me too. Divorced me, but it still ends up being the same thing. I’d be happy to share something I learned recently that might help.”

Steve looked up, tears staining his cheeks. “What?”

“She was right to leave. It was a hard lesson for me, but it forced me to grow up and I think I’m a better man for it. That’s where you need to get to, Steve. Life isn’t over unless you let it be over.”

Steve seemed affronted by Carl’s advice. “You’re saying it was my fault?”

Carl sighed. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. It takes two to tango, so both of you are at fault. I’m guessing you haven’t taken responsibility for your part in it yet. Now, why don’t you tell me why you think she left, and what you need to learn from that to became a better man.”

Steve talked for hours as they worked, tentatively at first but eventually opening up. They greeted customers while they spoke, and sometimes a customer—usually a woman, not a man—nodded at hearing something particularly relevant from Steve.

Quitting time rolled around quickly, but Carl didn’t leave right away.

“Do you understand now?”

Steve smiled. “I think I do. Thanks, Carl. I’ll get with the program from now on. Who knows? I might even meet someone along the way.”

“You just might. And if you need any help, here’s my phone number.” Carl gave Steve his home number. “Call me if you get depressed again, but I don’t think you will.”

Steve waved goodbye, then went back to greeting customers and handing out lollipops. When it got slow, he wiped down the grocery cart handles until they were clean.

Carl timed out, then headed to the diner. He was mentally exhausted from dealing with Steve, but he felt better for it. And sure enough, the meeting with Bryn had dimmed in his mind. He still remembered it, but it didn’t have a hold over him like it had earlier.

Chloe greeted him at the door. “I think you work longer hours than I do, Carl.”

Carl chuckled. “I find that hard to believe, Chloe. Is there a seat free at the counter?”

“You betcha. Prime rib is the special tonight with homemade horseradish sauce. It’s got a bite to it.”

That sounded like the perfect meal to him.

When Carl got home, he had three messages on the answering machine. One was from Rebecca, updating him on the accountant which had started work today. Apparently, the accountant had called after leaving work at the bike courier service today, leaving a detailed analysis of just how messed up FastCycle was as a company. He said he should be done by the end of the week and have the cash flow and EBITDA1 numbers by then.

The second message was from Barbara. She said that she had time free on Friday and Saturday nights, and wondered if he was free both nights. She said it was her turn to take him to her favorite restaurant, and that she still wanted to go to the museum.

The third message was from Gene, who wanted to confirm that Carl had asked for time off for the UFO conference in McMinnville. Then he asked if Carl was free on Friday night—which he wasn’t now that Barbara was free—and said that he had a new DVD about Bigfoot that he had bought online.

Carl turned off the messages and called Barbara back first. Unsurprisingly, he got her voicemail.

“Hi Barb, I got your message and I am free both Friday and Saturday. I work Friday until six, so will need to change after work and then I can head over. Saturday I’m free most of the day. I have a computer class in the late morning, but will be done at 1pm.” Carl hesitated, but then pushed ahead. “I’m really looking forward to seeing you. Bye.”

It was about as brazen as Carl could be after one date.

In the end he decided not to call Gene back, and the law firm closed at five so there was no point. He’d call them both tomorrow after heading out to see Randy about the coins.

Chapter 24

“Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities.”

—François-Marie Arouet (Voltaire)

Carl got up and pulled on his sweats before heading out for a run. He stretched before and after the run, then took a shower and headed to the diner.

A quick breakfast of coffee, oatmeal and a cinnamon crunch muffin later, and he was heading to see Rebecca. He wasn’t sure if he understood all of what she had said in her message, and wanted a bit of clarification.

The receptionist greeted him with a smile as he walked in.

“Carl, it’s good to see you. I think Rebecca is on the phone, but she should be off shortly if you want to wait.”

He nodded, returning her smile. “That’s fine. I only have a few questions.”

During the divorce, Carl had come to loathe lawyers. His own lawyer had been talented, but often made bad jokes about women and how greedy they could be. While he agreed his wife was being greedy—at the time, not now--he wouldn’t dare to say that out loud, much less think it.

Now, however, he found that he enjoyed coming in to see Rebecca. She was a professional, no nonsense kind of woman, and he had a feeling that she was on his side. And in a way that didn’t involve how much she billed him.

Rebecca popped her head out of her office. “Carl! It’s great to see you. Give me a moment to get organized and I’ll see you in the conference room.”

Carl walked into the conference room and sat down, placing his little notebook on the table. Rebecca walked in a few moments later.

“What a nice surprise! I’m guessing you came in to better understand the message I left for you yesterday?”

He grinned. “It’s good to see you as well. And in fact, I do have a few questions.”

Rebecca recounted what the accountant they’d hired had told her yesterday, explaining some of the accounting terms along the way.

“So, does he think the business isn’t worth buying or investing in?”

“No, not at all. I think you already know this, but the company is quite a mess. Not only haven’t they paid their state and federal taxes for the last two years, but they aren’t meeting several small business requirements for their employees. These can all be fixed easily, but it will require someone to take the time and make sure they get it done. Evan is too busy trying to both work and manage that he’s overlooking a lot of the details.”

Carl noted all this down in his pad. “Did he provide a client list to the accountant?”

“He did. A lot of the clients as you would expect are small, but he had a few of the larger banks tied up as well. Unfortunately, it was the larger clients that he gave a discount to which affects the cash flow of the company.”

Carl couldn’t help but frown. He understood why Evan had done it, but it was still a poor business decision that would take time until it was fixed. “Will he have an idea of what the company is worth when he’s done?”

“He will. Having said that, small business purchase prices are variable. For example, if he says that company is worth 50K, I wouldn’t recommend you pay that. We’ll need to deduct all those things Evan has overlooked, which might be difficult for him to swallow.”

“All right, that helps. Can you also ask him for an idea on what the purchase price would be if I kept Evan on as a minority owner? Say, with twenty-five percent of the company as an example? I think I need him to stick around, and retaining a portion of ownership might help with that.”

Rebecca was impressed. Even though Carl didn’t know the details, he seemed to have an intuitive grasp of how to motivate people. That alone could turn the business around quickly.

“I’ll have him look at it. I’m sorry, but I’ve got an appointment coming in shortly, but we’ll stay in touch.”

Carl left the law firm after saying his goodbyes and walked down to the coin shop. He saw Randy behind the counter working on his laptop.

“Carl, it’s great to see you. I have to say I was surprised when you called. You’ve found more coins already?”

“Just lucky, I guess.” Carl pulled the coins out of his pocket, slowly unwrapping the paper towel. He had pulled them out of the bottom of his door after getting back from his run, which even he could admit had been tedious. The more he thought about, the more he liked the idea of using a safe deposit box instead.

Randy didn’t wait for permission, diving into the coins and holding them up to his magnifying glass. Carl could hear him muttering under his breath, but only picked out the random word.

“Damn…”

“Never thought...”

“How? It’s just so…”

After Randy surveyed the coins, he looked up, giving Carl another discerning look. “I have no idea how you do it, but you’re going to make both of us rich.”

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, let me explain. Some of this stuff is fairly common. You’ve got almost a dozen Morgan silver dollars. They’re rare, but not crazy rare. There are a couple early Barber dimes in there as well, and really…well, the whole collection is a hodge-podge. I assume you found them all in one place?”

Carl nodded. “I did.”

Randy shook his head. “Those coins are worth money, but they’re not the highlight. There are three Liberty seated half dollars, which normally wouldn’t be a big deal. But again, just like last time they are marked S for San Francisco, which boosts their value significantly. Those are solid coins, very collectable and could even go to auction if you want to.”

“I get the feeling there’s a but coming.”

“There is.” Randy held up a coin. “This is an 1870-S $3 coin. The book”—Randy pointed at the reference guide open next to him—”has a value, but I would ignore that entirely. The value is whatever a collector will pay, which is big money.”

“I only know about the two-dollar bill. I didn’t know they made a three-dollar bill.”

“It’s a coin and they did, but they’re rare. Very rare. And you, my friend, have two of them.”

To Carl, they were coins. Yes, he hoped they made him some money, but he knew nothing about them beyond the excitement of hunting them down and digging them up.

“What do you think they’re—”

“A million each. Maybe more. They’ll need to be certified, but I have no doubt that they’re real. And it makes a certain sort of sense that San Francisco coins would be found in Portland. Still, it’s the find of the decade.”

Not knowing what to say, Carl said the first thing that came to his mind. “Would you help me auction them? For a percentage?”

Randy grinned back at him like a fool. “Damn straight I will. I’ll keep these in the safe here, and bring a friend I know in to authenticate them. Once that’s done, there are a few auction sites that I know well. Give me a few days and I’ll get it set up.”

“And your insurance will cover them if they’re stolen?”

Randy pointed at Carl. “That’s a good point. Let me call them right now.”

Carl browsed the shop while Randy talked to the insurance company, explaining what the coins were in detail and what they were worth. After some heated exchanges, Randy hung up the phone.

“The insurance company will let me keep them here but only until Friday. Which will be tight but should work. I’ll have to get the coins to the auction house right away instead of waiting for an appraisal, but I assume you’re okay with that?”

Carl nodded. “That sounds fine. If you have any issues, just give a ring.”

Turning, he was just about to leave the store when Randy called out to him. “If you ever get bored, I would love to go coin hunting with you, Carl. I can only imagine that it would be a fascinating experience.”

Randy, you have no idea. Carl shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe. Let me think about it.”

It was around noon when Carl got back into the car. He thought about going to the diner, but decided not to. It was time to try something new, so he drove East on I-84 along the Columbia river until he came to the town of Hood River. Then he crossed the bridge over to White Salmon, following the river of the same name up towards Mt. Adams.

As he rose in elevation, Carl rolled down the window and hung his head out. The wind was biting cold, so he turned the heater up and pushed through. All along, he used his senses to sniff out potential areas for gold and silver. He wasn’t sure exactly why he was doing this, given that he had found two extremely rare coins, but he felt a need to keep moving forward. Stagnation was the life he used to live, and he wouldn’t live that way any longer.

He picked up faint scents, but nothing that stood out. His car was too old to have GPS and his phone barely had texting functionality, but he kept driving anyway. After an hour of this, he pulled his head back into the car, only then noticing that he was low on gas.

Pulling over at the next gas station, he filled up and went in to get some snacks. He briefly accessed his failing business sense, but the gas station seemed to be doing fine.

“That’ll be seven dollars and thirteen cents.” The person behind the counter was an older man, with thinning hair on top and the smell of cigarettes that wafted over to Carl.

Carl pulled out eight dollars, keeping the three quarters in change but putting the smaller coins into a dish in case the next person needed change.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about silver or gold mining in this area, would you?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “You some kind of history buff or something?” The man was gruff, with a thick black beard and stained overalls even though the gas station didn’t provide car repairs.

Carl smiled, trying to put him at ease. “Yes, you could say that.”

The man took a thinking pose, scratching his chin as he thought. “I do seem to remember some mines higher up on the mountain, although that’s part of the national wilderness now and the mines are all blocked off. They’re dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing around them, which is most folks these days.”

Carl did his best to keep the disappointment off his face. “Well, thank you for trying. I’ll drive around a bit more and then head home.”

“Hold up. I do remember some people panning the river and finding a good amount of gold. That means there’s probably something up there, but who knows where.”

“Thanks, that helps.”

“You one of those people that goes around buying up mineral rights from people?”

Carl nodded, unsure what to say. In all his research he hadn’t come across the term ‘mineral rights.’

“Good luck to you. We have good people in this town, and it gets hard during the winter without the tourists. I bet a lot of people would appreciate some extra money around this time to help them get by.”

“That’s a great point. Thanks for all your help.” Carl shook hands with the man, the patch on the overalls stating the man’s name to be Joe.

“You’re welcome. And good luck.”

Once Carl was back in his car, he called Rebecca’s law firm and left a message with the receptionist for information on mineral rights and how they worked. The receptionist promised she would pass the message to Rebecca, and Carl hung up.

It was already 4:30pm and close to getting dark, but he didn’t want to give up just yet. He backtracked until he was on State Route 141 that followed the White Salmon river and stuck his head out the window again.

After two more hours of driving and not a single strong scent, Carl turned the car around and drove back to Portland. It was slightly disappointing not to find anything, but realistically he couldn’t expect to strike gold every time.

He got home just after 8pm, hungry and tired. He momentarily thought of going to the diner, but scratched that idea and had a bowl of cereal instead.

Wednesday passed in a blur as he trained the other person beside Steve who stared at the floor. Steve had personal issues which he was working through, but this person seemed depressed and possibly had serious emotional issues. Carl wasn’t a psychiatrist, but he had recommended that the man reach out to the employee assistance program the company provided for help with his issues.

Thursday, he got a call from Rebecca telling him that they were looking into mineral rights, but she admitted up front that it wasn’t her area of expertise. She said that she knew someone that she was working with to find out more.

That night he called Gene back.

“Gene, I think you have your dates mixed up. This weekend is the UFO conference, so we’re going to see each other anyway. If you want, we can meet the Friday after that like we always do.”

Carl faintly heard Gene bonking himself on the head. “You’re right. How could I forget when I’ve been looking forward to this for the past month?”

“Don’t worry about it. It will be a good weekend.”

“Thanks, Carl. It will. Ok, I’m going to plan out who we’re going to see since I know you don’t care very much. How about I come over on Thursday morning and pick you up so we can see the opening night speaker?”

Carl hung his head just a bit. Gene could be persistent when he wanted to be. “You got it, Gene. See you then.”

Carl hung up the phone and checked his reminder for the UFO conference this coming weekend. It was there, just as he’d thought.

Friday morning, he got up for his run, then had breakfast at the diner before heading into work. He avoided heading up to the manager’s suite, not willing to engage with Bryn when he had a date with Barbara tonight.

