The ELI Event B007R5LTNS

intruder imagined for a second that he saw a spark of recognition in the man’s face, but that was of course ridiculous. No one could possibly know him here.
    In a deliberate, exaggerated movement the man outside the window reached one hand inside his coveralls. The intruder instantly dropped to the floor and scrambled for the door, glimpsing as he did so the unmistakable glint of a bulky, ancient weapon in the man’s hand. Before reaching up for the doorknob he spun around and pointed the laser pistol at the window, ready to shoot in order to make his escape. But the man was gone.
    Shocked, stunned by this unexpected turn, the intruder leapt to his feet and silently fled Wheeler’s apartment.
    A drop of fresh drool reached the greenbar and seeped into the paper, smudging a red circle beneath Wheeler’s chin. With limp, uncoordinated fingers he made an ineffectual swipe at it, missed completely, and continued snoring.

    * * *

    Safely in Los Angeles, Robin walked down the concourse, still in awe of his first plane flight. Awesome view, free cokes and snacks, and the flight attendant ladies were so nice to him. And pretty, too! No wonder people do this all the time. He marveled at the moving walkways, the throngs of people bustling about on their way to some distant place, the myriad shops and restaurants on either side of him.
    But it was late, and he was hungry. He approached a Sbarro, and the warm, spicy aroma of pizza made him grin. He hadn’t had pizza since Mrs. Faraday took them all to Gambino’s last year. Hmm, he still had plenty of money in his pocket from the Colby bus station. Why not?
    There was no line, so he got a giant slice of pepperoni and a root beer, sat at a table, and wolfed it down. He went back for more, and was mowing through a slice of sausage and onion when he heard it.
    “Robin T. Kirkland, Robin T. Kirkland,” a disembodied female voice announced, “please go to a white courtesy phone for a message. Robin T. Kirkland, white courtesy phone, please.”
    Holy crap, the PA was calling his name! He stood up and scanned the giant hallway for a white telephone. White telephone… There, on the other side of the concourse by the pretzel stand, was a wall phone with a long, dangling cord. He ran to it and saw it was filthy, smudged with dirty hand prints and something reddish brown and crusty. Probably pizza sauce, he figured. He picked it up anyway. “Um, hello? I’m Robin Kirkland.”
    “Robin T. Kirkland?” the PA lady asked unnecessarily, as though there might be several of him, all with different middle initials.
    “Yeah.”
    “Please hold for an outside call. Stand by, connecting you now. Have a nice day.”
    There were some clicks on the line, then silence. Had she hung up on him?
    “Robin, I’m glad you made it to Los Angeles safely,” said a familiar voice.
    “Eli! Eli! Yeah, I made it, it was way cool! Man, you can do anything! Thanks! Hey, where are you, anyway?”
    “I am also in Los Angeles, as you know. And as you know, the men from the Air Force are still looking for you. I think it is best for you to come and meet me as soon as possible.”
    “Sure, okay. Are you gonna pick me up?”
    Eli hesitated. “No, that is one thing I cannot do. You should use part of your cash to take a taxi to my location.”
    “Well, okay, but why can’t you pick me up?”
    “Because, Robin, I am… immobile.”
    “Immobile? You mean you can’t move? What, are you in a wheelchair or something?”
    “Oh, no, my friend, nothing like that. I simply cannot physically move about. My location is my location, and I cannot leave.”
    “Can’t leave? Eli, I don’t understand. You’re not in jail, are you?”
    “Of course not.” Eli attempted a human-like chuckle, but it just came out, “Heh, heh.”
    Now Robin was suspicious. “Eli, where are you exactly?”
    “I am in the computer laboratory in the basement of the Center for Artificial Intelligence Studies, downtown,” Eli said. “It is a sizable facility. Any cab driver will know where it is.”
    “You live in a computer lab? In the basement? What, with your parents?” Robin asked jokingly.
    Eli considered the parallelism of Robin’s remark and his relationship with Steve and Kelly, and made a note that he found it mildly amusing. “Sort of,” he said evasively.
    Robin was getting frustrated. “Okay, look, Eli, I trust you and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but you’re not being straight with me. You