High Energy (27 page)

"Xavier, please. Children do not carry years of inner pain, hurt, and

degradation with them. They are honest. Fresh."

This one is fresh, Mills thought to herself.

"Often the thrust of my work, as our host knows, is to find the inner child,

release him from bondage—set him free."

Cody perked up. "There's another kid here?"

Everyone laughed.

"Sorry, pal." Tyber said. "You're it."

My-Maggy came into the dining room to serve the main course, Blooey right behind

her bearing a dish piled high with fried chicken. He placed the plate in front

of Cody with a flourish.

"Here you go, lil' mite. I cooked it up special fer ya." Cody's eyes rounded; he

licked his lips, ready to dig in. His uncle stopped him.

"Wait until everyone is served, Cody."

Mills thought Stan was a very good uncle, indeed. She told him so.

"Why, thank you, Mills. I wish my brother could hear that; we have many

disagreements on a certain topic." He was purposely being circumspect for Cody's

benefit.

"Well, yer a good lad in my book. I heard ye liked me soup, too."

"Yeah, it was awesome."

"Did ye ever think of becomin' a cabin boy?"

"What's that?"

Tyber cleared his throat. "Blooey, I think—"

"A cabin boy assists the captain. On a pirate ship such as this—"

Cody's green eyes grew huge. "You were on a pirate ship?" Blooey had been

instantly elevated to hero.

"Aye. I'll tell ye all about it when ye have your dessert— it's chocolate cake,

you know." The corners of Tyber's mouth twitched with a secret smile.

"Wow! This place is neat; we'll have to come here again, Uncle Stan."

Stan smiled fondly at his nephew. "We'll see."

"Does your father do the same work as your uncle?" Auntie was nothing if not

persistent. There was always an answer to any question, if one tried hard

enough.

"Nah, Greg don't work. He's a noncon—a noncon—"

"A nonconformist," Stan supplied drily, while catching the napkin on his

nephew's lap before it slid to the floor.

"He sounds a very interesting man," LaLeche put in.

This creep of a father sounded like a deadbeat to Mills. "Does your mother

work?" Mills asked in spite of herself.

"Well…" Cody thought a minute. "She used to ride the rodeo." He took a huge bite

out of his chicken. "Greg says I'm named after some dude called Buffalo Bill."

Mills almost choked on her wine. "Your brother's wife is a rodeo rider?" She

turned to Stan with all the horror of eight generations of Yankee forebears for

any activity which didn't require a coat and tie.

Cody snorted. "My ma wasn't his wife. I figure Greg's never gonna get married."

The audacious boy winked broadly at her. "Got too many girlfriends."

Stan's face reddened.

"Zanita tells me you're an absolute marvel, Xavier." Auntie's interest in the

child having been satisfied, she quickly moved on to her next victim. In this

case, the prime victim.

"Oh, I wouldn't quite put it that strongly."

False modesty had its moments, Zanita reflected. Too bad this wasn't one of

them.

Auntie leaned toward him in her chair. "Do you really perform healing

ceremonies? I can't tell you how fascinating this subject is to me."

"My dear lady, fascination barely describes it." LaLeche pointedly gazed into

Auntie's eyes as if fascinated to death. But not, Zanita noted, before he gazed

down at the emerald-and-ruby ring gracing her index finger.

Stan's fork clattered against his plate. "You aren't talking about physic

healing, are you?"

"Yes, yes, yes." Auntie waved her hand impatiently. "Get with the program,

Stan."

"Surely you don't subscribe to this quackery, Dr. Evans?"

Everyone turned to stare at Tyber.

Talk about being put on the spot… Zanita grimaced. If Tyber denied it, LaLeche

would become suspicious. If Tyber admited to it, Dr. Mazurski would rapidly lose

respect for his Physicist King. And might spread the word among Tyber's

colleagues. There could be professional ramifications. Zanita bit her lip, sorry

she had placed him in this situation.

If Zanita had been in Tyber's mind at that moment, she would have seen that she

was worrying needlessly. Tyber could care less what his colleagues surmised

about him personally. His work spoke for itself.