The greeter he’d trained Wednesday was out sick, so Carl covered the grocery entrance. Customers flowed in at a steady pace, keeping him busy the entire time. He skipped his first break and ended up pushing his lunch back until he only had thirty minutes left to eat.

He’d gone through the entire box of lollipops, so after lunch he bought a new box and stuffed his smock pockets with them.

Most days Carl got to a point where his eyes glazed over while greeting people, one phase morphing into another. Very few people stood out anymore, as he was simply too busy to spend more than a few seconds with each person. At busy times he missed a few people, unable to move quickly enough to touch everyone. In those cases, he waved or simply said hi.

He was deep in that mental fog when something different happened. His hand locked on to another hand, and he froze.

Combat mode commencing…

Module 13x1.1-DNA561S vs. Module 11.t.6.3-DNA98155

Pain tore through the nerves in Carl’s arm, his throat too tight to scream as pain triggered in his brain. He wasn’t able to open his eyes to see who he was facing, the blue boxes cascading by his closed eyes by the dozen. He couldn’t read them, only barely aware that they were there.

A split second later, the hand he was holding fell from his grasp as the body attached to it fell to the ground. The pain faded but he was still stunned and more than a little nauseous. People ran up to the person on the ground, and he could vaguely pick out questions directed to him.

“Is he all right?”

“I think he’s in shock.”

Carl opened his eyes with some effort, the blue cursor blinking in the corner of his eye. He desperately wanted to know what had happened, but didn’t dare look.

A lady screamed out, “He’s dead!”

Then all was chaos.

Chapter 25

“The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.”

—Mark Twain

The police were called and arrived quickly, questioning Carl as to what happened. By that point he had his wits about him again. Bryn and Terry sat across from him, as if to signify that no one was on his side.

The police officer had an electronic pad across from him, and he suspected they were also recording him. “Can you describe what happened?”

Carl didn’t have to feign his shock. “I was greeting people like usual. Shaking hands, saying hi and asking if they had any questions. That sort of thing. The man seemed normal, so we shook hands and he seemed to have a heart attack or something. I was too shocked to do anything, and still am. I’ve never seen anyone die in front of me before.”

The officers took down his information before asking a few more questions about where he lived and how long he’d been working. When Bryn mentioned that Carl managed the greeters, he could see the officers relax a bit. Apparently, any kind of manager was less threatening than a regular employee.

He wasn’t read his Miranda rights, and he wasn’t asked to stay within the country as he’d seen happen on so many TV shows. The officers said they would be in touch with him if they needed any follow up, and that an autopsy would be conducted. Then they left.

Bryn immediately sat down next to him, both her hands wrapping around his left arm. “You must have been so scared. I’m sorry you had to go through that, Carl. It must have been terrifying.”

“We’ll get this sorted out, Carl. The company looks after their own. I’ll make sure of it.” Carl didn’t put much stock in Terry’s statement, but hoped he was correct.

Terry left the room to get people back to work, giving Bryn a chance to speak privately. “Don’t worry, I hired Sabine already. I’ll make sure she puts the paperwork in to promote you to line manager. You’ve done a great job getting the greeters in line, and Terry is already improving as well. You’ve made a big difference here, and it’s one that I didn’t see.” One of Bryn’s wandering hands squeezed his thigh while the other one rubbed his back.

“I appreciate it. I don’t know what happened, but it scared the living daylights out of me. If it’s okay with you, I think I’m going to head home and curl up on the bed until I can process what just happened.”

“Of course, of course.” Bryn’s hands kept wandering around his body, but she didn’t push for him to stay.

Carl clocked out and made his way to his car, only then opening the blue boxes that he hadn’t seen yet.

Combat in progress.

Module 13x1.1-DNA561S: 27,519 unallocated points.

Module 11.t.6.3-DNA98155: 8,914 unallocated points.

Module 13x1.1-DNA561S wins!

Combat completed.

Acquisitions:

8,914 unallocated points

Purchased skills: Enhanced attractiveness. Enhanced sexual stamina. Enhanced male pheromones. Increased vision to 50x20. Increased leap ability up to 36 inches.

Carl shook his head in dismay. The dead guy was apparently driven by sex and playing basketball, although that didn’t explain the increased vision. Maybe he was simply testing the waters as he added more abilities, but none were all that interesting to Carl. The last thing he needed at work were more male pheromones, and he didn’t want them to interfere with his date with Barbara.

The thought jerked him from the blue boxes, of which a few were remaining to be read. It was well past 7:30pm now, so he pulled out his cell phone and called Barbara.

“Hello?”

“Barb, this is Carl. I’m calling from my cell.” Carl recounted what had happened at the store, including the police questioning him.

Worry was evident in her voice. “Are you all right? That must have been a severely traumatic event. If you want, I could stop by tomorrow to make sure you’re okay.”

Carl smiled. “I don’t have the flu, but I think I would like that. I’ll skip computer class tomorrow and will call the gym to tell them I won’t be coming in.”

He could hear the surprise in her voice. “You joined a gym? And you’re taking classes?”

It didn’t take much to make him feel guilty. “I did. I meant to keep them a secret, so—surprise?”

Carl would have sworn he could sense Barbara smiling on the other end of the line.

“How about noon then? I’ll bring some soup along with a few movies, and we can relax at your house.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Barbara.”

Carl hung up, then did a little dance in his car seat. Tomorrow would be a very good day.

Turning back to the blue boxes, Carl opened them one after the other.

DNA acquired: 1,531

Unallocated points acquired: 30,600

Points remaining: 1

First combat win: 5,000 unallocated points.

Additional bonus for combat win over a module with twice the allocated points as yours: 2,000 unallocated points.

Do you wish to incorporate the acquired skills: Enhanced attractiveness? Enhanced sexual stamina? Enhanced male pheromones? Increased vision to 50x20? Increased leap ability up to 36 inches?

Skills not acquired will be turned into unallocated points. This is a one-time selection.

Extra points were always nice, but the second blue box caught his attention. Carl immediately rejected additional male pheromones as a ridiculous thing to have. And he couldn’t think of any reason for needing to jump three feet in the air, so he rejected that as well.

The 50x20 vision he kept. He didn’t know how it might be useful, but there was a better chance of it coming in handy than the two he’d rejected. That left enhanced attractiveness and enhanced sexual stamina.

Carl wasn’t a prude. Even with a much younger imputed age, he had been celibate for far too long. Eventually with lots of practice his stamina might get back up to his old standard, but what harm was there in being prepared? He’d been a boy scout when he was younger, and while he knew he was stretching things, it did—barely, with a strong dose of rationalizing—fall under the motto of being prepared.

After a lot of internal debate, Carl kept them both. It wasn’t so much that he needed them, but that they gave him advantages that he didn’t naturally have.

Carl mentally made his decision.

Skills acquired: enhanced attractiveness, enhanced sexual stamina, increased vision to 50x20.

Skills deleted in exchange for unallocated points: Enhanced male pheromones, Increased leap up to 36 inches.

Unallocated points acquired: 8,440

Acquired DNA integration time: 13 hours, 25 minutes.

Carl made himself a quick PB&J for dinner, then brushed his teeth before lying down in his bed in a comfortable position. Once he was ready, he accepted the DNA integration and passed out.

Chapter 26

“With genetic engineering, we will be able to increase the complexity of our DNA and improve the human race. But it will be a slow process, because one will have to wait about 18 years to see the effect of changes to the genetic code.”

—Stephen Hawking

Carl woke up feeling refreshed, his mind quickly awake and ready to go. Without any preamble, he headed to the bathroom to see what, if anything, had changed.

The image in the mirror was striking. His chin was more refined, and his cheekbones were higher and more prominent. His skin was soft and supple, like he had applied moisturized last night before going to bed. And his eyes. His eyes had been hazel before going to bed, but now they were a deep, solid green. And he had a dimple in each cheek when he smiled.

All the wrinkles around his eyes were gone, and he noticed that the flab he had around his gut was gone. He didn’t have a six-pack, but it was close. Overall, he still looked like himself, just better. Improved. More refined.

Pulling his shorts out, he glanced down. Everything looked the same, but he felt different. Like he had received an extra dose of virility and masculinity, increased far beyond what was normal.

With a thought Carl turned off the improved sexual stamina and his body returned to normal. It still looked better from the enhanced attractiveness skill, but he didn’t feel like heading in to the store to see Bryn any longer. That feeling of raw masculinity had frightened him a little, if he was being honest. Mainly because it simply wasn’t who he really was.

Instead of driving into the diner, he stayed home as he knew Barbara was heading over around noon and bringing food with her. He tidied up the place, picking up the newspapers and taking them out for recycling and doing all the dishes in the sink. Then he vacuumed, changed the sheets on his bed for fresh ones, and dusted the entire house.

When he was done, he saw a message waiting for him on the answering machine. He must have missed it when he was vacuuming.

“Hi, Carl, this is Randy. I wanted to give you a heads-up that the coins have been appraised and are legitimate. They’re the read deal. The auction house was extremely excited, so I’ve tentatively agreed to put them up for auction although I’ll need you to call in and approve the placement on Monday. You can either pay the fees up front or have them deducted from the proceeds, your call.

Oh, and I almost forgot. I didn’t pay you for the other coins you brought in. I’ve got a check for eighty-three thousand dollars waiting for you whenever you can stop by. Keep hunting down those coins, and you’ll make us both rich. Thanks, Carl.”

Maybe it was the man who’d died yesterday, or maybe it was the fact that he could now change his face into something far more attractive than the genes he’d inherited from his parents. Carl felt a panic attack coming on, as all the changes in his life suddenly overwhelmed him.

Quickly grabbing a paper bag from the closet, he inhaled in and out until the panic attack subsided. His entire body was sweaty and sticky, and a headache was building. He knew he was better off with the blue boxes than he had been without them, but maybe there was a limit. A limit he had unwittingly surpassed by accidentally killing the other blue box user yesterday.

Carl took two ibuprofen and sat down in his recliner. At some point he had fallen asleep, because he woke up with a start when he heard someone knocking on his door.

“Just a minute.” He felt better, but not 100 percent yet. The headache had reduced to a dull ache in the back of his head, but he still felt wrung out.

Straightening himself out, Carl walked over to the door and opened it. Barbara stood there with a large paper bag stuffed to the top.

He tried to smile, but it came out as pained. “Barbara, it’s great to see you. Please come in.”

Her face turned serious in an instant, and he knew he was seeing her as a nurse right now instead of friend. “Are you all right, Carl? You look like all the blood has drained from your face.”

Carl adapted quickly. “I’m still not over what happened yesterday. It’s been a lot to take in. I don’t know how you do it.”

Carl took the bag from her and walked into the kitchen.

“Your house is lovely, Carl. And how I do it—how all nurses do it—is through practice. It’s always hard and sometimes it crushes your spirit, but you push through because there is always another patient waiting for you.”

Carl emptied out the bag, placing the Tupperware containers on the counter. “You made chicken noodle soup. I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I had homemade chicken noodle soup.”

She grinned. “I hope you’re hungry. Why don’t you show me where your pots and pans are and I’ll make lunch? You just go sit down and relax. In fact, why don’t you pick out a movie for us?”

A pile of five DVDs sat on his coffee table. Carl flipped through them, smiling the entire time as he read the titles: Casablanca, Some Like it Hot, ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s, It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, and the only modern film, Groundhog Day.

“I love your choice in movies.” Carl could hear her busy in the kitchen.

“Well, I have to buy them because my schedule is so inconsistent. Sometimes I get off shift at two in the morning, and if I want to watch a movie then I need to have it. I used to go the flea markets to buy them, but now I just buy them online and have them shipped to the house. I know you can watch them on demand, but there’s something about putting a movie in the DVD player. It reminds me of putting records on the stereo, where the only thing you can focus on is what you’ve put on.”

Carl nearly slapped himself on the forehead. It had been so long since he’d had female company over that he’d gotten out of practice. He walked over to the old 1970s stereo that he’d repaired over twenty years ago, replacing all the tubes and changing out the condensers for modern, more reliable ones.

He pulled out an Al Green record and placed it carefully on the record player. He turned the volume down to three, not wanting to overwhelm the conversation. The first song was entirely apropos: Tired of Being Alone.

“Oh, I love that song. Now come in the kitchen and help me bring the food out.”

Carl walked into the kitchen, the smell of hot chicken noodle soup already easing his headache. “Thank you so much for making all this. As you’ve probably guessed, I don’t eat much that is homemade. It’s a wonderful treat.”

She ran a hand soothingly along his shoulder. “We’ve both had tough weeks, and I need it just as much as you do. Most days I eat my meals from the vending machine. They’re not bad, but they’re also not healthy.”

Carl took a large bowl of salad with a vinaigrette dressing out, then came back for the soup and warm garlic bread that had been warmed up in the oven.

“This looks wonderful.”

“Good. My mother always said that chicken noodle soup, garlic bread and hot whiskey with a pinch of cayenne in it would cure any cold. I brought the first two.”

“My mother had something similar. She used to crush the garlic into the hot whiskey and add cayenne and honey. She would usually have two or three when she was sick, and it definitely put her to sleep every time.”

Before they ate, Barbara said grace. He couldn’t remember the last time grace had been said before a meal in this house.

“Dig in. I have more if you’re still hungry.”

They ate in companionable silence, talking between bites about their children, work, life and how things seemed simpler when they were growing up. Carl had two bowls of chicken noodle soup, and had eaten all the garlic bread. It tasted divine.

Barbara started gathering together the plates and utensils to take them to the sink. “Why don’t you pick a movie and I’ll bring out dessert.”

“You brought dessert too?”

Barbara popped her head back out of the kitchen, as if she had done it a thousand times. “Of course, I brought dessert.”

Carl picked Groundhog Day as their movie, mainly because it fit the feeling he’d had earlier this morning. He popped it into the DVD player, pausing it before it got to the actual movie. A few minutes later Barbara came back out with vanilla ice cream covered in hot fudge.

“Will wonders never cease?”

