Welcome to Golden, Chapter 6

It had been a busy week and Billy found little opportunity to talk with Fred or Ruth. In addition to the usual doctor duties, he had to see three patients off and the glitches were getting worse. It was starting to affect residents even more and they were becoming as frustrated as Billy and everyone else in the control room in the warehouse.

By Friday — his third day that week in Golden — Billy wanted to take it easy and make some time to meet with Fred and relax on his front porch. Getting out of his office at the Golden Bank & Trust proved to be difficult. Despite all the headaches, he loved his job; but it was probably more stressful than your average psychiatrist would go through. Especially for a doctor as young as Billy. He was thirty-four and finished his doctoral work a couple years before. He was unlike others in the field of geriatric psychiatry, he still had all his hair and hadn't developed an ass that looked like it sat in a chair all day. He had expected to find a nice cushy slot doing research and never having to worry about meeting with patients. He had ambitions, of course, and hoped that his work in the field would lead to some breakthroughs.

He had been surprised when Fred called him personally offering him the job. Billy, and just about everyone else in geriatric care, had been following Fred's project for years. Now that it had gotten off the ground and the government had allowed it to move forward, the project needed a staff psychiatrist. Billy didn't even bother applying for the position, he knew he was too inexperienced. However, it seemed Fred was good friends with a Dr. M. Douglas Hopewell, Billy’s mentor through graduate school. One thing led to another and it turned out that young Dr. Watson was now sitting at his desk on the second floor of the Bank & Trust Building in Downtown Golden going over case files; not only for his own work, but in an effort to find out what Jordan and the government agents knew about Golden.

Each day he was in Golden he was expected to meet with as many patients as possible. That meant he had at least five appointments each time he was in Golden, sometimes more. That didn’t account for the patients who simply “dropped by” in order to talk. It was a huge caseload, but thankfully, most of his patients were easy to deal with.

Now, however, he was trying to work through the problems with Lillian Weaver. The issue with Lillian's hands kept returning despite Billy asking the techs to lock her avatar. When she arrived at his office in Golden she wore gloves. Although she had taken on the appearance of a vibrant young woman in her early 20s, her hands were — once again — those of an eighty-year-old arthritic woman.

“Here,” Billy told her for the umpteenth time. Both of them were frustrated by the problems. “Take my hands and close your eyes. As you know, the computers react to your self image, so I want you to think about your hands, the long slender fingers, the skin so smooth. Quick, tell me the color of polish.”

“Pink, only a hussy would wear red nail polish,” she said.

“Yes,” Billy whispered, “and how long are your nails?”

“I can feel the tips clicking on the keys of my typewriter. They're strong, they have to be.”

“Okay, now open your eyes.” She did and found her hands to perfectly match the rest of her. Billy took her over the process of concentration in case it happened yet again, but the fact is that it shouldn't have happened at all. The computers were programmed to assure continuity — patients shouldn't be required to constantly think about how they should look. Someone concentrated on a body image and the computers locked it in until another image was “entered.” Most residents didn't bother changing often, most weren't as good at making the changes.

He was able to get Lillian out of his office with a little time before his next appointment. As he got ready, he reflected on Golden. On the surface, nothing looked to be out of place, but Billy had a feeling that something was amiss. It seemed like all of his patients were having problems — Stella Barone was having trouble getting milk from the grocer. Richard Kendrick was lonely for his wife, who was very much still alive and active in the real world and showed little interest in Richard or Golden. Mary Pritchard was busy in everyone else’s affairs but would not tend to her own. And on, and on, and on it went. Billy was tired and needed time away from his job.

The newest of the arrivals seemed to be adjusting to Golden just fine, four of them in total in the three weeks after Ruth arrived. Steven Akins had been an East Coast lawyer, and to Billy, seemed to be looking for a way to sue Golden. That is until he met Julia Parker, who had been in Golden for about a month and was best described as saucy.

