Monitor
3 - Summary
Individual and group
preference for game type provides indicators of strength bias. Biases naturally
assist predetermining associative preference.
Corollary indications of facility inside rule structure inform monitors
about capacity and precedence.
Observational suitability is indicated in both group and individual by
extension or contraction of game parameters.
Study
facilitates behavioral prediction by minimizing subjectivity and participant
contact with monitors. Pragmatic application of game structures extremely
effective when utilized to stimulate developmental direction, although
consequential attributions monitored must be maintained outside participant
purview for maximum effectiveness.
Monitor
3 sorted intention effectiveness variable. Memorial facility trauma affected
enhancing deviation. Monitor advised idiosyncratic effectiveness limitations.
Monitor advised awareness deficiency. Monitor advised periodic assembly
inculcation.
I was
irritated. Someone on the ship had stolen my notebook.
There
was really nothing in it a run of the mill sailor could use or even understand. But there might
be plenty an intelligence officer might notice as slightly irregular. Why would someone like me
be writing something like this? I was already anticipating the questions. What does this
comment mean? Who are you working for?
Who
am I working for? It is necessary to stop inventing possible scenarios and
start inventing very necessary contingency plans. Marga warned me about my predilection for
record keeping and now her glee would be insufferable. But her ability to invent ridiculous
explanations was quite comforting. Explanations were always better than something
messy like memory alteration.
I am
running through alternate explanations for the notebook’s disappearance while
one of my
fellow sailors is tapping me on the shoulder, “Beer tonight? What’s up? You
look like
you’ve lost something.”
Pauley.
I lean casually against a second tier bunk straightening a blanket while my hearing is telling me
quite accurately that this sailor is the monkey who took my notebook. What does he want?
Pauley didn’t do much original thinking and our contacts were usually limited to his
nearly daily attempts at converting me to his current metaphysical system.
“I
never drink beer but I’m thinking of making a change. Someone took my
notebook.”
“Gee,
that’s too bad. Maybe a beer will help ya feel better.”
Too
bad we are forbidden extreme violence. I take a breath to calm myself. He is
willing to return the notebook for some price. He doesn’t know how alcohol
affects us and interpreting the information in the notebook is
beyond him; he may have already given the notebook to an officer or at least someone with
analytical ability.
“What
the hell. A beer might do the trick.”
“That’s
what I say! Mr. Charnov told me there was a great place downtown.”
I
certainly did not expect this clear a piece of information. Lieutenant Charnov!
He’d given
or shown the notebook to the operations officer. What an enterprising lad and what interesting
company he’s keeping. I study his vague blue eyes wondering if it was instinct?
“Well,
if Lt. Charnov says it’s a great place…” I need to tread carefully, ”uh … you
and Charnov
good friends?”
“No,
no, no! I just…he just told me there was a good place to get a beer.” He knows
I know something.
“Doesn’t
matter. Let’s go, this notebook thing has me bugged. Where are we going?”
“Old
Heidelberg. Sounds like a good beer place, huh?”
“Yeah!
Great!” My enthusiasm is quite real. Old Heidelberg and our lovely Marga. Did I
get lucky or is this some kind of set-up? Charnov apparently has suspicions and it is
better to assume he plans a confrontation. I
know I mentioned Old Heidelberg in the notebook, but not Marga.
“Quarter
to nine?”
“Quarter
to nine! Why so late? I’m off in ten, no, five minutes.”
“Mr.
Charnov said he could meet us, but it wouldn’t be till at least nine.” So he needs time
to set something up. What?
“Oh!
So we’re meeting Lt. Charnov! You didn’t say that.”
“Yeah.
… uh … He said he could meet us at nine.” So … the intrepid Charnov would be
there much
earlier.
“Okay.
So I’ll see you there at quarter to nine.”
“NO!
I mean, no…I mean…is it all right if I hang out with ya till then?”
“Pauly…what’s
up? Is something wrong?” Charnov has warned him about something, what?
“No.