Barbara placed a bowl and a spoon in front of him, then took hers and sat down right next to him on the sofa. Softly, she said, “I certainly hope not.”

They were kissing before Bill Murray even got to Gobbler’s Nob, the last of the ice cream melting in the bowls. Barbara tasted of chocolate and vanilla as she leaned into him, pushing him down on to his back.

When push came to shove, Carl didn’t activate his new enhanced sexual stamina. It felt like cheating, and that was the last thing he wanted to do with this beautiful woman.

Barbara spent the night, having kept an extra set of clothes in her car ‘just in case.’ They each had their own confessions during their night of activity, Carl’s that he had been celibate for a very long time and Barbara’s that she had set the whole thing up from the start. She admitted that she had been attracted to him from the beginning, and wasn’t about to let him get away.

Carl woke up early despite the late-night activities, Barbara curled into his side. He eased his way out and started making breakfast from scratch, starting with the coffee but then progressing to waffles, some breakfast sausages he had in the freezer, and a bowl of fresh fruit from his last shopping expedition.

Barbara woke up to the smell of sausage, then came out wearing one of his old US Navy sweaters. “I hope you don’t mind. I found it in the closet and it fit perfectly.” She spun around, and Carl whistled in response.

They ate in silence, neither of them able to wipe the smile off their face. Once breakfast was done, Barbara said she had to leave.

“I wish I could stay all day, but I’ve got my shift at 11am and I need to get some things done at home. What are you doing this week?”

“I doubt I’ll have to go to work this week after what happened, but I promised my friend Gene that I’d go to the UFO conference with him in McMinnville on Thursday. It goes through Sunday but we’ll probably head back on Saturday night.”

“Really? I never would have taken you for a conspiracy theorist.”

Carl trotted out his usual response. “Conspiracies happen all the time. It only takes two or three people planning to do something and not telling anyone else to create a conspiracy.”

Barbara gave him a flat stare. “I wasn’t criticizing. I’ve got some friends at work who believe cancer can easily be cured and has been proven to do so multiple times during the last century. The only problem is that it’s not profitable for the big pharmaceutical companies because the cures use common ingredients, so they keep looking for a trademarked cure while patients are subjected to chemo.”

“What do you think?”

“Well. I honestly don’t know. But the human body can cure itself of most things using herbs and plants, just like the native Americans did for centuries. Cancer, while frightening, can’t be that much different.”

“Interesting. I’ve never heard that theory.”

Barbara checked the time and started to grab her Tupperware off the kitchen counter. Carl stood up to clean them first but she shushed him away. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll wash them at home and bring even more food over for next time.”

“So, you’re saying there will be a next time?”

“I think I said it a few times last night, if I recall correctly.” Barbara blushed, her cheeks turning a deep pink.

“I might remember something along those lines as well. I’ll check my schedule and give you a call. Maybe we can get together sometime before you leave for your conference.”

Carl grinned. “I’d like that.”

They kissed next to his door for a few minutes until Barbara pushed him away. “I’d like that too. See you, Carl.”

Carl did the dishes after finishing off the last of the waffles and sausages. He then went to the phone to call work, only to see a message blinking on the answering machine.

“Carl, this is Bryn. We didn’t have time to go over this on Friday, but I’ve checked with Corporate and because of what happened you’ll be on paid leave for the next two weeks. If you haven’t already, I recommend talking to a friend or a therapist, whichever you’re most comfortable with to deal with the trauma. If you don’t have any one to speak with, my personal number is…”

Not wanting to hear the rest of the message, Carl hit delete. He didn’t need the money but it was nice to be on paid leave, and it was a perfect opportunity to pursue his projects. Not wanting to wait around, Carl packed a bag for a few days’ worth of traveling and got in the car. During his research of gold mines in Oregon, he had discovered that there were mines still being discovered near the Rogue River and Medford in southern Oregon. Even better, it was only a four-hour drive from Portland down to Medford.

Chapter 27

“There can be no other criterion, no other standard than gold. Yes, gold which never changes, which can be shaped into ingots, bars, coins, which has no nationality, and which is eternally and universally accepted as the unalterable fiduciary value par excellence.”

—Charles de Gaulle

Carl arrived in Medford just after 3pm, then drove around for another thirty minutes until he found a nice, clean motel to stay in. Once that was done, he drove to a small shop in downtown Medford that sold maps of the area that the motel attendant had directed him to.

Unsurprisingly, the shop was empty of customers, and the cashier couldn’t be seen either. A small metal bell had been placed next to the cash register, very similar to the bell that used to be so prominent in hotel lobbies of days past, and Carl rang it.

“Just a moment.” A door opened, and Carl heard a radio playing somewhere in the back of the building.

A few minutes later an older man walked out, a bushy white mustache under his nose the largest amount of hair visible on his head. “Hello.”

“Yes, I’m looking for maps of gold and silver mines in the area. Both past and current if you have them.”

The man tapped a finger against his chin. “Never had that kind of request before. It might take a while, especially to add the newer mines in. Most are reported to the Bureau of Land Management, but there are a few private mines that are hidden from public view. I can’t say where they are exactly, but I’ve heard the rumors just like everyone else. You looking to get rich down here?”

Carl laughed. “No, it’s more of an engineering interest. I’ve been an engineer for over forty years, and am looking to help make mines safer.” It was the thinnest cover of any lie he’d ever told, but the man bought it. Carl hated telling lies, but in this case, he felt that telling a lie was safer than sharing the truth.

“You know, you really should be working on the coal mines out East. Lots of deaths, or so I’ve heard.”

“My company tried, but the unions wouldn’t allow it.”

That seemed to stymy the man’s line of questioning.

After typing the details of Carl’s request into a computer, the man said, “Give me your phone number and I’ll call when I have a map ready. Actually, it will probably be multiple maps if that’s all right. Doubt I could get everything in sufficient detail on just one map. I’ll also provide a PDF version if you want it, along with the printed version.”

Carl smiled, as he now knew what a PDF file was from class last week. “That will be fine.” Carl gave his cell phone number, then left the store and walked down Main Street to a diner he had spotted while searching for the map shop.

The waitress called to him from behind the counter. “Be with you in a second. Special is roasted pheasant with cranberry sauce.”

The diner proved to be a cut above most diners, and a contender against Chloe’s diner—not that he would ever tell her that. He’d skipped the pheasant for beef stew, which had been thick and full of meat and potatoes. His mother would have said that it was a meal to put hair on your chest, and she would have been right.

He finished it off with freshly made banoffee pie, something he’d only had once before. It was sweet and creamy, with thick whipped cream on top and fresh bananas and caramel on the bottom. A hot cup of coffee cut through the sweetness.

Instead of driving back to the motel, Carl turned on his failing business sense as he drove through Medford. The town looked to be struggling with more than a few worn down buildings, but to his surprise, he only found two businesses where his senses tingled.

The first was a laundromat right next to a road in a place where the street lights had mysteriously been shot out. He pulled over and walked inside, only to see that a third of the machines were out of order. A Hispanic family eyed him cautiously, so he turned tail and went back to the car. He might be able to turn the business around, but he didn’t need a laundromat four hours away from where he lived.

The second business was more interesting. It was a bar that already had a decent crowd. It was one street off of Main, and as far as Carl could tell there was no reason it should be failing. The interior was clean for a bar, and hot food was coming out at a steady pace. The beer selection was massive, with dozens of local and regional brews on tap. Two pool tables and a few arcade games were set up in back, but most of the business was up front.

Carl walked up to a waitress and asked for the manager.

She frowned. “Who are you?”

He smiled, having trouble hearing over the noise. “I’m a potential investor. I’d like to talk to the manager, or even better the owner. My name’s Carl.” He held out his hand to shake.

She took it tentatively. “Joey’s the manager, he’s in back. The owner is out of town, or so I’ve heard.” The young woman, who looked to be far too thin for her age, looked back and forth nervously. The she whispered just loud enough for him to hear. “Joey gets angry a lot, so I’d rather you not rile him. We have a good crowd tonight.”

Carl nodded. If it wasn’t wise to speak with Joey, he would take a different tack. “Thank you for your help. Good day.”

Carl started walking back to his car. Once he was inside, he pulled out his cell phone and called Rebecca’s office and left a message.

“Rebecca, apologies for leaving a message on Sunday but I’ve come across something interesting. There is a bar in Medford called The Rustler’s Brand, and it seems to be in poor financial shape. Could you put me in touch with a business broker, as apparently the owner is out of town? I don’t know exactly what that means, but that’s what I was told. Thanks again for all your help.”

Carl was about to drive home when he spotted a worn-down theater showing The Searchers, an old John Wayne movie. He pulled into the parking lot, bought a ticket and sat down just a few minutes after it started. To his surprise, there was a ten-minute intermission that had been cut into the movie so that the theater could sell more beer and a variety of hot food.

Carl walked over to the concession and bought a hot roast beef sandwich along with a porter. After he paid, they gave him a glow in the dark marker which he took back to his seat.

The food arrived a few minutes after the movie started up again. The roast beef sandwich had been slathered with horseradish sauce, one of his favorite condiments, and the beer was warming in a different way.

When the movie ended, he picked up a schedule of movies for the rest of the week. Tomorrow night was Rio Bravo, and the night after that was The Man Who Shot Liberty Vallance. All in all, it was a great week for movies, and Carl intended to see each of them before returning to Portland.

Chapter 28

“Mining is a dangerous profession. There’s no way to make a mine completely safe: These are the words owners have always used to excuse needless deaths and the words miners use to prepare for them.”

—Tawni O’Dell

Rebecca called at 10am, just as he was paying his check after breakfast at the diner. He’d gone for a run earlier in the morning, the cold morning air feeling good as he stretched his legs.

“Carl, you get around more than I do. What are you doing in Medford of all places?”

“I’m pursuing a personal project. If it works out, I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Fine, fine. Keep your secrets. You asked about a business broker, and I only know of one that has offices in Southern Oregon. They’re based in Ashland, just a half hour south of where you’re at, and they have a very good reputation.” Rebecca passed over their contact details.

“Thanks, Rebecca. Any word from the accountant?”

“Actually, yes. He finished up his work on Friday and has a report I can email you if you brought your laptop.”

“I did. Can you give me the short version and then I’ll look at the full report later tonight.”

“The short version is that the business is barely hanging on by the skin of their teeth. Evan is keeping it going by sheer force of will. Not only are they behind on taxes, but they’re behind on payroll for a few employees and rent as well. The value is in the clients, and if you want to pursue this you need to know that there will be a large cash outlay to clear all the problems up first.”

“How large?”

“Conservatively, ninety thousand should do it. The business itself isn’t worth much since the only value is in the clients. Each rider buys their own bike, and with the exception of some older computers, a printer and a few other things, there isn’t any capital in the company.”

“Did the accountant get a sense if Evan is willing to sell?”

“He did. This is all unofficial, mind you, but based on the EBITDA and numerous unpaid bills, he recommends you pay nothing to Evan and simply buy the business by taking on the liabilities.”

“Does he have a sense of what the potential profit is per year?”

“Yes, just a moment. Let me pull up the report.”

Carl could hear papers being shuffled in the background.

“I’ve got it. Based on all the liabilities being paid and the larger clients having their payment reset to what they were before, the business could generate a steady profit of forty thousand a year. That’s variable, as business goes up and down, but he thinks that is a conservative estimate.”

“So, I’d be paying two years’ profit in advance for the business?”

“That’s correct, more or less. It sounds worse than it is. Most buyers pay a multiple of the earnings to buy a business. Two times earnings could be looked at as reasonable, assuming you want to own a courier service.”

Carl thought on the matter, already knowing what he wanted to do. He liked Evan, and thought that between the two of them they could make this a viable business.

“Make an offer based on what we discussed. I’ll pay the liabilities, and Evan can retain a ten-percent ownership if he agrees. All the riders will need to sign the new employment contract if they haven’t already. And I’d like to hire the accountant to do the books for the company for the foreseeable future, if he agrees.”

“Are you sure about this, Carl?”

“I am. If you’d like, I can wire the funds to your office to have everything paid immediately should Evan accept. When I get back to Portland, I’ll meet with him and come up with new advertising and client contracts. I’ll probably need recommendations on both those points.”

Thoughts cascaded through Rebecca’s mind, not least of which was whether Carl might buy out her law firm. He seemed to have the funds necessary to take businesses to the next level, and God knows that they needed that. She had a feeling that one partner was close to pulling out, and should that happen that it would probably be the end of their law firm. Which would then force her to go back to work for one of the big law firms, which she despised.

Rebecca almost asked, but something within her wouldn’t allow her to say it. Not over the phone, but maybe when he was back in Portland, she would build up her courage and ask.

“I’ll draw up some paperwork for you to sign when you return. Don’t bother wiring the funds until we have a firm commitment from Evan. I’ll call him right now with your offer, and start drawing up the paperwork. And I’ll email you the full report in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, Rebecca. You’re a life saver.”

Carl closed his flip phone, got out of his car and walked back to the map shop. He hadn’t received a call, but a check-in wouldn’t hurt.

The owner saw him as soon as he stepped through. “You must be psychic. I was just about to call you. Your maps are done, and they look damn good if you don’t mind me bragging a bit.”

The maps were unrolled on the glass counters. Old mines were marked in black and showed which kind of metals had been taken from them. Quite a few had both copper and silver, while far fewer had gold. The new mines were less than 10 percent of the total of the old mines, and almost all were silver and copper. He saw only two new gold mines, and they were both placed close together.

“How do I tell which plat these mines are on?”

The owner pointed at the markings on every side. “The plats are marked out this way, so if you know where you are, you’ll know which plat you’re on. The roads are based on the latest GPS data, so they should be correct.”

Carl smiled. This was exactly what he needed if he was going to find a new mine. “How much?”

“Three hundred and fifty. I know it’s a bit steep, but I worked most of the night on these and had to make more than a few calls. They’re worth the money.”

