My Only Talent Ch. 12

I was at a loss as to who she was, but Millicent laughed and said "Senator Elect Elizabeth Warren, I presume?" The woman laughed. "High marks on current events, my dear! Even though she has withdrawn from the upcoming election, the true believers soldier on! Racist Republican Discrimination forced her to claim a heritage she did not deserve so she could try to achieve her proper place in academia, and Noble Democrat Liberal Affirmative Action tried but could not win justice, and then they still used that against her!" She bowed at the waist. "Man is not a rational animal, man is a rationalizing animal!" She looked Millie up and down like a bear looks at a swimming salmon, and her Suzie was sending all sorts of things she would like for Millie and I to do to her. "I need help on placing your character, dear."

Millicent drew herself up to her proud but diminutive full height, and said, "I am a fuck toy, but I need to learn to give myself permission to let myself go and really enjoy it!" The woman's Suzie signal screamed. She laughed. "So you are illustrating the universal plight of all women, yearning to be sexually free, yet artificially repressed by male society!"

The tall woman then introduced herself by what I assumed was her real name, Penelope Peters Perabo, tenured Professor of Fashion and Political Science at the Elle BJ School. "But to return to your immediate concern, there must be a way. I hope to see a lot more of y'all later!" With that she walked away gracefully, swinging her hips very attractively, I thought.

Suzanne laughed, and said, "Down, boy! I didn't know you were so attracted to older women."

I grinned sheepishly. "I didn't either." But my mind replayed her movements as she walked away. "She was in pretty good shape for being about 60!"

Suzanne laughed. "I don't think she was that old. She looks like a once competitive swimmer who has stayed in pretty good shape who is now in her 50's. But let's talk about her later!" That sounded promising.

Suzanne's dark eyes were flashing like fiery crystals. She was very keen to solve the puzzle. She noticed a little decorative bookshelf inset into the wall of the mezzanine near where we were standing. She scanned the books and found no Arthur Conan Doyle titles displayed. But there was a collection of old text only computer games on the shelf, beginning with Zork, and next to it was 'The Case of the Beheaded Smuggler'. When Suzanne pulled at the top of that title, a door opened in the hallway, revealing a staircase. She moved quickly to hold the door open, and we all followed her down. It was a narrow spiral staircase, and seemed to go down even further than the three stories down that the study had appeared to be. It ended in another hallway, with another one of those intricate wood paneled walls. The three other walls were plain concrete.

We studied the patterns of the paneling, and saw that there were lots of symbols that at first seemed meaningless to us. Lara noticed that there were ten symbols that were a little bigger than the others, and that they were repeated all over the wall. We assumed they were the integers 0 through 9. Suzanne stood absolutely still for a full two minutes, and then said, "There are 26 other symbols, so maybe they are the letters of the alphabet!" That was a breakthrough, but how could we discover which symbols were which? Millie was staring at a portion of the wall that appeared to have only number symbols, and she pointed it out to me, and then we noticed another symbol, just a dot like a period, that we saw only twice on the whole wall. In each case, there was a single number symbol at the upper left of a section of paneling, then the dot, then lots of other number symbols arranged from left to right and then down below. When we followed the symbols down the wall, we notice that there was a gap at the floor, and that the carved wood panels simply continued far down below the floor. We were unsure as to how far they went.

Lara was looking at the floor, which was finished oak, and realized that there were also discernible patterns in the grain of the wood on some of the boards. Most were either plain or random. One had five distinct patterns that repeated in the same order, until the floor ended at the wall. Another had a set of six patterns, with two couplets that repeated within it, and the fist pattern repeated as the next to the last, that pointed to another section of the wall. She kept running through things in her head, trying to make sense of it all.

I was thinking about those integer symbols. Were they repeating decimals that went on forever? Is that what the numbers disappearing into the floor were meant to convey? What were the two most recognizable irrational numbers? I would guess pi, so I looked at the symbols and tried to place 3.14159 which was as far as I remembered it, and it seemed to fit. "Does anybody remember pi out to ten or twelve digits?"

Suzanne said, "3.14159 26535 89793 23846." Wow. There was even more to this girl than I thought! I had nothing to write that down with, but it fit what I saw. I looked at the other number, and tried to place the symbols. At first glance it began with 2.718. Why did that seem so familiar?

