Ambient 06 - Going, Going, Gone

Soviet neighbours, and where the Reds didn’t control the turf the Nazis still did.
    Africa? Took a different kind of passing, to get by there. But if I could get to Hawaii, there were boats that went around the Pacific; and outside of Vietnam, the state of flux the other former Japanese territories were in was somewhat more hospitable to strangers – the Phillipines, perhaps, or Fiji; or Nauru. Move somewhere and become the Guano King. The more I thought about it, the more possible it seemed –
    But as ever the old problem of funding came immediately to mind. At the moment I had about a thousand bucks; that’d buy the ticket, but I needed more. I got up around five; walked into the music room. Looked around at my shelves, at the collection. Jim’d buy it, that was for certain; but that’d also be a certain giveaway that I was planning to skip; and even if I left them for a while, I couldn’t imagine losing them forever. There was only one of me, sure; but with half my records, there was only one of them, as well, and I was too used to serving as cultural custodian, keeping them all safe and sound until the day when they might be appreciated – more to the point, when the people who made them would be appreciated, finally, for what they did and for who they were.
    Granted, in this country I figured that’d be a pretty long wait.
    I sat in my chair until close to nine the next morning, my ghosts keeping me company in both of my front rooms, in form both evanescent, and flat, black, and shiny. A little after nine, Trish called.
    We met at noon at the fountain in the middle of Roosevelt Centre at Broadway and 66 th . »Let’s chat and sip,« I said, taking her arm and leading her toward the café in Alma Mahler Hall.
    »You’re such a charmer,« Trish said. »You look awful. What were you up to last night? Your tag team show up and start tossing you around the ring?«
    »Couldn’t sleep,« I said. »Money worries.«
    She laughed. »Let me take those off your mind.«
    Once inside, in the café area, we ordered up the old mocha java. I needed a triple dose bad; as soon as the first cup was drained I signalled the waiter for seconds and thirds. At that time of day we were surrounded by music matrons decked out in heavy matinee frou-frou, tapping their biscuits with white gloves to shake the crumbs loose before downing them. Every so often I caught some of the grouchier ones eyeballing me like they suspected me of sneaking around, waiting for the right moment to make off with the Stradivari.
    »I never thought you’d agree,« she said. »When Burt called, I told him I’d give it a try but –«
    »You say they’ll slip me the cabbage on the premises?«
    She nodded, brushing away her own crumbs. »Ten thousand. You can get them that much?«
    »What I have on hand’s a little stronger than mescaline,« I said. »But they’ll be able to make it stretch. What is this thing tonight, anyway?«
    »They have these public get-togethers once in a while. Invite people in to get a taste of the treatment. They won’t be giving them any of what you’ll be bringing along, of course.«
    »Could be hazardous if they did,« I said, thinking of the one meeting of theirs I’d glimpsed. »They’ll need to dilute it. I can provide full details once I make the trade. Will I give it to him? He didn’t look like he could keep two things on his mind at once without practice –«
    »Don’t be cruel,« she said. »Poor Burt, he’s deeply into this. I haven’t seen him for a month. I think the only reason he called me was because he remembered you. After you met I filled him in on your hobbies, since I remembered how useful you’d been to the Dynamos in the past –«
    »Muchas thankas,« I said. »This is a real life preserver, it really is.«
    »You that much behind?«
    I shook my head. »Trish, listen. I may be going away for a while. Things have come up.«
    »What things?«
    »Things that make me think I’d better go away for a while.«
    »Business or pleasure?« she asked, smiling.
    »Nothing fun about it,« I said. »Not till I get there, at least. I’ll let you know, roundabout, once I’m settled.«
    »Settled? Are you moving? Walter, is something wrong?«
    »No, no,« I said, knowing she knew I was lying; that made it easier. »Don’t worry about it.«
    »Walter –«
    »Valentine,« I said, caught by surprise. Jim had just walked through the door of the hall, and was shuffling slowly toward the ticket booth.