Part 4 (2/2)
”So she'll be working with you?”
”Or with you,” said Dennis. ”It depends on whether I think she's a programmer.”
”Does this mean you're finally going to implement Landscaper?”
”Could be.” Then he thought the question over a little more seriously, and added: ”Better be. It's not like I need help with the engine itself.”
”No, of course not,” Adam chimed in from the pulpit. ”He's only been working on the thing for four years, why would anyone think he needed help?”
”Be quiet.”
Dennis swiveled his chair around to face me. ”What?”
”Nothing,” I said.
”Comments from the peanut gallery?”
”Just Adam mouthing off.”
”Uh-huh.” Dennis knew about the house, but I'm not sure he ever completely believed in it; whenever he overheard me talking to Adam or my father, he reacted as if I were displaying signs of mental illness.
Penny Driver arrived at the Factory about fifteen minutes later. I'd gone back to my own tent and made a few more unsuccessful attempts to connect to the Internet; I was coming back out to look for Irwin when I saw her.
Penny had let herself in through the shed's side door. (The shed had a front door, too, a garage-style door big enough to drive a Mack truck through, but the one time we got it open it took us two days to close it again, so now we pretended it was a wall.) She stood just inside the doorway, one hand behind her still holding onto the k.n.o.b, looking ready to duck out again in a hurry. I guess Julie hadn't told her what to expect.
”You're in the right place,” I called to her.
She literally jumped at the sound of my voice: took a little hop off the floor, and let out a sharp squeak. Her free hand came up and pressed itself against her chest in the heart-attack gesture.
”Sorry,” I said. I walked up to her slowly, as if she were Jake. ”Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. But this is the Reality Factory, if that's what you're looking for.”
I held out my hand, but she didn't take it. All at once she didn't seem startled anymore, just puzzled; she stared at me the way you'd stare at a can of beans that you didn't remember putting in your grocery cart. Not sure what else to do, I stared back.
She was physically a very small person, just over five feet tall, and slight. She wore a faded gray sweater that hung almost to her knees, and a wrinkled pair of blue jeans. Her close-cropped hair was mussed, as if she'd just rolled out of bed after a long sleep, but her eyes were bloodshot and there were dark circles under them.
Suddenly she let go of the doork.n.o.b and crossed her arms in front of her. She took three quick strides forward, moving so swiftly that I had to jump aside to get out of her way. Ignoring me, she panned her head around, surveying the length of the shed: taking in the tents, the stained roof planks, the drip buckets, the rusting bits of leftover sc.r.a.p piled in the far corners, the snaking cables wrapped in waterproof insulation. Her lip curled. ”Jesus f.u.c.king Christ,” she said. ”What a motherf.u.c.king s.h.i.+thole.”
”Excuse me? ”I said.
”You heard her,” said Adam, sounding amused. ”What word is giving you trouble, 's.h.i.+thole' or 'motherf.u.c.king'?”
Penny uncrossed her arms. She blinked and turned to me again, seeming freshly alarmed to find me standing right next to her. This time she didn't jump or squeak; but she stepped back as abruptly as she had come forward. Her back once more to the door, she raised her hand in a timid wave h.e.l.lo. ”Hi,”
she said.
”Hi,” I said back.
”h.e.l.lo,” said Adam. ”Did anybody just see a parade go by?”
Julie appeared from between two tents, with a glum-faced Irwin trailing after her. ”Hi, Penny!”
she called, adding, with a nod to me: ”I see you two have met.”
”Kind of,” I said. It was a morning for peculiar behavior, apparently: as Julie approached us, I could have sworn I saw something funny in her expression -- a hint of smugness in her smile, some private amus.e.m.e.nt in her eyes -- but then I shrugged it off, thinking it must have something to do with the fight she'd had with Irwin. Adam might have told me differently, but he was still focused on Penny.
”So,” said Julie, coming to stand beside us, ”I guess formal introductions are in order. Andrew Gage, this is Penny Driver. Penny, this is Andrew.”
”Pleased to meet you, Penny,” I said, and once again offered my hand. This time she shook it, though I could see she didn't want to. I pumped her arm once, gently, and let it go.
”Actually,” said Julie, ”she likes to be called Mouse.”
”No she doesn't,” observed Adam from the pulpit. ”Did you see the way she flinched just then?
She hates being called Mouse.”
”Adam,” I asked, being careful not to speak the words aloud, ”does Julie seem weird to you this morning? She's got this look on her face, like --”
”Hi, Mouse!” Dennis Manciple's voice boomed out. He came out of his tent with his top three s.h.i.+rt b.u.t.tons unb.u.t.toned, drawing an instant scowl from Julie. ”Dennis!” she snapped, pinching the lapels of her own blouse together.
Dennis ignored the signal. His chest hair exposed to the world, he marched up to Penny and grabbed her hand so roughly he nearly yanked her off her feet. ”Nice to meet you, Mouse!”
”He likes her,” Adam snickered. ”He thinks she's s.e.xy. . . but she thinks he's a big fat disgusting pig boy.”
I thought that last bit might be a projection on Adam's part -- although it's true that as Dennis shook her hand, Penny looked as though she'd stuck her fingers in something nasty. ”But what about Julie, Adam?”
”I don't know,” Adam said. ”She's always a little weird anyway, so it could be nothing. Or maybe she's got some half-a.s.sed idea about getting the two of you together.”
”The two of us -- you mean me and Penny? Like boyfriend and girlfriend?”
”Yeah.” More snickering. ” 'Like boyfriend and girlfriend.' That could be it. . . or maybe she's seen the parade, too.”
”What parade? What are you talking about?”
”Just pay attention,” said Adam. ”You'll see it.”
Dennis was still shaking Penny's hand; he seemed prepared to go on shaking it all day. ”Enough, already!” Julie said. She stepped between them and nicked her hand impatiently at Dennis's open s.h.i.+rtfront. ”What did I tell you about this?”
”A thousand pardons, O Great One,” said Dennis. He reb.u.t.toned himself, but he took his time doing it.
”a.s.shole.” Julie turned and flashed an apologetic smile at Penny. ”Sorry,” Julie said. ”As you can see, we're pretty informal here -- a little too informal, sometimes. This nudist is Dennis Manciple. And Mr. Pouty over there is his brother Irwin.”
Irwin, still standing a good ten paces back from the rest of us, didn't try to shake Penny's hand or even nod h.e.l.lo. He was sulking.
”Now that you've met everybody,” Julie continued, ”why don't we all go back to the Big Tent and show you the system? You can try out one of our demos to get a better idea of what you'll be working on.”
”OK,” Penny agreed. She said it like it was actually the last thing in the world she wanted to do, but she let Julie take her elbow and lead her just the same, with only one last wistful glance back at the door she'd come in by.
<script>