"What does '2.718' mean to you?"

Suzanne said again, "Euler's number, the base of natural logarithms, rounded off."

"Okay. So it looks like the two numbers on the paneling are pi and e, to lots of decimal places."

Millie looked at the panels again and tried to fit all this in, ticking off points in her head by holding up fingers. After about two minutes she giggled. "Suzanne, was it you who was kidding me last night about listening to the oldies station? Do you really want to go the other party?"

"Yes, and yes, and if you figure this out I will never kid you about the oldies station again!"

Millie began humming a tune as she stared at a whole section of the wall, separate from the other two sections representing pi and e that had seven repeating numbers over and over, with no decimal point. I tried to substitute the symbols, and it looked like "9875436" repeated over and over. Mille walked over to the wall, held out her hand, and begin to sing, "That's my numberrrrrrrr. Six Three Four Five Seven Eight Nine. That's my number!" She touched those numbers on the wall in order, and a section of the wall slid open, revealing a big, tall, deep elevator with pads on the walls, like a freight elevator.

Suzanne cried out for joy, and we all got into the elevator, and the door closed behind us. It was only then that we looked at the control panel. It was marked "G" at the top, and we were on the next level down "B1" and then there were "B2" and "SB1" and "SB2". I pushed B2 and the car started down. It took a while, and when the door opened, we saw what looked like a parking garage with many empty spaces and a few vehicles, a small shuttle bus, and two other, smaller elevators on the opposite wall right next to where the bus was parked. The door closed and we tried SB1. When the door opened on SB1 we saw what looked like a DC Metro station, except the subway cars were much smaller. One had seats for twelve people; the other was set up for cargo. Obviously they took people and things somewhere. The door closed before we could react, and we tried SB2. It took a long time to get there, and then we saw what looked like a giant warehouse, full of bar-coded shipping containers on racks that went up about two stories with little tracks running between the racks and what looked like more subway cars, and some of them had what looked like big drills on the front of them and 'UTILX' on the side. We went back to SB1, and walked out to look at the subway station more closely. There was a station map indicating that we were at the end of the line at 'LB Station', and there were two other stations. The other stop was 'LB Manor' and at the other end of the line was 'River Port'.

Just as we were about to get into the car and give it a whirl, we saw another passenger car approaching from the direction of LB Manor, with one person inside. At first glance he looked very surprised to see us, but he recovered well, and by the time he opened the car's door and stepped out, he seemed calm and patient. He looked about 60, with a bald head and a little grey hair on the sides, but not much. He had on a very British looking double breasted suit with a blue vest and a red bow tie. He looked like the guy from a crazy old movie that my mother liked called 'My Dinner with Andre'. "Who showed you how to get down here?" he asked in a high and rising question voice.

Millie laughed and said, "Wilson Pickett!" and began humming the tune she had sung earlier. He suddenly looked very shocked again.

Suzanne said, "With a little help from Leonhard Euler!" He stared at her with even more incredulity than he had at Millie. Suzanne put on her best thousand watt smile, which was absolutely dazzling, and asked, "Which way to the real party?"

He sat back down on the seat in the car and laughed again, really hard. He sort of looked like a small laughing Santa Claus. "Well I certainly have a lot of work to do after this party! I carved all those panels myself, and there have been at least a hundred people staring at that wall for hours without figuring it out." He giggled some more, then he stood and turned to Millie. "Would you mind telling me about your costume? It's very attractive, or course, but I can't quite figure out your character."

Millie looked a little embarrassed, but then continued, "Well, I am not a fictional character. I am a real life fuck toy, but I need to learn to give myself permission to let myself go and really enjoy it! And I'm not sure any one of us individually could have decoded your wall, but some very interesting things happen when the four of us get together!" She blushed.

He laughed so hard that he had to sit back down again. Then he looked at me, obviously noting the scratches on my back. "You, I assume, are the luckiest white boy in town?" Then he laughed again, "And ringmaster of this lovely little circus?" he stuck out his hand. "My name is Spear Overtop."

I shook his hand, and wondered at the meaning of his name, and said, "You must be Rodney's client and our interesting but sometimes anonymous host?" He laughed again.

