April 25, 2002: After ten years of sketching for my own pleasure (two of which I also spent drawing the comic book, "Seven Suns", for my friends Dave and Joe, who write it) I have decided to start on my own, to create a character out of my imagination, and furnish her background information by myself. I think the character will be female. I want her to be good-looking, but also be bright, and of course nice. And I wouldn't want her to get picked on. So I will draw her.
April 27: I have been drawing Seven Suns for two long. Most of the characters are not human; while they are humanoid they also resemble certain terrestrial animals. There is one that looks like a polar bear, one that looks like a dog with floppy ears, and one that looks like a lizard or a snake. I think, after my preliminary sketches, that I am addicted to that kind of art. I will make my girl a dog, perhaps a Samoyed. A grey Samoyed with a lighter front.
On the side, I have
created some characters to go with my character, who will be named Selene
("moon" in Greek). My character is an English major at
May 8: Heard Harry Chapin's "Sniper." It's truly chilling. Supposedly because some guy was neglected by his mother, he climbed a clock tower at the U of Texas and started picking people off. The police got him after 37 kills. I read about it - it really happened - and it turned out he had a massive brain tumor. Guess it wired him into "attack" mode. In this mood, I drew a bloodied Selene crouched over Peter's mutilated body, she having killed him with a heavy shotgun. Oh well. I guess she has a mean streak.
May 13: I finally decided to let Selene learn to fight. She's taking a kickboxing course, led by a guy named Max (a rabbit) who has a rabid grin on his face all the time. Her teeth and nails also got sharpened. I didn't really intend for her to develop this vicious side. It's almost as if she decided for herself. To compensate, I had her take care of hers and Ela's nephews, who are little kids. She was very nice to them. So I guess she'll only defend herself when she really has to. Take that, mean Selene!
On a side note, I finally got around to washing the two-weeks worth of stuff that had sat in the sink and attracted flies. I also bought a new bottle of shampoo, in preparation for the summer break, since I usually do my showering in the afternoons at the rec center near my ME classes. Why I wrote this I don't know. I think I ran out of intelligent things to write.
May 15: I told Dave and Joe about my character, and they loved her. They said she was the best drawn of my characters, and while her world didn't currently have a story (they said they would think about working on something like that, but I think I'll beat them to it) they enjoyed thinking of the potential of a world like that one. Joe brought up the idea of a human meeting one of these people. He thought it might be interesting if they fell in love. What would happen? I said that it could lead to disaster, but it wasn't serious. Perhaps it would appeal to those who like something new and interesting in their relationships. I think I will write humans into Selene's world, so she can get accustomed to meeting us.
May 20: The summer break has begun. I get a few weeks off to do nothing but work on comics, Selene along with Seven Suns (which is what pays the rent). In the meantime, Selene has learned to break through the best firewalls in the world. She's now a certified hacker.
May 22: I have been introducing myself to Selene through this story. I think we'd get along, because (on Joe's encouragement) they seem to have fallen in love and are dating each other regularly. Will something come of that? I think so. What's it like when Rob takes his date home? I wonder myself. I haven't imagined that yet. I would like to meet her though. The real me.
May 23: I hope this is legible because my hand is shaking as I write it. Now, I sometimes get inspiration from these really vivid dreams that I have, which I have more often after getting a bit drunk with my friends. I staggered home yesterday after an hour's bus ride, because I was too tired to find the route back to my apartment; I sat on the couch and I guess I dozed off. I opened my eyes later and there was Selene coming in through the door! She greeted me and then disappeared into the bathroom. I blinked and went to bed, thinking that it had been a hallucination brought on by exhaustion. All this would have been fine until I woke up, in my bed, with her head on my chest. She woke and turned to look me in the eye. She wished me good morning. I started to reply and then decided to shut up. I got up and dashed this off. What the hell is going on?