Another of the new residents was Charles Hoyt, who took to the town like he had lived there his whole life. Like Ruthie, Chuck, as he insisted on being called, spent his time in Golden as a child and spent most of his days fishing. He told Billy he wished his older brother could be there, but knew it wasn’t possible.

Most patients had been years since any interaction with other human beings and were making up for lost time. Except for one, that is. Paul Thompson, an eighty-eight year old man with no family, never married and seemingly no interest in Golden or its other residents. He stayed in his house watching television every day, never leaving and never seeming to move from an old, smelly recliner.

The last new arrival was Rita Johnson, a black woman from the south who had a wonderful laugh and whose house always smelled like peach cobbler, Ruth told Billy. When Rita first arrived, she set about getting to work cleaning a home that hadn’t been dirty, except in her own mind. Billy also found out later that Rita was an excellent jazz singer. Fred, who frequented Larry's Lounge on jazz night, caught her singing there one night and hadn’t missed a performance since. Fred didn't say much else about her, but grinned a lot when her name was brought up.

Billy stopped gathering wool and tried to concentrate on his next appointment; Andrew Joslin, one of Golden’s problem children. As a professional, Billy diagnosed Andrew as a borderline psychotic. As a person, he found Andrew to just be plain creepy and unpleasant. Even though Andrew had never hurt anybody, that hadn't stopped him from threatening just about everyone in Golden, including Billy. Andrew wasn't big, but his response to most people was either impatience or anger.

Looking over the case file once more, Billy steeled himself for the meeting. It was not going to be an easy time, it never was. Andrew was seventy-six years old and single. He had never married and as far as Billy knew, never had a long-lasting relationship with anyone. In life, he had been a maintenance man for a school district. In Golden he constantly scapegoated anyone and everyone. He talked about how he would have gotten ahead if it weren’t for any number of minority groups. He pretty much hated everyone and everything, but saved his special bile for women, which Billy passed off as either some latent homosexuality or at the very least problems Andrew had with his mother. It was hard to tell, because Andrew would not talk to Billy about anything other than a litany of complaints about the town.

Billy got up and went to the window and watched the street below. It was a quiet morning in Golden. A few Seegees walked in their computer regulated patterns, giving the town a lived-in kind of feel. Billy saw a few of the residents, as well. Lily Perez, who looked about seventeen with pig tails, fresh skin and a tight sweater, was coming out of the grocery. Although Golden could create food for them, most residents chose not to enjoy the “magic” of the town, preferring a world that was close to the one they came from, where you had to go shopping, prepare food and take care of other bodily needs. Some preferred not to, those were the residents Billy kept a close eye on; which at this point numbered three, Andrew, Cal Everitt and Anne Knox.

That those three didn’t continue with regular life things wouldn’t be that unusual, but they were developing nearly super egos, which disrupted the flow of Golden. For instance, Anne would constantly harass Lily about her hair which would cause Lily to get flustered and cause her self-image to change. Anne would make comments about how Lily's hair was too short, so Lily would get nervous and her hair would grow long or short or green or whatever Anne wanted. Anne would laugh hard for a while and look for another victim. She obviously loved controlling things in Golden and used it to control people. Billy had threatened to kick her out unless she controlled her desire to belittle people. It sort of worked, but she glared at Billy with unmitigated hatred every time she saw him.

Cal was obsessive, and not with nice things. Everyone has a dark side and Cal spent his time in Golden living his. Cal had several rooms in the Golden School that he used to live out his sexual fantasies. While Billy had to admit to himself that Cal was extraordinary when it came to rendering, it frightened him with what Cal would work on. One of the rooms at the school Cal had created was essentially a whorehouse, with hooker Seegees created with the utmost of care. Those hookers would do anything, which Billy learned upon one of his visits when one offered her services to him. There was a debate over whether Cal should be allowed to keep his rooms and a panel of experts determined that no one should be denied some sort of sexual release in Golden, even if it were a perverse desire. Besides, who can say what is perverse? Billy knew; it was Cal Everitt. It turned out, though, that letting Cal keep his rooms actually served Billy well when he took access away from Cal and his friends.

