Death Before Facebook

twenty-four, Skip guessed, and already he’d done better in life than Geoff ever had.
    “Bet he really knew his science fiction.”
    “That was his thing. How’d you know?”
    “I just had a feeling.”
    “What a memory! That guy could tell you every scene of
The Day the Earth Stood Still
or—what’s the one about the pods?”
    “
Invasion of the Body Snatchers.
”
    “Yeah. Both versions. But he knew all the obscure stuff as well. And all the new ones. Other stuff too—I mean, besides science fiction. He could sing every theme song from every James Bond movie.”
    “He must have been popular with the customers.”
    A shadow passed over Knowles’s face. “Well, not really. He was kind of shy, I guess. He could talk to them about the movies, but he never thought about ’How’re you doing today?’ Not real outgoing, I guess. He lived in his head, you know? It was like whatever was going on in there was the real world and what happened out here just got in the way.”
    Skip grinned. “Space case?”
    “You could put it that way. I mean, he functioned; he did a great job here, but the guy was brilliant—face it, this job was way below his abilities.”
    “How could you tell he was brilliant?”
    “Well, you know—by the way he talked. He retained things; like I said, he remembered everything from every movie he ever saw; and he knew a lot of just plain
stuff
too. Mostly science. I don’t think he even went to college—at least not for very long. He was self-taught; and there wasn’t much he didn’t know about. If you want to know the truth, he could be kind of a know-it-all.”
    “Liked to hear himself talk?”
    Knowles looked uncomfortable. “Well, I don’t think it was that exactly. He didn’t have enough whatever-you-call-it— self-esteem—for that. I think he just didn’t notice when he was lecturing. It was his only form of communication. See, he could tell you all this stuff about the War of the Roses or the Holy Roman Empire, but he didn’t know he was a big fat bore when he was doing it because he didn’t know enough to check your reactions. He didn’t even look you in the eye—he’d be staring off into space or something, lecturing away and thinking you were fascinated. But like I said, he couldn’t remember about ’hi, how are you?’ He was just shy, shy, shy. But nice. He meant well.”
    “Oh?”
    “Oh, yeah. He wanted everybody to enjoy his favorites as much as he did. He couldn’t remember their faces or names, but when he saw the movies they’d brought back, he’d ask how they liked them—and then he’d go crazy helping them find something suited to their tastes.”
    Geoff was sounding more and more the sort of person his room had spelled out. On impulse, Skip said, “What did he look like?”
    “What did he look like? Was his face—uh—”
    “No, no, I’m just curious.”
    “I think I might have a picture from a party we had.” He disappeared and came back. “There. The one in the weird T-shirt.”
    She had been almost completely wrong and yet somehow right: The man in the picture was the perfect sidekick to the one she’d pictured. He was thin, not fat, average height, and clean-shaven. But a beard would have been a good idea. He had a pointy, elflike chin. Three things she’d guessed perfectly: he did indeed wear glasses; his hair was limp and greasy-looking; and he was the very exemplar of “nerd.”
    What was it about these guys? she wondered. Why were they such a type—brilliant, withdrawn, dorky, into computers and science fiction? She knew the answer, or thought she did. They were unhappy with the real world, had little self-esteem (as Knowles Kennedy, who had a surfeit of it, had observed), and sought alternate universes.
    Okay, fine. That was who they were as a class, but who was Geoff Kavanagh other than the nerd from Central Casting? His nerdiness was all too apparent; what was his
Geoffness
, so to speak? Well, she couldn’t say that aloud. “What was unusual about him?” she asked finally.
    “Unusual?” Knowles looked puzzled. “Well, he was… so smart and all. I don’t know—he was kind of your average—”
    “Nerd.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Did he have any enemies?”
    “What? You mean he was murdered?”
    Skip shrugged. “I have to ask.”
    “Did he have any enemies! He didn’t even have any friends.”
    “How do you know?”
    Knowles looked ashamed. “Well, I don’t. I really don’t know. It’s just that he never