Desperate Inquiry Into The Love Life Of Brooke Nescott

Desperate Inquiry into the Love Life of Brooke Nescott by Devon Pitlor I. Two women, one hotel room On Tuesday the twenty-fourth of April, 1997, a blustery spring day where winter in Aristock seemed to be getting its last revenge against a warmer than usual March, two very dissimilar women walked up to the desk of the luxurious Town Center Inn and rented a room overlooking the still covered swimming pool. It was a nice room with a refrigerator full of drinks and had plush chairs and a kidney-shaped table as well as a cozy kitchenette. Little chocolate treats were spread across the bed, and gratis perfumes and sensual body lotions lined the shelves of the bathroom. As with most quality rooms, there was a protective sheet across the seat of the toilet, and thick, embossed towels were stacked by the turquoise-appointed walk-in shower. A Jacuzzi bubbled on the balcony, and other small, free amenities lay in visibly seductive places across the room. The younger of the women, Brooke Nescott, who just days before had completed her senior year at MidCentral State University and was not only deeply in loan

debt but also quite uncertain about her chances of finding a job as a microbiologist, had been sternly warned by the older woman, whose only given name was Justine, not to disturb anything in the plush room. “Don’t even eat a chocolate or, above all, do not remove the seal from the toilet. Use your own toilet before you come here. Do not take a shower or think about opening the balcony door. Don’t touch any of the towels and do not lie on the bed. Use a wet wipe on all the doorknobs you touch. Sit only in that chair over by the table. Put your legal pad on the table and take all the notes you want, but do not use a recorder. It won’t record anything we say anyway. When we leave each day, wipe off your part of the table. Make sure you do not leave any fingerprints on anything.” Justine, who had a long aquiline nose and rather bushy eyebrows, although not an attractive woman, was certainly a noble and commanding one. Her green eyes were strong and bold, and when she spoke, her voice issued like that of one whose authority was not to be questioned. She had an accent that Brooke sometimes could not understand and often said words that, while sounding like English, were not quite English. Her age was visibly older than twenty-two year old Brooke, but was impossible to guess. Her spine was the straightest that Brooke had ever seen, and her gait exuded the

energy that comes with having a distinct purpose. Justine was all business, and Brooke had already had the business explained to her. It had happened right after Justine had transferred the sum of ten thousand dollars into Brooke’s account, and Brooke had agreed to attend each and every one of the required meetings in a place yet to be specified by Justine. It turned out to be the nicest hotel in Aristock--but of course, Brooke would not get to remain in the room after the meetings and couldn’t use any of the fine amenities except one chair and the table. Justine had apologized for the ten thousand dollars, saying that it was all that “circumstances” allowed her to spend but that Brooke’s presence in the room and her participation were, in fact, worth far more. In the lobby of the hotel, people came and went, families with children, business travelers, honeymooners and church wardens. Brooke knew that in this crowd, Justine had a companion whose job it was to protect Justine, but Brooke had no way of knowing who it was or where this person hid. She had just been told that he was there. There was a certain strangeness sensed among the hotel employees as Justine paid in packets of fresh banknotes for a full week’s rent. Also, Justine signed the

registration card with an odd signature that seemed to be in a writing unknown to Brooke. Her Pennsylvania drivers license, however, looked valid enough to convince the desk clerk that she was who she said she was. The payment in cash would later be investigated, but nothing would come of that because the money would go to a bank by armored car and the serials of the notes had never been recorded. It was not counterfeit money, but had anyone chanced to investigate the serials, things would have not gone as smoothly, and Justine’s unseen companion would have needed to intervene. After examining the room and, of course, wiping off any possible fingerprints, the two women took the elevator to the lobby and walked into the parking lot. Dutifully, Brooke handed Justine her car keys, and Justine drove Brooke back to her apartment. Justine handled the Honda Accord well now, but at first she had seemed confused by its controls. “Never drive to the hotel,” warned Justine. “I will come and get you and take you in your own car everyday.” With that, Justine shook hands with Brooke, turned abruptly and walked away down the busy campus street. Brooke watched her disappear into the crowds of students who came and went from the university

