The Silver Metal Lover

“C,” he said, “O.—” and presently: “Cogito ergo—I think, therefore I am—no. What’s this? Cogito ergo oops!” Leo laughed. “How true.” He lifted his hand gingerly from the glass. The glass raced around the table. Leo watched it admiringly. I watched with hard lumps of fury in my mind and heart. “P.R.O.O.F.,” said Leo. “Proof—for—Jain. S.O.N.G. Song.”

I turned away, and Leo read out to me painstakingly, letter by letter, and then word by word, and with pride: “Inside the pillar of white fire,

“Staring God in the face,

“Liking his courtesy and grace,

“Afraid of his knowing eyes.

“‘Who told you I was unkind?’

“God, you’re so very burning bright

“I don’t want to fight—

“I’d be a fool to fight—

“ Then put the pistol down

“‘And put up the sword.’

“I never said a word,

“I did as I was told.

“And when the stars turned cold

“He warmed me with his smile.”

The glass stopped.

“Mmm,” said Leo. “Do I know it?”

“No,” I said. “Nobody knows it. He—he knew it, I said it over to him. But I never wrote it down. I thought of it in Musicord-Ectrica, the night we came out and stood in the snow and the news visual about E.M. came on—I told him the words. He never forgot any lyric. He was programmed not to forget. But I forgot. Until now. I never wrote it down. Not in the manuscript. Not anywhere. Clovis, how did you know?”

“It isn’t me, Jane,” Clovis said, lying on the floor, his stone white face turned up to the ceiling.

The glass moved. I leaned toward it.

“Are you here?” I said. “How can you be here?”

JAIN, the glass said. I waited as it spelled out letters.

“I’m part of you,” I said, what the glass had spelled for me. “But—” I said. “A ghost, a soul—”

Surprise, he said to me, through the glass.

“Where are you?” I said.

You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.

Leo was sitting back, staring at me, then at Clovis.

“I don’t want to live without you,” I said. My voice was desolate and small. I didn’t even know if I credited what was happening, but by now I couldn’t stop myself. “Silver, I don’t want to live here alone.”

You’ll see me again, the glass said. We’ve been together on several previous occasions. Must mean something.

“Silver—Silver—”

I care about leaving you, but there isn’t much choice.

“When will I—when will I see you again?”

Oh, no, lady. You’re trying to get me to predict your own death.

“But—”

I love you. You’re beautiful. Stay beautiful and live my life for me.

“Don’t go—”

It doesn’t matter, Jain, Jaen, Jane. There’s all of time, as you know it, as it really is. What’s a lifetime to that?

“I shan’t still believe this when you go.”

Try. Try hard.

“You speak just the way you did when—”

How else would you recognize me.

“Silver, will this ever happen again?”

No.

“Silver—”

I love you. I’ll see you again. Don’t ever be afraid.

The glass stopped.

“Wait,” I said.

The glass didn’t move.

I reached and touched it, and it didn’t move.

It didn’t move any more.

“My God,” said Leo.

I sat still, and the others began to move about. Clovis got up. He went to the drinks dispenser. Clovis and Leo were drinking, and Clovis brought me one of the drinks and put it down on the table, and his hand shook. Before I knew what I’d do, I caught his shaking hand.

“Let go, Jane,” he said.

“Tell me first.”

“I can’t. Let go.”

I let go of him.

“Who the hell was it?” asked Leo.

“A friend of ours,” Clovis said. I began to cry, but vaguely. I’d thought I’d never cry again, but this was only a sort of reflex. “Jane,” said Clovis, “look at the glass. The seance glass. Inside, where the magnet was.”

I picked up the glass and peered into it, rubbing the tears out of my eyes. There was no magnet. There wasn’t even the chip missing—it was another glass.

“Austin,” said Clovis, “burst in here one evening, picked up the table and hurled it at me. I ducked and the table hit the wall. As for the glass, I thought he’d try to eat it. We had a lovely uninhibited time as he ranted about fake seances and liars (both of which he’d known about for days; clearly he is a fermenter rather than a creature of impulse), and sobbed and threatened to throw me or himself out of the window. I told him which of these two alternatives I’d prefer, whereupon he decided I’d make an interesting pattern on the street. He left hurriedly when I reminded him about my policode and suggested I might just have pressed it already. The rigged wiring in the table was torn out, and the glass was in twenty-eight separate pieces… or was it twenty-nine? It isn’t likely I’d have asked Jason for a replacement after we all went off him in such a big way. I planned to work the glass myself, this time. But I didn’t get a look-in. I don’t think this drink is helping me at all.”

“Then it was real.”

“Disgustingly so. Unless you did it by willpower and telekinesis.”

“Cogito ergo oops,” said Leo ironically.

Clovis half turned to him. “Leo. It’s been great fun, but I’d really be happier if you packed your bag and left.”

“You what?” Leo asked, surprised.

“Get out,” said Clovis. “We are through.”

“Charming,” said Leo. “Decided to go straight, darling?”

“Only straight to the bathroom,” said Clovis with the utmost elegance, “where I am about to be as sick as a dog. Unless you want to come along and hold my head, I suggest you seek the exit.”

And Clovis strode out and the door of the mahogany bathroom banged and there came the dim plash of aesthetic aquatic concealment.

Leo and I stared at each other.

“Does he mean it?” Leo said. And hastily, accustomed to Clovis: “About leaving.”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m sorry.”