The Broom Of The System Part 5

25 August

I have a truly horrible dream which invariably occurs on the nights I am Lenoreless in my bed. I am attempting to stimulate the c.l.i.toris of Queen Victoria with the back of a tortoise-sh.e.l.l hairbrush. Her voluminous skirts swirl around her waist and my head. Her enormous cottage-cheese thighs rest heavy on my shoulders, spill out in front of my sweating face. The clanking of pounds of jewelry is heard as she shifts to offer herself at best advantage. There are odors. The Queen's impatient breathing is thunder above me as I kneel at the throne. Time pa.s.ses. Finally her voice is heard, overhead, metalled with disgust and frustration: "We are not aroused." I am punched in the arm by a guard and flung into a pit at the bottom of which boil the figures of countless mice. I awake with a mouth full of fur. Begging for more time. A ribbed brush.

One big problem with owning one of those new Mattel ultra rompact cars, which was what Lenore owned, was that the plastic car had a plastic choke which had to be engaged while the car warmed up for not fewer than five minutes, which was particularly irritating in'the summer, because Lenore had to sit in the small oven that was the car for these five minutes, while the engine raced like mad and made a lot of unpleasant noise, before she could get going and have some cooler air blow on her. While she made the choke-wait in the Home's parking lot, Lenore watched an ant nibble at something in the wad of bird droppings that lay near the top of her windshield.

The ant was torn off the windshield by the wind when Lenore hit the Inner Belt of I-271 and started going seriously fast. The offices of the publishing firm of Frequent and Vigorous were in that part of downtown Cleveland called Erieview Plaza, right near Lake Erie. Lenore took the Inner Belt south and west from Shaker Heights, preparatory to her being flung by I-271 northward into the city itself, which meant that she was for a while with her car tracing the outline of the city of East Corinth, Ohio, which was where she had her apartment, and which determined the luxuriant and not unpopular shape of the Inner Belt Section of I-271.

East Corinth had been founded and built in the 1960's by Stonecipher Beadsman II, son of Lenore Beadsman, Lenore Beadsman's grandfather, who was unfortunately killed at age sixty-five in 1975 in a vat accident during a brief and disastrous attempt on the part of Stonecipheco Baby Food Products to develop and market something that would compete with Jell-O. Stonecipher Beadsman II had been a man of many talents and even more interests. He had been a really fanatical moviegoer, as well as an amateur urban planner, and he had been particularly rabid in his attachment to a film star named Jayne Mansfield. East Corinth lay in the shape of a profile of Jayne Mansfield: leading down from Shaker Heights in a nimbus of winding road-networks, through delicate features of homes and small businesses, a b.u.t.ton nose of a park and a full half-smiling section of rotary, through a sinuous swan-like curve of a highway extension and tract housing, before jutting precipitously westward in a huge, swollen development of factories and industrial parks, mammoth and bustling, the Belt curving back no less immoderately a couple miles south into a trim lower border of homes and stores and apartment buildings and some boarding houses, including that in which Lenore Beadsman herself lived and from which she had driven up over Jayne Mansfield to the Shaker Heights Home this morning. Families and firms owning property along the critical western boundary of the suburb were required by zoning code to paint their facilities in the most realistic colors possible, a condition to which property owners in the far westward section near Garfield Heights (where the industrial swelling was most p.r.o.nounced) particularly objected, and as one can imagine the whole East Corinth area was immensely popular with airline pilots, who all tended to demand landing patterns into Cleveland-Hopkins Airport over East Corinth, and who made a constant racket, flying low and blinking their lights on and off and waggling their wings. The people of East Corinth, many of them unaware of the shape their town really lay in, a knowledge not exactly public, crawled and drove and walked over the form of Jayne Mansfield, shaking their fists at the bellies of planes. Lenore had lived in East Corinth only two years, ever since she had gotten out of college and decided she did not want to live at home or enter Stonecipheco, all at once. To the south, 271 gave way to 77, and 77 led down through Bedford, Tallmadge, Akron, and Canton before stretching into the Great Ohio Desert, with its miles of ash-fine black sand, and cacti and scorpions, and crowds of fishermen, and concession stands at the rim.