buildings. Part of her agreement was not to ask questions or try to identify who Justine was and where she came from or went. Brooke knew only two things: There were ten thousand real dollars, which she needed, in her checking account and that Justine was a judge. “You can call me judge when, and if you need to address me as the hearing progresses. It won’t matter if you say Justine. We are not fussy about things like that. But remember that I am the judge. Judges are impartial. I’m there to see that they each give you a fair rendition of their cases. After that, I will be there to verify your verdict. Because in this case you are the jury, and your decision will be irrevocable and final.” II. Another court proceeding It happened when Brooke Nescott was nineteen and doing her civic duty on the jury of a city court, the price she had to pay for voting that year. A Turkish guy, an immigrant who barely spoke English, had been denied a claim by his insurance company following an automobile accident which had arguably not been his fault and which had left him in a wheelchair. His insurance company had refused to indemnify him on a technicality regarding his residency visa and a missing premium and

some other jargony stuff that Brooke, in all honesty, had not paid nearly enough attention to. During the trial, her mind had wandered far from the proceedings. She thought about her class notes from Statistics, and finally her mind found her undressing the defense attorney, who was the youngest and most attractive of the two opposing lawyers. Envisioning herself having sex with the attorney embarrassed her, and she shook herself back into the dull and often confusing reality of the trial. The jury foreman had even chastised her in chambers for being inattentive and not recording the various facts presented by the two lawyers. In the end, the Turkish guy got some kind of settlement, but Brooke forgot how much or even why she consented to it. She understood very little of the case and allowed herself willingly to be swayed by the other, more vocal members of the jury, just in order to get the damn thing over. And that was what Brooke Nescott knew about juries and courts. They were for people who paid attention or cared about such matters. A drab insurance settlement had been nothing to hold her in thrall, and she felt both disgusted with the court system and herself for her less than prepared contribution to what a strange, dark man from another country either was or was not entitled to. Brooke swore she would never put herself in a position where she would ever have to make an uninformed choice again. “I’ll just drop out of the system,” she said to herself.

And she did. She took a low key civic role right up until the finish of her senior year when, without warning, Justine’s commanding voice rang over her phone and summoned her to a quiet campus café with the promise of money. From the start, Brooke realized that wherever Justine came from, she was a person of great importance. It scared Brooke at first, but the money, initially $300 in cash just for meeting Justine, made things easier. Also, Justine seemed to improve as she went along. It was as if she was learning English better but already knew a great deal of it. Her accent, one which Brooke had never heard before, became clearer as she spoke and the strange words that often punctuated her sentences became fewer in number. Each time Justine uttered a word that confused Brooke she would correct herself, apologize and say something like “I’m sorry. You don’t know that one.” Naively, Brooke had asked “Do I have to do anything illegal?” Justine assured her that nothing would be against the law, and if it was, Brooke could walk away in a moment’s notice, but that the “case” was vital in ways that Brooke could never fathom. As they sat there in the dim light of the café, Justine’s shiny, almost lizard-like green eyes blazed with such compelling urgency that Brooke

suddenly became afraid to refuse. Whatever this thing was that involved her, it had necessitated the intervention of what could have been a veritable she-devil. “Why on Earth am I so important?” Brooke both asked herself and then Justine. Justine refused to answer but assured her that her importance was far greater than she could ever understand and that details about it would be “formally” developed during what Justine was already calling a “hearing.” Justine stared with intensity at Brooke until Brooke finally broke down and agreed to attend a meeting for three hours each day in a private but very safe place in Aristock. Justine informed her that the money would be deposited within 24 hours, and it was. Right before the end of this initial meeting, Justine told Brooke to resume her life normally in all ways except to plan nothing between the hours of 8AM and 11AM during the next week. Then Justine said something totally out of character: “Continue to see those guys you have been seeing--both of them. Don’t say a word about any of this to either one, naturally, or to anyone else, as I have told you. But continue to go out with them. You will one day marry one of them, and that is mostly what these proceedings