He had no desire to haggle. “That they are.” Carl handed his debit card over to the man, who quickly swiped it through his machine.

The owner rolled the maps back up and placed them in marked tubes.

Another question had been simmering in the back of Carl’s mind, and he decided he might try it out on a local. “Can I ask a completely unrelated question?”

“Fire away.”

“The Rustler’s Brand bar, just down the way. Any idea what happened to the owner?”

A scowl crossed the mapmaker’s face. “No one knows for sure. He just up and disappeared. As far as anybody knows, his wife owns the place now. It used to be the best bar in Medford, and it isn’t bad now but something’s missing. The manager was hired by the wife, and he’s a piece of work. Why’re you asking?”

Carl did his best to keep his face neutral. “Just wondering. I appreciate your insights.”

The mapmaker saw right through him. “You thinking of buying?”

Carl couldn’t hide the surprise on his face. “How...?”

The mapmaker grinned. “I got a sense for these things. Stranger comes into town and asks about a bar that’s down on its luck. It’s a good investment. You get it fixed up and hire the old manager back, and people will flock to it again just like they used to.”

“Who was the old manager?”

“A man by the name of Ted Anderson. He’s local and still bitter about the whole affair. You need any help talking to him, you let me know. We go way back.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Carl left, then turned his car back to I-5 and headed south down to Ashland. The maps would have to wait just a bit longer.

He found the business broker’s office after driving around a good bit, the business hidden back in the far corner of an industrial business park. Carl walked through the door, which was open.

“May I help you?”

The receptionist was an older lady, similar to Sabine, who had the look of someone who knew their business.

“Yes, my lawyer recommended I come down to talk with one of your brokers. I’m interested in buying a business in Medford.”

“Ah yes, I have it right here. The Rustler’s Brand, correct?”

“That’s the one.”

“Just a moment. Bill is on a call, but I’ll send you in as soon as he’s done. We have coffee available if you’d like a cup.”

“Good coffee?”

The receptionist smiled. “Of course. You think the men back there would drink anything else?”

Carl smiled. “That sounds wonderful.”

The receptionist had told the truth. The coffee was rich without the bitterness that some of the national chains seemed to favor, and it was hot enough to scald his mouth. Just how he liked it.

“Bill will see you now. Just head on back, he’s in office 103.”

“Thank you.”

Bill was short with wiry black hair, and if Carl didn’t know any better, he would say that the man could easily pass for a used car salesman. He had the intense sort of look that some car dealers got when they latched on to a live one.

He was also a man who got straight to business.

“I understand you’re interested in The Rustler’s Brand. It’s a strange business, as the owner has gone missing. The wife filed a missing person’s report a few years back and told some story about him going off with a lover, but I don’t buy it. I think she killed him for his money.”

“Really?”

The broker shrugged. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? What it means for you is that she’s likely to sell, but will push for a good price.”

Carl decided to be direct as well. “Do you have the EBITDA figures and current cash flow? Is the building leased or owned? And what kind of employment contracts do the employees have?”

Bill the broker paused. “I see that you know your stuff. We’ll need to gather those details in time, but I recommend reaching out to the owner personally. I can do it, of course, and would be happy to accompany you if you’d like, but people around here like the personal touch.”

Carl nodded. “I can do that, although I’m only in the area until Wednesday. Then I need to head back to Portland.”

“Here’s what I’ll do. Let me reach out to the wife and see if she’s interested in an exploratory meeting. If she is, we’ll get you over to meet her. If she gives the go ahead, then you may need to head back down this way a few times. That work?”

Carl reached his hand out to shake Bill’s. “It does.”

“Good. We don’t require a deposit up front, but if this proceeds any further, you’ll need to put up guaranteed funds in escrow. I should also mention that our fees are 20 percent of the purchase price.”

Carl shook his head. “Ten.” He had done his research in advance and knew the average for business brokers was 10 percent.

Bill shook his finger at Carl. “Damn, you’re good. Fine, 10 percent, but I’d like your word that you use our firm for any future business.”

“You do right by me, and I’ll agree to that.”

“It’s a deal. Fill out the form and return it to Lisa out front, and I’ll give a call when I hear back.”

Carl drove away from the broker with a few thoughts on his mind. One was if he could discern whether the wife was telling the truth. The problem with that idea was that he didn’t really want to know if others were lying to him. He pulled over to the curb to think about different possibilities.

His next idea was to see if he could find the husband’s body. Doing so might tie up the business in court for years, but that didn’t worry him too much. And it would ensure that justice would be served.

To find human bodies under the Earth’s surface, one of the following DNA types is required.

Dog (Canis lupus) – already acquired.

Points required to integrate an additional skill based on an existing DNA type: 6,000 unallocated points.

Time to integrate: n/a (DNA type already integrated)

Carl checked his current total of unallocated DNA points: 74,033. He was taking a chance, and while he could make up six thousand points in a single day of work, he was wary now after he had battled another person with the blue boxes.

Still, he thought it was worth it. With a thought, he said yes.

He was glad he wasn’t driving. He didn’t pass out, but the sensations that roiled through his body were disturbing. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it felt like an unused portion of his brain had just opened up for business.

Rolling down the window, he sniffed using the new skill. In the far distance, he picked up the distinct stench of death, which probably meant a funeral home or a cemetery. The odor was one of rot and decay, like a dead animal left in the sun too long but human in a way he couldn’t quite define. He shuddered briefly before turning off the skill. Now he could get back to his reason for coming down to southern Oregon.

Following the map, Carl identified an area with one gold mine and half a dozen silver mines. All but one were older mines, but that didn’t mean that a vein or lode hadn’t been missed back in the day. Knowing this, Carl turned on his metal searching sense ten miles before he reached the area, following secondary two-lane roads that wound up and around the hills above Medford.

He immediately caught a scent of silver, but it quickly faded out in less than a mile and had never been strong. Pressing on, he slowed down to twenty miles an hour with one eye on the road and one on the landscape, his mind entirely focused on his nose.

Three hours of driving later, and after being honked at by a couple of tractors and a dozen cars, Carl pulled over. He’d caught a few distant scents, but nothing stood out. It was enough to give him pause as to whether this idea would work out or not. After all, he still had the courier business to look forward to. He was almost positive that Evan would take his offer, as the young man was under water financially and didn’t want a real job.

Disappointed but unwilling to give up just yet, Carl scanned the map. A few mines were scattered all around, none in a straight line or anything that gave him a clue as to where a mine would be. Truth be told, he hadn’t used a physical map in a good long time, all his road trips having been mapped out by his ex’s GPS on her phone.

The contour elevation lines on the map were interesting, especially now that he could look at them in the area he was in and match them to reality. Following the contours, he saw that all but one of the scattered mines followed the contour lines in this area. The roads mostly followed the contours at a lower elevation, so he turned the car back on and headed in that direction.

The scent of silver flooded his nostrils after a sharp one-hundred and eighty degree turn around a sheer block of granite. Parking his car a hundred yards down the road in a turnout, he got out and started walking. It was one thing to smell silver, but he needed to know the plat number before he could buy the mineral rights.

Southern Oregon weather in the winter was bitterly cold, the wind whipping along the hills. Carl zipped his jacket up as high as it would go, sweating on the inside while his face froze on the outside as he hiked up.

It took almost an hour before he could zero in on the scent. It was on the northeast corner of one plat, which meant it would be a good idea to buy the plats surrounding the plat he was standing on. Carl circled all three plats and wrote one word inside the circle: buy-S.

By the time he returned to his motel, dusk had come and gone, and the stars shone brightly overhead. He had found seven plats that he was positive had silver underneath them, and two that had gold. The gold scents weren’t as strong, but they were distinct and the area was large enough that he thought a good amount of gold lay under the surface.

He dropped off all his maps and gear in his room before heading to the diner. The waitress recognized him and had a hot coffee in his hand seconds after he sat down.

“What’s the special?”

“Tonight, we’ve got chicken cordon bleu. I had half a chicken for lunch and I’m still full.”

“That sounds good. I’ll take it.”

The chicken was moist and stuffed full of cheese, spinach, and nuts—pine nuts, or so he was told after he asked—and it tasted delicious. It was fancier than the diner fare back in Portland, but the cook here knew what he was doing and the results were proof.

Carl finished things off with a slice of banoffee pie, just like last night.

When he got back to the motel, he called his answering machine and had messages from Barbara, Gene, and Rebecca. He called Barbara first, getting her voicemail.

“Hi Barb, sorry I missed your call. I’m down in Medford right now on business. I’ll explain when I get back, which won’t be until Sunday because of the UFO conference. Hope you’re doing well.” Carl paused. He didn’t want to end with ‘I love you,’ but after the intimacy of last weekend he couldn’t just say goodbye.

“I really miss you, and am looking forward to seeing you when I get back. I can’t seem to get my toes warm at night without you next to me.”

Carl hung up, then banged his head against the wall. Of all the dumbass things to say. ‘I can’t keep my toes warm…?’ First, it wasn’t always true. He’d been born warm blooded, and rarely had trouble staying comfortable.

He called Gene next, who did pick up.

“Where the heck are you? I know you’re not at home.”

“I’m in Medford. I’ll meet you in McMinnville on Thursday. Does that work?”

“Yeah, it works but it’s odd. Why are you in Medford of all places? Have any UFO sightings?” Gene chuckled loudly at his own joke.

“Nope. I’m here on business. Possible business. I’ll tell you about it on Thursday over a beer. It’s too soon to say, and I don’t want to jinx it.”

Carl didn’t believe in jinxing anything, but he knew Gene did.

Gene’s next words were deadly serious. “I believe you.”

Carl nodded. He’d gotten that right. “Exactly. So, hold tight, and I’ll fill you in then. Everything all right back there?”

“Well, you missed seeing the Bigfoot documentary.” Carl’s first question was how there could be a documentary on a mythical creature that had yet to be documented or truly discovered? Carl had no answer to that question.

“And Ancient Aliens had a really accurate show for once. They talked about how the Egyptians used alien anti-gravitational mechanics to build the pyramids in ten days. I taped it in case you want to watch it later.”

“Maybe. But why does it have to be alien technology? Couldn’t they have figured it out on their own? You know, like the religious sect that reportedly could levitate people and heavy objects up a cliff by singing?”

“Hmmm. That’s a darn good point. I’m going to have to do some research before heading to work.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Gene. I’m going to hit the sack.”

“See you, Carl. Don’t forget about the UFO conference.”

Carl hung up instead of replying.

He called back his answering machine, deleting the first two messages before listening to Rebecca’s for the first time.

“Carl, give me a call if you have time this week. I have an update on your offer to Fastcycle, and have a preliminary report on mineral rights issues. And I meant to ask, did you connect with the business broker?” Rebecca coughed. “And, umm…I’d, um, like to talk to you about something a little more personal. We’ve had some personnel changes here at the law firm recently, and I’d like to get your thoughts on an idea I had. Give me a call.”

What kind of personnel changes had there been? Had Rebecca been fired? Or left? It didn’t fit with her personality really, as she was a hard worker who had gone the extra mile for him in the short time he’d known her.

His cell phone rang, interrupting his thought process.

“Hello?”

“Carl, this is Bill. I’m sorry it’s late, but I’ve got an answer for you. The wife of the owner of the Rustler’s Brand has agreed to meet with you tomorrow at 3pm. She sounded interested in selling, but don’t promise her anything before talking to me first. I unfortunately can’t make it as I have another appointment, but I’d like to catch up with you afterwards. My bet is that she’ll shoot high with her price, and only grudgingly come down from there. Let me know if I’m right.”

Bill then read off the owner’s address, which wasn’t far from where he had been driving around. Carl wrote it in his notebook, underlining it for emphasis.

Then he took a shower and got in bed, spinning the virtual dial on the TV until he found Planet of the Apes. He hadn’t seen the original film in ages, so he watched it all the way through despite the annoying number of commercials.

With that, he fell asleep.

Chapter 29

After a hearty breakfast at the diner, Carl called Rebecca back at 10am. She picked up on the second ring.

“Hello, this is Rebecca.”

“Rebecca, this is Carl. I got your message last night.”

“Carl, it’s good to hear from you. I have a lot of updates so I hope you’re sitting down. First, Evan accepted a general sales and purchase agreement where he retains ten percent ownership while you pay off all the current debts and bring payroll up to date. The accountant has agreed to stay on for at least a year, which is renewable if you think you need him. You’ll need to come in to sign the paperwork, and you should bring two forms of identification.”

“Can it wait until next Monday? I’m down in Medford, which I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Really? Oh—wait. You’re looking for mines, aren’t you?”

“Yes, and the bar I told you about. I did meet with the broker and I’m meeting with the owner this afternoon. I’ll update you after that.”

“Excellent. I did hire a survey group that specializes in mining and mineral rights and had them prepare a report for you. It’s mostly general information, but I thought you might find it helpful. I’d be happy to email it to you to read through, but the short of it is that you’ll need to buy the existing mineral rights from the current owners. That sometimes triggers the owners as they may think you’ve found something they’ve missed, so you may want to purchase a large swath of mineral rights’ plats to belay that interest. Just a thought.

“Once you have the mineral rights, you’ll need to hire a mining group. Those contracts can be tricky, so I’d like to have a look at them beforehand if you’re comfortable with that.”

“Of course. Absolutely.”

“Great. I’ve just sent the mineral rights report off to you.”

“You also mentioned something about personnel changes?”

“Ahh, you caught that. Just a second.” Carl heard Rebecca get up and close the door to her office.

She lowered her voice, which seemed odd since she had just closed her door. “I admit that I feel a bit odd talking about this, especially over the phone. We’ve only known each other for a short while, but I like the way you think. You’re honest, and you don’t play games with people.”

Carl said nothing, letting Rebecca say her piece and get it off her chest.

