Chapter (6) The Realignment.

The Realignment.

Quinn had that familiar thumping in his head. Bit strange he didn't remember drinking that much. Hang on, he was in his room talking to Alexandre. he'd had a couple of shots of Kentucky finest. Then he remembered 'Oh yeah, that cold kiss again'. Quinn tried to open his eyes.

As he sat up Quinn swung his legs down onto the wooden floorboards. 'Got to get a real bed' he thought, 'this couch is giving me back ache'. The light was still dim and continued buzzing. Quinn sat head in hands thinking to himself 'If they can build human robots they ought to be able to get a light bulb that don't buzz'.  Bang bang bang, there it was again, he realised someone was at the door. That could explain the steady machine gun inside his skull.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, no need to break it down Camille.” He shuffled across his room and pulled back the top latch, he grabbed the handle and pulled it open a couple of inches and without thinking he turned away as he said.

“Ok, Camille I know I shouldn't drink like that but I don't remember much from last night.” When he didn't get a reply he looked up through reddened eyes. A man in a long black coat and a black hat stood in the hallway looking like a crow without a fence post.

“Mr Quinn?” Quinn stuck his head out from the doorway and looked up and down the dark, dim, wooden passageway.

“What the...?”  No sign of the brightly lit shiny walled corridor that should be there...

“Mr Quinn?” The crow repeated the question with a little more urgency.  Ignoring the question again Quinn stepped further out into hallway and looked for the bright lights. It took a few seconds and then Quinn turned to go back inside. His eyes were drawn to something on the outside of the office door. A shiny brass nameplate with black writing. A bemuddled Quinn ran his finger across the sign.

 Mr Carlton Quinn. Private Investigation Service. Well that's new he thought. He looked at the crow and said.

“That's what it says, so I guess I must be.”  Quinn was confused, but he could still see that this tall black crow was definitely not Camille. The crow  spoke with a deep voice.

“Mr Quinn I have a package for you, please sign here.”

“What? Where is...?” Quinn was still looking past him at the old wooden walls with the broken plaster.

The crow pushed a small pad of papers towards him. Quinn took the pen idly and signed on the dots. The crow handed him a large brown manila envelope. Quinn took it. Looking down at the envelope he read the address, yep that's my address alright. When he looked back up the crow had gone. Quinn hadn't heard him leave. Boy he moved quick. Quinn shuffled back inside and kicked the door shut with his foot.

He sat on the edge of the couch. What the hell was going on? Quinn sat staring at the manila packet, it was definitely his name on the envelope. Quinn was a little confused, who would want to write to me? he thought. Instinctively he raised the packet to his nose. Quinn nodded and smiled, the envelope smelled good, smelled familiar.

He dropped the manila on the table, reached out and opened the icebox. He needed a coffee. As the door opened a bad smell escaped and invaded Quinns nostrils. What the hell...Where the hell was the food machine? All he could see was a half eaten box of Chinese food and a bottle of sour milk, he quickly closed the door again. He grabbed the open bourbon bottle on the table and took a swig. The sweet liquor flowed smooth down his throat. Well at least that was still real.

Back on the couch Quinn put his head in his hands. Got to think straight, maybe this was all a drunken trip. Naaaa it was too real. He didn't have that much of an imagination. Then he saw the dark glasses on the floor. He bent down to pick them up, he stared at them intently, remembering, strangely that made him feel better.

He opened the manila and tipped the contents onto the table. What came sliding out on to the table caused Quinn to gasp. Christ, $100 greenbacks, lots of them. There was a letter too. Quinn counted the dough, twice. What the... a hundred $100 bills. Quinn took one and held it up to the dim bulb to examine it. Looked okay. Instinct made him look up at the door, then back at the piles of money in front of him. He quickly crossed to the door and locked it then returned to the couch. Quinn sat for a minute without taking his eyes off the money. He needed another shot of bourbon. With a good amount of bourbon playing tingling around his mouth he took the folded letter, opened it out and started to read.

My Dear Carlton,

I imagine you are a little confused just now. The money in this envelope is your payment as we agreed, 10 bucks a day as you put it, plus interest over a millennia. We have decided that $10,000 should be enough to give you a new start. Please use it wisely.

You are now back in your own time but with one slight change. The year is 1935 not 1937. We have given you the chance to re-live the last two years. This is now the start of your new family time line.

Please remember that you must be on the college steps at 7 pm two days from now. Do not try to pursue your former life of killing hoodlums and gang members. I assure you that will be taken care of in any event. If you do exactly as we asked of you your life will change in ways you cannot imagine. One more thing my dear Carlton, your cleaning lady Maggie will be arriving in a few minutes. You should trust her, she can help you.

On behalf of all Androids across time and throughout the solar system, we thank you.

Your porcelain doll.

Camille.

P.S. Remember, not all dolls are heartless.

 

Quinn read it again. That Camille she sure could write a good letter. Quinn raised it up to his nose again. He never did ask her what perfume she used.

Here he was sitting in this grubby little office staring at a pile of dough on the table in front of him. Confused thoughts were going through his mind. 'I got this letter from the future and apparently I've gone back 2 years. What If I meet myself....? No that's ridiculous, isn't it?  I AM me.' Then another strange question formed in his head. 'Am I still 35 years old or am I 33 again?' Quinn allowed himself a slight smile then he shook his head. He asked himself 'Did it matter, really?' As he sat pondering the questions he had a thought and spoke out loud.

" I gotta remember to find that guys' book when I'm older." He couldn't remember the title but he knew his name so it shouldn't be too difficult to find it. At that moment Quinns' thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door again. As he opened the door he saw Maggie stood waiting to be let in. Instinctively Quinn whipped his head around and stared back at the letter on the table.