will be about.” III. Chase and Adrian Brooke had known Chase since high school, and they had maintained during their four years of university an on and off relationship. Chase was handsome, sexy and promising. So was Adrian--handsome, sexy and promising. Just like Chase. She had known Adrian only a short time, but at intervals he seemed to be taking Chase’s place in her love life. And then Chase would show up with a bottle of wine and some steaks, and Adrian would dim briefly in her affection, only to reignite a day or two later by saying something witty to Brooke over the phone or laughing with her about someone’s stupidity while watching the black swans swim in the park pond. And then Chase would come back with a flower or a bush he had plucked from someone’s lawn, and it would be Chase again. Brooke would giggle uncontrollably at his cute hoodie, red sneakers and baggy jeans. That was the little merry-go-round that Brooke had been enjoying for over a year by now, and she didn’t even attach that much importance to it herself. She had only a vague idea of what love was, but she felt carnal passion for both boys and enjoyed being in their company equally. As for marriage, that was not in the front chamber of her mind until Justine put it there.

What had mostly concerned Brooke was being pretty and sought after, and who cared about anything like marriage right now? She had a career, a life, to establish. She was not husband hunting. She just liked company at night and on weekends, and she wanted to make sure she never forgot how to like boys…or men…or whatever the two of them were now. So again WHY? Why was Justine, who was serious as a watchtower, so damn interested in who she kept company with? It seemed to bring the whole thing down a notch, and, had it not been for the real money, Brooke would have written it off as some kind of prank sprung on her by some kooky reject she had left behind in her life. And furthermore, she resented Justine’s intrusion into her private affairs. What did the old cranky bitch care about her boyfriends? And why did she know about them in the first place? It was all so absurd, save the money. There was going to be this big “hearing” in a hotel room for five days about a couple of guys she had been sleeping with. She needed to walk away right now and give the money back, but Brooke had been raised to honor promises and decided against this action. As they parted ways, Justine shook Brooke’s hand and then immediately handed her a antibacterial wipe and motioned for her to use it. “Get some of these and use them whenever you touch any of us,” Justine said, “just

as a precaution.” “What are you infected with?” asked Brooke, once again slightly frightened. “Nothing I know of,” said Justine. “It is just a precaution. We like to shake hands as much as you do. But it is, after all, a way of spreading germs. Don’t be afraid to wipe your hands when we touch.” Brooke knew that should have been the final straw, but it wasn’t. The first meeting remained on schedule for the following Monday. In the days between, Brooke waited in vain for responses to her applications and went to a hockey game with Chase, ate at a Korean restaurant with Adrian, walked through a dull municipal museum with Chase, laughing at his lame jokes, went roller skating with Adrian and blah, blah, blah. If asked to remember each date, she couldn’t have done it, but the lust of youth caused her to sleep with each boy at least once before the “trial” began. They were both what her mother had once called “eligible bachelors,” but Brooke seriously was not worried about that. It was all about sex, she kept telling herself, and it mostly was. IV. Justine arrives on Monday

As usual, Justine just walked up to Brooke’s door and knocked, came in, smiled and sat down. Brooke was still applying some eye shadow, and they were early anyway. When Brooke came out into the living room, Justine rose to leave, but a faint buzzing sound seemed to surround her fit body. Out of nowhere, she extracted a small, penshaped object and began talking into it in a hushed tone. Brooke noted that it was not English, but sounded like it could have been from a distance. She decided it was some sort of creole language made up partly of English words mixed with some other tongue. She had vacationed on islands where such dialects were spoken, though none of the creoles sounded even slightly like the one Justine was using on her tiny phone. When the communication was finished, the little telephone just vanished somewhere into Justine’s tight-fitting, one-piece suit. More strangeness, thought Brooke. As before, she handed her car keys over to Justine, who had to think a minute about which side of the Honda's steering wheel she needed to put them into. She seemed lost for a moment. Was it the right or left side? And the gear lever puzzled her again briefly, but she got the car into motion and drove skillfully enough the half mile or so to the Town Center Inn. Brooke sat quietly beside her in the passenger’s seat. It was an ordinary day in the campus town. Students darted recklessly across the

crowded streets, and delivery trucks lined the store fronts. The morning sun came through Justine’s window, and for a minute or two, it made Justine look almost horrific. Where did those huge eyebrows come from? Brooke wondered. Why are her nostrils so wide? The woman was definitely human but seemed almost too taut and fit, especially for an older person. Her skin, Brooke noted, was flawless, and she did not seem to be wearing any cover makeup. When they reached the enclosed parking lot of the hotel, Justine made the mistake of shutting off the Honda’s engine without putting the car in park. She pushed in vain at the gear lever until Brooke quietly reminded her that the motor had to be running before you could put the car in park. Justine apologized and corrected her mistake. “We’re early,” she said. “That is not a good thing. Tomorrow we will have to time it better. Today we need to wait about five minutes in the car.” Justine shifted sideways and looked with her usual intensity at Brooke. “I think you were on a jury once before,” she began. Brooke agreed that she had and started to ask how Justine knew, but checked herself remembering the no question rule.