When she found out I didn't really want to have sex with her, she got out of the bed and went to the bathroom. She looked exhausted though, which matched the way I felt. She took a shower and came out in her bathrobe again, her hair and tail dripping a bit but clean and smooth. She was beautiful, I had to admit, but I had, after all, created her. She told me she was going to lie down again, and after stepping into the bathroom for a bit more toweling she went back into the bedroom. When I stepped into the bathroom, there was a bit of a scent of wet dog, not unpleasant but strong enough to be noticed; a glob of short, fine grey and white hair in the drain; and three, count them, three completely soaked towels. I guess if I had that much hair I would also hold a lot of water. I shrugged nervously, because now I knew for sure that she was real. I took a shower too.
I spent a couple of hours editing the script for the latest issue of Seven Suns before going back to bed. Sure enough, Selene was lying there. I slid onto the bed from the other side, and she put her arms around me. What the hell, I thought, so I put my arms around her in return, and I dozed off like that.
It's midafternoon. I made a lunch for both of us, with plenty of coffee. Selene decided she was going to go to her apartment, but she realized after a few minutes that she wasn't sure where exactly in the city she was, and she wanted to go back home and speak to her friend Ela. I tried to tell her that she couldn't find her apartment, it wasn't real, and neither was Ela, but she didn't hear me, I think, or maybe she thought I was nuts. She got down to the end of the hallway, but she came back pretty soon, saying that when she got there she felt "odd," which she also described as "tugging at my soul" in the direction of my apartment. I guess she's tied to something in this apartment, because she was created here.
I continued working on the Seven Suns thing. It got kind of hard though. First, Selene sat near me quietly, probably trying to figure out what she could do now that it was clear that she was tied to something. After a while, I asked her to please sit where I would not notice her presence, because I draw best when I am alone. I put some "Classic Rock" on the stereo and continued drawing. Selene got my computer running and was trying to download a particular song, I think it was called "Legionnaire" by a group called Charlie and the Chaplains. I remembered that from the story I was creating, so I wasn't surprised when she was unable to find it on anyone else's computer.
I finished up about a quarter of the Seven Suns thing and covered my easel; then I went out to the kitchen to make some supper for Selene and myself. I whistled as I got out some chicken that wasn't too old and made sandwiches, serving one to each of us. As we sat, I awkwardly tried to start a conversation: what do you say to someone whom you have created in your imagination? So I asked how the sandwich was.
"It's pretty good," she said. "Please stop drumming."
I looked at her, confused, and then realized my fingers were beating a rapid rhythm against the tabletop.
"Sorry." I removed my hand and held it in my other. I had already inhaled my sandwich.
She finished hers with a smile and spoke.
"Look, Rob, I seem to be stuck here. I can't leave - something here. Maybe it's you. If what you said is true, and what I have seen out the window, there's no-one - " She paused, unsure of how to say it. She indicated herself in a sweeping motion. "Like me."
I had nothing to say to that, so I just shook my head.
"And," she continued, "Knowing what I do about the history of 'different' people in society here, I don't think I want to step outside for more than a moment."
I had nothing to say to that either, so I made a noise of agreement, and then added, "You'd probably be chased down and beaten."
She grimaced. "Don't I know it. But there will come a time when you have to leave this apartment. If it's you I have to be with, that's trouble. I can't walk around in public, but I refuse to be packed up into a suitcase or something."
This time I could answer. "That creates a problem. So why don't we try an experiment? I'll walk down the hall with you standing at the door. If you feel anything, I'll empty my pockets and do it again. If you still feel something, it's me; if not, it's something I carry and we can take it from there."
She was agreeable, so while she stayed at the door, I walked down the hall. I got down to the top of the stairs at the end of the hall when Selene groaned. I walked back and handed her the contents of my pockets: a small phone, keys, assorted pencils, a small pad, a pack of gum, my wallet, and a floppy disc.
I walked down again.
Nothing happened.
After some more extended trials, the pad and the pad alone turned out to be the culprit. She was born from the pad originally, so she could not leave it. Makes sense, I thought, in some very strange way.
