The Golden Globe

So I told Polly about Isambard Comfort and the Demons of Charon. She listened, fascinated, and I wondered if she was thinking about how she would stage this epic tale of pursuit. Les Miserables, Part Two?

But during the telling I came to an uneasy realization, something I really hadn't considered before but probably should have. While the Charonese race was hot on my trail, those near me could be endangered. My failure to consider that had cost Poly dearly.

Polly reached across the table and patted my hand.

"Poor boy," she said. "You've had a terrible time of it. And you think this Comfort person will follow you to Luna?"

"I think we can count on it," I said, miserably. "And I have to think it would put you and the whole production in danger."

"We'll think on that, of course," she said. "But I don't see how it changes much. We were going to have to disguise your identity anyway. We'll just have to be more careful, that's all."

I thought it would be a lot more than just a matter of extra care, but I kept my mouth shut. She was aware of my situation, I had not tried to minimize it, and I felt that was all I was obligated to do.

"So who do you want to be this time?" she asked.

She meant what did I want to use as a stage name. Anywhere in the i

"Do you have any idea how seriously they're looking for me?"

"I don't think they're looking for you at all, cher," she said. "But you can be sure that if they run across you—if, for instance, they see your name up in lights on The Rialto—they'll drop by with an arrest warrant."

She smiled as she said it, and I had to smile, too. So, as usual, I'd be playing an actor playing King Lear. Do you wonder why I'm not quite right in the head?

"Ke

Polly had suggested that fifty years ago. Even with her pitifully short allotment of years, she felt it was better to serve the time than to stay on the run. Get it over with.

There was a lot of wisdom in that, except for one thing. I couldn't do the time. I think I'd rather die. I smiled again, and shook my head.

"Then have you given any more thought to... the other thing."

She was speaking of the insanity defense. It was quite a narrow defense these days, but having an imaginary playmate, hearing voices... there was a good chance that would work.

I had not told Polly about Elwood. I'd spoken to no one about him, ever. But I had hinted at a few things one drunken night, and I think she had sensed a lot more. Not much gets by Polly, and during the years she had spent when we were closer than brother and sister I'm sure she had seen and heard some things she was too discreet to talk to me about.

Again, there was wisdom in the suggestion, except for one thing. I'd rather go to prison. Call it stupid pride if you wish. I'd never talk about Elwood, certainly never in a court of law, especially not to let him take the blame for my actions.

"No," I said. "That's out of the question."

"Then we're back to the first question. Do you have a name?"

I had several, of course.

My post-Sparky career had consisted of three sorts of jobs. Working from Pluto outward, I simply used my own name. Extraditions from those worlds to the i

I tried out three of the names on Polly. She carefully considered each, and shook her head. She knew everyone in the i

"How about Carson Dyle?" I asked. She perked up.

"Now him, I've heard of." She rattled off half a dozen of "Carson's" credits. "That's you?" I lowered my chin modestly. "That's a name I can work with then. I'll send it to publicity tomorrow. That is, if everything's in order with him."

"Give me a day to do a few checks," I said. "Carson may owe a little money here and there. You know how it is."

She smiled, and shook her head. "No, I don't, but if old debts is all that stands in the way we're okay. You'll start drawing salary tomorrow; you can just pay them off. Unless..."

"It's not much," I assured her. "Called away suddenly, no time to clear up a few obligations—" She held up a hand and I blushed. There was no need to sugarcoat anything with Polly. "Well, if that horse hadn't stumbled in the final turn, I had fully intended to pay it all off. Carson has a weakness for the ponies."

She laughed, and so did I, after a while. But it is a sobering thought that I had made a mess not only of my own life, but of most of my alter egos as well.

"So where are you staying?"

"I haven't settled on lodgings as yet," I admitted.

"Then I think it best if you stay right here."

I looked around the tiny cabin, and I trust I concealed my dismay.

"I wouldn't want to impose...."

"Behind that door over there, mon cher, is a narrow stair that leads to an attic bedroom. It's small, but you can stand up in the middle. You'll have your privacy, and the best breakfasts and suppers in Bayou Teche."

I said nothing.

"That used to be my bedroom, Ke

"What about this place, anyway?" I asked. She knew what I meant.

"The Bayou? I've always longed for the Earth. I felt all my life that I was born in the wrong era, the wrong place. On Earth, I'd have been a forest creature, a wanderer. And now that I'm old, I'm a creature of the night. I love the night, and you get a lot of it here."

There didn't seem to be anything to say to that. So I raised one last objection—not very strenuously, because the idea of a cozy attic room was begi

"I'm not sure you'd be safe, with me hanging around," I said.

"You let me worry about that. If your Charonese nemesis comes sniffing around, we'll see how he deals with eighteen-foot alligators in the dark."

"Izzy could probably kill alligators with one hand. But maybe the mosquitoes would suck him dry while he was doing it."

Rehearsals began the next day.

My heart wants to go into great detail about it, but my mind knows there is no point in trying. Any production in the live theater merits a book of its own. There is always exhilaration and disaster, feuding and fistfights and fornication. Half the cast usually hates the other half. At some point the set designer or the lighting director storms out of the theater and has to be wheedled back to work. In the last week, as dress rehearsals loom, there is despair. On opening night there will be at least two nasty crises, the one you half expected, and the one that sprang out of nowhere.