“You will be a jury of one,” continued Justine. “The thing about juries is that they are to determine truth. You have to listen to each argument and make an informed decision. The decision you make this week will have far-reaching consequences for millions of people. I hope you remember that and listen carefully. Two men will be speaking to you. Both will have compelling and detailed arguments. It will be solely up to you to decide whose argument is the best. That is what a juror does. I can’t help you with that. I am only here to keep things fair and…..” Justine couldn’t find the word and said something garbled again, but corrected herself immediately and said “fair and legal.” Brooke nodded her head. She felt like opening the car and bolting off. Why on Earth did she need to make a decision that would affect millions of people? Her last decision, whatever it was, had only affected a Turkish immigrant in a wheelchair. And that had been bad enough. The five minutes passed tensely, and the two women, upon Justine’s signal, alighted from the Honda and walked straight to the lobby elevators and went to their rented room.

V. The hearing begins Justine motioned Brooke into her appointed seat at the table, again warning her not to touch anything else in the room. She was still brandishing her sanitary wipes and used them on anything she chanced to touch. Brooke wondered why she just didn't wear latex gloves if she was so afraid of germs. She also wondered, once again, just what sort of horrific disease she might walk away from the proceedings with. But she had pledged herself and needed to stifle this passing fear. A quick knock came at the door. Justine, wipe in hand, opened it, allowing two men to enter the room. Once again, an almost pulsating knot of fear rose in Brooke's chest, but both men wore extremely pleasant smiles. Both were dressed in very contemporary business suits on which Brooke, who liked men dressed in suits, immediately noted rack creases which had not been ironed out. The suits, both of them, seemed to have come directly off the store hangers and showed no signs of previous wear. Both men seemed perfectly charming. Neither offered his hand, but both gave Brooke a kind of non-military salute which conveyed respect. Both flashed a kind of modified hip-hop finger signal to Justine, who responded in kind. Brooke wondered if it was a kind of gang sign. She chuckled inwardly at the idea that the trio

might comprise a gang of some sort. The first man to speak identified himself by the name Layson. Like Justine, he had only one name. Also like Justine, the man seemed a little too perfect, too healthy. He looked like a specimen from a gym poster and carried his body like a prowling athlete. His skin, like Justine's, was absolutely flawless, and his nostrils were wide--something that had always bothered Brooke about Justine. The second man was less than perfect. There were some dark hollows under his tired eyes and his cheeks seemed to sag. Though far from unattractive and out of shape, he exuded much less perfection than Layson. He too gave only one name, which sounded like Armicho, but Brooke had not heard him as clearly as she had Layson. His presence, likewise, was less commanding than either Justine's or Layson's. He moved with a certain strained heaviness and seemed altogether too ordinary to be in the company of the others. This comforted Brooke to some degree. A normal person finally, she thought. Though in time Armicho, who upon further introduction, became Darmicho turned out to be anything but normal. Justine pointed her little penshaped object at Darmicho and the latter moved closer to where Brooke sat at the table. Out of nowhere he produced two glossy photos of

both Chase and Adrian and placed them on the table in front of Brooke. "I argue for Adrian Albritton and against Chase Kingsley," he began in a rocky accent quite similar to Justine's. A string of incomprehensible words then issued from his lips, and Justine tapped the table with her device. He started over, and his words became totally clear this time. The argument began with a short story about Chase having once pried the top shell off a turtle, killing the animal instantly. He had done this at age twelve to find out what was inside. "Natural boyish curiosity," interjected Layson, looking at Justine for approval. "Admitted," said Justine without hesitation. Darmicho then went forth to recount no fewer than ten episodes in the life of Chase Kingsley which were clearly designed to show his less than kind personality. "His parents had a nasty divorce too," concluded Darmicho. Time and time again, Layson calmly inserted rebuttals, all of which were at once approved by Justine. In the portrait painted by Darmicho, which took over an