“Yeah, so, okay. Dan, the third lawyer who I don’t think you’ve met, left us last Friday. He’s been unhappy for a while, and the volume of business we sent him as a junior partner wasn’t what he was hoping for. Which means our law firm is on shaky ground now. We have about five months in cash to keep us afloat, but unless a large client walks through the door, we’re in trouble.”

Carl had turned on his failing business sense as soon as she mentioned the junior partner leaving. He didn’t know if it would work over the phone, but to his surprise it did. The scent wasn’t as strong as it had been with Fastcycle or The Rustler’s Brand, but he imagined it would be a month or two from now.

What really cinched it for him was his relationship with Rebecca. He liked her, and she’d been a huge help as he tried to find his way through his new business career. Because of that, he didn’t hesitate with his reply. “Draw up some preliminary paperwork, and have the accountant pull together your cash flow and EBITDA numbers while you think of what price you want. I can’t think of anything better than having a law firm—and the lovely lady who is a part owner—helping me with all my legal issues.”

Rebecca let out the breath she’d been holding. “Are you sure? I know I caught you by surprise. And please don’t take this the wrong way, but Robert and I would like to get a sense of what your net worth is before agreeing. I hope that isn’t too forward.”

“Not at all. A rough estimate, bearing in mind that not everything is liquid, would be in excess of two million. Does that work?”

Rebecca was flabbergasted. She liked Carl, not romantically but as an enterprising older man who took action when too many others sat in front of their computers or TVs. How had he managed to pull together that amount of wealth?

“That...um, should be fine, I think. I’ll let Robert know. And I think we would both like to retain our current interest in the firm. You would be buying in as a semi-silent partner and helping us get new business.”

Carl smiled. “That sounds fine. Why don’t I have the marketing company I was planning to use head on over to meet with you and Robert? As a gesture of good will, to get the ball rolling.”

“That would be amazing. We’ve never had the budget for marketing, relying almost entirely on word of mouth.”

“It’s a plan. I’ll have them give you a call directly after I meet with them next week.”

“Thanks, Carl. I’m speechless. We fought so hard for this firm, and to see it go under… well, I don’t know what I would do. You’re a life saver.”

“You’re very welcome. And since I have you on the phone, I have a few purchases I’d like to make.”

Carl started reading out the plats he wanted, along with twenty other plats that would hopefully obscure the mines he had sniffed out. Literally. Once that was done, they said their goodbyes, promising to catch up in person once he was back in Portland.

He had close to four hundred thousand in cash in the bank, which should be more than enough for Fastcycle and, depending on the price, the law firm as well. He hadn’t heard from Randy yet, so he decided to give him a ring for an update.

“Hello?”

“Yes, is Randy there?”

“Just a sec.”

“Hello?”

“Randy, this is Carl. Thought I’d give a call for an update.”

Randy laughed out loud. “Carl, you’re a freaking genius. I already told you that the coins had been authenticated, and then I had them taken by insured courier over to Sotheby’s. They did their own authentication and came back with the same results. Your coins are the real deal.”

“When is the auction?”

“Damn, sorry. My mind is spinning a thousand miles an hour here. The auction is in two months. They wanted to push it back to get the most bidders, and I agreed. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, that’s fine. But why?”

“Well that’s the best part. I gave you an estimate of a million a coin, but they think the coins will go for a lot more. Like, double what I said. Possibly higher than that.”

Carl was stunned into silence.

“I know, I know! It’s crazy, but that’s rare coins for you. They’ll take their cut but you’ll still make out like a bandit.”

Carl’s mind was keeping pace with the conversation, and it pinpointed a possible opportunity. “As will you, Randy. Have you ever thought of having a partner in your business?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. You’re making money off me, and I’d like to have a cut. I’ll be a silent partner, and maybe you can open a second or third store in the future. I’d like to have my accountant go over your books, but what do you say?”

It was Randy’s turn to be stunned silent. He’d been on his own for so long, carving out his little piece of the world through this store. Before Carl had shown up, he’d been getting by, but two stores? Three? It was hard to imagine what that would look like, and how much that would change his life.

When Randy spoke, his voice was a little shaky. “Can you give me the weekend to think about it?”

“Sure. I’m in Medford anyway, so let’s meet next week over coffee and talk it through.”

Randy blurted out the idea he’d had ever since he leased his store. “Could we buy the building?” He wanted the security of ownership, where he wouldn’t lose his store if business turned bad for a few months.

Carl laughed. “We’ll talk about it, but I won’t say no. It all depends on the numbers.”

“If you buy the building, I’m in.”

“Let me call my lawyer back and look into it. While I do that, start thinking of what you want. Increased advertising? More stores? Maybe sell over the internet? You know the business better than I do, so think about it. Have some ideas jotted down for next Monday.”

“I will, buddy. I will. You stay safe, okay? You’ve made my year.”

They bantered a bit after that, but Randy was too wound up to speak coherently after a while so they said their goodbyes. Carl decided to call Rebecca back instead of waiting.

“Carl?”

“Hi Rebecca. I have another piece of business for you to look into. You know that coin shop two blocks down from your firm, across the street?”

“Vaguely. Why?”

“I’d like you to look into who owns the building. See if they’re willing to sell, and at what price.”

“Don’t tell me. You’re buying the coin shop.”

“Close. I’m investing in it. Possibly. I know the owner, and he’s a large part of the reason that I have the funds to help you and Robert.”

“Seriously? That is a story I would love to hear some time.” She had no idea how coins had made Carl so wealthy, but she desperately wanted to know.

“Another time maybe. Thanks, Rebecca. I’ve got to go.”

Carl hung up, then checked his answering machine to see if Barb had called back. She hadn’t and he had no messages, so he got in his car and tried a different part of the map. He felt a bit like a juggler with a dozen plates in the air, but he also felt more energized than he’d been in a long time. It helped to keep his mind off the man who’d died shaking his hand as well.

He filled up with gas a little before 2pm, having sensed nothing of interest despite driving almost eighty miles. Now that he had a reference point from yesterday, he knew that what he was smelling were only tiny pockets of gold and silver. Far too small to excavate, or so he guessed.

After a quick bite at the gas station, he hopped in his car and headed back across the interstate to the owner of The Rustler’s Brand’s house. Her name was Elizabeth Byrne, and her deceased husband was Patrick. At the bar he went by Paddy, or so Carl had been told.

The driveway up to the house was long and paved, with flowers lining it the entire way. Thick lawns stretched out on either side of the driveway that would make a golf course jealous, with a massive two-story house looking imperiously down from above.

He parked his ancient Honda in the circular drive, a brand-new black Jaguar with the paper plate in the rear-view window and some sports car he didn’t recognize taking up only a quarter of the space.

He got out of his car and walked to the ten-foot-tall front double doors that served as an entrance. A butler greeted him before he could ring the bell.

“Right this way, sir. The lady is waiting for you on the patio. Are you by chance allergic to gluten?”

“Thanks, and no. Gluten is fine.” Carl shook his head in dismay. Who the hell was this lady? And how had a simple bar owner’s wife become so rich?

“Very well. Finger sandwiches will be served in due course.”

Finger sandwiches? He’d just eaten a hot dog at the gas station. Finger sandwiches seemed too…effeminate for someone like him. Or any man, for that matter.

The butler led him through the house, which was filled with highly polished antiques. A grand piano took pride of place in one of three living rooms he walked through, with a half dozen sofas and loveseats filling the space. Most looked to be antiques, although he couldn’t tell the real thing from a reproduction. Maybe that was something he could look into if he had the time.

The windows at the front of the house had an amazing one hundred and eighty-degree view over Medford and the neighboring hills. A water garden hidden from view on the drive up could be seen next to a pagoda down below.

The butler bowed to the lady, who nodded in return. “Mrs. Byrne, may I present Carl Thompson.”

The woman in front of him could easily pass for someone in their early forties, although he knew from the broker that she was actually in her mid-sixties. Had she had plastic surgery? Whatever the reason was, she was a knockout and more than happy to show it off.

“May I call you Carl?”

“Of course, Mrs. Byrne.”

Carl sat down at a marble table with a large canopy blocking out the sun. “Please call me Beth. There’s no need to be so formal, don’t you agree?”

Beth’s teeth were perfectly white, and her nails looked perfect as well. Carl had met women—and a few men—like this before. The kind of people who liked to present perfection, which was as unobtainable on this planet as the truth about JFK’s assassination was. They also tended to have messy personal lives, which he already knew was true for Beth.

A cup of tea was poured for him by the butler, who then placed cubes of sugar and ice-cold cream near his cup. Carl ignored the tea, instead turning on his newest sense. The one that would tell him whether her husband lay dead somewhere on the property.

To his astonishment, he smelled nothing. He turned his nose as he pretended to be appreciating the view, but again smelled nothing.

“Carl, am I to understand that you wish to buy that nasty bar that I inherited from my late husband?”

“I’m certainly interested, but it’s too soon to say whether I would buy or not. A lot of work has to be done before a deal can be closed.”

She smiled, and it sent a shiver of fear down his back. “I’m sure you’re right. I don’t know anything about business, I’m afraid.”

Carl didn’t have a sense to prove it, but Beth had just told an outright lie. Carl would bet good money on it.

“Can you tell me a little about it? Things I wouldn’t pick up from visiting it, for example?”

“Of course. My husband loved that bar and spent far too much time there, in my opinion. Not anymore, of course.” Beth laughed like a braying donkey, the sound grating and false to his ears. “He purchased it shortly after we married and turned it into what it is now. When he bought it, the place was a mess and didn’t serve anything besides pretzels, peanuts and cheap beer. It smelled like cigarette smoke all the time, and when he came home, he smelled exactly the same. I made him wash up outside and change his clothes before he came into the house for dinner.”

Not only was Beth a perfectionist, she was a woman who liked control. It bothered him more than a little that he couldn’t smell death in this place, as it was outfitted like a fancy funeral parlor.

“It took ten long years before he whipped it into shape, but he did it. The bar made good money then, and still does, thank you very much. I’ve changed a few things, like the old codger of a manager for someone who knows modern business practices, but otherwise I stay away.”

Beth’s lips quirked up when she mentioned the new business manager, Joey. He imagined, thankfully not vividly, that Joey had earned his position in a more physical manner than most people did.

“When my poor husband passed, I sold our old home and built this one. Isn’t it magnificent?”

The gears in Carl’s head whirred to life. If he wanted to start looking for Paddy’s body, the previous home would be a great place to start.

“Do you have any other questions?”

“Actually, I do. I’m a local investor, and I see potential in your bar. Before we talk numbers, would you agree to have my accountant come in and look over your books? Or you could have your accountant certify the numbers?”

Beth’s foot danced lightly next to his. Then she winked, the action causing the rest of her porcelain, plastic face to stretch into a rictus grin. Carl coughed, horrified, then looked at his watch and stood up.

“I see I’ve taken up too much of your time. You have Bill’s number, so please call him and let him know your plans with the bar, if any.”

Beth’s face turned to one of red fury, the false smile forgotten. “You sit back down right now! I’m not done with you yet. You want to buy that stinking, filthy bar? Then you have to meet me halfway.” She tried to smile flirtatiously, but the effect was lost after the previous outburst.

Carl continued to back away, not quite to the doorway yet. “I’m afraid I have other engagements. Thank you for your time. Good day.” Carl walked briskly away, fast-walking through the house until he found the front door. A choked scream could be heard behind him. He didn’t imagine that Beth got rejected very often, especially with her newfound wealth and enhanced looks.

Then he stopped. He hadn’t turned off the death scent sense yet, and it blared at him like a train whistle. An old grandfather clock, yet to be restored, was the source. He was about to move closer to verify when the butler came around the corner, forcing Carl to make a beeline for his car.

The butler was still walking toward him when the car started and he put it in gear, flying down the driveway. A gunshot could be heard through the open car windows, but whoever had shot at him hadn’t hit him or the car.

Once he was off Beth’s property, he called Bill.

“Hello?”

“Bill, this is Carl. I met with Beth and let’s just say it didn’t go well. I think she just shot a rifle at me.”

“What?”

“You heard me right. I’m still interested in the bar, but I don’t want to have anything further to do with that lady. You work with her, but don’t let her get too close or she’ll pull you to the floor and have her way with you. I’m not joking in the slightest.”

Bill choked on his coffee. “You can’t be serious, Carl. She’s a respected patron of the arts and supports many local charities.”

“That may be so, but she’s not a nice person. Not a nice person at all.” Carl couldn’t bring himself to swear, not even when it was the only word that expressed the truth of the matter.

“Where did you leave the deal at?”

“I offered to have my accountant come down and look through her books, or she could have her accountant do it and certify the findings. We never got past that.”

“Well, that’s not bad. I’ll give her a few days to calm back down and call her again. It’s almost February and business is slow, and I could use the commission.”

“I’m leaving it all in your hands, Bill. Call me when you’ve made some progress.”

Carl hung up, letting the madness of the visit fade as he drove on. He slowed when he reached a pay phone, one of the few left in the country. Using his jacket to pick up the receiver, he punched in 911.

An older woman’s voice came over the line. “911, please state your emergency.”

“Yes, I would like to anonymously report a murder. The deceased will be found inside an old, unrestored grandfather clock by the fireplace just inside the entryway.”

“What’s the address?”

Carl fumbled around in his jacket for his notepad, found the page with the address and read it out loud.

“And your name?”

“I said this was anonymous.” Carl paused. Once the police arrived, they would know who had just visited the widow and start asking him questions. “Oh, what the hell. You’ll figure it out anyway. My name is Carl Thompson.” Carl gave his cell number and where he was staying before he hung up, the operator promising that the police would be sent out immediately.

Frazzled and hungry again, Carl headed for the diner. Some food would surely help him to calm down.

It didn’t.

Chapter 30

“Men should think twice before making widowhood women’s only path to power.”

—Gloria Steinem

The police called halfway through his meal, which was an au jus sandwich made up of prime rib leftover from last night on a thick, soft bread roll. The hot food brought his sanity back to him, and he suddenly knew what to tell the police.

