Transmigration (15 page)

 

 

Instead of killing them and himself, he said nothing and went away
quietly, although they knew he had seen them. And from that moment Gerry
and Sheila acted as if he was not there. They made love openly. They
fought openly, punching each other, throwing things at each other. They
fought bitterly and clung to each other passionately.

 

 

Baudaker poured another cup of tea.

 

 

--An aunt of mine took Sheila in. She's still with her, three years
later. It hasn't made much difference except that what goes on between
Gerry and Sheila doesn't go on in this house, at least when I'm here. How
they feel about each other is something I really don't know. More than
once Gerry has beaten Sheila half to death, but she has never looked
at anybody else. They don't seem to have any idea of ever getting
married. Gerry drinks a lot, and he's been in court seven times. Breach
of the peace and assault, not stealing yet, thank heaven. Sheila's been
in court twice.

 

 

Fletcher had heard more than enough about Gerry and Sheila for the
time being. Also, the tea had washed some of the stale smoky taste from
Baudaker's mouth, and Fletcher was beginning to get hungry.

 

 

--Aren't you going to have anything to eat?

 

 

Baudaker's surprise gave the answer. He drank tea as compulsively as he
smoked; he lived on tea and cigarettes. He was tubby rather from lack
of exercise than from excessive food intake.

 

 

--I'll see what there is, he said.

 

 

Baudaker had baked beans on toast, made and drank another pot of tea,
went back to the lounge and put a rug over Gerry's legs. He switched
off the light, murmuring, although he knew Gerry could not hear him:
"Goodnight, son." His voice was warm and tender, and Fletcher knew that
whatever Gerry had done or would do in the future, Baudaker would never
cease to love him.

 

 

If Baudaker had killed him three years ago, it would have been like a
biblical character cutting off his right hand.

 

 

 

 

When Baudaker got up next morning at half past seven, Gerry had not
moved. Baudaker was mildly surprised to find himself taking a hot shower,
since he had had a bath only two days since, but didn't object. Afterward
he made tea, fried sausages, and bread for himself. Experience told him
that Gerry would be unable to face anything.

 

 

Baudaker enjoyed the hearty breakfast as much as Fletcher did.

 

 

--Don't let me smoke. I really will give it up this time.

 

 

--While I'm with you, you certainly will. In a day or two you won't
even cough.

 

 

Gerry, who worked in a shoe shop, did not have to leave the house until
a quarter to nine. But he had to be clean and smart when he left.

 

 

Baudaker brought him a cup of tea and shook his arm gently. Gerry swore
indistinctly but vilely.

 

 

"Gerry," said Baudaker softly, and the boy opened his eyes.

 

 

Without warning Fletcher stepped in. "Get up," he said curtly.

 

 

Gerry winced at his incisive tone.

 

 

"You're seventeen," said Fletcher. "It's time you learned to look after
yourself."

 

 

Gerry stared blankly at him, and Baudaker frantically tried to intervene.

 

 

All children needed love, and Gerry had not been denied this. But they
also needed direction and firmness.

 

 

Fletcher had been denied love, but he had not been denied direction and
firmness. On the whole, low as his opinion of himself was, he felt he
had turned out better than Gerry.

 

 

"There will be no more handouts," said Fletcher, "and any debts you
incur are your own. Understand?"

 

 

Gerry retorted with inchoate filth.

 

 

"I don't understand that language, and obviously you don't either,"
said Fletcher. "If you wish to address a remark to me, please do it
in English."

 

 

"You stinking old bastard."

 

 

"Now there," said Fletcher dispassionately, "is a remark totally lacking
in substance. I have just had a shower and put on clean clothes, so I don't
stink. I am forty-seven, which may by some definitions be middle-aged,
but it is certainly not old. And I have documentary evidence to prove
my legitimacy."

 

 

"What's got into you?" Gerry demanded, getting up and wincing again as he
did so. He was nearly a foot taller than Baudaker. Yet Fletcher noted,
and took some wry satisfaction from the fact, he took care to put some
distance between himself and Baudaker.

 

 

"If I explained what has got into me," Fletcher said, "you would certainly
not understand. Now go and get washed."

 

 

As Fletcher drove to the university later Baudaker said humbly
--You think that's the way?

 

 

--It can't be any worse than your way, Fletcher retorted brutally.

 

 

--That's true.

 

 

--There are murderers and murderees. There are bullies and bullyees.
You're a murderee and a bullyee. You ask to be kicked around, Baudaker.
On the other hand there are people like Gerry, weak in a different way,
who are as assertive as they're allowed to be, no more, no less. You do
as you're told. Gerry does as he's told. Sheila, I gather, has masochistic
tendencies. She likes to be beaten up.

 

 

--I believe you're right.

 

 

--Sheila is bad for Gerry. He needs a girl who'll say firmly, and mean it,
"Now that's gone far enough," instead of inciting him, whatever he does,
to go farther.

 

 

 

 

Most of that day Fletcher left everything to Baudaker. But now and then
he intervened.

 

 

Not only Gerry knew that Baudaker was a bullyee. The little man was so
slow to rouse, so willing, so unselfish, that everyone with whom he came
in contact took advantage of him. The psychology lecturers gave him all
the jobs that had a strict deadline, knowing, if they thought about it at
all, that he would work all night if necessary to meet the deadline. The
other technicians heaped as much of their own work on him as they could,
and it was a lot. The students, apart from a few like Anita, treated
him like a slave.

 

 

Ironically, Fletcher found no difficulty in making Baudaker dig his
heels in although he had never been capable of this himself. He told
Professor Williams calmly that it was impossible for him to prepare the
correlation charts the professor wanted for the following morning.