However, he sipped his wine slowly before responding, taking the time to come up

with an answer acceptable to everyone. "Surely by now, Stan, you know I always

keep an open mind—to everything."

"Yes, but psychic—"

"Greg says the same thing," Cody piped in. "He says never rule anything out

'cause life is full of possibilities." Tyber could've kissed him.

"Greg appears to be a fountain of wisdom," Mills murmured sarcastically under

her breath. Zanita kicked her under the table.

After dinner, everyone returned to the parlor.

Mills had to make a phone call and had just hung up when Cody found, or rather,

cornered her in the hallway. She looked down at the little boy in surprise.

Cody surveyed her up and down, joining his thumb and forefinger together in the

"okay" sign. "Lady, you are stacked."

Mills' mouth dropped open. "How old did you say you were?"

Cody puffed up his chest proudly. "Six."

"Do you live mostly with your uncle Stan?" Mills asked hopefully.

"Nan, I live with Greg. Me and him is like that." He crossed his little fingers

to demonstrate.

"Hmm." She took his hand, leading him firmly back into the sitting room.

Tyber reached up to the bookcase, handing Stan the book on quantum theory he had

been telling him about.

"Isn't that Arthur Bloomberg working for you?" Stan thumbed distractedly through

the book.

"Yes."

"What happened to him? He was a brilliant mathematician."

Tyber rubbed his ear. "Um, he had a real problem with convergences."

"Oh." Stan watched Mills with a speculative gleam as she entered the room

holding Cody's hand. "Mills seems very nice. Is she married?"

"No, but you are," Tyber responded dryly.

Stan colored. "Oh, no! Not me! I was thinking about my brother… She seems such a

down-to-earth person—just what he needs."

"And why is that?"

"Don't ask! My brother, Gregor, is… is, well, he's something of a

serendipidist."

Tyber pictured a "wild and crazy" Stan Mazurski in his mind, instantly negating

the image. He said diplomatically, "I don't know, Stan, ah—I think sometimes

it's best to leave these things alone."

Stan stroked his chin in thought. "I suppose you're right. Pity, though. Tyber,

are you really serious about this psychic stuff?"

"Between the two of us?" Stan nodded. "Well, who knows? There could be something

to it. But not this guy. Keep it to yourself, will you?"

"Of course I will. I find myself agreeing with you. I wouldn't rule it out

completely—but it doesn't have much to do with what we do."

Tyber just smiled.

"A cat! You got a cat!"

Cody's voice held the awe usually reserved by six-year-old boys for such things

as toy laser guns and interstellar battle-ships. He jumped off the chair, racing

toward Hambone. The tabby's singular eye momentarily widened, but the pirate cat

held his ground.

Zanita guessed the steady flow of tidbits the cat had been getting all day from

the kitchen had just run dry. Knowing this cat as well as she did, she figured

Hambone had probably come in to see if there was anything on the floor to

vacuum. He would tolerate Cody only until he discovered the child was not

carrying any food.

Hambone, being a cat, did exactly the opposite of what she thought.

When Cody put his arms around the great bulk, shoving his face right into the

soft fur, Hambone closed his eye in ecstasy, emitting a strange low sound. One

could easily interpret this odd sound to be a purr. Zanita threw an astonished

look at Tyber.

"In case you haven't guessed, Cody loves cats." Stan addressed the group, a fond

smile gracing his kind face as he watched his nephew hug the animal.

"You can't have one where you live?" There was a sad note in Mills' voice; she

loved cats herself and empathized with Cody. Pets were against the rules in her

apartment house as well.

"It's not 'cause of that." Cody petted Hambone's broad head. "Me and Greg gotta

be free and not tied down to anything. We gotta be able to move where the mood

takes us."

The Creep just dropped another notch in Mills' book.

"What about school?" She turned to Stan. "Surely your brother—" She stopped when

she realized that she was overstepping the bounds of polite inquiry.

Stan just looked at Mills, shaking his head. "Another topic of dissension," he

said quietly to her.