The Medford police were polite and they each had a cup of coffee while they waited for him to finish his sandwich. They had called earlier for his location, which he shared. They stressed that he wasn’t under arrest, but they did have a few questions for him.

Once he was finished eating—sans dessert—they took him out to their police car and drove him to the station.

“First, I want to personally thank you for calling 911. Paddy was loved by all of us, and he was a close personal friend of mine until he went missing. Which your phone call finally resolved.”

“They found his remains in the grandfather clock?”

“Only the head. We’re still looking for the rest of the body. The question we have for you is, how did you know? You’re not from this area, and as far as we know this is the first time you’ve visited our fair city.”

“That’s true. You might try their old property for the rest of the body.” Carl leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a whisper. “The reason I knew is because I’m a psychic. I had lunch with the widow about the possibility of buying The Rustler’s Brand, which the business broker Bill can verify.” The officer took down the information about Bill.

“We’ll look into Bill, and it sounds like your offer was legitimate. But…psychic? Really?”

“How else can you explain it? When I met with the widow, I kept getting these visions of her husband. I don’t know how he died, but I saw where she put him. In that grandfather clock. I think there’s some history there, but I don’t know that part. And you might look into Joey, the manager at The Rustler’s Brand, and the butler. I don’t know if they’re connected or not, but it seems they’re both very close to Beth.”

The officer shook his head, dubious. Then he brightened up and leaned in just as conspiratorially as Carl had. “Would you mind, um…well, helping solve some other crimes? If you can, I mean?”

“I can’t promise anything, but if you’re looking for dead bodies then maybe. They have the strongest emotions.”

The officer looked more than a little disturbed by Carl’s comment.

“I have a report from Portland PD that someone died while you were working at the Wal-Mart up there?”

That caught Carl off guard for just a moment. “Just a case of bad luck. I’m a greeter there for a little extra money, and he died while I was holding his hand. It scared the living daylights out of me.”

The police officer nodded. “That matches up with the report we have. How long are you planning to stay in Medford?”

“Until Thursday morning. Then I’m heading back to Portland to meet up with a friend.”

The officer had the look of expectation on his face, wanting the rest of the story. “We’re going to the UFO conference in McMinnville.”

The officer shook his head and sighed. “Never mind about the psychic stuff. We’ll chalk this up to a lucky break.”

Carl couldn’t hide the relief on his face. “You sure?”

“Yes. We have where you’re staying and your cell phone number, but I think this is nothing more than a lucky break. A lot of people wondered if Beth was capable of something like this, but to know the truth... Well, it hurts. It hurts a lot.”

“I can’t even imagine. I hope she’ll be locked up for a good long while.”

“You leave that to the judge. I think we’re done here. You need a ride back to the diner?”

“How far is it?”

“Five blocks, no more.”

“That’s fine, I’ll walk. I could use the fresh air.”

Carl grabbed his jacket and left the police station, a bit shaken but feeling better about things. He didn’t know if the bar would be tied up while she was in court of if she would sell to have money for a lawyer, but there was little he could do about it right now.

He was in the midst of walking back to his car when Bill rang.

“Carl, I can’t believe it. The news is all over town, and they’re saying that you’re the one who discovered Paddy’s body.”

Carl sighed, having an inkling of what would be waiting for him wherever he went in this city. “Yeah, something like that. Look, it was a lucky guess, nothing more. I’m still interested in the bar so if something changes, let me know. I’m going to focus on a few different things in the meantime.”

“Well, we have other businesses for sale—”

Carl cut him off before he tried to sell him something else. “Bill, I’m only interested in The Rustler’s Brand. Nothing else.”

“Okay, I got it. I’ll call you if I hear anything.”

Carl eventually made it back to his car, getting a few looks but mostly going unnoticed. Instead of heading back to his motel, he went to the theater to watch Rio Bravo while munching on a burger and drinking a beer. It sounded like the perfect end to a stressful day, and a way to hide his face in the darkness.

He was a few minutes early when he showed up, which gave him a better choice of where to sit. Then he ordered a bacon cheeseburger and the same porter as yesterday before leaning back and watching John Wayne and Claude Akins in the Old West.

Chapter 31

“It is forbidden to kill; therefore all murderers are punished unless they kill in large numbers and to the sound of trumpets.”

—Voltaire

Carl woke up Wednesday morning and didn’t go for a run, feeling that it would only end in unwanted attention from the Medford locals. He’d watched a bit of the news last night after returning to the motel from the movie, and his face had been plastered on the late-night news. It was a horrible picture, and he had no idea where they’d found it since he had only recently joined the internet.

He thought about skipping the diner for the continental breakfast at the motel but decided against it. He hadn’t broken any laws, and some warm food would hit the spot.

The waitress greeted him at the door, giving him a huge smile. “You did good, Carl. This town needed closure and you provided it for them.” Then she spoke in a louder voice. “All your meals today are on the house!”

The diner erupted into clapping. He heard a chorus of ‘Good job’, ‘Way to go’, and one ‘I hope she hangs.’ Carl couldn’t bring himself to smile about something so morbid, but he did shake every hand put in front of him. A spot opened up for him out of the crowd right in the middle of the counter, a hot coffee sitting there waiting for him.

“Thank you, everyone. It was just dumb luck. I’m glad I could help.”

The cook slapped down a platter of bacon, sausage, hash browns, two eggs over easy, and a grilled slice of ham on top. Then he held out his hand. “Paddy was one of our best customers. Used to come in around noon asking for breakfast, and he helped out far more people than that snooty wife of his ever did. Thank you.”

Carl nodded, a bit of wetness coming to his eyes. A crowd had gathered around the two of them. “I came down here hoping to buy Paddy’s old bar. I could see that it wasn’t doing well, and that management didn’t care either way. I know I’m not a Medford local, but my hope was to turn it back into something that Paddy would have been proud of. That you all would be proud of.”

“You’re not wrong that it’s gone to hell lately. Prices have gone up, and most of the regulars have gone elsewhere. If you do manage to change it back, we’ll harass the mayor until he makes you an honorary Medfordian.”

Cheers went up, a bit more muted as many had returned to their meals. The cook said goodbye as well, as more than a few people were harassing him for their breakfast.

In the end Carl did leave enough to pay for his meal under his plate. Coming in had helped, but he still planned to stay away from Medford in general. Once he was back in his car, he checked his answering machine, but there were no messages. He almost thought of driving home but decided against it. Despite the events of yesterday, he wanted to do one last search of the area. He doubted he would be back down this way again anytime soon.

He stopped driving at 6pm, heading to the theater to watch The Man Who Shot Liberty Vallance and get something to eat. He’d marked four more plats that he was sure had silver under them, and one plat where he had smelled gold mixed with something he couldn’t identify. Still, if the price was reasonable it might be worth investigating.

The movie was just as good as he remembered it, as was the beer and food. He wasn’t a fancy beer drinker usually, but that porter was so smooth with just a hint of sweetness that he could get used to drinking it every day.

The next morning, he received a phone call at 8:30am. It was Rebecca.

“Good morning, Carl.”

“Hi, Rebecca. This isn’t normal business hours. Has something happened?”

“I think you already know. The news of you finding the dead ex-husband of some rich socialite down there made the news in Portland. I about went into shock when I saw it. Why didn’t you call?”

Carl sighed. “The police didn’t arrest me, so I didn’t think I needed a lawyer. It would have only aggravated them.”

“It’s our job to be aggravating. Not that our firm handles criminal cases, but we could have put you in touch with someone who specializes in that sort of thing.”

“I’m fine, but I appreciate your concern. How’s everything going?”

It took Rebecca a moment to shift gears from the shock of seeing Carl on the evening news to business updates. “We’re finalizing the paperwork with Evan. He’s anxious to get going, as you might imagine. Apparently, they got a call from the IRS that freaked him out.”

“That’s fine, we’ll sort all that out on Monday and get his taxes paid at the same time.”

“We’ve also drawn up a business agreement for our law firm. Robert and I have spent some late nights talking through what we want and have come to a decision. We’d like for you to buy two shares, if that’s all right, along with improving our advertising. We have the start of a five-year plan, and it includes opening a second office if we can generate enough revenue.”

“I like that. You sound less stressed than I think you’ve ever been since we first met.”

She laughed, the sound like tinkling glass. “Well, that’s probably true. I handle the business matters, so it’s taken a huge weight off my shoulders. If anything, I’m excited about the future. I haven’t felt that way since we first opened.”

“I’ll still be off work next week, so set some time aside on Monday or Tuesday and we’ll go through everything to get the firm squared away.”

“Thank you, Carl. Oh, and I have one more thing. Two, actually. The first is that I looked into the ownership of the building you called me about. It’s owned by an older woman who’s living in Florida right now. Her husband bought it for investment purposes but never did anything with it. She’s amenable to selling, and would like to do it directly to avoid paying a realtor’s commission. I thought you’d be fine with that, especially since she’s asking six hundred thousand for the building. It includes the coin shop as a tenant, along with a coffee shop, a small bakery, and a restaurant that takes up most of the space. I suggest you have the building surveyed to know what you’re getting into first, but that’s up to you.”

“Can you hire a surveyor? I won’t be able to purchase it for two months, so I hope that time frame works.”

“That should be fine. A survey will take time for a building that large, and having handled similar deals, I can say that the electrical and plumbing on such an old building could be an issue.”

“Is there anything upstairs?”

“Not that I know of. It could be an opportunity to develop them into apartments, or even other businesses. You’d have to install an elevator probably, which will be expensive, but that can wait.”

“Interesting. And what’s the second thing?”

“The plats you mentioned for mineral rights are all owned by a single company. When the railroad went through back in the 1800s, they were given a lot of real estate as incentive to lay track, and since then have spun off that company, which bought up the mineral rights back in the 1920s. They have a standard form for selling, and the prices are already preset. I still recommend you buy more than you need as we talked about before, but it’s a very straightforward process. For the plats you mentioned plus the surrounding plats, you’re looking at $325,000.”

“I have some more plats that I’ll share with you when I’m back next week. Again, I won’t be able to buy the plats for two months, but then we’ll buy them up at once. Thanks Rebecca, I appreciate all the help you’ve been providing so far. And you haven’t even sent me a bill yet.”

“Please, call me Becky. My close friends do, and I have a feeling we’re going to be close friends, Carl. Oh, and I have a bill waiting for you when you come in next. Where are you off to next?”

“I’m meeting a friend at the UFO conference in McMinnville for the weekend, then driving back on Sunday.”

Rebecca was surprised yet again. How could a man with business savvy also be interested in UFOs? If she thought about it too much, she knew the stress she had just shed would come back, and that was the last thing she wanted. She hadn’t dated in almost three years now, which was pathetic for someone still in their thirties. Maybe once Carl bought into the law firm she could date again, which would get her mother off her back as well.

“I hope you have a great time. See you on Monday, Carl. I’ll call later this week with a time to meet.”

He called his answering machine, only to find a missed call from Barb on it. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he should have given her his cell phone number.

“Sorry I missed you this morning. It’s 6am on Thursday by the way. I just got off my shift and was watching the morning news when I saw your face appear. You solved a murder down in Medford? I—I can’t believe it. And you didn’t even bother to call to tell me about it. I’m sorry, Carl, but this is a lot for me to take in. I’d still like to see you, but I think I need some time to process this. Please don’t call, just let me have some space.”

The first thought that went through his mind was: She is right. He should have called to tell her about it, but he’d been so caught up with the police and wanting to get out of the spotlight that it hadn’t even crossed his mind. Which was sad, because he really like Barb and wanted to get to know her better. If she couldn’t trust him to share important information, especially information that could affect her, then he couldn’t blame her for leaving him.

He desperately wanted to call and explain everything, but she’d asked him not to and he would respect that. As much as it hurt him to do so, he would respect her wishes and stay away.

Feeling like he’d been kicked hard in the jewels, Carl got in his car and started driving back toward Portland. He was two hours into the trip—just about halfway there—when inspiration struck, and he drove until he hit the Woodburn outlet mall. It was just past the turnoff to McMinnville, but he had plenty of time and this was more important.

It took some searching through the massive mall before he found a card store. He bought a card that said ‘I’m sorry’ on the outside with blank pages on the inside. He also bought some paper and started writing. His penmanship was excellent, as he’d only recently started typing on a laptop.

He told Barb the entire story of what had happened, from meeting with Bill to Elizabeth and how she had shot at him, to being questioned by the police. He told it without trying to pass the buck. Without trying to make excuses. He was to blame entirely, and he apologized profusely for not informing her earlier. He shared what he’d been thinking at the time, and how he didn’t want to repeat who he’d been with his ex-wife. That version of Carl had been an insensitive, hard-headed idiot, and he was trying to be better but still had work that needed to be done on himself.

He filled the last page with what Barb meant to him. How he thought about her when she wasn’t around, and how he sometimes pictured her sitting across from him as he talked out loud about his day. He went into what he hoped for their future and bared his soul as much as was possible on a piece of paper. He wasn’t a poet, but he put it all out there.

He then drove to the Keizer post office and mailed the letter. He had her address, so he paid for overnight delivery even though the postman argued that it would arrive overnight anyway. When he handed the letter to the postman, it felt like he was handing his hopes and dreams to be delivered to the only woman who had mattered to him in a very, very long time.

Then he drove to McMinnville, taking the back roads. He’d been born in Indiana, but he still believed that Oregon was one of the most beautiful states in the union.

Gene had made reservations in his name, so he checked in. The hotel the conference was hosted in was owned by a large regional brewer and had been restored in a whimsical fashion while still retaining all the charm of the old hotel.

He was handed a thick pamphlet with the details of all the speakers, where they would be speaking and when. He saw that one of the speakers would be talking about Bigfoot sightings in the Cascade mountains and smiled. Gene was sure to love it.