hour to deliver and was far too often punctuated by strange words which he needed to rethink and correct, Chase Kingsley had a rough and undeveloped part of his personality which he kept hidden from Brooke. In fact, according to Darmicho, Chase bordered on being brutal and was seemingly capable of doing violence to anyone he became too familiar with. Justine disallowed elaboration of this idea, much to the satisfaction of Layson. Then Darmicho shifted his stance, put his thumb on the photo of Adrian and began recounting multiple virtues about the twenty-two year old. Brooke was vividly aware of some of these virtues, not the least of which was that Adrian had just been admitted to a prestigious law school and appeared to have a brilliant career before him. Also, his parents had never divorced (Darmicho seemed very opposed to divorce) and were, in point of fact, quite well off. Darmicho also respected money. That was clear. He concluded the session with a dry summary of every good thing he had said about Adrian and every bad thing he had articulated about Chase. Justine rose to her feet, and the day's work was over. Three hours of dissection of two young men about whom Brooke had been forced to learn more than what she actually wanted to know. But she said nothing and was asked to say nothing.

VI. The second day Same routine: Justine, the drive, the sanitary wipes, the arrival of Layson and Darmicho. Only today, it was Layson's turn. Predictably, Layson was pro-Chase and anti-Adrian. His words were pronounced with more strength and confidence than those of Darmicho, but he often made mistakes and said mysterious phrases that required correction. By the end of his three hour spiel, Brooke was becoming overwhelmed by acres of often trivial information that would have required a lifetime to gather had she ever wanted to, and she didn't. She knew she needed to pay careful attention and took copious notes, but often her mind wandered. It was all about whom she should choose as a life's mate---no strike that, about a husband and maybe a temporary one at that. Relationships didn't last long in the America of 1997, and Brooke was a child of her era. What if I married Joe Blow from Kokomo? she though to herself stifling a grin. What if I joined a convent? What if I volunteered for the Israeli Army? The proceedings were getting repetitious and boring. On day three, Darmicho brought forth the turtle story again and asked Brooke to think about a potential

husband who would wreak such horror on a helpless animal. Also, he already had projected an image of Adrian transferring to Harvard Law School and entering politics and earning untold sums of money. Layson, for his part, trotted out his previously told episode wherein Adrian at age sixteen had left his fifteen year old date stranded on a dirt road somewhere in Ohio because she had refused him sex. He also kept referring to Chase as a "nice quiet lad" who would be constant and steady and satisfy all Brooke's needs in any future imaginable. At one point he characterized Adrian as "dangerously unstable." During all these proceedings, Justine had performed the perfect role of a judge, intervening only when necessary to allow, disallow, direct and redirect. Uncharacteristically, Brooke heard very little from either Chase or Adrian over these last three days. Adrian had called from his aunt's house in Akron to inform her that he would be back in Aristock on Sunday and to please reserve the day for him. Chase had stopped by with a box of cherry-filled chocolates and had asked for sex in the rather cute boyish way that Brooke always liked. But Brooke had made the excuse of having her period, which was untrue, and had sent him away in less than an hour.

Upon leaving, Chase said that he would come around on Saturday and to please reserve the day for him. In reality, Brooke had had enough of both Chase and Adrian to last her for a lifetime, and she was relieved that neither was there to make any amorous demands on her. Naturally, she asked neither about the multiple escapades---both good and bad---which had been revealed as part of their separate biographies, as she dreaded the arrival of Justine on Thursday and the compounding, piling and repiling of more of the same. The whole hearing was a charade, a silly joke taken to an absurd limit. Obviously, she would be asked to make a choice between the two men by Friday, but what weight would her choice contain? No one had ever told her that she would be committed to irrevocable matrimony on the spot when the hearing was finished, only that she would have to make a choice. Joe Blow from Kokomo was sounding better and better to her as the trial ensued. VII. The hearing continues on Thursday From both Layson and Darmicho came another brief summary, and then the photos of her two suitors suddenly disappeared into the folds of Justine's body