 

 

"Impossible?" said the professor blankly.

 

 

"Quite impossible," said Fletcher firmly. "You want the students'
vocabulary test figures correlated with the spelling figures -- not a
very significant series of figures, I should say, but of course that's
not my business."

 

 

"No, it is not!" said Williams sharply.

 

 

"But first the two sets of figures have to be extracted . . . I should
say there's six hours' work here, and unless I drop everything else I
can't possibly . . . "

 

 

"Then drop everything else!"

 

 

"I have to compute a long series of Standard Deviation scores for
Mr. Foster."

 

 

"That can wait."

 

 

"Very well, sir, if you give me written authorization to abandon
Mr. Foster's SD series for your correlation charts."

 

 

The professor hesitated. He was nominally in charge of the department. But
when one member of a department, even the chief, arbitrarily countermanded
the requirements of others without warning or consultation, considerable
strife resulted. Staff members had been known to resign over such things.
And if they didn't resign they made official complaints. In addition,
the professor was aware, as Baudaker was, that the priority of charts
for a lecture, dumped on a technician's lap less than twenty-four hours
before the lecture, could not be considered overriding, especially since
the tests had been done three weeks earlier.

 

 

"Mr. Baudaker? he said huffily, "I had always considered you one of the
most cooperative members of the laboratory staff. I shall find someone
else to do this little job for me." He stalked away.

 

 

--He won't, said Baudaker. Instead of being frightened out of his wits
by Fletcher's firmness, he seemed to be enjoying himself this time.

 

 

A little later Baudaker had to supervise an experimental session of
a small group of students on color vision. Until fairly recently the
students had been left solely under the supervision of advanced students
like Anita to find out the required facts by themselves, but too much
equipment had been damaged or stolen and now it was a rule that a
technician had to attend all such sessions.

 

 

This session was noisy and obstreperous and the girl allegedly in charge,
a tiny, frail damsel with a whisper of a voice, could do nothing with them.

 

 

After several warnings, Fletcher shut off the rotating color wheel and
opened the curtains.

 

 

"That's enough," he said. "Now clear out, all of you. You can apply for
another tutorial date, but I doubt if you'll get it."

 

 

The three or four students who had been making most noise showed every
disposition toward dispute, but some of the others got the point at
once. If this session was not completed, and they were not allowed
another date, they would not get a class certificate and would not be
permitted to sit in at the exams.

 

 

A small plump youth who had scarcely said a word protested: "That's
not fair."

 

 

"I have a lot of work to do, and you've been wasting my time. That's
not fair either."

 

 

"But we weren't doing anything!"

 

 

"Precisely. No one was doing anything. Close the door behind you."

 

 

They saw he was quite determined and filed out silently, sullenly.

 

 

--I'm not at all sure that was the right thing to do, Baudaker observed,
worried.
--It's bound to lead to trouble. Everybody will hear about it.

 

 

--Good. Then we won't have the same trouble again.

 

 

Fletcher turned down several other demands for Baudaker's time, and at
one point had to warn himself not to overdo it.

 

 

He was quite prepared now to be bold, and Baudaker would never be bold
enough to oppose boldness. But it would puzzle everybody if Baudaker
changed too much too suddenly.

 

 

 

 

For once, Baudaker went home when he was supposed to, just after five.

 

 

Fletcher did the driving. When he reached the maisonette, he reversed
the car neatly into the garage and again took pleasure in Baudaker's
open admiration.

 

 

Frying kippers for tea, Baudaker suddenly said:

 

 

--You must let me make tests.

 

 

--No.

 

 

--But we must find out . . .

 

 

--No. I'm not a guinea pig.

 

 

--Don't you realize, this is the greatest opportunity that ever existed
for . . .

 

 

--Baudaker, let's get it clear once and for all. I refuse absolutely
to be poked and probed and prodded. I should never have come back to
you the other day, and if I hadn't I don't believe any of this would
have happened.

 

 

--You really wish it hadn't?

 

 

--Well, what good is it?

 

 

And on that note he obstinately shut himself off from Baudaker.

 

 

What good was it? True, it had perhaps been good for Judy. But what good
was it for John Fletcher?

 

 

--I heard that, said Baudaker, bursting in. He felt so strongly about
this that he was no longer meek.
--Don't you see, that's one of the things we have to find out? Nothing
happens without a purpose. . . .

 

 

--You think I'm some kind of angel of God?

 

 

--Perhaps. If not, we must find out what you are.

 

 

Fletcher drew the curtain again, and this time Baudaker was shut out
and couldn't get in.

 

 

Fletcher decided he had been wrong to conclude that there would be no
conflict with Baudaker. It was a different kind of conflict, that was
all. Unlike Judy and Ross, Baudaker had no desire to get rid of him. On
the contrary, Baudaker wanted to keep him, to mount him on a microscope
slide and examine him.

 

 

Well, why exactly was he so dead set against this?

 

 

He didn't know.

 

 

All he knew was that thee very idea was torture.

 

 

 

 

Gerry came home at seven, a little the worse for drink, having had two
double whiskies on the way home. He looked at Baudaker challengingly.

 

 

"It's kippers for tea," said Baudaker.

 

 

"You know I don't like kippers."

 

 

Fletcher moved in. "Where did you get the money?" he demanded.

 

 

"What money?"

 

 

"You've been drinking."

 

 

"And you're dead set against that!"

 

 

"Not particularly. But you've got to be able to afford it."

 

 

Gerry didn't meet his eye. "If you must know, I got money from Sheila."