Billy distracted himself looking out his office window, watching as Lily Perez walked across the street to meet with Gloria Pagano. Lily and Gloria were best friends, having met for the first time nearly a month before on Fred’s porch. And they couldn’t be more opposite, Lily was shy and Gloria was vivacious.

He smiled as he watched the friends, but the grin disappeared quickly when he saw a strange figure across the road and in the shadows. He was young, maybe early twenties, with slicked back hair, dark slacks and a nice shirt. He looked like Elvis. This was the third time Billy had seen the stranger and he quickly threw open the door and ran down the stairs and outside. The man was gone, again. Billy was lost in looking for the stranger and didn’t notice Lily and Gloria staring at him.

“Are you okay, Dr. Watson?” Lily asked. Billy jumped a bit and turned to face the two women. Lily was small and had perfect skin. She had beautiful round eyes and a quick smile. Although shy, she was one of the more popular women in Golden. All the guys were always asking her on dates, which she refused. Billy had asked her once why she turned down her suitors. She told him that she was scared to say yes; the only man she had ever kissed was her husband Filandro, who had died years before.

When he talked to her, Billy always found himself consciously acting professional. She was very appealing to any man, himself included.

“I’m fine, ladies,” Billy said. “Say, you didn’t happen to see someone behind that tree just now, did you?”

Gloria stepped forward. She was a tall red-head with large breasts and an infectious laugh.

“If you’re looking for someone, Doc, I’m right here,” she said. “You know you can always find me.”

For lack of a better term, Gloria was the town slut, and Billy laughed to himself many times about how the virgin and the whore always hung out together. Those words never appeared in any reports, but Gloria had spent a life being, well, less than attractive; so she was making up for lost time in Golden. Who was he to judge?

“No, no,” Billy said. “I thought I saw a guy standing behind that tree. He was wearing chinos and a pink and black shirt. He had his hair in a duck’s tail? Did you see him?”

Both shook their heads and giggled slightly.

“I think you’ve been working too much Doctor,” Lily said. “You should try and relax, find a nice girl and not worry so much about this place.”

Billy looked up and down the street, seeing nothing but Seegees wandering from shop to shop and sometimes stopping to look in a window. Nothing unusual. Maybe he did work too hard.

“That's what my mother keeps telling me,” Billy said, wishing he could take it back. Both of them were old enough to be his grandmother, so it would be natural for them to take a motherly interest in him. They may have looked young, and they did their best to act young, but … they weren't.

“If you see this guy, let me know, okay?” Billy said. “I’m just wondering who it is.”

The two hiked up their groceries, giggled and left.

Then he was startled for the second time that day.

“Didn’t know you were supposed to be checking out women here, Doc?” said Andrew Joslin. Billy jumped a foot in the air and felt his heart begin to race.

“Huh? Oh, Mr. Joslin,” Billy said, focusing on Andrew. “I was just looking for someone. Say, you didn’t see a young guy, slicked back hair, did you?’

Joslin laughed. “Like I’d tell you. So are we going to do our bull session or not, 'cause I got some things I gotta take care of.”

Billy motioned for him to follow and he started back to the office, keeping his eye out for the stranger. Maybe it was his imagination, something that was easy to lose track of in Golden. That still didn't make the feeling that someone was spying him go away.

The pair climbed the stairs to Billy’s office and it wasn’t long before Joslin started with his list of complaints.

“This is some pretty shitty furniture you got in here,” he said.

“You can change it if you want,” Billy countered.

Joslin sat hard in a chair; Billy suspected he was trying to break it. Andrew was dressed in blue jeans and a short sleeve shirt, the cuffs rolled up on both. His brown hair was trimmed short with the flattest of flattops. Joslin appeared to be in his early twenties, big and strong. Billy had no idea if this matched how Andrew had looked in the real world. He grinned and pulled a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and a Zippo out of his pants pocket.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? I know you can’t change things around in here like everyone else. How ‘bout this, why don’t you just live with it?”