"Bingo! Welcome to the asylum, my friends. I used to be crazy, but now I am just eccentric. And since you have already seen the trains and the station, I'll be your train conductor to the main house. The other guests are being transferred in a shuttle bus. But I will have to ask for your solemn promise not to tell anyone about how you got down here or that these subbasements and this train system even exist. Will you promise me that?"

We all agreed, and then sat down and he started the car moving in the opposite direction, and it went through a little tunnel opening and then began descending on a pretty steep down grade and in an approximately southeastern direction, if I had kept my orientation straight since we arrived. He began the guided tour, "Our beloved municipal governments would be apoplectic if they knew all these tunnels were down here. They are perfectly safe, of course, but the county has trouble enough approving simple septic systems, much less private subways, so I didn't want to bother them about this."

We took a slight left turn, then went through another tunnel and emerged in a large cavern. It looked almost as expansive as Inner Space Caverns and Natural Bridge Caverns, both of which I had visited as a kid. This one had a river running down the middle of it, and a few sparse lights that highlighted some of the nicer features. As we descended, I noticed medium size pipes running from an outlet in the river, and dropping down about six feet and then going into a little green motor looking unit with metal jacketed cables running alongside the river, and then emptying back out into the river at a lower level. Hydropower? There were dozens of them. We traveled above the river for a while, then took a slight left and entered another tunnel. We passed by another station, labeled LB Manor, and our host said, "That's the station for my new house, where I spend most of my time when I am in town. We are going to go to the other end of the line, to see my little River Port." We entered another tunnel, and then emerged again in the underground river channel, which emptied into a pool about 200 feet across. It looked like the old Hamilton Pool swimming hole, except it was fully enclosed by the cavern and had no ferns or lichens growing on the walls, and would have been totally dark without the artificial lights. Our host pulled a remote control from his pocket, and hit a couple of keys. The lights went out, and it seemed like total and complete darkness for a moment until our eyes adjusted, but then we realized there was light coming through the bottom of the pool from somewhere.

"Those lights signal another 'swim out'. It comes out in the river a mile or so down, across from the Country Club, but I seldom use it, so as not to call attention to it and this cavern." We pulled into the River Port station and took the stairs up and out into a little valley surrounded by limestone ridges. At the bottom of the valley was an inlet of the river, and a big brick boathouse, complete with several slips, two with lifts and cranes to pull boats out of the water for repairs or load cargo, a swimming pool surrounded by a patio, and a giant barbeque pit, outdoor kitchen and dining area that could seat about 100 people for a meal. I realized we were not far from the Phi Iota Gamma party house, which by my reckoning was past the bridge and the country club, a little further down the river towards town. We walked with our host to the north end of the patio, and I saw an above ground tramway that looked sort of like an enclosed ski gondola on tracks, that made its way up a steep grade to what looked like a giant house on top of the hill. From this perspective, the house looked as big as the State Capitol.

He reversed the car, and we headed back towards LB Manor, his house. Our seats swiveled around, and as we ascended we were treated to an even better view of the caverns on the way. We climbed back up to the next station and got out, and although there was another freight elevator, our host led us up a covered walkway, which gave us an amazing view of the house as we ascended. I realize the house was designed like some of the buildings I had seen at Disney World, in that it fooled the eye into thinking it was bigger and farther away than it actually was. Using the subway car as my reference, the house was probably quite large and actually five or six stories tall, but it looked like it was a twenty story house surrounded by a local limestone version of the Great Wall of China. It was very impressive. I noticed the entire roof slanted gently to the south, and seemed to be covered with what looked almost like slate tiles, except that they also seemed to be covered in glass, with some sort of fine repeating pattern underneath. The girls gave the proper number of oohs and aahs, which our host enjoyed, and then we went inside what looked like the back entrance. There was a giant mud room with its own outside door, some coat and shoe racks, dog crates and a two huge showers with multiple shower heads and hand held nozzles, two sets of big commercial washers and dryers, shelves filled with towels and robes, and a big fireplace set with logs, but not burning. On the opposite side of the hallway was another work room leading to a big south facing greenhouse and conservatory filled with plants and communicating to an outdoor garden, with sections for herbs, vegetables, and flowers, plus a rabbit hutch and a chicken coop. Several goats grazed lazily on the lawn.

