The Third Personality: A Novel (14)

AUSTIN, Texas - As Tawker Hunt adjusted the AG meter on the dashboard of her floater to sustain her antigravity at a set altitude, she found herself quickly hovering above the Congress Street Bridge just south of downtown Austin - in preparation for her and her new air car to hit the ethers: back toward Lake Travis and the community of Lago Vista, some 35 miles to the west in the scenic and thriving Texas Hill Country - and home.

Or, at least, home-away-from-home, which was (and would forever be) Plymouth, Massachusetts. But here - right beneath her at the moment, in fact - was where she was employed: the only holovision studio in the United States capable of provided her unique combination of revisionist historical reporting and "parallel reality programming."

Down there it was, her studio: right across the street from the historic site of the old Austin American-Statesman daily newspaper.

A swarming upward flurry of Austin's fabled bats, still living beneath the Congress Street Bridge, hit the air just now as if to join her - a clear signal that dusk was moving in: only not quite yet on this late afternoon in summer, for there was still plenty of daylight left.

She hovered momentarily before riding the airwaves west. Very shortly, she'd be floating parallel to, and some 50 feet above, Lake Austin, the east-flowing river that ran beneath the Congress Street Bridge all the way from Mansfield Dam, 15 miles to the west. The rebuilt dam siphoned off source waters from elevated Lake Travis, itself a wide river that weaved its way around and bordered the hills of Lago Vista, where she owned a home.

She calmly watched the darkly-dotted sky full of bats, which were likely headed south toward their unstated cave destination for the evening.

Tawker then sat up, leaned forward - and began to give her floater its first major test drive. This new air car, which she just acquired, was created as a result of Aroghens space technology, acquired by a U.S. manufacturer in exchange for squatters rights in this country and abroad for the visiting space aliens - this, in spite of their culturally aloof, curt behavior.

(She knew the Aroghens weren't a nasty species, per se. A few just acted … arrogantly.)

(Just as they were reputed to have done when Tawker was growing up in Plymouth!)

* * * * *

While floating westbound above, and parallel to, old Rt. 2222, Tawker drifted past what was once the Capital of Texas Highway, which was now an inverted high-speed train route. Kids from the University of Texas at Austin - still the largest university in the country - continued to hang out in the hills overlooking this section of Lake Austin's broad river adjacent to east-west-running 2222, best known now as the site for the annual grueling, uphill Lance Armstrong Invitational bike race.

Tawker then prepared to ease up that hillside, as the wide, formerly well-traveled highway below did, as well - when she spontaneously decided she'd give her roommate, Petunia, a "toot:" a quick call to the house to let Petunia know she was on her way there.

Aroghens' technology or not, the floater's surprisingly wide interior allowed for all kinds of Earth-built gadgetry, including a device from Verizon that initiated a two-way oral exchange from the floater through every room at her home - with just the wave of a hand.

Tawker held her right palm over the dashboard. "Petunia? You there?" she asked.

Nothing. There was no response from any room in the house, as yet 20 miles away.

"'Toonie? Any acknowledgment will do..! I'm just calling to let you know I'm on my way - and that I'll be home soon."

She then heard a telltale snort - from the kitchen area according to her air car's posted room I.D., and she smiled. "Yeh, I know - it was a long day for me today, too … See you soon!"

A second double-snort, of sorts, then followed - and Tawker waved her palm once again to disconnect her call. And that ended her brief chat with Petunia.

Immediately thereafter, though, an unexpected incoming call came in, according to her flashing teal blue speaker light - and that prompted another wave from her right hand. The caller I.D. was one she recognized from a highly familiar location.

"Chancellor Hunt," Tawker stated formally.

"Hi, your chancellorship," an older woman's voice said teasingly over the floater's speaker. It was her best old friend, Annuh Larsen St. Pierre - calling from The Plant back in Marshfield, Massachusetts - where Annuh was currently the lead Voyages Supervisor.

"Hi, Annuh," Tawker said, a great deal more casually. "Oh - great to hear from you!"