Billy sighed and sat at his desk. With most of the patients, he would sit in one of the comfortable chairs, but with Joslin, there didn’t seem to be much reason to. The meeting was scheduled for a half-hour, and Billy would try to keep him there the full time out of spite. Most of their meetings lasted no more than ten minutes with Joslin leaving in a fury over some perceived affront.

“Mr. Joslin,” Billy started, getting right to the meat of the meeting. “Ever since you came here, you’ve accused me and everyone else of having less than honorable intentions. I don’t care how you treat me, but I’ve had several complaints about your behavior by some of our other residents.”

Joslin’s ears turned bright red and Billy knew he was angry. How that anger would come out was always a guess. Sometimes, he tossed furniture. Sometimes he would clinch his fists and threaten. This time it was a faked casual indifference; a new reaction. Finally, something interesting and different out of Andrew Joslin.

“People like to complain,” he said.

“Aren’t you interested in what those complaints are?” Joslin just shrugged.

“Well,” Billy went on, “I am. It represents behavior that is unacceptable in Golden.”

“Unacceptable to who? To you? To that Hollywood pothead?” Joslin said, doing his best to blow cigarette smoke into Billy’s face.

“You threatened to, and I quote here, you threatened to ‘beat the living shit’ out of James and Gary. You told Lily Perez she was nothing more than a whore and you have been staring at Marie Engel every night at the diner for the past week in a threatening manner. You want to tell me what this is all about?”

Joslin stared at Billy, his dark eyes never blinking. His ears were now purple with rage. Billy waited, but nothing came from Joslin.

“This won’t be over until I get answers and, if I don't get a reasonable explanation, I have the authority to have you removed from Golden.”

Joslin stood up and lumbered over to the desk.

“You ain’t got shit,” he said, pointing a finger at Billy. “I know my rights and I know you can’t kick anyone out of here, especially on the words of a couple of fags and that Mexican whore. So you might as well pick your dick up off the floor, because if you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut your pie hole. I spent a life putting up with assholes like you, but let me tell you this — I ain’t putting up with you or your crap anymore. And you can tell your fag friends that if I see them again, I will beat the living shit out of them.”

With that, Joslin called Billy a fucker, turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

To Billy, Joslin had just put a nail in the coffin. He would recommend that Andrew be removed from Golden. The trouble was that it could take months before authorization was granted. Joslin was a Medicare patient, meaning he wasn’t paying for his stay, the government was. That meant oversight boards, hearings and testimony. Billy hated himself for hoping the old guy would die before that happened.

He logged onto his computer and made several notes. He hesitated about making a full report about the meeting with Joslin, knowing that the government agents were standing over someone's shoulder reading what Billy wrote. In the end, Billy wrote a full account then got up to arrange his furniture before his next appointment. The meeting with Joslin took no more than ten minutes, so Billy had plenty of time to tidy up before Noah Harper arrived for his meeting.

Mr. Harper was one of the newer arrivals. Billy had only met with him a couple of times, and Harper seemed to be fitting in okay. After replacing the furniture, Billy took some time to study Mr. Harper’s incomplete file. The government seized most Noah Harper's, and everyone else's background files; only the basic information that Billy had written was left. He tried to not let that bother him, telling himself that it was more important to talk with someone to learn what was really going on.

What he did have was this: Noah Harper, age seventy-four, was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis fourteen years before, and then lung cancer three years ago. Numerous machines were keeping him alive when he was identified as a perfect candidate for Golden.

Billy had met Harper when he first came to Golden and chatted with him when he saw him on the street, but hadn’t had much time to talk to him. After the initial shock Harper had upon arriving, he accepted the circumstances and seemed almost like any other Golden resident. Plus, he was a nice guy, which didn’t hurt things in Billy’s mind.

A small tapping came at the door. Billy checked his watch and went to answer it.

“Mr. Harper,” Billy said upon seeing the bespectacled man standing in his doorway, “please come in and have a seat.”

