artifact and all, and he was dissecting dead ETs for some stupid reason, which is when everything went to hell. The doc got mixed up with alien DNA, he’s like some hybrid now. He was nuts to begin with — all right, not psychotic but a neurotic freak. He strangled his wife and all, we don’t know was it because of nagging or because he had no fingernails. But there aren’t any people here anymore, because of the mothballs, so there’s just me and Ed.”
I manage to get out, “How are you able to—”
And Jolie sails on: “What Ed is able to do, he’s able to slip into just about any wired or wireless communications thing and use it without anyone knowing. So since you’re in a Jeep Grand Cherokee, vanity license-plate number COOL DUDE, that happens to be equipped with OnStar, Ed could locate you by GPS. We know exactly where you are, and I’m talking to you by way of their satellite-communications system. Pretty wow, huh?”
“But how could you know—”
“See, Ed can do like sixteen things at once. So one thing he did even while he was telling me who you really were, he checked for any 911 calls to the sheriff from customers at the Corner that might tell us are you stirring things up already. Jumpin’ jackrabbits, you don’t waste time! Some guy phones in his truck is stolen, some other guy phones in the truck goes flying—”
I’m not sure which is the most disorienting: the blinding smoke churning around the Grand Cherokee and all the world lost in it, or the foul air from the wildfire that’s making me a little dizzy, or Jolie’s excited chatter.
“—some other guy phones in his Grand Cherokee is stolen, and some
I clear my throat and ask, “Who’s Ed?”
“Shoot, that’s right,” Jolie says, “you couldn’t know. Ed is a computer. No, wait, that’s an insult, I guess. Ed’s not just a silly computer, he’s an artificial intelligence, another big secret project here at Wyvern. He doesn’t want to take over the world and all, of course he doesn’t, he’s made that perfectly clear to everyone. So when they mothballed this Project Polaris, they put Ed in charge of watching over it, keeping it all safe. You’ll like Ed, he’s fun, he can do like twenty things at the same time.”
“I thought you said sixteen.”
“Heck, Ed’s so smart he can probably do twenty
A low, mellow, yet slightly ominous voice says, “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Odd Thomas.”
Jolie says, “Oh, yeah, that’s another thing, Harry. I know you’re not Harry Potter. I mean, I’ve always known you weren’t Harry Potter, he isn’t real. But now I know who you really are, and you’re what I knew you would be, a hero who says he’s not a hero. I knew you would come to us one day, I always knew, but I didn’t know your name would be Odd Thomas. Now you’re here, and everything’s going to be all right.”
“Things are still a long way from being all right, Jolie.”
Although all the vents are closed and the fans are turned off, the air in the Cherokee grows dirtier by the minute.
I ask, “Ed, are you there?”
“Yes, Odd Thomas, I am here. How may I assist you?”
I decide to accept everything that Jolie tells me, because the whole story sounds too crazy to be anything but the truth.
My unusual life has taught me that the world is profoundly more complex and far stranger than most people are able — or willing — to recognize. What most people call truth is merely the surface, and under it lies a great depth of truth that they do not perceive. A large part of my time is spent coping with the spirits of the lingering dead, poltergeists, eerie creatures that I call bodachs, prophetic dreams, and all kinds of one-off moments of supernatural weirdness, as well as with horrendous human miscreants of every imaginable variety; consequently, it strikes me as refreshing, almost prosaic, to be caught up in a supernatural-free incident involving top-secret government projects, an artificial intelligence that does not want to rule the world, half-breed extraterrestrials, and the women who love — and are strangled by — them.
“Ed, is Jolie really safe where she is now?”
“Safer than she has been for many years. No harm will come to Jolie Ann Harmony in my domain.”
“If any harm does come to her in your domain, I’ll find your plug and pull it.”
“You don’t have to threaten Ed,” Jolie assures me. “There’s not a bad circuit in the guy, and that’s certified once every hour by a self-analysis program. Anyway, he can’t lie.”
“You really can’t lie, Ed?”
“My creators programmed me so that should I ever speak a single untruth, I will immediately identify what I have done by singing ‘Liar, liar, pants on fire.’ ”
“Which is kind of funny,” Jolie says, “because he doesn’t even wear pants.”
Still wary, I press Ed: “Why couldn’t a self-aware artificial intelligence evolve to the point where it could override parts of its basic program?”
After a silence, Ed replies: “Why cannot a bright and gifted young man of almost twenty-two ever quite get over the psychological pain inflicted on him so many years ago by his mentally unbalanced mother?”
Now it’s my turn to be silent.
And then there’s only one possible reply. “I’m sorry that I threatened to unplug you, Ed.”
“You did so with only the best of motives, Odd Thomas. Your concern for Jolie Ann Harmony is admirable, and in fact I share it.”
“How did you know … about my mother?”
“After events in Pico Mundo, there were some mentions in the media about your family, certain speculations.”
“I never read any of that.”
Instead of rushing past the windows, the smoke is for a moment caught in a vortex of hot air and swirls around the Grand Cherokee. I feel as if the vehicle is being levitated and spun, as it might be in a tornado, and I close my eyes.
“Ed, was it you who opened that sealed drain, so I didn’t have to go back by way of the beach?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome, Odd Thomas.”
“When you led me that way, did you know I’d hijack a truck?”
“I was not surprised when you did.”
“But I didn’t know I was going to do it until I climbed out of that manhole and found myself outside Harmony Corner. I made it up as I went along. So how did you know?”
“A consideration of all possibilities and an analysis of the viability of each suggested that hijacking a truck and doing what you did with it was the option most likely to help you achieve your goal. My observation of you, in your discussions with Jolie Ann Harmony, suggested to me that, in spite of your self-deprecating manner, you usually make the correct decisions in such matters.”
Jolie interprets: “I think what Ed means is you kick butt.”
Ed has a question: “Now tell me, Odd Thomas, did you take Purvis Eugene Beamer’s smartphone?”
“What? I don’t know any Purvis Beamer.”
“You are driving the vehicle that he reported stolen.”
“Oh. Bermuda Guy. No, I didn’t take his smartphone.”
“Two GPS-reporting signals related to Purvis Eugene Beamer are being emitted from the same map coordinates.”
When I open my eyes, the smoke is no longer swirling around the Jeep, merely surging past as before.
“Yeah. I see it now. His phone’s in one of the cup holders.”
“Take it and put it in a pocket. Then we will be able to remain in contact even when you have gravely damaged that vehicle.”
“How do you know I’m going to gravely damage it?”
“I have deduced your intentions, Odd Thomas.”
