“Hmm,” was all I could say as I straddled my bike.
Resting a hand on my shoulder, Bonnie leaned close and said, “Don't be angry. I said your
beliefs were skewed on day one. Your reactions to hearing how this is true told me that nothing
less than an experience in my world would decapitate the opinions you hold about yours, which
you also agreed to have the first day we met. Now you are ready to meet them, so suspend your
disbelief for one more day and don’t throw it all away. That rhymes.” She grinned. “I'll see you
tomorrow.”
I nodded mechanically, kicked down into first gear, and pulled away at a reasonable speed
for my narrow vision on the slim, cracked road.
I was across the bridge before anger over my colossal waste of time collapsed into a bout of
giddiness when I dared to wonder if the revenge of watching Bonnie try to maintain her poise
was worth the trip. The transparency of her ruse would be my immediate pound of flesh, the
grant money my back pay. It was nearly two o'clock when I turned onto Davie Street, so I
stopped for lunch.
Sharp thoughts snuffled from my nostrils until I was sedate enough to arrive at the ironic
conclusion that I had too much invested to quit one day before possibly hearing how her story
ended. Or the punch line, in which case I would have to find a way to make it look like an
accident.
Chapter 26
I arrived at Bonnie’s just before noon, where without preamble she led me into a living area
flooded by the light of a southern exposure and softened by sheers covering the wall of glass
facing English Bay. An onshore breeze waved the diaphanous material above her lethargic cat's
head, keeping the room cool.
“It'll take a minute,” she said, sitting in the oversized oak rocker beside the fireplace.
“I’ll be here,” I said as she closed her eyes.
Fifteen seconds or so and she began rocking in her chair, followed by twisting her head
from side to side. A series of stilted breaths preceded pumping her arms, which was closely
followed by deeper breaths that seemed to synchronize all of her motions. Embarrassed for her, I
turned my attention to her cat, but Ginger wasn't any more at ease with me watching her than I
was with watching Bonnie’s theatrics; she left the room to lie on the balcony.
Not a bad idea.
When Bonnie finally stopped moving, she opened her eyes to explore our surroundings as if
she were unfamiliar with them. When her gaze fell on me, it was with such calm assurance, not
the stare of mental vacancy I must've been expecting, that I felt undressed.
“We have been awaiting you,” she said, in a sonorous, distinctly male voice, not at all like
her imitation of it. “All times are now, for the end has met the beginning. This does not mean the
end of the world as you think of it. Rather, humankind has reached the end of a cycle of
evolution wherein your cultural experiments have gone as far as they can go within their current
focus. You are now repeating the essential events of your history.”
I felt mortified for the rational Bonnie I sometimes knew and intimidated by the tranquil
idiot sitting across from me. Inspecting my toes took care of both feelings.
“Do not bow to us or to anyone. We are not your masters but your servants,” she/he said.