suit. Justine called both "attorneys" to the far side of the room for a brief conference, during which they chattered feverishly in the almost-English dialect that had puzzled Brooke so many times before. All three of them were careful not to touch anything when they stepped away from the table, and all carried wet-wipes just in case they did. Brooke was tired, perplexed, overwhelmed and bored. Trying to seem interested, she kept writing her name on the roof of her mouth with the tip of her tongue. Justine returned to the table and stared at Brooke. As before, neither Darmicho nor Layson took a seat. Each stood patiently at the side of the table waiting. Layson was straight, fit, taut and tall, full of energy and vigor. Darmicho was somewhat stooped and showed minor signs of fatigue. Justine was her usual purposeful self. "At this time we need to know if you have any questions or need any clarifications," said Justine, who then folded her hands and waited. Brooke had a thousand questions, but the one she blurted finally was "Why am I so important?" This was followed by "Who are you, and what do you represent?" Justine glanced at the two presenters, and they both raised their eyebrows. Another few phrases in the

strange dialect passed between the three of them, and Justine proceeded. "At this very point in your life, you could have been visited by hundreds of people. In fact, you most likely would have been either kidnapped or killed by some of them. Same with Chase and Adrian. However, killing any of you would have inflicted unknown and most likely disastrous consequences on the world we live in. It probably would have caused its total destruction, and so saner methods prevailed. We are, after all, both civilized and deeply concerned about the survival of our civilization. You may have guessed this by now, but we all come from a precise point in the future, a point which exists about two hundred years from today. The means of going backwards in time has recently been invented, but using it, except in special cases---like yours---is expressly forbidden. If a person from our era comes here and disturbs even one eyelash on someone's face, it could over time have the most extreme of consequences. Time and events are causal, and the most insignificant thing done this very moment could wreak monumental and catastrophic effects on the future. That is why we try to leave as few traces as possible on this room and everywhere else we go. That is why I drive you here every morning because as time initially unfolded before this hearing, you never drove to this hotel yourself, and

we needed to keep it that way. That is why we don't eat the chocolates or use the toilet or shower. That is why you can't sleep here at night. When we are finished and go, all traces of our registration and usage of this room will disappear. All I can say is that millions of yet unborn people anxiously await your verdict, your decision to either make a life with Chase or one with Adrian. In that way, you are extremely important to the future. In that way, you determine whether the human race progresses into its salvation or regresses into its ultimate destruction. I am not allowed to tell you which because that is the job of my two colleagues here, but the distant offspring you produce with one of them will either go forth and found a great and lasting dynasty of shared wealth and enlightenment for all mankind or, as you may hear, a terrible and repressive state of human torment and abject slavery. In another version, another marriage, you will remain childless and therefore have neither an enlightened nor a tyrannical successor, and the world will simply struggle forward as it always has in fits and starts, punctuated by wars and periods of moderate prosperity. In effect, your marital choice in this regard will render you without importance whatever to generations unborn. Each of these representatives will try to convince you that the other is lying and that his choice of your future spouse is the one who will bring prosperity and that opting for the other will bring only

servility and chaos." VIII. Brooke once again listens to two arguments Layson, on behalf of her eventual union with Chase, explained that the great- great-grandchildren of that conjuncture would become the enlightened and benevolent leaders of a new and unified world wherein science and arts flourished and every living person was accorded dignity and the means of a comfortable and unencumbered survival on a flowering planet well managed to support all of mankind regardless of the size of the population. His explanations were lengthy and detailed, and at one point he called upon Brooke to carefully examine the physical beauty and healthful glow that both he and Justine possessed, as compared to the rather sallow and hunched Darmicho. "Even his name smacks of inferiority," he exclaimed. "Look at Justine and me. I am 136 years old, and Justine is much older. Look at us!" "Disallowed," shouted Justine. "Leave me out of this. She has no need to know our ages. And names do not count." Darmicho said, of course, that marriage and reproduction with Adrian would bring about a balanced

