Chapter 4
Borja
“We don’t know she’s at Harvard.” I hurry along next to Farnsworth, who is definitely living up to the walking fast gay stereotype.
“It’s a starting point. If she’s not there, we can go to the next one.”
“Hold on, Farnsworth.”
He huffs, but abruptly stops walking in the middle of the sidewalk, barely reacting as a man bumps right into him. “We need to hurry.”
“I know, but chill.” I pull my phone out of my pocket. “Let’s look her up on the internet.”
He stares at me blankly for a moment. “What is that in your hand?”
“My phone?”
“A telephone? In your hand?”
“Uh yeah, it’s a cell phone. Um, mobile phone?”
He looks around for a moment. “I know what a telephone is. Why is it not connected to anything? How do you use it?”
“It’s…” I pause, thinking about how to explain cell phone technology to him. “It connects to waves in the air.”
“Waves in the air? You don’t have to patronize me.”
“I’m not. That’s how it works. Look.” I grab his arm and pull him to the side, holding my phone up for him to see it. “It’s also a computer. We can look stuff up.”
“Like a library?”
“Sure, yeah, a digital library, except way bigger and constantly updated.”
“Mm.” He leans closer. “How do you use it to look things up?”
I swipe the screen to open up a browser and then I type Professor W. Carole into the search bar. Several results pop up and none of them are Harvard. Instead, it’s a small private university I’ve never heard of.
“Looks like she works here.” I show Farnsworth the screen. “It’s in Quincy.”
“Your phone told you that?”
“Well, the internet, yeah. Don’t you use a tablet for your work?”
“Yes.”
“I assumed you’d be familiar with modern technology then.”
“We moved to using it about twenty years ago, but it only gives me information on the next incoming potential Chaser.”
“Where did it come from?”
He shrugs. “It was on my desk one morning with instructions on how to turn it on. I don’t question how the underworld works.”
“Fair.” I gesture towards the T station. “Ready to take the fast machine to Quincy?”
Farnsworth smiles, just slightly. “Lead the way.”
As we navigate the crowded sidewalk, I’m filled with a ton of questions about how Farnsworth lives, for lack of a better word.
“You don’t eat?”
“No.”
“Do you sleep?”
“I rest, yes. It’s not sleep the way you understand it, but it is restorative.”
“Do you live in the Revival House?”
“I have an apartment on the upper floor.”
“What do you do for fun?”
His brow creases as he stares ahead. “Fun?”
“Yeah, like in your off time.”
“I don’t have off time.”
“You work continuously?”
“For the most part. When it’s quiet, if my work is caught up, I may read a book from time to time.”
“Where do you get books? Is there an Afterlife library?”
“Yes, actually. We do our best to keep up with the times. Our research agents visit the Above quarterly to stay abreast of changes and trends, though I still prefer the classics. I learn what I can to be able to assist Chasers when necessary.”
“Fascinating. Have you ever used a phone?”
He shakes his head. “I have no need of one.”
“That sounds kind of nice. We’re addicted to these little machines, connected at all times. People can always find us, even when we don’t want to be found.”
“Are there positives?”
“Sure. We can talk to people when we’re traveling or not at home. We can get help if we’re lost or have car trouble. We can find out what’s happening all over the world in an instant. That’s both good and sometimes bad.”
Farnsworth gets a far-off look on his face for a moment.
“When I was alive, to get news from a friend, we wrote a letter and hand delivered it to a courier, who traveled days, weeks, sometimes months on horseback, to deliver the letter. I had no understanding of anything that happened outside my own village.”
“That doesn’t exist anymore.”
“I remember the first time I saw a television. I visited the Above to consult with a Chaser and there it was, blaring a singing program. I fell in love right at that moment.”
“With television?”
“No. With the singing man. I always hoped he would end up in the Revival House, but he lived a long life, and I’m not sure his moral compass would have led him to us anyway.”
“What was his name?”
“Dean Martin.” He sounds wistful. “He was so handsome. Sinatra too. I liked his eyes, but it was their voices that did me in. Romantic, smooth, absolutely perfect.”
“I know a few of their songs.”
“How? Old records?”
“Nope. We can still listen to old music.” I tap my phone, pull up a Dean Martin classic, “Volare,” and hit play.
Farnsworth’s eyes light up and he excitedly grabs my wrist, pulling the phone closer to hear it over the sounds of the city around us.
“It’s him. It’s Dean.”
“It’s a recording of him, yes.”
“On the phone. Magical.”
“We can get you some earbuds so you can hear it easily.”
“Earbuds?”
“Yeah, listening devices you put in your ears.”
He nods, actually smiling for once. “I had no idea people of this time still listened to men like Dean.”
“Oh yeah. People do. We listen to all kinds of music. Some people love classical music like Bach and Beethoven.”
His brow crinkles. “But how? They lived long before television and radios.”
“Others play their music.”
“Ah. Yes, that makes sense. I imagine that bothers Beethoven a great deal if he’s aware. He was a prickly fellow.”
“You knew him?”
“Briefly. A genius, but very particular, as well he should have been.”
We reach the T station and take the stairs down. Farnsworth presses closer to me, his eyes roaming over the masses of people we pass. When we reach the bottom of the stairs, he exhales, glancing around.