I just want to hang out…I haven’t got anything to do really.”
Pauly
must have been told to keep me in sight or occupied, that was obvious, but
Charnov couldn’t know, at least entirely, what he was up against and probably
wanted to arrange some sort of backup assistance. I would have enjoyed seeing that
conversation. Charnov’s mind was usually on mundane problems like ship handling
and his wife’s pregnancy. This wasn’t in his league at all so who would he
enlist? The notebook itself might be enough to interest ONI, but its origins
would certainly stretch Charnov’s credibility with them.
I
could have acted more swiftly alone but it was clear now I had to keep Pauly
with me, if only for Pauly’s sake, at least until I could prepare Marga and
myself.
“Pauly…isn’t
hanging out with Lt. Charnov some kind of fraternization? I mean, shouldn’t we be,
like, pretending to run into him?” Nothing like enlisting Pauly’s assistance by
displaying a little ignorance.
“Well,
yeah…that’s what h…I was thinking. So maybe we should just arrive later or something.”
Charnov was doing all the thinking. His problem was he couldn’t do the improvising.
“I’ve
got an idea. We’ll go have dinner then get a beer.” I didn’t say where and
Pauly would be only too glad it was so easy to follow Charnov’s instructions.
“Yeah!
Okay!”
Pauly
paid absolutely no attention to our route and chattered away about his
conversion and redemption until we reached our destination.
“But
isn’t this … this is Old Heidelberg! I mean…didn’t you say we’d eat first?”
An
Italian restaurant across the street from Heidelberg was my ultimate destination
where I could watch for Charnov and anyone accompanying him. It was also
necessary to let Pauly think I had been dissuaded from my original plan.
“It’s
okay Pauly. They have food here and it isn’t bad really, as long as you like
German food.
We’ll just take our time eating and then when Mr. Charnov gets here, we’ll have
that beer.
Or,” I say with much ingenuous persuasion, “we can have one early and not tell him.”
“Umm
… uh … I don’t like German food. Can we go somewhere else?” Charnov must have known Pauly was a poor choice for
this, but knowledge of the notebook would have made him the only choice. The
problem was either getting the notebook returned, destroying it, or worst
choice, altering or adjusting the memories of Charnov, Pauly and possibly
whoever Charnov had called on to intervene in the scenario. That would be a lot
of adjustment.
“Don’t
like German food? I thought you were
German. What about that place over there? Looks like a nice Italian
place. Italian Pasta di Mama. Whaddya think?”
“Uh…I
don’t know…”
“Come
on. It’s close and I really like Italian food.”
“I
guess.”
“Good.
Didn’t want red cabbage anyway.”
The
street was nearly empty of traffic so I simply walked across to the Italian
restaurant. Pauly however, walked the extra distance to cross with the light. He really wanted
to use up some time, or Charnov wanted him to use up some time.
When
he finally reached the restaurant’s door I chided him, “Pauly, you surprise me.
I thought a country boy like you would just jaywalk.”
I
could see he was having some sort of internal battle. Ripples of tiny muscles
stirred underneath
the skin of his face and his rather blank blue eyes were shifting restlessly
back and forth.
“Pauly,” I knew my tone of confidence would act as a relief valve, “whatever it
is, you
can tell me.”
He really
looked frightened and I felt an inner gathering of strength forming. “I found
your notebook
and I gave it to Mr. Charnov.”
This
I didn’t expect so soon. I laughed. “You mean all this intrigue has been because you gave my
notebook to Lt. Charnov? Pauly, why did you take it in the first place? It can’t have
been very good reading; it isn’t even a finished work.”
“Finished
work?”
“Yes.
I’m trying, you know…not very successfully, to write a novel.” This would certainly
get back to Charnov and his assistants and it would be incredibly difficult
to dispute.
Pauly
looked relieved but there was still some unrelieved tension. “Come on,” I said, “what else?”
“What
was all that…writing?”
“Writing?”
“Yeah,
that weird writing.”
“Oh!