and sane society of natural human improvement by normal evolution, the society which he represented. "These others are fabrications of an evil and suppressive coterie, artificial humans, created by their own social class to pose as Spartans while the rest of us somber in disease and death. I am old enough myself, but I am at least human. In my version, society goes on through good and bad without the need of raising up a class of supermen. With Adrian there will be no children, and that may be sad, but there will be no promotion of a super tyrannical class either, as in a world viciously dominated by so-called perfect creatures like these two. They have the arrogance of the lie on their side. Darmicho began huffing and puffing as he continued. It seemed as if he was trying to make himself suddenly more pathetic than he actually was. Behind him Layson grew suddenly taller and straighter and expanded his solid chest and flexed his bulging muscular arms. There was something artificial, Brooke thought, about both of them. Justine abruptly ended the proceedings. "Tomorrow you will ask your final questions to each representative and make your choice. I assure you that you will indeed choose either Chase or Adrian because the only two versions of the future that can develop involve either one or the other of them. You will not be totally happy with

either man, and you will separate from whichever you choose after starting or trying to start a family. But you are fated to choose, and choose you will." IX. Brooke reviews the case. That night was not an easy one for Brooke. At first, she wanted desperately to flee, to run off somewhere where she could not be found. She remembered the case of the unfortunate Turkish immigrant. That itself had placed far too much responsibility on her shoulders, but this choice was overwhelming and headsplitting. Flight seemed like her best possibility. She threw a few items into a travel bag and headed feverishly out the door of her apartment. But a soft and invisible barrier, an unseen but yielding wall surrounded her staircase. Although she could see her Honda Accord in the driveway, she could not penetrate the soft expanding enclosure far enough to reach it. It reminded her of an acid trip she had taken years before as a teenager. She had tried to walk two blocks to the home of a friend, but the acid had made her journey totally impossible. The distance between her and Jenny's house just kept getting greater with every step she took, as if the Earth between them was ever expanding as she moved forward. So it was tonight. The world was like a soft and bottomless soap bubble that prevented her from ever reaching her

car. In desperation, she returned to the apartment and collapsed on the couch. Beside her was a legal pad with the scribbled notes she had taken over the past four days. Some, perhaps most, of it was pure nonsense. Some words she could not even read. It was about Chase and Adrian and two versions of a future that she alone could determine. Her mind finally mulled over some of the information she had received. The arguments had been balanced. Layson had bleated his case in strident tones and with unshakeable confidence, whereas Darmicho had stumbled through his as if trying to reach some inaccessible point of intensity beyond his actual level of competence or energy. But each had made an equally compelling case. The notes offered no relief either and eventually resolved to a blur under her eyes. She had no idea which way to turn, what decision, if any, to make. And finally, exhausted and mentally drained, Brooke just said "Fuck it." It was a loud "fuck it" and directed toward no one in particular. The walls rung with the hollow echo of her voice. "Fuck it." X. Conclusion: Brooke's decision Justine called the hearing to order. She casually tossed a wadded up sanitary wipe across the room into a wastebasket and then, remembering that this could do

harm to her future world, jumped up at once and retrieved it. It disappeared like everything else into some unseen fold of her slim, tight body suit. Darmicho and Layson were standing as usual. For the entire week neither of them had ever sat down. Brooke wondered what dastardly effects their butt prints on chairs would have made two hundred years from that Friday. Outside, the bright April sunshine gave the promise of a beautiful spring, but Brooke chanced to notice a wayward cloud or two coming over the eastern horizon. Undoubtedly Justine and her cohorts knew whether it would rain that day or not. Maybe that was the question she should ask. Will it be sunny all day? Brooke mulled over the idea. She still had only the vaguest notion of what questions to ask. Her main interest was to end this drama and get on with her life. Her inability to flee yesterday evening convinced her that there were a certain number of free will things she was locked out of by predetermined fate. Making babies with a man other than Chase or Adrian was probably one of them. Joe Blow from Kokomo, she knew now, was not an option. The issue was far from simple. She had clarified it somewhat in her mind. It came down to this. She needed to marry either Chase or Adrian. With one of them she