There were two reliable ways to identify the Bombardini Building, which was where the firm of Frequent and Vigorous made its home. A look from the south at Erieview Tower, high and rectangular not far from the Terminal section of Cleveland's downtown, reveals that the sun, always at either a right or a left tangent to the placement of the Tower, casts a huge, dark shadow of the Building over the surrounding area-a deep, severely angled shadow that joins the bottom of the Tower in black union but then bends precipitously off to the side, as if the Erieview Plaza section of Cleveland were a still pool of water, into which the Tower had been dipped, the shadow its refracted submergence. In the morning, when the shadow casts from east to west, the Bombardini Building stands sliced by light, white and black, on the Tower's northern side. As 'the day swells and the shadow compacts and moves ponderously in and east, and as clouds begin to complicate the shapes of darknesses, the Bombardini Building is slowly eaten by black, the steady suck of the dark broken only by epileptic flashes of light caused by clouds with pollutant bases bending rays of sun as the Bombardini Building flirts ever more seriously with the border of the shadow. By mid-afternoon the Bombardini Building is in complete darkness, the windows glow yellow, cars go by with headlights. The Bombardini Building, then, is easy to find, occurring nowhere other than on the perimeter of the sweeping scythe of the Midwest's very most spectacular shadow.

The other aforementioned identifying feature was the white skeleton of General Moses Cleaveland, which found itself in shallow repose in the cement of the sidewalk in front of the Bombardini B Building, its outline clearly visible, of no little interest to pa.s.sing pedestrians and the occasional foraging dog, the latter's advances discouraged by a thin bit of electrified grillwork, the General's rest thus largely untroubled save by the pole of a sign which jutted disrespectfully out of Cleaveland's left eye socket, the sign itself referring to a hugely outlined parking s.p.a.ce in front of the Building and reading: THIS s.p.a.cE RESERVED FOR NORMAN BOMBARDINI, WITH WHOM YOU DO NOT WANT TO MESS.

Frequent and Vigorous Publishing shared the Bombardini Building with the administrative facilities of the Bombardini Company, a firm involved in some vague genetic engineering enterprises about which Lenore in all honesty cared to know as little as possible. The Bombardini Company occupied most of the lower three floors and a single vertical line of offices up the six-story height of the Bombardini Building's east side. Frequent and Vigorous took a vertical line of narrow s.p.a.ce on the western side of the Building for three floors, then swelled out to take almost all the top three. The Frequent and Vigorous telephone switchboard, where Lenore worked, was in the western corner of the cavernous Bombardini Building lobby, across the huge back wall of which, cast through the giant windows in the front wall of the lobby, the Erieview shadow steadily and even measurably moved, eating the wall. Time could with reasonable accuracy be measured by the position of the shadow against the back wall, except when the black-and-white window-light flickered like a silent movie during the fickle shadow-period of mid-day.

Which it now was. Lenore was hideously late. She hadn't been able to get through to Candy Mandible on the phone, either. The Shaker Heights Home's phones were apparently on the fritz: F and V's number had put Lenore in touch with Cleveland Towing.

"Frequent and Vigorous," Candy Mandible was saying into the switchboard console phone. "Frequent and Vigorous," she said. "No this is not Enrique's House of Cheese. Shall I give you that number, even though it might not work? You're welcome."

"Candy G.o.d I'm so sorry, it was unavoidable, I couldn't get through." Lenore came back behind the counter and into the switchboard cubicle. The window high overhead flashed flashed a cathedral spear of sun, then was dark. a cathedral spear of sun, then was dark.

"Lenore, you're like three hours late. That's just a little much."

"My supervisor wouldn't take it. I'd get fired if I pulled anything like what you guys pull," Judith Prietht shot off between calls beeping at the Bombardini Company switchboard console a few feet away in the tiny cubicle.

Lenore put her purse by the Security phones. She came close to Candy Mandible. "I tried to call you. Mrs. Tissaw called me out of the shower at like nine-thirty because Schwartz had answered this call for me. I had to go to the nursing home right away."

"Something's wrong."

"Yes." Lenore saw that Judith Prietht's ears were ap.r.i.c.k. "Can I just talk to you later? Will you be home later on?"

"I'll be off over at Allied at six," Candy said. "I was supposed to be over there at freaking twelve-but it's OK," seeing Lenore's expression. "Clint said he'd get somebody to cover for me as long as I wanted. Are you all right? Which one is it?"

"Lenore. "

"She didn't ... ?"

"It's unclear unclear."

"Unclear?"

"My supervisor, you gotta have reasons for being late, and submit 'em in advance, and they have to get signed by Mr. Bombardini," Judith said amid beepings and rings. "But then we have a real business, we get real calls. Bombardini Company. Bombardini Company. One moment."

