Part 13 (2/2)
”Boy, you really are from an alternate reality, aren't you?”
”Look who's talking, Professor.”
”Where I come from we had pizza and cartoons. By the way, I got you a new T-s.h.i.+rt you will enjoy. You will be able to relate.”
”Who's on it?”
”Underdog.”
CHAPTER 21.
THE ENVELOPE HAD Mara's name scrawled on it in childish penmans.h.i.+p. She pulled it loose from the shop's front door, being careful not to yank so hard that the tape pulled up paint. She ran a fingernail under the back flap and slipped out an unfolded invitation to the grand opening of Ping's Bakery the following Monday. Written on the back in a more mature script, Ping thanked her for fixing the floor mixer and made a personal plea for Mara to show up for the opening.
The construction of the bakery had been rapid and looked complete from the outside. Even so the place continued to hum with activity. Two men in white uniforms unloaded flour and other items from a food service truck parked out front, while another young man squeegeed the front windows. Construction workers walked in and out, carrying bits and pieces of wood, carpet and linoleum to the Dumpster. Others vacuumed floors and wiped fixtures.
Several pa.s.sersby had stopped in the fix-it shop asking when the new place would open. Some had wanted pastries, others a job. That would most likely stop now that a new banner hung beneath the lighted Ping's Bakery sign announcing the grand opening date. The signage sat above a new hunter-green awning trimmed in white. They had done a good job setting up the place.
Business at the fix-it shop had been steady for the past few days, but she did not have much on tap at the moment. Buddy had called and wanted to stop by later. He heard echoes on his cell phone and wanted Mara to take a look. Until he showed up, she wanted to get back to the copper medallion to see if she could replace those damaged crystals. That project had gotten pushed aside for paying jobs like the one from OMSI, the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry.
They had dropped off an old Maytag wringer washer with a faulty wringer casing that kept popping loose. The wringer, comprised of two rubber rollers that squeezed water from clothing when it was manually fed between them, had a safety feature that popped the rollers apart if a hand or arm were accidently pulled in. The problem was it popped whenever anything pa.s.sed through. A simple adjustment of a spring did the trick, and the OMSI courier hauled it back down to Water Avenue.
Mara leaned over the magnifying gla.s.s and stared down at the jeweled copper disk, poking at one of the blackened crystals with a pair of green-handled bent-nosed pliers. She clamped onto the sides of one of the larger azurite crystals and tightened her grip. The pliers slipped off the crystal, not able to gain purchase. She rotated the medallion, looking for planes along the sides of the crystal on which to grab. After a couple minutes, she thought she was well positioned. She applied pressure, maintained a grip and pulled.
Nothing.
She wiggled her wrist, trying to wedge out the stone.
No luck.
She bit her lower lip. ”Come on, come out.”
She relaxed her grip and set aside the tool. She felt the stone with a fingertip and then rubbed the metal next to it to see if she could feel a ridge that could be used to pry it loose. The copper rippled, s.h.i.+fted subtly. She moved her finger away and the copper pulled back, retracted from the crystal. The metal looked viscous, organic, a squid's suction cup releasing its prey. The crystal rolled out of the setting. An empty dimple remained in the medallion.
”What the h.e.l.l?” Mara sat up.
She grabbed the DVD case that held the newly cut azurites and poured them onto the counter. With a pair of tweezers, she picked up a larger one and moved it to the vacant spot on the medallion, squeamish about touching the glutinous metal. She dropped the blue rock into the dimple. It just lolled to one side. Not sure what to expect, she poked it with the tweezers. No effect.
”Okay, how did I get it to release the azurite?” she said to herself. ”You know the answer to that. With your finger. So...” She grimaced as she ma.s.saged the area around the dimple and the new azurite stone. The metal contracted, gripped the crystal.
Mara sat back, astonished.
”Really unreal. That kind of creeps me out.”
The bell above the door jangled. Buddy stood in the doorway, filling it with his blocky gray-hoodie-covered frame, smiling. ”What creeps you out?”