would have children. With the other she would not. Darmicho did not want her to have children and Layson did. Darmicho said her descendants would become Spartan dictators and suppress the world, and Layson said they would be enlightened and lead the world into centuries of peace, enhanced health and social tranquility. Darmicho promoted Adrian, so logically her union with him would be barren. Conversely, Layson favored Chase so Chase would be the fertile one---and so on back and forth. Layson looked like a perfect human and Darmicho did not. The real question was if she married and had the children of Chase, would they be malevolent or illuminated? Or would the human race actually progress better if left untouched to develop without such astounding leaders of any stripe? It didn't seem to be doing that so far. Maybe having a leader of any moral standard, good or bad, would be better than the mediocrity which had always flavored imperfect human governance. A dark cloud passed over the sun casting a shadow in the room. Brooke searched her mind for a question as the trio waited patiently. Suddenly, she remembered her botched jury duty in the Turkish immigrant case three years before. The crusty jury foreman had made a comment

that had briefly awakened her attention. He had said "X has done his research better than Y. Lawyers need to be totally prepared. X has simply done a better job of getting all the facts." The comment seemed insignificant to Brooke at the time because due to her lack of attention she had no idea which lawyer was the better informed. But today the comment took on a new meaning. Both Layson and Darmicho had exposed an identical and balanced number of flaws and virtues regarding her possible choices. Both had made equally detailed descriptions of the societal consequences of her decision as well. Assuming that both lived in a future world that had sent them to represent their cases to her, it was obvious that both needed to be provided with infinite research about both her life and the two possible versions of the future that she now controlled. Maybe intensive research was the key. She stared at the competing sunshine and clouds, which seemed to be doing battle in the heavens. She had not listened to a weather forecast that day. She looked at Layson and asked "Is it going to rain this morning before we are finished?" Layson, although bursting with his usual confidence, cocked his head at Justine questioningly, and when Justine gave him the nod to answer, said "I'm not sure.

It might." She asked Darmicho the same question. Without hesitation, Darmicho said "Yes." Of course, he could have been faking it. Then Brooke looked at Justine. "Let me have a recess until eleven o'clock, and I will immediately make my choice." Reluctantly, Justine assented, as a recess was within the rules. "Furthermore," Brooke continued, "I want to walk in the park across the street and think. I used to loll around in that park occasionally just on the spur of the moment, so I don't think it will disrupt anything in your timelines if I go there now. You already know that I won't talk to anyone." Justine warned her that it was necessary to vacate the room at exactly eleven am, as they had every day. "Be back no later than ten fifty," she said sternly and flung open the room door, sanitary wipe in hand. Brooke strolled out of the hotel and into the little quiet park. All around her flowers were budding, leaves sprouting and early insects buzzing. A class of nattering school children passed with their teachers. Brooke noted that not one of them was carrying an umbrella. Teachers were usually careful about that. Teachers knew about

the weather and were prepared for it on field trips. Brooke Nescott climbed atop a wooden park table and stretched out, trying to relax and forget the bizarre commotion that she had been subject to during the past few days. It would, she knew, all be over soon. As she lay upon the table, another dark cloud passed across the sun. It was followed by another, and the alternation of light and shadow produced a weary hypnotic effect on her. She remained in a trance-like state on the table until tenforty . Then she got up and started back toward the hotel. Without warning, a peal of thunder deafened the air. A few feet farther, and pellets of hard-falling rain began beating at her head and cheeks. By the time she reached the door of the Town Center Inn, the rain was dancing down in sheets. Darmicho, who favored Adrian, was thus the best informed, and she told Justine and the others exactly that upon rejoining them in the nearly untouched room. She would choose Adrian for that reason---because of the rain. That was her decision. Eleven o'clock came and Brooke walked out the door past her astonished company without a further word. Avoiding touch, they jumped aside to allow her passage. Layson and Darmicho vanished somewhere in the

hallway, and Justine followed Brooke just long enough to watch her pull out her phone and call Adrian. Sunday was his, and she wanted to say all the other Sundays too. Later she would cancel with Chase anything they might have planned on Saturday, and she would eventually find a way of making the rupture final. Brooke decided to leave her car in the hotel garage and walk in the rain. She found it strange that this did not matter any more to Justine who was now nowhere in sight. Maybe her actions did not have all that much impact on the future world now that she had made her choice. Brooke thought about her own future with Adrian. No kids. And the marriage probably wouldn't last very long. Or would it? Brooke no longer cared. In her heart, she knew she had resolved a much more important matter, but one which she would not live long enough to verify. But she knew that in the end she was right. And that was all that counted. All lawyers need to do their research. All of it.

_________________________________ Devon Pitlor November, 2009