"She's being particularly pleasant today," said Lenore. Candy made a strangle-motion at Judith, then started to get her stuff together.

Their console sounded. Lenore got it. "Frequent and Vigorous," she said. She listened and looked up at Candy. "Bambi's Den of Discipline?" she said. "No, this is most definitely not Bambi's Den of Discipline ... Candy, do you have the number of a Bambi's Den of Discipline?" Candy gave her the number but said it probably wouldn't make any difference. Lenore recited the number and released.

"Bambi's Den of Discipline?" she said. "That's a new one. What do you mean there's probably no difference?"

"I can't figure it out, I don't see nothing wrong," a voice came from under the console counter, under Lenore's chair, by her legs. Lenore looked down. There were big boots protruding from under the counter. They began to jiggle; a figure struggled to emerge. Lenore shot her chair back.

"Lenore, there's line trouble that I guess started last night, Vem said," Candy said. "This is Peter Abbott. He's with Interactive Cable. They're trying to fix the problem. "

"Interactive Cable?"

"Like the phone company, but not the phone company."

"Oh." Lenore looked listlessly at Peter Abbott. "Hi."

"Well h.e.l.lo h.e.l.lo," said Peter, winking furiously at Lenore and pulling up his collar. Lenore looked up at Candy as Peter played with something hanging from his tool belt.

"Peter is very friendly, it seems," said Candy Mandible.

"Hmm."

"Well I can't see nothing wrong in there, I'm stumped," Peter said.

"What's the problem?" Lenore asked.

"It's not good," said Candy. "We I guess more or less don't have a number anymore. Is that right?" She looked at Peter Abbott.

"Well, you got line trouble," said Peter.

"Right, which apparently in this case means we don't have a number anymore, or rather we do, but so does like the whole rest of Cleveland, in that we now all of a sudden share share a single number with all these other places. All these places that share our line tunnel. You know all those numbers we were just one off of, and we'd just get the wrong numbers all the time-Steve's Sub, Cleveland Towing, Big B.M. Cafe, Fuss 'n' Feathers Pets, Dial-a-Darling? Well now they're like all the same number. You dial their numbers, and the F and V number rings. Plus a whole lot of new ones: a cheese shop, some Goodyear service office, that Bambi's Den of Discipline, which by the way gets a disturbing number of calls. We've all got the same number now. It's nuts. Is that right what I said?" she asked Peter Abbott. She got her stuff and got ready to leave, looking at her watch. a single number with all these other places. All these places that share our line tunnel. You know all those numbers we were just one off of, and we'd just get the wrong numbers all the time-Steve's Sub, Cleveland Towing, Big B.M. Cafe, Fuss 'n' Feathers Pets, Dial-a-Darling? Well now they're like all the same number. You dial their numbers, and the F and V number rings. Plus a whole lot of new ones: a cheese shop, some Goodyear service office, that Bambi's Den of Discipline, which by the way gets a disturbing number of calls. We've all got the same number now. It's nuts. Is that right what I said?" she asked Peter Abbott. She got her stuff and got ready to leave, looking at her watch.

"Yeah, line trouble," Peter Abbott said.

"At least now you'll have calls. At least now you'll have something to do for a change," said Judith Prietht. "Bombardini Company. Bombardini Company."

"How come she's not messed up?" Lenore gestured at Judith.

"Different line tunnels," Peter Abbott said. "Bombardini Inc.'s lines are actually it turns out in this tunnel pretty far away, a few blocks west of Erieview. The calls just get into here via a matrix sharing-thread transfer, which is a real complicated plus ancient thing. Your lines are in a tunnel right under this building, under the lobby, out under that guy's skeleton." Peter Abbott pointed at the floor.

"So then why are you up here instead of down with the lines?" Candy Mandible wanted to know.

"I'm not a tunnel man. I'm a console man. I don't do tunnels. They sent some guy from Tunnels down there early this morning. It's gotta be his problem. I can't find nothing up here with what you girls got. This's a twenty-eight, right? I haven't lost my mind?"

"Right, Centrex twenty-eight."

"I know it's a Centrex, that's all I do, I'm bored as s.h.i.t with Centrexes, excuse my French."

"Well what did the guy from the tunnel say?" Lenore asked. Candy was answering a phone.

"Dunno, 'cause I haven't talked to him. I sure can't call him, am I right?"

"What, we can't dial out on this, either?"

