30. Clark
THIRTY
CLARK
I wore my second-best suit and parked in my old parking place at Rose Financial. I arrived just on time, because I didn’t want a lot of questions from coworkers as to where I was or if I still even had a job at the joint.
The reading of the Will was without a lot of fanfare, and read in a sonorous tone by one of my grandfather’s lawyers.
He bequeathed funds for all of his employees, in various bonuses, bequests for charities, the usual Will stuff you’d expect.
Then things got a bit interesting: he had set up a sizeable trust for Beatrice Rose Evans, accessible whenever she commenced university or turned twenty-five.
Holy shit.
Edward Evans might not have the power of foresight, but he had numerous Assets who did.
And he was confident enough that the unplanned, originally unwanted child in Olly would somehow have Olly’s mother’s name, my sister’s name...
and my last one. Somehow, the kid would become an Evans.
How would it go? Would Olly treat me the same as all the other prospective parents in those binders of hers, if I only asked?
I felt like crying all of a sudden because the truth smacked me in the face like a frying pan: I wanted Beatrice, yes, but I wanted Olly, too.
I wanted the three of us to be a family.
I wonder if Olly saw that when they went digging through my mind.
But how could that be, when my grandfather led the group who had destroyed their young life, exposed their family to mortal danger in which they were all killed, and who just spent four months treating them like a lab rat as an experimental Asset for his deranged Organization?
A sharp elbow in the side from Robert reminded me to get my head out of the clouds, because the lawyer had stopped talking and was looking at me.
I realized then that I felt tears on my cheeks, not because a man I loved had died, but because I man I despised was still hurting us from beyond the grave.
“I asked, Mr. Evans, if I should continue?” the lawyer said, in his rather stereotypically stuffy way. I wiped my face quickly with my handkerchief, and said,
“Of course. Sorry.”
“Now that we’ve dealt with bequeathments to staff, I’m going to ask everyone except
Clark Evans and Robert Barkhouse to depart. I believe there are refreshments available in Conference Room C.” I acted on instinct and quickly made my way to the door, so I was the first person there. I stood to the side, and shook everyone’s hands as they left, thanking them for being here today.
I was soon back in my seat beside Robert, when the lawyer gave us a tight smile and carried on.
“There is a personal letter here written by the deceased addressed to you both. There is instruction in the Will that I am to read it aloud at this point, but only if both of you are present. As the conditions have been met, I’d like to proceed.
” Both Robert and I nodded, and the man opened the envelope.
Just as he was about to read, a knock came on the door.
Looking highly disgruntled, the lawyer remained still as Robert went to open the door.
The shades for all the windows had been low, so whoever it was obviously didn’t know the unofficial rules around here.
Robert opened the door and the next thing I knew, I had a slobbery, whining, joyful golden dog trying desperately to jump up into my lap and finding these small chairs lacking.
While I leaned over, scratched her head and gave her some belly rubs, telling her what a good girl she was, I noticed tension on the line of her leash.
I followed it with my eyes and saw that it was in the hands of Olly.
A very angry Olly, if I wasn’t mistaken.
I briefly touched their mind, and I saw them walking past people smiling in the halls, diligently doing work on their computers, sharing donuts and coffee in the lounge from their Keurig, and everyone who noticed Becky taking time to pet her and fawn over her.
Olly had realized then that the whole world, even The Organization, had moved along normally, happily even, without them.
It was like Olly was just slotted out of the world and no one gave a flying fuck. And now, someone was going to pay.
The air in the room crackled, and it was like there was a pillar around them of strange energy which created their own wind, as a lot of their hair was blowing upward.
Yet inside this forcefield or whatever it was, the snow was falling straight down, unaffected by whatever was making her clothing move and hair go crazy in the opposite direction.
She said nothing, and even Robert and the lawyer knew not to piss Olly off.
She unwound Becky’s lead from her wrist and tossed it to me, and I caught it effortlessly.
“Thank you, Olly. For going to get her. Not many people would do such a kindness for a...for a friend. Mr. Boutillier, Robert, I was wondering, is there anything in the instructions that say Olly can’t stay?
They have more than earned their place at this table, and I think they deserve to stay to hear for themselves what is to become of an entity that tormented them for a lifetime,” I continued.