“Please, call me Noah. Mr. Harper is my father.” Billy smiled slightly at the old cliché. Noah entered and chose a comfortable padded chair. Billy assumed Noah hadn’t experimented with Golden that much since seeing him at Frank’s playboy apartment a couple weeks before. The man who sat in the chair was not attractive. Although his appearance was of someone in his mid-thirties, Noah was not tall, a little plump around the middle with sloped shoulders and a hairline that had receded almost to the top of his head. His skin was pale except for eczema blotches. With a little imagination, Noah Harper could have made himself look not only younger, but much better looking.

“How are you getting along, Mr. Harper?” Billy asked while taking a seat himself. “I’m sorry, Noah.”

The older man didn’t seem to be nervous, but he thrummed his fingers on the arm of the chair.

“This place is great,” he said. “At first, I was a little confused, but that Fred guy and lately the little girl, Ruthie, have been real helpful.”

Billy liked to think that he could get a bead on people pretty quick, and Noah Harper was no exception. Without the benefit of the seized background file, Billy had no choice but use his instincts in moving forward. The man was nice in a grandfatherly kind of way and the two of them chatted about what Noah remembered about his life. There were stories about growing up in a small town in West Texas. When Billy commented about a lack of accent, Noah said it was because he took pains to get rid of it when he joined the service and began to see the world. Eventually, Noah ended up as a hotel manager in Dallas. This seemed all new to Billy and he began to wonder whether he had even read Harper’s file in the first place.

They talked about Noah's youth and the older man got off on the subject of the Jimmy Stewart movie, “The Greatest Show on Earth” and he talked endlessly about the circus and that movie. Billy tried several times to get him back on to another subject, but Noah kept coming back to Jimmy Stewart as a clown. Billy finally gave up on trying to pry anything else out of him. A few of Golden’s residents had a similar mind fade when they first arrived. Noah, it seemed, had been content to stay the way he remembered himself in the real world, and Billy had to make sure the older man could change his appearance here. There had been cases when patients could not make the changes in rendering an avatar and Billy intervened on their behalf, requesting Ollie to make manual changes. That might be the case with Noah.

“I’ve tried, Doctor, but I can’t seem to get it right,” he said after Billy quizzed him on it.

Billy took him through the steps: close your eyes, take deep breaths and think about looking at yourself in a mirror. Is your hair gray? Or is it thick and dark? Keep your eyes closed and look in that mirror, only its full length now. Remember when you were young, how your shoulders didn’t droop and you didn’t need glasses?

“I’ve always worn glasses,” Noah interrupted.

“Pretend what you would look like without them.”

And on and on. Except with Noah, it took longer than usual and the results were a mixed bag. His hair was dark for sure, but it looked like a toupee. The body straightened a bit, but not to the extent Billy had hoped.

The fact remained, some people were good at controlling Golden and others had a hard time with it. Some residents even spent most of their time looking like their old selves and worked hard for the young appearance only when socializing. A few, had taken it to even further extremes and were able to make themselves look any way they wanted. A few? Well, there was only one who had altered his appearance so drastically, no one from his previous life would recognize him, and no one, not even Fred, knew the truth.

The meeting with Noah went well and Billy made him promise to work with Fred, or even some of his other new friends. He was dubious it could work, and said so; and Billy got the impression that Noah was quite content to be who he was in Golden. What was important, though, was that the older man had adjusted well to the new environment, and that's what Billy wrote in his report.

After finishing his paperwork, Billy decided it was time to call it a day and head over to Fred’s house. The past week had been lousy, where everything that could go wrong, did. Now, he just wanted to start his weekend a little early with a visit to someone who knew how to relax.

Walking in Golden was always cathartic for Billy, and he decided to take the long way to Fred's house by way of the park. Maybe, he thought, he'd simply sit on a park bench and meditate so he wouldn't arrive at Fred's in a foul mood. The park was the best place to go, and Billy couldn't help but close his eyes soon after sitting. He listened to the sounds, amazed at the work a group of computer engineers had done to make it all come to life. He was trying his best not to fall asleep. A few residents enjoyed the park as much as he did, but there were only Seegees hanging around. The fake people were easy to spot, mostly because they had limited movements and almost no personality.