“It’s so busy.”
“Always. Let me check the schedule.”
I turn to read the signage on the platform, and when I turn around again, Farnsworth is standing in front of a busker playing the violin.
“We can take the Red Line to Quincy Center.”
Farnsworth glances over his shoulder at me and nods. “Fine.”
I stand beside him, listening until the performance ends.
Several people are gathered around now, and Farnsworth watches with fascination as people throw money into the violin case.
I pull a few bucks from my wallet and hand them to him.
He smiles at me before bending down to put the money in the case and thank the performer.
“Art on the street?” he asks as we walk to the correct platform. “Free to anyone?”
“Yeah, a lot of people perform for the public and work on tips.”
“How wonderful. What a service.”
I cringe slightly, twisting my lips. “Well, it’s not meant to be a service, really. It’s more of a necessity.”
“A necessity? For whom?”
“The artist. They might be unemployed or underemployed or can’t find work in their field of art, so they make a few bucks on the street.”
He falls silent as he seems to process this. “So, we benefit from their misfortune?”
Damn. “I guess you could look at it that way.”
“Sad.”
“Not always though. Some choose it. They like the freedom it gives them.”
“Hmm.” He goes to straighten the bow tie he’s no longer wearing. “What a strange world.”
I smile. I suppose it would be to him. “Been on a subway before?”
He shakes his head. “My visits to the Above are brief and focused. I’ve heard of things more than I’ve seen or experienced them.”
“Gotcha. I prefer it over driving. It’s faster and pretty safe.”
He turns to me, a slightly amused look on his face. “Safety is the least of our concerns.”
“Ah, right.”
The train pulls in, and we wait as some people deboard then we push our way on. It’s pretty crowded, so I choose to stand, holding onto a pole. Farnsworth folds his arms over his chest, but as soon as we’re in motion, he sways slightly and reaches out to grab the pole as well.
We’re close to each other, almost pressed together, and as I gaze into Farnsworth’s gray eyes, I realize just how attractive he really is when he’s not in the stifling atmosphere of the underworld.
He licks his plush lips, impossibly long eyelashes fluttering, and just as he steps back, a child runs through the crowd, chased by an older child, and several people smash into us, forcing us together.
I wrap my arm around Farnsworth’s waist to steady both of us, and as he gazes up at me, his breath catches. It takes a moment for things around us to calm down, but I’m not really interested in letting him go and he makes no attempt to move.
I startle when a voice comes over the speaker to announce the next stop. Farnsworth clears his throat as more people jostle towards the doors, and I let my arm fall away from his waist.
He glances at me awkwardly for a second before looking past me. “Is this our stop?”
“Not yet. Two more.”
Farnsworth nods, tugging the hem of his shirt.
He’s so straightlaced, and being stuck in the underworld with a bunch of dead people probably hasn’t done much for his social skills.
I’m suddenly very interested in peeling back his veneer and seeing what’s underneath it.
I bet he hasn’t had fun in centuries. Surely, we could find a little time for that alongside our mission.
“Is there anything you miss from when you were alive?”
He looks panicked for a second as he glances around. “Shh. We don’t want to arouse suspicion.”
“No one is listening to us, promise. Bostonians are notorious for minding their own business.”
“I see.” He rubs his hands together. “I miss sunrises and sunsets. I miss the ocean.”
“You’re in luck, then. We have all of those here.”
He offers a soft smile.
Yeah, Farnsworth is definitely a looker. I wonder if there’s something else beneath his surface. Would he like to kiss a man, boldly and proudly displaying his sexuality? Maybe I can teach him a thing or two while we’re on this side of the veil. That sounds fun.
“Hey.”
He looks over at me. “Yes?”
“Have you ever been in love?”
He pulls his head back slightly. “Why would you ask me that?”
“Just curious.”
“No.” His lips twitch and I sense the lie behind his defensive tone. “No time for such follies.”
I nod and let the subject drop. He’s obviously not comfortable enough to open up yet. Maybe he never will be, but that won’t stop me from trying. I’m known for not giving up easily.
The announcer comes over the speaker again, and I glance out the window as our stop appears.
“This is us.”
The train comes to a stop and we file out with everyone else. Once we make our way to street level, I grab my phone to put the address of the university in. Farnsworth stands close to me, quietly taking in the environment around us.
“Sweet. It’s only half a mile from here. We can walk.”
Farnsworth nods. “Great.”
“What are we gonna say when we find her?”
“That all depends on what we find. If the Horror is attached to that book, then it should be a fairly easy mission. If it just used the book to get somewhere else or it’s attached itself to the professor, it’ll be more challenging. We’ll just have to see what we’re dealing with when we get there.”
“Okay.”
He grabs my wrist. “In case it isn’t clear, we’re dealing with something very nasty. It might be easy to find, but it won’t be easy to banish.”
“I put that together when I got paired up with the boss.”
“I’m not the boss. I’m a guide.”
“Semantics.” I clap my hands together. “Let’s go find us a bad guy. I mean, a Horror.”
“I do admire your enthusiasm. I hope it remains once you see what we’re facing.”
“I’m not easily scared off.”
His gaze lingers for a moment. “Good to know.”
I hold in the excited laughter tickling my throat. I think he might be a little fun after all.