Unbound Newsletter 9.1.21
Chapter 1
In the Spring of 2015, I finally agreed to meet with Paul for an hour to talk. He had been hounding me to meet up since before the new year. Over and over I declined his offer – to “catch up,” in his words – no matter what he and his employers put on the table. I had known Paul for a very long time, and I knew he was nothing but trouble.
However, by the Spring I was in the mood for trouble. I told him that any meeting between us would have to be in public and it would have to be during the day.
“You mean, like, lunch?” He asked in an email.
“Yeah. The most expensive place in town.”
And he found it, a place that didn’t even have a name, in Tribeca, at the end of April. I dressed in the oldest, most worn suit I could find and took the subway. It was a beautiful day, and clouds hung about the blue sky like fairytale teenagers. It had rained that morning, washing away the stink of the city temporarily.
My mood rose. I thought maybe this would be okay. Maybe Paul had changed, maybe everything had changed. Maybe this time things would be different.
When I arrived, Paul was already there, waiting for me. I had not seen him for three years. He was neat and fit, dressed in tan slacks and a white polo shirt. He wore black shoes and had a large silver watch on his wrist. His head was shaved, which looked good on him, it looks good on a lot of black men, but last time I saw him, he did have hair. He rose from his seat when he saw me.
“John!” His eyes were bright, filled with hope. “Long time no see, man.”
“It’s good to see you too,” I said, a little emotionally unstable, the reunion was already doing things to me. It was a business meeting, but we were old friends, or once had been.
“Have a seat,” he said, motioning for the waiter. “Do you want anything to drink?”
“A beer,” I tell him, though five or six would be more appropriate. I was nervous about being nervous.
Paul ordered a beer for me. I felt detached and unsafe. I hadn’t left my apartment for weeks, really, and all the commotion suddenly hit me. My defenses had been breached.
“It’s okay,” said Paul softy, sensing my discomfort. “It’s okay.”
I felt a warmth begin to radiate in my mind. My heartbeat lowered and my breath slowed. Calmness spread across my nervous system. Once I realized what was happening, I glared at Paul, feeling violated.
“That’s why people don’t like telepaths, Paul,” I told him.
I felt him release his touch on me. If it had been anyone else, there would have been trouble. But I have to admit, I welcomed what he imparted. I don’t care what anybody says – Paul did the things he did out of love – love for his friends, love for the world.
“Anyway,” I said, changing the subject.
“How have you been?”
“Okay. You?”
“Busy. Insanely busy.”
“So?” I asked, cutting the shit. The waiter brought me my beer, and I threw half of it into my mouth in the blink of an instant. I looked over the menu. “So?” I asked again.
Paul sighed. I knew he wanted to talk about the old days, maybe pretend for a moment we could really have authentic interactions with each other. He reached into a black satchel that was sitting on the floor and pulled out two dark blue folders thick with documents.
“We need you,” Paul said. “What else can I say? We can’t move forward without you. And there are… signs. Something’s about to happen. Something really soon. They’re prepared to offer you anything, John.”
“I don’t want anything,” I told him.
“I know,” Paul said. “You’re a fucking mess.” He handed me one of the folders. It was unmarked except for a set of rivets at the bottom of its face. I ran my fingers over them. I opened the folder. A lot of scientific graphics, diagrams. Wormholes. Other documents too. To a layman, it would be gibberish. But not to me. I weighed the folder in my hands, then snapped it closed, laid it down, and rubbed my hands into my forehead.
“John.” There was an anguished plea in Paul’s voice that I hadn’t noticed until now.
“I’m retired,” I heard myself say.
“That’s ridiculous,” he muttered.
I caught a blur of dark movement along the peripheral of my right eye. I turned and looked out the window. There was a woman passing by on the sidewalk, but I hadn’t turned fast enough to see her features – just a black blouse, blue jeans, red hair.
The waiter returned. “Are you ready to order?”
I ordered the first entrée I could find on the menu, not intending to eat anything. After the waiter left, Paul handed me the other folder.
“This is someone we want you to meet. Her name is Isabel.”
“Isabel?” I repeat, but I just lay it on top of the other folder. I could see now that Paul had changed, I just hadn’t noticed it before. His skin wasn’t as healthy as it used to be, and there was a slight sink in his shoulders. I could see behind his legendary confidence a despair, a fatigue.
I took a deep breath. “And what about you?” I asked. “You still a believer?”
“More than ever,” he replied, but I could detect a note of a wavering commitment. “Look, John,” he said, in his ‘buddy’ voice, “I just want you to think about it, okay? Just look at the files for a couple days and think about it.”
I looked out the window again. Nothing but people and cars, the city, going about its life.
“Okay,” I said.
TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 2Hello everyone, sorry for the delay in the newsletter. I’ve been shifting my plans and trying to figure what to do with this Substack as I move a lot of my presence onto Medium. I’d like to use both services, honestly. I’m going to include a chapter a day in the Unbound Newsletter, which will come out every weekday (no weekends). I will also have a roundup of links to all the various posts I have made on the web the day before.
Standalone StoriesLinked directly below are three single-post, self-contained short stories of varying length that are complete and on Medium.
This is a short little love story in a speculative world that I’m hoping to explore more. This is not the end for these characters.
They Thought They Would Find Truth in the Rubble
This is a poetic, high-concept short story about a refugee who has lost the woman he loves.
This is a strange on sort of inspired by Marvel’s Iron and Tony Stark.
And that’s it! See you tomorrow!