“Maggie I...

“Mr Quinn. You DO want me to do for you today? it is Friday.”  Quinn moved to the side as the young woman slid into the room.

“Yeah sure Mags.”  As he closed the door a thought was crashing around his  brain. He stepped quickly to the table, it still had all those greenbacks scattered on it. Maggie had gone straight to the sink and was already lifting dirty crockery and stacking it on the side. He looked at her in her shabby flowered dress and worn shoes.

“Say Mags, come here please.” As he gathered up the $100 dollar bills, Maggie dried her hands and came to the table.

“Mags, how much do I pay you?” She looked at him. 

“A dollar a day Mr Quinn.”Maggie was looking perplexed.

“How many days?”

“What?” It was clear from her voice she was getting nervous.

“How many days a week do you work here?”

“Just three. Is there something wrong Mr Quinn?” Her voice sounded a little shaky.

“Do I owe you money Mags?” Maggie looked sheepishly down embarrassed to have to tell him that he did.

“Well yes Mr Quinn, you haven't paid me for 3 days last week.” She hesitated then added "and one day from the week before."  

“Ok I'm sorry Mags, I'll pay you today. Look maybe you should sit down I have something to ask you." She pulled a chair away from the table and sat down.

“Have I done something wrong Mr Quinn?” Maggie was definitely nervous. He knew she had no need to be.

“Absolutely not Mags, in fact` I have a question for you.”

“OooKayyy.”

“Can you come EVERY day Mags, I mean can you come and be my...”   He looked around the place for inspiration.

“...to be my personal assistant.”  Maggie said nothing for a moment, then...

“Look Mr Quinn I'm not sure what you mean. I'm a married woman, as well you know.”  A big grin crossed his face.

“My dear dear Mags I'm offering you a permanent position here. I'm going to need a secretary, and a cleaner, and I want you to have the job. Just to look after the place, like you do now, and answer the telephone, take messages, answer the door, make coffee, all that sort of thing, you know.”   She looked at  him with her mouth open.

“Are you ok Mr Quinn? Has something happened?”

“Whadya say Mags, be a new start, be an adventure. Look I'll give you...say...eight bucks...no...Ten bucks a week. Monday to Saturday. How's that sound?” He thought Maggie must have been in shock when she replied...

“Now I can't do all day Sat' er' days Mr Quinn cos Mr Carmody likes to go see his mates and likes his dinner done proper when he gets back.” Quinn grabbed Maggie by the arms and lifted her out of the chair. Maggie had a look of fear on her face not sure what he was going to do next.

“That's settled then. Half day Saturdays, and Sundays off. That's just grand Mags, that's great.” For a second he contemplated kissing her but changed his mind. Taking a now crumpled 100 dollar bill out of his pocket he pushed it into Maggie's hand.

“Here take this, Go buy yourself a new dress and a warm coat and get some good shoes, that should be about $25.00.”

“MR Quinn what is ...” He wasn't listening his mind was racing.

“Do you know where to get a tin of paint? something bright, lets cheer this place up a bit. NO... wait... find a piece of paper to write on, write it down Mags write it down. Do you got a pen?” Maggie was confused as she got up and moved to the icebox. She moved some papers from the top of the Icebox and produced a small note pad. She quickly found a pencil with some lead still showing. She was amazing he hadn't known they even had a pad.

“Ok, sit down Mags and take a letter.”  Maggie sat at the table poised to write. She was bemused and little frightened by his strange behaviour. Quinn felt excited, energised, new. He started to dictate.

“Dear Maggie please go and buy a new dress, some new shoes.” He looked at Mags.

“Mags, you're not writing.” Maggie just sat staring at him. Quinn pointed at the pad in front of her and wagged his finger.

“Mags.” She started to write.

“Where was I? Yes, new dress, shoes, good ones mind, and a new warm coat. You got that?”  Maggie nodded.

“Tin of paint, I don't know, White or Yellow or, something bright anyway, and brushes we'll need brushes. Get some cleaning stuff, coffee, milk and bread Oh and don't forget a new light bulb.”  He looked up at the dim bulb on its dirty cord. Then He looked at the dirty yellowed window above the sink.

“Better get a light shade too, and something to clean windows.” He added as an afterthought.  Maggie finished writing and stood up. She looked at him nervously.

“Will that be all Mr Quinn cos....” He cut her off.

“No, get some cake Mags, I fancy some cake.”  He was feeling good inside for the first time in years. Maggie just stood and stared at him. He was smiling almost laughing, she didn't know what to think she'd never seen him like this.

“C'mon Mags.” He said. “We're starting again. I've decided to become respectable. We're going to need a smart office if we want to attract the right clientele. Right?”  Maggies' face was a picture, she was gulping like a goldfish, she didn't know what to think.

“Don't look at me like I'm nuts, I've not gone mad. I'll tell you all about it when you get back. No, maybe not, you wouldn't believe me anyway. Go, GO.” Quinn made wild gestures with his arm towards the door. Maggie turned and made for the door still clutching the $100 bill. As she started to open the door he called to her.

“Oh Mags, get a cab, don't try and carry it all by yourself.” He gave her a smile. Maggie grabbed her bag, looked at him a second then turned and left closing the door behind her. Out in the corridor Maggie looked at the $100 dollar bill clenched tightly in her hand. She stood for some seconds looking at the closed door and the new brass name plate before she made her way confused and nervously out of the building in search of a taxi cab. Inside the grubby little office Quinn was still agitated and as he looked around at the shambles of an office it occurred to him that the room suddenly seemed very empty. He didn't reach for the bourbon.