I suppose you mean my “secret” language. Just an invention of mine, an invented
language, Pauly, made up.”
“Lt.
Charnov said it might be Russian.” Now I knew Charnov didn’t want Pauly around for
our “meeting”; Charnov couldn’t possibly think it was Russian.
“Did
he say he thought it “might” be Russian, or did he say something else?” Did Pauly
perceive my momentary panic? I couldn’t see Charnov using Pauly as a shield,
but whomever he brought with him might not have such charitable thoughts.
“Well
I don’t remember exactly, but it doesn’t matter does it?” Close Pauly, very
close.
“No,
it doesn’t matter. You ready to eat?”
I
chose a table by a window next to the street. Pauly seemed content and
chattered away about a bible class he was taking shipboard. The class
seemed to involve a number of the men and a couple of women who were not really
spiritually involved. “Why are they doing it then?”
“I
think it must be that god brought them there to show them the truth.”
“Do
you think that’s going to happen?”
“I
hope so. God has mysterious ways.”
“Pauly,
how has God helped you?”
“He
got me in the Navy.”
“Really?
How so?”
“He
got me out of a jail sentence and led me in his path to the Navy. He can help
you too.”
“I
like to think he already has Pauly.”
“Well,
you have to accept Jesus Christ as your personal savior.”
A
dark sedan pulled to a stop on the other side of the street and two military
types got out and walked away from the entrance of Old Heidelberg and began
watching the street and conversing. It was too far to lip-read, but I could
surmise what they might be saying.
I
returned my attention to Pauly. “I am glad god helps you.”
I
could see emotion rising in his eyes. “God can help you too.”
“I
think perhaps he will when he sees fit, don’t you?”
“You
could come to our bible study class.”
“Thank
you Pauly, that’s very kind of you.”
“Really.
You could come to class and become holy.”
“Yes,
I understand.” As Pauly continued to chatter, I watched Charnov arrive across
the street almost directly in front of Old Heidelberg in his small brown car.
Whoever he’d convinced to help wasn’t paying for this.
Scanning
the street he seemed to recognize them and walked over to begin talking immediately
to the two men. Apparently they weren’t pleased, although whether because Pauly
and I were nowhere in view, or because Charnov was late, or wasn’t supposed to
engage them was not apparent.
The
conversation was short and the two other men left Charnov to enter the restaurant alone.
Their posture was slightly more alert and more intentional than I wanted to
see.
Did Charnov
know about Marga? How? Charnov’s two companions returned to their dark sedan waiting a few
parking spaces away from Heidelberg’s door. This was going to be interesting.
“Pauly, I just saw Lt. Charnov go into Old Heidelberg.”
“Oh
okay.” Pauly was still riding an emotional wave and hadn’t disconnected from
the world within.
Paying the check I also discovered he had no money.
Crossing
the street, I walked directly in front of the car with Charnov’s two friends.
One was
reading something and the other caught my gaze for the briefest amount of time.
He was targeting me, making sure of a face he might need to know later. Pauly
again took the long way around, keeping me waiting at the door, ”ya
know, I think I forgot something … uh … I think I’ve gotta do something.” The
fear had started to play on his face again.
“No
Pauly, you wanted to get a beer with me and you are going to get a beer with
me.”
“Really,
I just remembered…”
“Pauly,”
I reproved him, “you wanted to do this and you were the one who gave my notebook to
Lieutenant Charnov. I think it is only right that you come and get a beer.”
He
was looking really frightened now, but I needed him with me. I gently pushed
him ahead
of me into the restaurant. Charnov was sitting at a window booth where he could
see his waiting companions. Marga was waiting on customers across the restaurant, but she
could not help knowing I was there. She
also knew how to play this scenario and waited until she “discovered” us.
“Hello,
boys!” Her accent was perfect and her enthusiasm was genuine. She loved this game. Charnov had
looked up to see whom she was greeting and he didn’t look as happy as Marga when he saw
Pauly. I waved at Marga and smiled. I waved enthusiastically and smiled broadly
for Charnov also, but his smile and wave didn’t have quite enough energy in them. Turning
to Marga, I jabbed a finger at Charnov and mouthed that we were sitting with
him. She smiled even more broadly and made a drinking gesture then disappeared into
the kitchen.