”Oh, nothing. Just something I'm working on. What's up?” She raised her head but kept her eyes on the newly implanted stone through the magnifying gla.s.s.
”Dad says, 'Hi, Hi.'”
”Hi, Hi?”
”It echoes,” he said, snickering.
”Oh, right. Let's take a look.”
Later that afternoon, after Buddy was on his way with his echo-free cell phone, Mara picked up the pliers, then realized she most likely would not need them to work on the medallion. She set them aside and wiggled her fingers, largely as a delaying tactic. Nothing compelled her to repair the copper disk. No one waited for it, and she didn't need it. She could simply put the thing up on a shelf or in a drawer without replacing its charred crystals. Who would care? The idea of rubbing the metal and having it ooze away releasing the stones and then oozing back to mount new ones made her queasy. It offended her mechanical sensibilities. A s.h.i.+ver went up her spine. She reached under the magnifying gla.s.s.
”Come on, come out.”
She rubbed the first remaining blackened crystal for a couple minutes before it loosened. The copper s.h.i.+fted away, flowing lavalike just a millimeter or so, enough to free the damaged azurite. Instead of placing a new stone in the concavity, Mara moved on to remove the next one. It took just about a minute to come loose. The next took even less time. In five minutes all of the burned stones lay on the counter.
Only the central sunstone, the newly mounted azurite and the large black tourmaline at the bottom remained mounted on the medallion. She stared at the metal for a few minutes, looking for oozing or other movement. None.
Continuing on with the project, she dropped new stones into their dimples and rubbed the surrounding metal. The copper responded almost immediately and embraced each crystal. In another couple minutes, the job was done. She pushed the magnifying gla.s.s out of her way and looked down at the medallion.
It looked new.
She lifted it off the counter and held it in the palm of her right hand. Raising it to eye level, she said, ”Boy, I wish I knew where you came from.”
Her hand felt odd, engulfed by static electricity. The medallion felt lighter, losing its clunky, metallic heft. It became lighter still and then weightless, floating into the air above Mara's hand, moving higher until it reached eight inches, where it hovered.
”Whoa.” Mara was afraid to move her hand for some reason.
The medallion spun like a DVD, slowly at first, and then faster. Mara straightened her stance so she could look down on the face of the spinning medallion and saw blue light smeared along the track where the crystals were mounted. Her pulse accelerated. The face of the medallion blurred-crystals, etchings and glyphs blended into bands of featureless colors. Then it began to flip at forty-five-degree angles, jerking at first as if it were going to throw itself across the room, out of control. As it sped up, it smoothed out, regained its symmetry, its balance. It reminded Mara of a gyroscope, spinning on all axes at once.
It gyroed faster and faster still, until the medallion itself was no longer discernible, just a spinning blob suspended in air. It continued to accelerate. The blurriness melted away into a spinning liquid sphere that continued to quicken. It pulsed and shone. As if some threshold had been pa.s.sed, brilliant light burst from it, filling the shop and momentarily blinding Mara. She blinked, raising her other arm to shade her eyes. When she lowered her arm, there before her, floating above her outstretched hand, glowed a molten ball of blue mercury.
CHAPTER 22.
THE GLOWING ORB descended slowly back to her palm. Mara half expected it to land and power down, but, once it alighted, it continued to glow. Again she felt her hand surrounded by static electricity, raising the hair on her arm. The light continued to spin in her palm. It felt like something undulating within a thin membrane.
Mara closed her fingers around it and lifted it to eye level. She could not see into it, the light was too bright and turbulent. All she could see were swirling bands of blue hues.
”Okay, big blue ball of light, you're supposed to be the Chronicle of Creation. Show me creation.”
A translucent egg-shaped bubble blossomed from the ball engulfing Mara, expanding to the length of the shop from the front door to the doorway leading to the bicycle garage out back. She crouched, s.h.i.+elding herself, not realizing it had already pa.s.sed through her. She squeezed her eyes closed.
”No, no, no. Stop that. I didn't mean it.”
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