The Secret of Life

“Oh, Audrey. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it finally happened. That’s the weirdest thing about time, the way things that you never think will come finally do come. I love you, Audrey. I love you a lot.”

“I’m so excited, Conrad, I can hardly see. I feel like I’m going to fall over!”

They found themselves on a deck halfway up the Eiffel Tower. The only other person there was an old woman with a poodle on a leash. She was busy peeling an orange.

“Why doesn’t the elevator go all the way to the tip?” Conrad asked Audrey.

“This is high enough for me. I feel like the wind could blow me right off. My head is buzzing.”

“Me too. I feel light as air. I bet I could fly around the tower, Audrey.” He had already told her about the time he saved Ace’s life.

“Don’t risk it! I want my darling to be safe.”

But now that the idea had formed in Conrad’s mind, it was overwhelming him. Last night he’d done an impossible thing—he’d fucked Audrey. Why not do another miracle today? Before Audrey could stop him, he’d jumped up to stand on the deck’s railing. Vast windy space out there, a hungry void.I can do it.

As he began to teeter forward, the old tightening in his brain’s center began. Yes. He could hold on to space. Conrad did a slow flip and hung upside down, his face in front of Audrey’s. From this perspective, it looked like her mouth was in her forehead. He blew her a kiss and drifted off the deck and into thin air. The poodle started barking.

Moving quickly, and not letting himself think about it too much, Conrad flew all the way around the tower and landed back at Audrey’s side. The elevator had just brought up a load of tourists. The old woman with the poodle was yelling to the guard, yelling and pointing at Conrad. The guard frowned, turned off the elevator, and took out a little notebook.

“Oh, God, Conrad, they want to give you a ticket for climbing off the deck. It’s strictly forbidden.”

“I didn’tclimb .”

The guard gave a perfunctory tip of his hat and asked for their passports.

“Let’s just fly off, Audrey. I don’t want any big legal hassle.” The power was still humming in his head.

“No!”

Upset and shaking, Audrey rummaged in her purse for her passport. This was no way to be spending lunch hour on such a special day. She’d said no to the idea of flying, but she’d said no about other things, too. Conrad put his arms around Audrey’s waist and flew the two of them out off the deck. The tourists from the elevator started yelling; someone took a picture. Audrey clung to Conrad’s neck in terror.

“Don’t drop me!” Conrad felt his control waver when he looked down. Black asphalt down there, and the vast latticed curve of the tower’s leg. Some of the ants on the distant pavement looked up and pointed. This was madness.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again, Conrad.”

A fisherman/bum some twenty yards away stared at them for a moment, then looked away.

“Let’s get the Metro out of here,” suggested Conrad.

“The people on the Eiffel Tower know we came this way.”

In the subway, Audrey calmed down. They rode until they found themselves in Saint-Germain. They had a good lunch at the Cafe Flore. “What’s going to happen, Conrad?” asked Audrey over coffee. “Are you going to start flying all the time?”

“Maybe.” Conrad felt within himself. “But right now I don’t think I can anymore. It’s like I told you before, it’s a survival trait. I have to risk my life to make it start. On the tower I was so excited to think we actually fucked that I went ahead and took the chance.” He took her hand and squeezed it.

Audrey stared deep into his eyes. Her face looked so open. “It’s too bad today’s our last day here.”

“We’ll have lots more chances this fall. You can come visit me at Swarthmore; and I’ll take the bus up to visit you in New York.” Having finished college, Audrey was pla

“You’re pla

“Of course.”

Walking back to the Metro, they passed a kiosk selling afternoon papers. In the middle of page one, there was a photo of a man and woman hanging in midair. The Eiffel Tower’s railing was in the foreground, Notre Dame in the background. Conrad and Audrey’s faces didn’t show. “What does the caption say, Audrey?”

“ ‘Mysterious Hoax: Two Americans Sought.’ ” She looked at him in dismay. “I hate having our picture in the paper like that. What would they do to you if they found you, Conrad?” “It ...” Conrad’s mouth worked wordlessly. “I ...” He staggered and sat down on the curb.The picture of him flying. Something about it ... He felt like there was Novocain in his head—Novocain and thick, heavy throbbing.Picture not good. “Are you all right, Conrad? What’s happening?”

Chapter 13:

Thursday, December 2, 1965 “What do you mean, ‘levitation’?” Mr. Bulber was bored and impatient. He and Conrad were alone in the physics laboratory.

“Antigravity,” said Conrad, lighting a cigarette. “I want to invent antigravity. That’s why I decided to major in physics.” Conrad had come back from Paris filled with high resolve. He’d been cracking the books like never before. Audrey was up in New York, doing grad school at Columbia; she and Conrad got together and fucked one or two times a month. It was agreed that they were both free to date others—Audrey had insisted on this point last time they’d been together. Three weeks ago. Conrad hadn’t really heard from her since. Three weeks? He’d been studying hard. Three weeks? It was something to worry about, all right; but nevertheless, right now, Conrad’s plan was to figure out a way to mechanize his flying ability, revolutionize transportation, marry Audrey, and retire as a millionaire in three or four years. “Flying without wings,” amplified Conrad, exhaling smoke. “It’s an old science-fiction idea. I’m pretty confident I can get it working.” Mr. Bulber grew irrationally angry. He was thirty-two, with a potato-face and neatly oiled dark hair. He had a small pompadour. Back when Mr. Bulber had been a student, he’d been a loner, mocked and reviled by people like Conrad Bunger. He’d just gotten tenure, and the college had promised him a sabbatical for next year. Mr. Bulber was worn out from six years of teaching and in no mood to nurture some shaggy young wastrel’s dreams of glory. “Conrad Bunger. All right.Fact: Antigravity is impossible. If you knew tensor analysis and general relativity, I could show you why. But you don’t know. You never will.Advice: Stop this intellectual masturbation and bring your lab book up to date. At this point, you’re working on a D.” Mr. Bulber caught Conrad’s crushed expression and softened a bit. “It’s good to dream, Bunger, don’t get me wrong. Every scientist starts with a dream. But physics isreal . The world is stubborn. Just wishing for something doesn’t make it so. “What if I told you that I can fly?” Mr. Bulber’s face hardened. “I’d tell you to get counseling.” Conrad made a brief effort to levitate on the spot, but the vibes weren’t right, down here in a machine-filled basement, alone with an old nerd who thought antigravity was crazy bullshit. And Audrey hadn’t written, and she wasn’t ever there when he called ... He took his books up to the science library and tried to do the homework for Bulber’s Mechanics and Wave Motion course.Let a 40-kg ca