“And they deserve a chance to ask for more details about the trust set up for their daughter.” I shot a look in Robert’s direction that clearly showed, do NOT fuck this up.
Robert spoke before I could. “Mr. Boutillier, I have no objections to Olly McLeod staying on. She...excuse me, is it they?”
“Yes,” Olly said simply. “You’ll get used to it, if we are all to be working here after today.”
Robert just shrugged his shoulders and the lawyer carried on. He looked down at the letter in his hand, and then with a tone that said how irregular he found this, he pointed at a chair near him but across the table from me. That would do.
“Well, gentlemen and um, Olive McLeod, I will proceed.” After some legalese, he began:
Attn: Mr. Robert Barkhouse, Mr. Clark Evans, and Olive McLeod (on whom I have good authority will be present for this reading, though not formally invited).
My friends and Grandson:
As you are aware, I have shed the mortal coil and am bound for adventure unknown.
That is what The Organization For The Advanced Mind was always about, for me: discovery for survival, yes, but also for the adventure of it all along the way.
I know I will not see my vision of a multiverse revealed to the world as fact, and the next step of convincing people we need to traverse it, but perhaps one of you will, or your child will, dear Olly.
What I did my best to hide from you was not meant to be a trick, just meant for me to be...
prepared. Oh, I hope you’ve guessed it! I was, on our Earth, a powerful psychic.
I know, you are probably wondering who the heck else is psychic around here, because it feels like a domino effect at this point, does it not?
Let me be very clear: fully eighty-seven percent of the Assets and employees of The Organization, spread evenly across our financial and research divisions, have psychic abilities of some form.
Some are stronger than others, and that often led to advancement, were they willing to use their powers for us, rather than cling to ideals which might interfere with the day-to-day operations of our company.
No one knows how high this number is, except for Robert Barkhouse.
He is the one I chose to lead the charge into the new millennium, with eyes on our financial end, keeping us solvent and funding the most important part of what we do: research, including experimentation.
He is highly educated and powerful enough in his mind to know that he will not be the one chosen to hold the keys to the kingdom, as it were.
Though this has not happened at the time of writing, my grandson, Clark Evans, through luck or fate or the machinations of someone other than myself, found his own way home to us.
I had sworn after the death of Rose Evans, my granddaughter, that no more family of mine would ever be involved in this enterprise.
I stopped searching for Clark and his parents years ago, and was glad to discover that Clark had veered away from astrophysics and toward librarianship.
Still, here he sits, in the heart of our empire.
It is my wish that my personal financial assets and possessions, with the exceptions made for the staff, and other private endowments such as the trust to Beatrice Rose, pass in full to my Grandson, Clark Evans.
I also wish him to be in charge of our research division which is headquartered in Halifax.
I would also extend an offer to Olive McLeod, giving them a top position at our research body, which is in near desperate need of their expertise when it comes to information management, and in revising our less than humane methods deployed throughout the past fifty years of Organization policy.
Clark, do not be afraid of your talents.
You are an intellectual, and there is no shame in it.
And what could be intellectually more exciting than being the one to prove that the multiverse is real, measurable by mathematics?
Think of the greats on whose shoulders you would be standing.
Think of the good you could do in this world for all of humanity and our ravaged environment.
Details of this new position for both yourself, and for Olive are forthcoming from Mr. Boutillier.
My dear Robert, one of the most powerful people to ever work for me.
I want you to take full control of the day-to-day operations of The Organization, at what I recommend to Clark at least three times your current salary.
Regardless of if you stay on, I will leave to you my manse in Montréal, as well as my house in Singapore, as I know you love each property and will take care of them.
Your new post would also involve copious amounts of travel, which I know you enjoy.
You would report to Clark directly, and Olly as well, depending on how involved she chooses to be in the hierarchy of The Organization.
Speaking of property, my Halifax home and all of its possessions will go to Clark and Olly jointly, with further properties to be outlined by Mr. Boutillier. I’m afraid this Will reading will be a marathon and not a sprint, as I have grown old and developed a tendency to ramble.
I know there will be some growing pains and a rather large period of adjustment. But I have every faith in the three of you to guide all of our Assets into a new era of discovery and realization of their full potential.
To the stars and the next wave on the horizon, my friends and family.
Yours always,
Grandfather