With his eyes closed, though, he felt like someone was watching him. He cracked his eyelids and thought he caught something, or someone, out of the corner of his eye. He turned, expecting to find a resident with a problem, waiting patiently for him to notice so it could be fixed. What he saw was Elvis. Not the fat Elvis, but the young Elvis, the one who hadn't yet gone into the Army, the shy southerner who was happy to sing for his Mama. Elvis was no more than thirty feet away and staring at Billy.

When Billy turned his head to face him, Elvis simply walked away and disappeared behind some shrubbery.

“Hello,” Billy said. “I need to talk to you.”

He rose quickly to confront this stranger, mostly to find out who was changing their appearance to that of Elvis, but he didn't move quickly enough. Elvis had left the park. The sighting put Billy on edge, so when someone snuck up and said, “Hello, Billy!” in a loud, enthusiastic voice, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

He turned and saw a 10-year-old girl with a pony tail smiling at him — it was Ruth.

“Holy moly, I really scared you, didn’t I?” Ruth said, grinning. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, but you did seem to be gathering some moss standing there.”

He couldn’t help but laugh and told her that he thought he saw Elvis. Expecting her to make further fun at his expense, he was somewhat surprised that she, too, had seen him.

“I’ve seen him a couple of times around town,” she said as they walked out of the park. “I thought it was someone from the outside, maybe one of those technicians they’ve been sending in lately. Those guys are jumpy from the time they come in here until the time they leave.”

Billy thought it was an interesting theory, but told her that wasn’t the case. He had checked with the engineers, he told her, and no one knew what he was talking about. As they were walking, Ruth and Billy talked about Elvis and Fred and Golden and everything she was liking about the town. Elvis made another appearance on their walk, but soon disappeared when they tried to confront him.

When they got to Fred's street it was deserted, not even Seegee kids were playing stick ball or football in the street — something Fred liked. As they got closer, they heard loud music being played; a song Billy had never heard in Golden before because Fred would never allow it. Billy only knew it because it was on a CD he acquired not long after his first job interview with the Golden Foundation. The song playing was “Teenage Dreams (Are Made For You)” by none other than Freddie McKenzie.

Billy had asked Fred several times why he didn't want to hear any of his old music, but the former teen idol would always change the subject — he was cagey that way. Jenny wasn't any help, she never liked any of the records her dad made and they were never around the house when she was growing up. She was an adult before she even knew Fred had had several records on the charts. Billy always figured that Fred wasn't the one actually singing on the records, which is why he didn't want to hear them.

But there it was, the sappy lyrics and pining music coming from Fred's house. Billy couldn't help but smile. As he and Ruth got closer, they saw a young Fred and a young Rita Johnson on the porch playing what looked like a very intimate game of checkers. Climbing the stairs, Billy saw that it was the Chinese variety of checkers and Rita was giggling like a girl. She was a very attractive woman, tall and thin with smooth dark skin and glowing white teeth. It was apparent she and Fred had been passing a joint back and forth, and both were having a good time making sure to give each other loving touches and knowing glances. Billy had the feeling that not long before, Fred and Rita had been elsewhere in the house — namely the bedroom.

Billy felt like he had walked in on his parents in the throes of passion.

“Hey there, Billy-boy! Oh, and you brought that young prodigy with you!” Fred shouted when he saw Billy and Ruth approach. “It's about time you two showed up.”

“Hey Fred. Ms. Johnson,” Billy said with an embarrassed nod.

“Oh Dr. Watson, you know you can call me Rita,” Rita said, rising to meet Ruth on the porch. The two hugged and gave each other a meaningful look. “You two look thirsty, I think I’ll make some lemonade for all of us.”

Before she could turn to go in the house, Ruth was offering to help and they went in together chuckling and giggling like old friends and throwing back a glance at Freddie McKenzie.

