Wala

I looked out the window of my bedroom and saw the cliché black sedan parked across the street. I imagined the face behind the wheel to be that of Clinton, but in truth I could not see any part of him. I also imagined them eating burgers and fries, perhaps enjoying pizza and milkshakes and I found myself hungry. I put Trigo in the Björn and walked out of the house. My plan was to walk past the university and down the hill to the all-night diner called Allnight Diner, where I might enjoy a burger and fries, but not likely as the food there was barely edible. It was, however, open all night. I wondered how the feds might follow me, out of the car or in it, driving a few meters at a time perhaps. I didn’t help them, as I used my usual route, cutting through the playground, walking against traffic on a one-way street and finally through the front door and out the back of a long-defunct doughnut shop, once called Doug’s Doughy Doughnut Dungeon.

In the Allnight Diner I sat by the window and searched the street for my followers or their sedan, but they didn’t show. John Sill, however, did appear. More surprisingly Eigen Vector was still with him, but she was dressed in a strange way, not at all like herself, not at all like a topologist or even one who does applied math. She was wearing a skin-tight black jumpsuit and black leather high-top sneakers that matched.

“Eigen?”

“What do you think?” she asked. “The new me. The old me unveiled. That’s how I like to think of it.”

“What have you done to her?” I asked Sill.

“Nothing. This was all her idea. We’re partners now, she tells me. It all happened so fast. She’s very smart, as you know, and, I might add, pretty damn persuasive. Don’t argue with a topologist. That’s what I always say. Well, not really. Never said it before in my life, but I will from now on.”

“Partners? What does that mean, partners?” I looked to Eigen’s eye shadow for an answer.

“I want adventure,” she said. “Wala, do you remember the excitement you felt when you were a kid and you finally understood Gödel’s proof?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I want something far better than that. I want my heart to race. I want to sweat, not just perspire, but sweat.”

“Run around the block,” I said.

“You know what I mean.”

“So, what is it you’re telling me? What do you plan to do?”

“I plan to be bad.”

To Sill, I said, “I take it you know all about my interrogation.”

“I know they came for you. Did you tell them anything?”

“What is there for me to tell? They already know you gave me money, though they had the amount wrong. They wanted to know why you paid me and, frankly, I wouldn’t mind knowing myself. I told them you were interested in nothing, but that merely confused them. Much like I’m confused right now.” I turned my attention back to Eigen. “What do you mean by be bad?”