A few moments later, Blooey caught Tyber's attention from the doorway. "There's

a bloke what wants to come aboard, Captain. Says his name is Gregor Mazurski;

should I lower the plank?"

"Gregor? I wonder what my brother's doing here? He told me he would be gone for

the weekend."

Tyber nodded to Blooey. "Open the gate, Blooey."

A short time later Gregor Mazurski entered the room.

He was a surprise to everyone, for Gregor Mazurski was the complete antithesis

of his brother Stan.

Gregor stood about six-foot-three and had a thick head of raven-black hair and

glittering green eyes. He was dressed in black boots, black jeans, and a black

leather jacket. Only a maroon sweater worn under the jacket broke the stark

effect.

Zanita's eyes met Mills'. Mills' eyes met Zanita's. Both conveyed the age-old

secret message among girlfriends everywhere: Hunk.

Upon seeing his father, Cody released Hambone, racing pell-mell across the room

to throw himself into his father's arms. Gregor lifted the boy up, holding him

under the seat of his pants with one broad palm.

Mills had no way of knowing that Gregor had left his son only three hours

before. From what she observed of the reunion, Mills came to the erroneous

conclusion that the man hadn't seen his son in a very long time.

It was obvious the boy idolized him. Hunk or no, he was still the Creep.

"Greg!" Cody hugged his father.

"Hey there, Spike, how these people treating you, huh?" He ruffled his son's

hair. "In case you people don't know it— there's a Harley smashed up in the

front drive."

Tyber rubbed his forehead. Perhaps he needed Mrs. Mazurski's headache medicine.

If one more person mentioned his dead bike, he was going to bring the damn

carcass in here and hold a wake.

"Have a seat, Greg—I'm Tyber Evans." He gestured to a chair.

Gregor had heard about Tyber Evans, had even admired his maverick attitude. A

similar attitude was a part of his nature. Therefore, he was a little surprised

to find his staid brother, Stan, in the home of such a man. By all outward

appearances, they had little in common.

"Thanks, but we really should be going. Spike's probably tired—"

"I am not!"

"I thought you were going to Bermuda for the weekend, Gregor. What happened?"

"I got a new plan, Stan." He flashed his brother a smile of pearly whites. Cody

giggled, recognizing the song lyrics.

"You're welcome to stay for dessert." Tyber graciously extended the invitation.

"Come on, Greg, they're having chocolate cake." Cody's small hand turned his

father's face so he could whisper loudly in his ear, "Chocolate cake." Everyone

laughed.

Greg grinned at his son. "I guess I can't fight chocolate cake."

He released Cody, who went to sit on the rug next to Hambone. Gregor took a seat

and was soon introduced to everyone. His sights lingered for more than a few

moments on Mills.

Blooey wheeled in a dessert cart loaded with goodies. Cody was personally handed

a huge piece of cake.

LaLeche continued on his topic of spiritual quests. Tyber caught Zanita stifling

a yawn and immediately substituted her decaf for regular. Zanita yawning was a

warning sign not to be overlooked.

"Now the Tantric viewpoint is somewhat different—by the way, the Tibetans are a

remarkable people. Over one hundred thousand of them are in exile."

"I heard the Chinese government has been systematically destroying Tibet." As a

removed observer, Tyber reflected on the entropic aspects of the situation.

"I recognize that speculative look, Doctor," Stan joked. "Care to share with us

what you're thinking?"

"I'm thinking about entropy, the Tibetan people, and quantum theory."

"There's a lighthearted mixture," Greg quipped.

"How very marvelously interesting." Auntie probably didn't have a clue, but

Zanita knew she doted on "ponderous" men. "Tell us more, Tyber."

"Here is a spiritually advanced culture taken over by a political regime which

to them represents disorder. Their way of life is being systematically

destroyed—entropy rears its ugly head. Now, in quantum mechanics, the observer,

by the very nature of his existence, cannot help but affect the outcome of the

experiment or observation; indeed, he becomes part of it simply by his inherent

presence.

"So, here we all are, the quantum observers, if you will, in a closed field of

experimentation. How do we effect what is happening in Tibet, and how is what's