The floater, meanwhile, just passed over the intersection of 2222 and former State Road 620, as it then began to parallel above old Bullick Hollow Road, a colorful back route leading ultimately to Lago Vista. (Tawker had been tempted to fly past Mansfield Dam Park across eastern Lake Travis [to "buzz" the shores of Austin's former Hippy Hollow Park - which used to be, once upon a time, Texas' only "clothing optional" public grounds!]. But she'd been warned by the floater's dealer to avoid guiding her new air car over deep lake waters, as its onboard antigrav mechanism [the key piece of Aroghens technology added to the Earth-made vehicle] would "read" deep lake waters as non-substantive - as opposed to the vastly more substantive readings of greater western Austin's rolling land masses.)

(The floater, thus, might just plummet into the lake should she attempt to float over it, the dealer explained - something Tawker wasn't prepared to test out, just quite yet.)

(Fun though it might be.)

"Where's Dad?" Tawker asked.

"In France," Annuh replied.

Tawker smiled. "This is the first I've heard of it. What's going on there?"

"Another Euro conference on advanced N-theoretics and subspace mappings - what else?" Annuh said. "How's the new vehicle? I take it you're in it, right now?"

"I am - and it seems high-times so far," Tawker said. "There's a lot of technology in here - and you know how I am dealing with contraptions that wink and blink."

"Honestly, Tawker!" Annuh said with a laugh. "One wonders how you accumulated such a diverse and outrageous slew of university letters… Do any of your institutions know what a complete and total… Oh, what's that late 20th Century word again, you like to use?"

"'Airhead?'" Tawker said. "There's also an adjective I like, just as much - �flaky.'"

The two women then shared a good laugh. Annuh, now in her late 60s, maintained the same youthful demeanor Tawker always remembered of her, dating back to their shared "spiritual communiqué" from Annuh's late husband (and early out-of-body voyager) Harrild back in 2055 - which remained, to this day, for both of them, a life-altering event.

"When's your next scheduled trip? - and who will you be visiting, this time?" Annuh asked, obviously delighted with her faux-niece's exploits.

"My next scheduled trip, I believe, will take place in just a few weeks - to a bar in old Fort Lauderdale, where I'll meet the adult Tommy for the first time," Tawker said. "I'm really excited, because - let me tell you - he looked damned good as a kid, when I saw him last."

Annuh Larsen St. Pierre adored Tawker's lively offerings of "insider information." The truth was, Tawker was one of the few veteran voyagers still working; and she was only 28.

"So - you've made two major voyages so far, right?: the first to see Tom Mendelson playing baseball, and the second to witness the bonding of Hammie Boggs' future parents? Also - weren't those two trips scheduled only a couple of weeks apart?"

"Yes, " Tawker said. "A couple of weeks in my time - but the visits spanned several years, in theirs. And this next trip - which I plan to match with an immediate follow-up up to Maine shortly after I stop by to say hello to Hammie Boggs himself for the first time - will mark the passing of 14 years in Tommy's time… I doubt he'll even remember that "older woman" who watched him from the stands during his baseball game theatrics in South Florida as a kid. But he did notice me there - I'm almost sure of it."

"So, then - you've completed two major voyages so far, with three more to follow?"

Tawker glanced over to her left, admiring the shimmering, shoreline inlet off of Lake Travis, as she continued to wind her way west. Directly up ahead of her was a lovely housing area near Cypress Creek County Park, at the waterfront intersection of Bullick Hollow Road and old Rt. 2769 - the only place anywhere in Texas that reminded Tawker at all of the New England coast. Which was why she'd opted to take this route home today.

"Well - I know it gets mesmerizing," Tawker responded, "but I've actually made three major trips so far. I'm sure you remember my first Full Physical Manifestation… That was six years ago - when I traveled to the spiritualist camp outside Deland, Florida, to report on the "Marston Incident" in 1987 - remember? I was just a kid, then - I giggled a lot, too. But I didn't voyage as deeply into the parallel time line as I have in these two most recent trips."

"Well, of course I remember," Annuh said quickly. "We produced that first study from here at The Plant… Still - I always considered that simply an experimental run. Didn't you?"

"It was experimental," Tawker said. "But as it involved a major supporting actor in the Mendelson histories, I tend now to include it with these last two voyages, along with the two that will follow - and any more I'm likely to schedule after that as well - "

Just at that moment - when she was least paying attention to her driving - Tawker's brand new floater came to a crashing "bumper-car" thud … in what seemed like empty air!

