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because I nearly ran into one of the rust-red walls before veering away and
righting myself. Now I was cruising again, maintaining a steady cadence,
each of the now-familiar gates stopping for at least a count of two before
whizzing by. It wasn't like being back in my condo or anything, but riding
the Path again gave me a sort of secure feeling.
Now detached from my latest adventure, I could look at it more
objectively. Hey, considering I was scared shitless a lot of the time, I did
pretty good! Got back the Bukko, freed all those people, offed a really bad
dude. The Old Guy and his cronies, who for sure had been watching, got
themselves a damn good show.
Didn't they?
Scenario: Study Group coming together again after their diversion.
Study Group Old Guy #1: "So, Jack rides the mhuva lun gallee again,
and the Bukko is around his neck. Then everything turned out well."
My Old Guy (pissed off): "No thanks to us. I feel terrible about leaving
him in those circumstances. Had he died, I'm afraid we would have had to
break some heavy universal rules to rectify the situation."
Study Group Old Guy #2: "Unthinkable! In any case I had a look into
the future of that world, and it seems that Jack's brief time there had a
considerable impact. A network of fine roads and highways crisscross
Murlug, which has become quite an industrial world. Wheeled vehicles of
every kind abound, as do airports for the flying creatures, which carry
gondolas of people over great distances. Kimbal and Chatana, his wife,
were responsible for this, as well as a theme park called Evil World, built
near swampland in Areelkrokka. They have since retired to a resort along
the Great Ocean, where Kimbal spends much of his time riding boards
atop giant waves. Their oldest son, Jack, is running the business."
My Old Guy (wondering about boards atop giant waves): "I'm glad
that came to pass, but I still feel badly about abandoning Jack. It will not
happen again." (Thinks a minute.) "And so as not to feel guilty, I will do so
something for him."
I was still riding along, not in any particular hurry, when I saw the first
sign. It wasn't like the time before; you know, when the Old Guy left those
few words in yellow neon over the door back to Camp Pendleton. No, this
sign was of some glittery silver stuff, kind of insubstantial, that used the
rust-red walls between gates as a backdrop.
And I do mean first, because there were a few of them in sequence, like
those old Burma Shave billboards you used to see along freeways and
turnpikes. They don't mean anything until you read the last one, so you get
interested in the damn things and wind up creating a twenty-one car
pile-up or something.
Anyway, the first shimmering sign said: great piece of
ADVENTURE, JACK! WE OF THE STUDY GROUP&
That's how it ended, with ellipsis points, those three dots that let you
know more is on the way. It wasn't too long before the next message:& are
very impressed with your fortitude, to show&
It was weird, watching those letters break apart into nothing an instant
after you went past. The third one said:& my appreciation, SINCE I AM
THE ONE WHO CHOSE YOU&
Yeah, yeah, what already? This could get annoying.
& KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE GATES AHEAD.
Period. That was it. No more glitter signs. Keep your eyes on& What'd
he think I was doing?
For a while now, most of the gates had been those iridescent snowmen.
Seeing a particular one, I suddenly understood.
It had a yellow ribbon tied around some of its needles.
Some of its seventy-three thousand four hundred and ninety-two
needles.
I turned the bike rather sharply.
Thank you, Old Guy.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Source of the Light
Okay, here I am, back on the Ultimate Bike Path again. Well, sor-ree,
but there are some things you don't want to discuss in any great detail
unless you've had quite a few beers and are with your best buddies.
A whole world full of feline females, all of whom looked and smelled
like Hormona and who, on the whole, really loved their work!
In the immortal words of a scholarly southern sage: Yeee-hah!
Now then, Miller, time for proper decorum. Sitting regally atop the
Nishiki, I rode steadily along the mhuva lun gallee. No gate appealed to
me at the moment, which was okay. I even passed the misty blue door
back to my own place and time without hardly a glance. Later, for that; all
I wanted to do was ride.
But before long there was a dominant succession of those creepy Bart
Simpson heads, and it was really bothering me to stop for a second in
front of them. I pedaled harder, and they passed more quickly, but even
that wasn't enough.
So for the first time on the Path I really began working, and the Bart
Simpsons became one long blur. I concentrated on what was directly
ahead, scared that I would overtake another rider and send us both
toppling to the "ground." (What then? Bread-slicing time?) But just like
San Onofre State Park on a cold weekday morning in February, I was the
only one pedaling along.
Hey, now this was great! A little scary at first, but you get over it. After
a while I was kind of sure those ominous gates were behind me, but I
continued pedaling fast, because I was enjoying it. In fact, I even speeded
up, until I reached a point where up, down, backward, and forward were
all sort of the same, which was when I decided to back off. But wow, what
a trip while it lasted!
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