Gene arrived a few hours later and found Carl in the bar nursing a porter. It wasn’t as good as the one he’d had in Medford, but it was fine.

“Carl! You made it. I saw you on—”

Carl pressed his hand to cover Gene’s mouth. “Not here. In our room.”

Gene nodded, the drama already pulling him in. He loved a good conspiracy, and it seemed like Carl had experienced one up close and personal.

Once they were in their shared room, Carl told him all the details, then finished by sharing the message he’d received from Barbara.

“I’m so sorry, Carl. I know she means a lot to you, but she’ll come around.” Carl tuned his platitudes out, not certain of anything anymore.

“…tonight is an unofficial meeting of the speakers along with the opening ceremonies. We get to hear them talking about stuff they’ve been researching, and then tomorrow through Sunday they’ll present. You are staying through Sunday, right?”

Carl nodded. “I’m leaving Sunday morning, so I’ll miss those presentations. But I’ll see all the rest.”

That night Carl begged off going to see the speakers at the bar. Instead, he headed to the theater where they were showing some modern animated movie that was supposedly like James Bond. Carl didn’t care. For the first time since the blue boxes had shown up, he didn’t want to be around people.

The movie was funny, and he stayed to watch the second movie in the series as well. They did take his mind off things, and for that he was grateful.

He returned to the room before Gene, taking a hot shower before hitting the sack. He felt wrung out and slept fitfully all night.

Friday rolled around, and Carl followed Gene down to the conference. Breakfast was decent but not as good as the diner in Medford, or even the diner in Portland. When they got to the meeting rooms, a man out front was asking for volunteers to move chairs and set up before and after each presentation.

Carl wanted to do it, as almost anything sounded better than sitting all day in a hard metal foldout chair. Gene literally dragged him away.

The first two presentations were decent. One talked about possible alien ship drives for moving through a zero-gravity environment—space—based on data released in the ‘50s and early ‘60s. The second presentation was on sightings in Mexico, particularly the Mapimi Zone of Silence. There were no pictures, but a lot of circumstantial and anecdotal evidence.

His phone rang just into the third presentation. When he saw who was calling, Carl leapt from his chair and raced outside the meeting room.

“Barbara?”

“Hello, Carl. I received your letter this morning. I’m sorry for the way I reacted yesterday. It reminded me of some other men I’ve dated who kept secrets, and it triggered something in me that you didn’t deserve.”

He felt giddy with relief. “No, you were right to call me on it. I should have called you Tuesday night to share what had happened. It would have helped just to hear your voice.”

“Your letter was very touching. I cried more than a little, if that’s not too embarrassing to admit. Are you sure you need to stay the entire time in McMinnville?”

“I promised my friend I’d stay until Sunday morning, but how about I change that to Saturday night? I can be there by 10pm if you’re not working.”

“I’d like that very much. And I’d like to talk about our future and hear some of the business ideas you have. I have a few things I need to share as well.”

“That sounds wonderful. I’ll see you tomorrow night. Hopefully I won’t get a speeding ticket.”

Barbara giggled like a teenager, and it warmed Carl’s heart. “See you then.”

“See you, Barbara.”

The rest of the conference passed in a blur. He only half listened to most of the presentations, including the Bigfoot one which held Gene in rapt attention. When his life had been empty, he’d filled it with things like this conference. Now that his life was filling up with other people and business ideas, he found that the conference just didn’t matter as much to him anymore.

Gene reluctantly understood that Carl wanted to get back to see Barbara. He had sensed that Carl wasn’t as fascinated by the conference as he had been in years past, and it made him sad. He wasn’t sure Carl knew this, but the man was his best friend. If he lost Carl, he would be alone. Again. Even the thought terrified him.

Carl sensed this as well and started thinking of ways to bring Gene into his business. No, it wouldn’t be the same kind of relationship, but they would see more of each other. And it might help to have Gene working the day shift instead of the graveyard shift. He would be able to get out more and see other people.

He had just finished packing up during the last break before the main speaker when he spoke to Gene about what he was thinking. “Gene, are you happy working as a security guard?”

“What kind of question is that? Yeah, I’m happy.”

“That’s not what I meant. Sorry.” Carl paused. It was tougher than he expected talking to Gene about this. “What would you think of coming to work with me? I’ve got a couple new businesses, and you could work the day shift. Meet other people. Maybe meet a girl even?”

Gene grinned at that. “You know you’re my best friend, Carl. I could tell that you weren’t really into the conference this year, but I appreciate you coming. As for the job, yes. I’ve always hated graveyard shift, although I don’t mind being a security guard. It makes the days feel just as lonely as the night.”

“How about this? I could put you in charge of the security systems for all the businesses I’m working with? You wouldn’t have to install them, we’d hire someone to do that, but you would make all the decisions.”

“Seriously? You know I love that stuff. What are we talking? Spy cams? Laser triggers? That sort of thing?”

“How about I let you figure that out on your own? One of the guys I’m going into business with owns a coin shop. I can already tell that his security isn’t up to snuff.”

Gene felt tears wetting his eyes, something his stepfather had hated. He quickly wiped them away before walking over and hugging Carl as tightly as possible. “Thank you. I thought I was going to lose you, and I don’t think I could make it on my own anymore.”

Carl didn’t know Gene’s full backstory but could sense something dark in Gene’s past. What it was, he had no idea. He’d thought that the first time he’d met the man, and he still thought it today.

“You stay and enjoy the rest of the conference. I’m heading back to see Barb, but we’ll talk next week and figure the details out. Okay?”

Gene nodded, unable to hold the tears back. “I would like that very much.” The words were thick with emotion, his throat constricted and barely able to speak.

“I love you, man. I hope you know that.”

Gene nodded, hugging Carl again because he couldn’t bring himself to speak. It was as if the sun had finally—finally—risen on his life, after being in the dark for so long.

Carl made it to Barbara’s just before 10pm, and he hadn’t broken the speed limit at all. She opened the door wearing her nurse’s uniform and not much else, and he hugged her fiercely to his body before showering her in kisses.

When they did break apart, Barb led Carl to the bedroom, only stopping to grab a bottle of champagne and two glasses along the way.

Interlude 2

“We’ve received more samples, including three anomalous DNA types. One is…silicon? I didn’t think that was possible.”

“It is pure silicon, or a hybrid?”

“Ah, I see, It’s a hybrid. But it could be split and reformed, although…”

“No, that won’t work. We’ve tried it before. Do you recall?”

“I do. I’ll work on the other two and see if I can make something useful.”

“What about the other drones we sent out? Have any reported in?”

“Very few. Of the thousand drones we sent out, less than fifty report in at all and of those, only six report in on a regular basis. We received the three anomalous samples from one of those six.”

“Could we boost their signals, where they target the specimens we need?”

The scientist sighed loudly. “We tried that fifty-one turns of the sun ago. The results were temporary at best and didn’t result in a significant change to the standard deviation.”

“Don’t take that tone with me. We’re both under a great deal of stress. I can barely remember what happened two turns ago, much less fifty-one turns.”

“Fine. Go ahead and try it. The signal will take an unknown number of light seku to reach their targets, so I don’t see the point.”

“I will. The risk/reward coefficient is high enough to warrant a second try. With so few samples remaining from the drones, we are already seeing a massive reduction in sample sizes.”

The scientist said nothing. The entire situation was too much to ask of anyone, much less a single lead scientist and weapons specialist. He hadn’t shared that their geosynchronous orbit was decaying due to the strong electromagnetic effects from the star in this system. He’d run the orbital mechanics function multiple times, but with their ship’s remaining fuel cells, complete orbital decay was almost a certainty.

The weapons specialist loaded in the last of the directed DNA types. She didn’t understand the mathematics behind what she was doing, but she refused to give up hope. She knew their orbit was decaying even if the arrogant scientist sitting across from her didn’t, and she refused to die without trying everything within their capabilities.

Pressing the button, the signal was sent through the gravitational singularity. An old prayer from her childhood went through her mind, and she prayed to whatever gods might still exist in this universe that they were successful.

Chapter 32

“Where justice is denied, where poverty is enforced, where ignorance prevails, and where any one class is made to feel that society is an organized conspiracy to oppress, rob and degrade them, neither persons nor property will be safe.”

—Frederick Douglass

Barbara was off on Monday as well after calling in a few favors, so Carl spent the day with her, going to the diner for breakfast and then checking out the antique and thrifts stores for anything interesting they might have. He didn’t care about that in the least, but he enjoyed every minute of it because he was with her.

The irony of what he was doing wasn’t lost on him. His ex-wife had pushed for exactly this, but he hadn’t been ready to hear it. And he’d been too ready to let her go because of his stubbornness. Now he wouldn’t give Barbara up for anything.

He asked her if she wanted to go to the meeting with Rebecca and Robert, and she agreed. He had given her an update on what he was doing, but it seemed she hadn’t paid much attention and was shocked to her core to learn that he was buying a courier business, becoming a silent partner with a law firm, maybe buying a building, looking into gold and silver mines and possibly—if things worked out, that is—buying a bar in Medford of all places.

For him it was a busy four weeks, but for Barbara it turned her perception of Carl upside down. “When did you have the time to do all this?”

He shrugged. “I mentioned it yesterday, I think. It just sort of happened. I’d like your opinion on what we’re proposing if you don’t mind. You don’t have to be a business guru to know if something is a good idea or not.”

Rebecca handed out presentations to everyone that covered financials, EBITDA, client billing and cash flow. The law firm itself had little value beyond the laptops and printers they’d purchased. No, the value here was the knowledge that Rebecca, and to a certain extent her partner Robert, had tucked away in their heads.

“I know you asked for a five-year plan, but we’ve extended that out to seven for reasons that we’ll get to in a bit. The business without our third partner isn’t sustainable, and if you didn’t invest, we would be forced to either move to a cheaper lease or quit and work for other law firms. You may not be aware of this, but the larger corporate law firms are highly political and can be brutal in terms of who gets key clients. That’s why we started our own firm.”

Carl nodded, thumbing through the presentation. “I wasn’t aware of that. The cash flow is good, but the amount the two of you are taking home could be better, I’m guessing.”

Rebecca gave him a grim smile. “It’s been tough. I know we discussed expansion, but we had a slightly different idea. If you turn to page five, you’ll see a breakdown of other law firms approximately our size or a bit larger. We’re proposing two things: first, a working relationship between all these firms where overflow business is steered between the firms. There is no financial value to this, but it gives us a way to build relationships and better evaluate which firms we would want to buy out and bring their partners in to this firm.”

Robert spoke for the first time. “Expansion can be difficult as it requires hiring new lawyers that we would need to babysit to some extent. If we bought out their firms, kept the partners in place and created a network, we think that will be far easier than starting from scratch. All of this would need to be in tandem with a solid marketing plan and improved internet presence. If we can prove the model works, they might even approach us once they hear what we’re doing.”

Carl turned to the woman next to him. “What do you think, Barbara?”

Rebecca was surprised and a bit unhappy that Carl had brought his girlfriend, but she seemed nice enough and at the end of the day, it was his money. If he wanted his girlfriend here, she would learn to live with it.

Barbara took a deep breath. “I don’t know anything about law firms, but what you described, Robert, is exactly how a medical network is created. If you think of the big medical insurers in the area, they look for quality people who know what they’re doing. If they prove themselves, they’re brought into the network and monitored for performance each year. I’d recommend you do something like that so you know which parts of the network are performing well and which ones you might need to find new partners for before it’s too late.”

Rebecca sat back in her chair. She knew nothing about medical insurance networks, but it wasn’t a bad example to follow. She let her worries about Barbara go, pushing forward with the presentation.

“Page ten shows what the firm could look like if a new firm was added every other year. I don’t know if that’s realistic and this is only a preliminary model, but based on that the new firm would be in the top ten law firms in the greater Portland area within five to seven years. That would give us a leg up to secure the larger businesses like banks and the high-tech firms out in Beaverton, who outsource a lot of their work.”

Carl couldn’t help but get excited about this idea. It wasn’t that he wanted to be an owner of a large law firm, but he did want the best for Rebecca and Robert. If he could make their dreams come true, then there was a good chance that his dreams would come true along the way as well.

“I like it. Let’s focus on your firm this year and getting you new business and possibly a new partner or junior partner to help with the workload. I’ll look into the other law firms and come back to both of you for your opinion.”

“Wouldn’t you want to hire a consultant to do that?” Robert asked.

Carl shook his head. “Maybe in the future, but I think we can save some money and do it on our own for the next few years. We’ll also need to plot out what the growth you’re showing will do to the headcount, and whether this office makes sense if the revenues double or triple.”

Robert held up his hands. “Hey, it’s your money. I haven’t said how much I appreciate this, so I’ll say it now. I don’t want to work for a big law firm any more than Rebecca does. You’re a life saver.”

Rebecca steered the conversation back in the direction she wanted. “Before we move on, are you satisfied with what we’ve come up with?”

“I am. I’d like a more concrete idea of what the marketing will look like, but otherwise I have no issues.”

“Good. We’ll wait to hear from you when you’re liquid, and I’ll make sure the paperwork is ready then. Now, I heard from Randy and he’s agreed to a 51/49 percent split. The rare coin business is different than ours, so most of what you’d be paying for is inventory.”

“Has the accountant finished up?”

“Not quite yet, but he has some preliminary numbers. If you take out Randy’s private collection of coins, the cost would be a hundred and forty thousand. Apparently, he only keeps the lower priced coins in the glass counters, with the bulk of the inventory in the safe. Which leads to the accountant’s next point: the business needs a new safe, and a vault would be even better. The old safe is historically significant but you shouldn’t store too much inside it. The bank disposed of it for a reason.”

“That works. I know he wants to buy the building, but that will have to wait for a few months. Instead, what I’d like to do is get the advertising up and running soon for all three companies.”

“I thought you might say that. There are three top-notch advertising and marketing companies in Portland, and we’ve provided information on all three along with a fourth that is just a bit smaller and regional. Let us know who you pick, and we’ll be happy to work with them to make sure the messages are accurate.”