Her air car now hovered, bobbing from side to side, rocking back and forth slightly, in a typical, if notorious, Aroghens' "falling leaf" airship motion.

Then she saw it. Directly ahead of her hovered a far more massive vehicle (much bigger than her floater), also bobbing slightly from side-to-side, similar to that of her floater.

It was an Aroghens spacecraft, in fact - and it must have just zipped in from around the bend of the hillside… (Or, maybe it floated up from lake level. It was hard to tell…)

Regardless, both Tawker's floater and the Aroghens' spacecraft now faced each other in the air, slightly rocking back and forth, both visually reminiscent of large leaves falling from a tree - which is how that image originated. Only both craft held their altitudes.

"Tee," Annuh interjected. "-What just happened there?!"

Tawker frowned, then blinked. "I think I just slammed into an Aroghens' space ship," she said. "We're both just sitting here now, hovering near a gigantic landing pad next to a large A-frame ranch house, which is adjacent to a narrow branch of the lake shore."

"Are you hurt..? Was your new floater damaged?"

"No - neither," Tawker said, as she glanced back and forth between the spaceship and the ranch, which sat on a hillside bordering an insulated tributary off Lake Travis. The sun, gratefully, continued to shine well above the horizon in the west … "My floater's got an airborne impact prevention device, a force field, I guess it is, that bounces my vehicle away from any abrupt collision with another…" Then Tawker's voice abruptly trailed off.

"Oh - now, that's just not right!" she groaned. "Annuh… You know what?!"

"No. What?"

"Mister Arrogant, and his spaceship, aren't moving anytime soon, it now looks like!"

"Well, okay," Annuh mused. "Can you determine … why not?"

"I have no idea. He could just float that big behemoth around me - only he's not budging. He's just sitting there, in mid-air, as if trying to block my limited pathways west. I've got encroaching hills to my right, and the inlet from Lake Travis to my left. He could opt to lift his ship up over me if he wanted to - but he's not even attempting to do that. I've got seriously limited altitude restrictions… Even as a visitor to Earth - he has to know that."

"Mmm," Annuh said. "So - what makes you think its driver…is a him?" she joked.

The Aroghens, as a species, were the only extraterrestrial visitors who actually looked a great deal like Earth humans; and, for that matter, they tended to appear "prettier:" their physical appearances were highly reminiscent of Earth's own Caucasian Nordic race - they had blue eyes, and, for both their men and their women, lengthy, flowing blonde hair. Further, they were generally tall, and rarely obese. Yet their outward "beauty" belied often impatient, smug emotional interiors. Of special note - they were the only cosmic race, from Earth or anywhere else, that expressed zero interest in learning conversational English.

Still - that didn't prevent the Aroghens from concocting some really jarring English puns for use as their legal Earth names. Most folks (in the U.S., anyway) viewed the use of such names as an overt act of disrespect. Worse, the Aroghens' forebears, first discovered living secretly in San Diego's North County back in 2000 (identified by their trademark silly false names), apparently desired to do their sightseeing on Earth on strictly their own terms - and so they were considered rude. In return for access thereafter to free "passports," so to speak, they agreed to behave within the laws of whatever country they happened to visit.

Still, all in all - their absence of charm notwithstanding - they were a distinct species of otherwise highly capable individuals, whose technology was superior to that of Earth's.

"So. You've still got enough room, sounds like. Just float around the guy," Annuh said after a few moments of silence. "Why are you just sitting there, Tee … hovering?"

"Because. I'm not moving - he is," Tawker responded sharply. "-Piss on him."

Annuh chuckled. "What's �piss on him' mean?"

"It's a Tommy term, as I like to call it - only I doubt Tom Mendelson talks like that, not just yet. It's from his era, though. It means, to hell with him - or something like that."

Annuh now laughed.

"Seems kind of aggressive to me. Doesn't it to you?" Annuh had this habit of asking a rhetorical question intended to support a critical statement she'd made just prior to it.

"I suppose it does," Tawker said.