Billy stood, not quite knowing what to say and Fred looked up at him. He, too, wore a grin.

“What?” he said as Billy sat in the chair Rita had vacated. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed?”

Billy thought for a moment. He was embarrassed, but was unsure what to say. So, he said something he knew would make Fred laugh.

“Sometimes I feel like the only adult around here,” he said. He was right, Fred did laugh. Soon, the ladies returned with the lemonade and they all started chatting like old friends. Billy tried to follow the conversation, but was soon lost when they started talking about some obscure television show or movie that had been popular long before Billy had been born. He was happy to see friends reliving a common experience, but sad because he didn’t fit in. It made him think about the friends he didn’t have outside of Golden in the real world.

He sat staring at a wind chime that had appeared on Fred's porch since the last time he had visited. He was trying to enjoy the perfect day in the perfect town, but at that moment, Billy realized that Golden was the source of his melancholy, not a solution to it. He needed some time off.

“Are you okay?” Ruth said, noticing he had a faraway look. “You don't look like yourself.”

Fred started to giggle.

“No one looks like themselves in Golden, especially ol' Billy-boy here,” he said. Ruth gave Fred a stern look and turned back to Billy, expecting an answer.

“It's been a tough week,” Billy said sipping the drink.

“Those three delinquents giving you a hard time again?” Fred asked referring to Joslin, Anne and Cal. In truth, they were, but at the heart of it, Billy knew that wasn't the problem.

“You ever feel like things … you know? Like life? Like the things you can control in your life seem to be slipping away?” Billy asked. He could tell from the blank stares from Fred, Rita and Ruth that they had no idea what he was talking about and furthermore, he was bringing down the party.

“Too much stress,” Billy said. “Too much has been going wrong. The glitches in Golden's program hasn't gotten better and Ollie seems to think I'm making it up. The patients all seem to be … I don't know … ornry. Then there's Elvis, which is driving me mad because I can't figure out who it is ...”

“Wait,” Rita interrupted, “you've been seeing Elvis too? I thought I was the only one.”

“Elvis?” Fred said, then giggled.

“Yeah,” Billy said, “he was following us over here but he wouldn't let us get close or talk.”

“I've seen him three times in the past day,” Rita said. “Yesterday, he followed me to the school. At first, I thought it was you, Fred. I swear, the guy looks just like young Elvis.”

Fred had stopped giggling and was studying Billy closely.

“You don't know who it is?” he asked; Billy shook his head. “And did you talk to Ollie about this?”

This time, Billy nodded. “I mentioned it, but he didn't say anything. I figure it's someone who's been experimenting with different looks. Have you got any idea who it might be?”

It was Ruth's turn to shake her head and Fred was now stone-cold sober to the point that it frightened Billy.

“What?” Billy asked. Fred's blue eyes turned away. Billy knew Fred had an idea about Elvis, the question was whether he was going to tell Billy.

“Nothing,” Fred said. He quickly changed the subject. “Tell me about the glitches.”

Billy ran down a long list of the things that had been happening, and Fred was lost in thought. Billy was starting to become really concerned, but Fred was a master at changing the subject when it was required.

They talked more; actually Fred talked and Rita, Billy and Ruth listened and laughed. He went on about the trials and tribulations of being famous and trying to get an education in Pasadena. The stories were all about Fred and he had little interest in talking about anything else — he had a willing audience.

Eventually, Ruth joined Fred and Rita’s game of Chinese checkers and Billy got up to leave. He had been able to create a facade of relaxation, but inside Billy's nerves were still on edge. He knew Fred suspected something was wrong in Golden — the old movie star kept looking over his shoulder and into the house where his typewriter sat. The device was how Fred conversed with Ollie, and Billy could tell Fred wanted to do that in the worst way.

It wasn't long before Billy looked at his watch; it was time for him to go back to the real world. For the first time since he had started working in Golden, he was not at all sad to leave — he needed something real.