Rebecca passed a folder across to him, which he didn’t open.

“Is there any word from Bill on the bar in Medford?”

“Not really. The bar is tied up in litigation as the police think she may have murdered her husband there. Until that’s resolved, the bar won’t change ownership anytime soon.”

Carl shrugged his shoulders. Barb had tuned out at some point, answering messages on her phone while they talked.

Standing up, Carl reached across the table to shake Robert’s hand and then Rebecca’s. “I look forward to doing business with both of you. I imagine I’ll be spending a fair amount of time at the courier company this week, but I’ll make sure to stop by the advertising companies.”

After the meeting was over, he went to the bank to wire just shy of ninety thousand dollars to the Fastcycle business account. This wasn’t the regular business account, but a special account that only he and the accountant had access to. The accountant had promised by email that all back taxes and back pay would be paid immediately, but that he would need to come in this week to talk to the accountant and Evan about future plans.

Business done, he drove Barbara to a restaurant she wanted to try after driving by it every day to and from work. The food was only so-so, but he found he enjoyed the experience. Shortly after lunch, Barbara got called in to work for reasons he didn’t understand, and he drove her home.

With nothing to do and not wanting to go home, Carl pulled out the addresses for all four of the advertising and marketing companies. The weather was sunny if cold, so he rolled his window down while turning up the heat as he turned on the sense for a failing business.

The three large, national companies were doing fine, so he ignored them. Yes, they could do the job well and were likely expensive, but that didn’t interest him. He was just passing by the fourth company, which was set in an industrial business park in North Portland, when he smelled the stench of failure. It wasn’t strong, but it was there. The idea of buying a fourth company exhausted him right now, but what better way to get a sense of how this firm was doing than to use them for his new companies?

Carl parked the car and walked in. A woman with graying hair greeted him immediately, and he reached over to shake her hand.

“I’m looking for advertising services. I’m in the process of buying a couple companies, and they all need advertising to build up their business. Who might I speak to about that?”

The woman with graying hair smiled. We’ve got a live one, and God knows we need it.

Chapter 33

Too much capitalism does not mean too many capitalists, but too few capitalists.

—G. K. Chesterton

Carl ended up speaking to the owner of the company. They had three offices, one each in Portland, Vancouver, WA, and Eugene. To her credit, the woman didn’t seem desperate but composed and all business. She was attractive but didn’t use that to her advantage, instead homing in on what he needed.

“That’s an interesting mix of businesses.”

Carl laughed. “I didn’t plan it that way, but I would agree. They each need advertising, but I’d like to tailor it to each company. What do you think?”

“Instead of talking numbers, let me walk you through our process and get some ideas on what you want the advertising to look like. We can then go through which mediums you’d like to advertise through, which I imagine will differ greatly based on the business.”

“That sounds great.”

Coffee and tea were brought in by the receptionist, along with some fresh donuts. Carl helped himself. They talked for well over two hours and came to a few preliminary decisions.

The law firm would need TV and print advertising. The courier service would be done by word of mouth and handouts to various businesses, similar to the junk mail he received every day except targeted to businesses.

Randy’s coin shop was the odd one out. The owner recommended giving that business the biggest internet presence, including a custom website where customers from across the country could buy rare coins. There would be trade publication advertising, along with targeted internet ads through YouTube.

“If you agree, I’ll have all this written up into a formal proposal.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Carl hesitated, unsure whether to speak further or not. After a few seconds of internal debate, he decided to plunge forward.

“If you have a few minutes, I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me about the business issues you’re having.”

The owner’s mouth dropped open. She seemed to have the same internal debate Carl had and came to the same conclusion.

“The big three are aggressively undercutting our pricing structure and have gone after our big clients. Two years ago, we were close to breaking in to the top three, but then something changed. What I’m about to say is private and unofficial, but I suspect they formed a temporary cartel until my firm is out of business.”

“What would it take to change that?”

Sue sat back in her chair, stunned. She had dozens of ideas, but very little that was concrete as their cash flow had dried up like the Los Angeles river once it reached the ocean.

Her eyes sparked with anger as she began to lay out a plan. Carl said nothing, listening while in the back of his mind he tried to decide if he had enough money to do everything he hoped to do. Even if he didn’t, he was having more fun than he’d ever had.

“I’d like you to reach out to Rebecca at my law firm, and she can draw up a preliminary agreement. I have no interest in running your business. I would be a silent partner, all the while helping get your firm into the top three again.”

Carl passed across the phone number for Rebecca.

“I’d feel remiss if I didn’t mention that I reached out to a few of the large, well-known local investors. They all said no, that advertising was too volatile a business for their liking. I’d like to prove them wrong as well.”

Carl nodded. He liked people who were honest. “I should let you know that I won’t be adequately liquid for two months still. That will give us time to prepare and draw up the legal agreement. If you need funds immediately, I can do that, but it would be limited to a hundred thousand.”

Carl realized with a start that he needed a business manager. For a split second he had pictured himself running around between the different businesses he owned, and he panicked. He pulled his tablet out of his pocket and wrote down a note to that effect.

Carl shook hands with Sue and said his goodbyes.

A few minutes later, Rebecca received a call from an advertising agency. The call was not the one she expected.

Chapter 34

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

—Theodore Roosevelt

Life went back to normal, and Carl went back to work the following week. He saw Barb every night she wasn’t working and spent more than a few overnights there as well. It was as if he could feel his heart, and by extension his emotions, thawing, new energy flowing where none had been before. It was a truly wondrous feeling, and he felt blessed to have met someone as kind and caring as Barbara.

He had called the accountant the last day of his time off from Wal-Mart. Charles—the accountant he had used for Fastcycle, the law firm, the coin shop and now the advertising agency—agreed to meet him and they talked for the best part of three hours. Carl offered him the position of business manager.

“I’m flattered, I really am Carl. You’ve done amazing things in such a short amount of time. The issue is that I’m close to becoming partner in my firm, which will set me up for the rest of my time in the firm.”

“I understand. Before I go into detail about what I’m intending to do, let me ask you a few questions: how exciting will life as a partner be? How happy will it make you? And will you be utilizing all your skills compared to growing a business from the ground up into something spectacular?”

Charles gave him an annoyed look. “You really know how to get to the heart of the matter. Let me think about it for a while and come to terms with what you’re proposing.”

Carl spent the rest of the time telling Charles not only what he hoped to do in the coming year or two, but what he was starting to see on the horizon.

“A bank? You want to buy a bank?” Charles shook his head, stunned. What Carl was proposing was…well, it just wasn’t done. Not by normal people.

“You know the principal I want to live by. Don’t let others make too much money off you. Even if I don’t take loans out immediately, all the businesses will need lines of credit. Which means profits for the bank.”

“No, I get it. You know that banks—even small banks with only a branch of two—sell for upwards of five million.”

“I do. But what if we took one of those banks, one that isn’t performing well, and turned it around? All the while using it as our personal bank to build our businesses? How much money could that make us?”

Charles broke into a smile despite his reservations. “You’re ambitious. Like I said, let me think about it. Can you give me a week or two?”

“I’ll give you a month, just so you don’t regret making the decision too quickly. How’s that sound?”

Charles stood up and shook Carl’s hand. His mind was reeling from Carl’s vision just as much as from the questions he had asked. Partner in an accounting firm meant lots of client meetings, generating new business, but never pushing the boundaries. Never trying anything new. The last thing the other partners would want was someone rocking their boat.

It was almost as if Charles could see the next thirty years of his life. Yes, he’d be wealthy as a partner. But he’d also be bored, accepting things as they were and following the company line. Would he turn to drugs as a few partners already had? Alcohol? Sex? They were all releases from unrelenting sameness and boredom, and the last thing he wanted for himself or his family.

* * *

A month later Charles called accepting his offer. Carl agreed to allow Charles to buy in to the company so he would be a part owner. The man had sounded nervous over the phone but determined to do something interesting with his life.

Carl still worked at Wal-Mart, generating over sixty thousand new, unallocated points. He wasn’t spending any of them, not really needing to. He’d gone out searching for coins the few days Barbara had been working all day and found a few thousand dollars’ worth, but nothing as exciting as he had before.

Three weeks later, the Sotheby’s auction in San Francisco happened. Carl ignored it, not wanting to get caught up in the chaos as he enjoyed a quiet day working as a greeter at Wal-Mart.

Randy called him the minute the auctions were over.

“Carl, did you watch it?”

“Randy, I’m at work. No, I didn’t watch it. What happened?”

“They went for more than Sotheby’s estimated. After the auction house takes their percentage, you’ll be looking at five and a half million dollars. Plus or minus a few dollars.”

Carl smiled. He didn’t feel any richer, but it did open up new opportunities. His most immediate expenses were to buy the coin shop, then the building it was in, purchase the mineral rights and find a mining operator to work with, and purchase the advertising agency. Doing the math in his head, that would eat up half of his profits right there. It seemed he would have to wait a bit longer to buy his first bank.

He took Barb to a celebratory dinner that night, telling her that it was their four-month anniversary. It wasn’t, but it was as good a reason as any.

The next day he was back at work. Terry, the store manager, had given him a healthy raise to twenty dollars an hour, and Bryn had laid off trying to get him to lay…well, she laid off.

He’d hired some new employees to increase door coverage and systematized the process for the closest stores after the regional manager came in and saw what was happening. She had been impressed by the new work ethic in the store, and while she chalked it up to Terry, everyone else in the store knew the truth.

That night he went home, not feeling like eating at the diner. He turned the TV on and found the original M.A.S.H movie, laughing at jokes he had heard a dozen times before.

He opened up the blue box notification during one of the commercials.

NOTIFICATION: First threshold reached!

150,000 unallocated points reached. Consolidation of DNA will occur in 5 minutes.

Carl tried to turn the countdown off, but it didn’t work. He walked quickly to his bedroom, pulling his pants off as he lay down on top of the bed.

The countdown reached 10 seconds, then 9, 8, 7…1.

Carl screamed as pain coursed through every nerve ending of his body. He urinated heavily on the bed and made a half-realized bowel movement. Not that he was aware of any of this. His body was instantly drenched in sweat as his DNA strands tried to fight off the foreign invaders that were being spliced in hundreds of thousands of different locations.

Epilogue

Carl woke up in filth, sweat still drying across his body. Not bothering to figure out what had happened, he took a long shower until he felt clean again. Then he bundled up all the sheets and tossed them into the trash. After that, he called the local mattress store and ordered a new set of mattresses.

Once he had calmed down and had something to eat, he checked the blue boxes. They weren’t blinking at him to get his attention, which was a bit odd.

DNA integration: complete.

150,614 points have been deducted.

Current unallocated points: 0

Imputed age has changed to: 34 years, 7 months, 21 days.

Actual age has changed to: 34 years, 7 months, 21 days.

New skills available:

Facial and body changes. May use the DNA incorporated from another being for up to ten minutes. Longer use may require additional unallocated points.

Limited telepathic and psychic abilities. Twenty-seven (27) DNA samples had limited telepathic and psychic abilities. Further details will be provided upon initial use of these abilities.

Improved athletics. Two thousand, seven hundred and forty-eight (2,748) DNA samples had athletic abilities 25% or more above the average. Further details will be provided upon initial use of these abilities.

Inhospitable conditions. Three (3) DNA samples were able to stay underwater in excess of five minutes. Five (5) DNA samples have the ability to resist extreme cold or heat. One (1) DNA sample was able to exhibit partial weight reduction during a free-fall. One (1) DNA sample survived life-threatening solar radiation. One (1) DNA sample has survived beyond light speed travel. Further details will be provided upon initial use of these abilities.

Non-human DNA samples. Thirteen (13) human DNA samples originated from life forms not found indigenously on planet Earth resulting in possible new abilities. Further details will be provided upon attempted use of these abilities.

Carl started reading the notification, but got stuck at the actual age. The blue box disappeared from in front of his eye as he ran into the bathroom.

He gasped. Looking back at him in the mirror was an early to mid-thirties face, all the lines on his face gone and the tone he used to have back in those days returned to him.

Carl lifted his shirt up, only to see the beginning of a six-pack. There was no residual spare tire, only hard muscle underneath.

Shaking his head in dismay, Carl didn’t know what to say or do. All of this was beyond what he had experienced previously.

Then he thought of Barbara, and he swore for the first time in a very long time. “This is going to be damned hard to explain.”

Author’s Note

Thank you for reading this book. This is the first book I truly enjoyed writing. I stopped caring about punctuation, or editing errors as they occurred and just wrote. I debated on including the quotes, but I think they add context to the book and what Carl is going through and learning along the way. Let me know if you agree or disagree.

Before I beg for reviews, let me say this: if you’re thinking of writing, even if you’re never wrote anything beyond your name before, give it a try. Whether it’s a short story, or a novel, or something in between, put some words down and see where the story goes. Give it a try and see what happens.

If you could take time to leave a review—I won’t even ask that it’s a positive one—please do. Like all independent authors, we thrive on reader’s reviews.

Thanks again, and I’ll see you again in book 2 of Biomedical Self-Engineering. I have lots of plans for Carl and his businesses, along with a few surprises.

If you feel like dropping me a line, you can contact me on jonbsvenson@gmail.com.

About the Author

I grew up in the Pacific Northwest just north of Seattle, on one of the many islands in that area. Along the way I’ve lived in Portland, Oregon; Bentonville, Arkansas; London, England and Dublin, Ireland along with a few other places in between. I trained as an actuary out of university, and have been working in that space ever since. I now live back in the area I grew up on a small farm that I’m turning into an apple orchard, where I write with my rescue dog Moby.

Endnotes

1 EBITDA = earnings before interest, taxes, depreciation and amortization.

Table of Contents

- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Interlude I
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Interlude 2
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Epilogue
- Author’s Note
- About the Author
- Endnotes