Annuh paused briefly. "Well - I think I'll leave you to your Aroghens predator," she said. "Let me hear from you this time next week - okay? And I think your father should be back here by then, too, if you'd like to talk with him then."

"Sounds good, Annuh," Tawker said. "And it's always great to hear from you."

"I enjoy our talks, too, sweet one. Don't be too brutal with your airborne intruder."

And then their connection ended - just moments before a loud, belligerent voice bellowed over Tawker's vehicle-to-vehicle communicator: "Blubahr!" it rolfed. It was the voice of the Aroghens pilot (a male, apparently), and he sounded … obstinate. Tawker then focused her eyes into the audio-visual orb suspended above her steering wheel - kicking in her floater's internal universal translator - and the belligerent voice recording was then repeated … only this time in English.

"Move!'" the translated voice demanded.

Tawker just stared at the large spacecraft bobbing in the air in front of her. She had it within her to slip into profound-speak any time she chose - but that wouldn't occur today.

"Make me," she finally offered in reply, speaking directly into her translator's orb.

Down below her floater, however, she now noticed something that disturbed her.

It was a mailbox, planted directly in front of the landing pad, and adjacent to the ranch house, below. There were two names printed boldly on it - and a discomforting recognition began to work its way into Tawker's consciousness.

"Move!'" the translated voice barked loudly over her speakers, once again.

The names printed on the mailbox were "bad puns:" X. Ray Vizion and Earl E. Byrd.

The ranch house (and its landing pad) was owned by a couple of male … Aroghens!!

In fact - one of them, dressed in shorts and sporting a broad-billed white cowboy hat, now came racing out of the ranch house, shaking his fist up at Tawker. Just barely, she could hear what it was he was screaming at her hovering floater: "Blubahr, yallip!" he yelled.

"Move, ass hole!'" the translated voice box repeated.

Tawker was blocking the Aroghens aircraft from setting down on its pilot's personal landing pad, below. The damned pilot apparently lived down there: with Mr. Shaking Fist!

"�Excuse me!" she snickered into the translator orb, as she hurriedly maneuvered her floater out of the way of X. Ray's (or maybe it was Earl's) spaceship - which now landed.

Tawker then continued sporadically laughing-out-loud throughout the balance of her trip west (and then south from the nearby town of Jonestown) to Lago Vista, and her house.

(The synchronicity that she lived just south of a community named "Jonestown" - given the focus of her first-ever Full Physical Manifestation in Florida - wasn't lost on her.)

* * * * *

When Tawker Hunt finally returned to her apartment that afternoon, her beloved pet pig, Petunia, was already excitedly dashing through the hallway foyer for a big hug (and several snoot-smooches) from mommy.

Fine late afternoon light filtering through the slitted shades of the north shore hillside strawplex's panoramic window was the first thing Tawker noticed as she entered her front door. It was always the first thing she noticed. The window faced west, over the hill country and the still shores of Lake Travis.

"I hear you, Petunia," Tawker cooed, as her eyes began to refocus on the warm, friendly surroundings.

…skittery-clack, skittery-clack, were the familiar sounds of Petunia's four hooves hurriedly propelling the loyal, royal piglet across the open terrazzo floor of the hallway.

…skittery-clack, skittery-clack…

"So, there you are, perky!" Tawker gushed. She kneeled, and Petunia galloped into her arms… "Oh - cuddles-and-kisses to you, too!" she added between snuggles, as the two flopped around in mutual adoration on the cottony carpeted floor.

A woman and her pig.

Above the heads of the playfully-grappling twosome, hanging in a space all its own on the living room wall, was a framed limerick. It was a gift to the historian and satellite holovision show host a few years back (relatively-speaking) from one of her cameramen downtown at The Channel Channel.

(Tawker's carefully-produced program, treated as a special whenever it ran once or twice monthly, was entitled, "'Been There..,' with Tawker Hunt.")

The limerick, as was typical of all of the written materials in Tawker's time-of-origin, was spelled out phonetically:

Thayr wuz a yung lay-dee naym'd Bryte
Hoo trav-eld much fast-er than lyte
She start-id wun day
In the rel-uh-tiv way
And ri-turn'd on the pree-vee-us nyte

Time travel was exciting stuff.

And, in 2075: it was still arcane.

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