The other way out from the rear entry hall was into a giant kitchen, perhaps not as big as the ones on the cooking competitions on TV, but with two huge Viking stoves, at least five wall mounted ovens, three refrigerators and three freezers, and three sinks and three big dishwashers. There was a giant hanging rack with every kind of pot, pan and cooking utensil I could imagine, and two other big racks with drying peppers and spices. Suzanne and Lara immediately launched into a discussion with our host about the old but perfectly restored gas stoves and certain 10 and 20 year old pots and pans of certain colors that were no longer on the market and considered perfect for certain dishes and therefore collector's items and they went back and forth for about ten minutes about the ones he had and the ones he had missed. They were instantly bonded. Our host then looked a little worried, and said, "As much as I am enjoying our conversation, and want to continue it, I am afraid the buses with the other guests are about to arrive and I need to complete some preparations. All three girls said, almost simultaneously, "How can I help?"

He gave all of us a task. The girls helped carry fresh flowers in vases from the garden room and placed them artistically in the entry hall and the main hall. Our host double checked the buffet tables that the caterers were laying out in the front living and dining rooms. I took a wicker wine carrier and went through an unlabeled door and down to a huge constant climate wine cellar to find several bottles of two particular wines. I was hardly an expert, being a non drinker, but my father was a collector, and this collection spoke of not just wealth, but wide knowledge, clear preferences, and narrow but deep accumulation. It was very impressive. I found the Arizu and Weinert Malbecs I sought quickly, and noticed dozens of bottles of 1970's LaTour casually tucked away in alphabetical order in the built in racks. I turned to hurry back up the stairs, when I noticed a huge thick wooden door, with very ornate iron hinges and hardware, sealed with a simple key and a very intricate knot, which I assumed would quickly reveal any tampering, as it was extremely complex and individualistic I also noted a rawhide bolo was wrapped tightly around the door handle, as if it had been thrown for capture by an expert gaucho. There was a dark and almost sinister looking stained glass window above the door that portrayed three moons. What was beyond that door?

I made it back upstairs just as three busses pulled up in the circle drive at the front entrance. I had a perfect vantage point from which to observe the other guests get off the buses, aided by the fact that the guards insisted on opening up only one bus at a time, under the covered archway at the front door, ensuring that each person would step out serially and into the light. I hurried the wine carrier back to our host in the kitchen, and then returned to my people watching spot. I wondered what the order of egress signified, if anything.

The first people off the bus were the J and K security guys, who seemed to be acting like an advance party, looking around nervously. They were met by three very fit looking guys in much more finely tailored dark grey suits, and I presumed they were our host's security contingent. There was some discussion, wherein J and K gestured and yelled, but the other guys simply shook their heads. Winifred Wimmers emerged from the bus, looking even better from this medium distance, and my first thought was, "please break my heart." Suddenly The Wylie Coyote in her late forties and Penelope Peters Perabo in her fifties were looking pretty good to me. What was up with that? Her trial lawyer cousin was next, looking not quite as bright as Barney Fife. He spoke briefly to the security guys and they just held up their hands as if saying, 'what can we do?' and then he walked to the front door.

With perfect timing, our host appeared at the front door just as Winifred crossed the threshold. There were air kisses and faked laughter and bonhomie in equal measure from both parties. There was just a shrug from our host as the Wylie Fist entered, and no acknowledgement at all to any of the security guys. I waited inside to see who else came through the door. A thin guy in his forties came in, dressed as Lance Armstrong, complete with yellow jersey and multiple wrist bands, but minus the powerful legs. I wondered if his date would be dressed as Cheryl Crow, but he did not have a companion. Our host greeted him as 'Mister Mayor' and I recalled seeing his picture in the Daily Texan. He had been speaking at the Elle BJ School, in his capacity as ex-mayor, on the problems of a growing city. He seemed to show no interest in Winifred, or my three girls. That gave me pause, and in that moment I sensed the disturbing truth: an unmistakable male signaling for male note from Mister Mayor, sending for me. I also remembered a story about a divorce, for irreconcilable differences.