"I was just makin' a joke. You can call out OK. Just try again if you get an automatic loop into one of the other in-tunnel points. No, I just hafta talk to the tunnel guy in person, back at the office. We hafta write up reports." Peter looked at Lenore. "You married?"

"Oh, brother."

"This one's not married either, right?" Peter Abbott asked Candy, nodding over at Lenore. His hair wasn't blond so much as just yellow, like a crayon. His face had the color of a kind of dark nut. Not the sort of tan that comes from the sun. Lenore sensed CabanaTan. The guy looked like a photographic negative, she decided.

He sighed. "Two unmarried girls, in distress, working in this tiny little office ..."

"Women," Candy Mandible corrected.

"I'm not married either," Judith Prietht called over. Judith Prietht was about fifty.

"Groovy," said Peter Abbott.

"So can Bambi and Big Bob and all the others even get any calls, now?" Lenore asked. "Do their phones ring at all?"

"Sometimes, sometimes not," Peter Abbott said, jingling his belt. "The point is they can't be sure where it'll ring, and neither can you, which is obviously subpar service. Your number's not picking you out of the network like it should, it's as we say picking out a target set and not a target."

"Lovely. "

"At least now you'll have some calls to answer," said Judith Prietht. "All you ever get is wrong numbers anyway. You guys are going to go bankrupt. Who ever heard of a publishing house in Cleveland?"

"I like your shoes," Peter Abbott said to Lenore. "I got some shoes just like that."

"Does Rick know about all this?" Lenore asked Candy.

Candy stopped. "Rick. Lenore, call him right away."

"What's the matter?"

"Who knows what's ever the matter. All I know is first he just had a complete spasm about your not being here. This was at like ten-o-one. And then now he keeps calling down all the time, to see if you're here yet. He keeps pretending it's different people asking for you, holding his nose, putting a hankie over the phone, trying this totally pitiful English accent, pretending it's outside calls for you, which he should know I can tell it isn't because he knows the way the console light flashes all fast when they're in-house calls. G.o.d knows he spends enough time down here. And now he hasn't come down for his paper, even, he's just sitting up there brooding, playing with his hat."

"What else does he have to do?" said Judith Prietht, who was unwrapping wax paper from a sandwich and blinking coquettishly at Peter Abbott, who was in turn trying to stare down over the counter into Lenore's cleavage.

"G.o.d, well I really need to talk to him, too," said Lenore.

"Sweetie, I forgot forgot for a second. How just totally for a second. How just totally horrible. horrible. You must be out of your head. Are you sure you're all right?" You must be out of your head. Are you sure you're all right?"

"I think so. Vern'll be in at six. I'll call Rick as soon as I can. I have to call my father, too. And his lawyer."

"I sense something in the wind," said Peter Abbott.

"You hush," said Candy Mandible. She squeezed Lenore's arm as she pa.s.sed. "I'm late. I have to go. You come home tonight, hear?"

"I'll call and let you know," Lenore said.

"What, you guys are roommates?" Peter Abbott asked.

"Partners in crime," Judith Prietht snorted.

"Lucky room, is all I can say."

"Let's just have a universal dropping dead, except for Lenore," said Candy. She walked off across the marble lobby floor into the moving blackness.

"She's got another job?" Peter Abbott asked.

"Yes." The console beeped. "Frequent and Vigorous."

"Where at?"

Lenore held up a finger for him to wait while she dealt with somebody wanting to price a set of radials. "Over at Allied Sausage Casings, in East Corinth?" she said when she'd released.

"What a gnarly place to work. What does she do?"

"Product testing. Tasting Department."

"What a disgusting job."

"Somebody has to do it."

"Glad it's not me, boy."

"But I do a.s.sume you have some kind of job to do? Like fixing our lines?"

"I'm off. I'll be in touch-if possible." Peter Abbott laughed and left, jingling. He walked into a moving patch of light in the middle of the lobby and the light disappeared, taking him with it.

The console began to beep.

"Frequent and Vigorous," Lenore said. "Frequent and Vigorous."

4.

1972.

TRANSCRIPT OF MEETING BETWEEN THE HONORABLE RAYMOND ZUSATZ, GOVERNOR OF THE STATE OF OHIO; MR. JOSEPH LUNGBERG, GUBERNATORIAL AIDE; MR. NEIL OBSTAT, GUBERNATORIAL AIDE; AND MR. ED ROY YANCEY, VICE PRESIDENT, INDUSTRIAL DESERT DESIGN, INCORPORATED, DALLAS, TEXAS; 21 JUNE 1972.