“Hello
Mr. Charnov! Nice to see you off the ship. Is it alright if we join you?”
I had
a firm hold on Pauly although I could feel him trying to escape.
“Please
feel free,” came a very natural sounding rejoinder. “Hello … Pauly?.” There was a distinct question
in the greeting, as though he were trying to remember the name.
“Pauly
asked me if I wanted to have a beer tonight because I thought someone had
stolen my
notebook, but it turns out he gave it to you. So I am relieved all the way
around.” I pushed Pauly into the booth trapping him between
Charnov and myself. “I was just telling him about my book.”
“Book?”
Charnov looked startled.
“Book?”
Pauly echoed with a blank stare.
“Yes
Pauly. Remember? I told you I’m writing a…”
“Oh
Yeah!” he jumped into the sentence, “he’s writing a book!”
“Pauly,
why don’t you go order you and Archer a beer?”
“Oh
it’s alright, the server is already bringing them,” I gleefully interjected. “This is one of my hangouts, so she knows us … well,
she knows me and a couple of the other guys.” Risking Marga’s exposure was
calculated. I had to keep Pauly safe, “Not Pauly. I don’t think he’s been here
before. Have you?”
Pauly
shook his head and looked like he would rather never have heard of Old
Heidelberg.
Charnov
decided to try a direct approach. “Pauly, I need to talk to Archer alone.” I could see Pauly jump at the chance to leave, but I
restrained him to buy time.
“Pauly,
tell Lieutenant Charnov what I told you. I’ll be right back.”
Getting
up before Charnov
could object, I skipped away toward the toilets. Passing through a door from
the dining room, I entered a short corridor with three more doors.
I
don’t know why but I’ve never gotten used to the variety of symbols they place on
“restroom” doors. Over two doors Old Heidelberg had the words Herren
and Damen accompanied by cutouts of what are supposed to pass for male and female
human figures, although in this case the painted faces looked remarkably similar.
Once
inside the corridor, I checked to see if the other door lead into the kitchen.
It did. Marga smiled across the room at me. Reentering the corridor I opened
the door marked Herren. Stepping into a toilet stall I began swiftly to painfully work my body
through the metabolic changes necessary to consume alcohol. I have a moment of panic
when I realize I have overcompensated by raising my body temperature about
fifteen degrees Celsius above human normal.
In
the instant of readjustment, I begin a spontaneous recalling of our
original forced landing. Failing engines and shields, a compromised hull and that
first blast of frigid air and Antarctic water that so many … so many didn’t survive; there
just hadn’t been time to adjust.
I
know this is not the time, but emotion waves roll through my body breaking
across those memories and time long past. In my distress time assumes a
transparency through which other monitors extend tendrils of assistance using
Marga as a lens. Like a gentle rain, comfort washes over me cooling my ka. As
swiftly as I’m able, I thank their bonds and release them to gather the inner
silence for my coming encounter with Charnov.
When
I return, the beers have arrived, but Pauly has gone as predicted.
“Everything
okay, Archer? You look a little under the weather.”
Charnov
is simultaneously trying to provoke and observe reaction. After all, he is an
officer and I am not and that distance has to be maintained, but he is also unsure
what kind of creature faces him.
I
want badly to reassure him but as a monitor, I cannot let myself be
intimidated. I need to let him have his distance while simultaneously gathering
and pulling him into more effective alignment. I must gauge every sound and
word. “I’m fine. I just had Italian across the street with Pauly. Maybe some of
it didn’t sit well. By the way, where is Pauly? I really wanted him to stay.”
“I
sent him back to the ship. Oh, and he did tell me about your book. Remarkable
tale, I’d say.” He wasn’t immediately
trying the intimidation of simply calling me out, but he certainly didn’t buy
the novel business.
“Thank
you!” I smiled generously, “are you looking for a dedication?”
“Dedication?”
He was thrown off momentarily, and the break in his emotion gave me what I
needed.
“That
little part at the beginning of the book where the author always says this book
is for…”
An
anger-fear reaction narrowed his eyes slightly, “I don’t think you’re writing a
book.” He emotion was feeding itself.
Watching
the musculature of his face I saw his fear growing ever so slightly. My
responses were elevating his fight reaction. A slight tremor was running around
the lateral edges of his lower eyelids. Too much and his emotions would break like a wave, so
I answered almost immediately, but pitched as superior to inferior.
“Yes,
Lieutenant Ariel Charnov, I am writing a book.” The use of his name caused a
fissure in his energy and in our close alignment I suddenly owned his fear
and his thoughts pored across the space between us; he had a strange task
before him for which he had no precedent or training. He had a life worth
living for many reasons. He did not know the nature of this task or where it
would lead
him. He wanted to do his duty. He was willing but did not want to die. He had lives
he cared about for which he wanted to create and share a future and this was
the key to his anxiety.
He
did not know that knowing this filled me with great sympathy and a certain
amount of admiration.
“Your wife is pregnant isn’t she?” He did not know his life and those of his
progeny were of utmost importance to us, but I had first to build upon his fear
and cause it to grow before setting him free.
“How
could you know that? How could you know!? I haven’t … I nev… I haven’t told
anyone…” He
struggled to own himself.
“Oh,
don’t you think I must have heard it somewhere?”
“But
you couldn’t … I only just found out myself…How could you … how could you know…?”
Together
we rode his destabilized spin, “Someone must have told me.” My voice carried no
inflection, no expression and his fear increased. Letting our shared cathexis
energy progress to locus, I monitored his pulse and the speed in our increased breathing
and a faint scratching movement of one of his fingers on the table. “No one could … I don’t see
how … I haven’t said …!”
It
was time
for release, so gently, gently I increased our duality until I murmured, “just
a lucky guess then.” Holding our shared center like dance partners, I laughed
softly.
Picking
up one of the glasses of beer, he leaned back and rubbing the sweat off the
glass with
his palm he turned his head away then turning his dark eyes back to me.
“Marli…Lt.
Marlin told me you seem to know things…he said you told him something about himself…he
didn’t…he couldn’t see how you could know.” His fear was rising again but more
slowly, our center tightening. Just a little longer. Let him build it himself,
“did you see something in communications? I don’t remember anything
coming in, but maybe…” Let him soak a moment, he had a delicacy not entirely
appropriate in a military man but it produced a certain quality of wholeness missing in
most “warriors”.
“Mr.
Charnov, sometimes people just make lucky guesses.” That pitch would sort his
fear slightly
faster and give it a kind of spin to let it unravel gently. He wanted to know
his wife would be all right and he thought I could tell him so. He was correct,
but always we must set about revealing such knowledge rightly. Gently, we turn
together in the inner silence, our shared center slowly revolving toward
complete duality.
My people have a
saying that a foundling needs a finder. I had a foundling in my hands and his education as
well. I had disrupted his purpose, now was the time to remind him. As gently as
a lover speaking within, I release him to his separate existence as I murmured,
“I think your friends are waiting for you.”
His
jerk spilled the beer in his hands. The message sent, Marga arrived.
“Another
beer?”
His
response was energetic and minus all doubt, “Thanks, but I really have to be
going.”
“I’ll
have another,” I said, smiling at Marga. I may as well, I was already prepared.
“You
joking. You gonna fall in za shtreet!”
Marga
and I watched him knock on the car window telling the men within something. For
a moment they
argued then came to an agreement. Charnov stood staring after the retreating taillights. He looked back at
the restaurant door, hesitated slightly then turned and walked up the street to his car.
Marga
returned to my table with another beer and asked, “Move?”
“Adapted.
No evasion or delusion.”
“You improve, Finder.”