Leaving her with the pad, I went out to get an extra toothbrush and another towel. Perhaps I would buy her some clothing, based on the measurements I had seen. In addition, I wanted to look at what was available in terms of fabric-beating vacuum cleaners, as my sheets were covered in hair - best to remove it before washing.
I got in my car and left, intending to drown my concerns in a sea of calculations.
May 24: I came home late last night with only the clothes, the towel and the toothbrush, because I hadn't found any vacuum cleaner that I thought was appropriate for my needs. Selene had already gone to sleep - in the bed - and there was a note on the side table. I ignored it and slept on the fold-out couch. I didn't get back to the note until about 4 in the morning, when I woke up.
"Dear Rob:
"We both need places to sleep. Separate ones, because if one of us can't stand the other's sleeping habits, that one can just have another spot. Second, I noticed that there are several pictures in your sketchpad of me, you, Peter, Ela, Max, and others. I have some questions about that for the morning.
"Lastly, you seem different from the Rob I remember."
It was signed simply, "Selene."
Well, I waited a bit for her to wake up; in the meantime I thought about what I would say to the questions she had asked me and others that I thought she might.
I tapped out a drumbeat with my shoes as I made coffee and a breakfast of scrambled eggs, not very exciting but enough to start my day. Selene mostly looked at hers as she watched me eat and drink, and then she spoke.
"So you have decided to take the couch."
I looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "I haven't decided. I might insist on sleeping in the bed. But why this sudden change in attitude?"
"You read the note I wrote for you last night. About the drawings. How can you draw Ela and Peter and Max if they're not real?"
I hesitated. I thought that perhaps if I made the wrong answer I would get smacked by a sharp-clawed hand.
"Well," I started, "this is a bit hard to believe, maybe but- "
"Spit it out," she said.
"I created them. I created you, Ela, your nephews, Peter, Max and everyone else with a tail that you ever met." I stopped because she looked angry. I didn't know before that what an angry dog looked like, but now I do.
"If you're not going to talk sense-" she began, but realized that she couldn't walk away from the argument - the apartment was too small, and she couldn't walk about outside safely. I pressed my momentary advantage to try and snap back. I was angry at her.
"Well, that's the way I seem to be seeing it." I turned around, walked towards the easel, and got to work.
Later today, Selene stepped into the closet space I use as a studio. She was in the bathrobe again, freshly showered. "The shower's free," she said, "if you want it." She wasn't visibly angry anymore. I guess she found something to do while I worked.
I reached a stopping point and went to take a shower. When I lifted the shampoo bottle, though, it felt light, and only a trickle of the stuff came out when I squeezed it. I shut off the water and yelled.
"Selene, how much shampoo did you use?"
She came to the other side of the door and thought for a moment. "Probably about a quarter of the bottle. Remember that I have more hair than you do."
I reflected that this was true, but it still irritated me.
May 28: I was talking to Joe and Dave at Dave's apartment, with me picking at Dave's guitar, Joe playing chess with himself, and Dave fooling with his computer. Suddenly, Dave sat bold upright and asked me to look. As I watched, I saw the screen light up with a list of documents with names that sounded dimly familiar. SAC_ROSTR. SW_MIRV-G_W88. There was even LRB_EVAL_2001. I looked at who had sent the list of files to Dave.
It was my login. Someone had hacked into a database of files belonging to the government. They were outdated but probably highly secret. I looked at the dates on the files.
The last time the SAC file had been altered was in 1986. Even so…
"I didn't know the Loyalty Review Board is still around."
Joe answered Dave's comment. "It's probably like the daughter that McCarthy had in his day who was a Communist."
Dave was stunned. "Really? His daughter? That's great!"
Joe sighed. "Too bad I was lying."
In the meantime, I had been thinking, and trying hard to get around a block that had appeared in my mind.
Only one person has access to my computer - no, make that two.
Even so, only one person knows the passwords and holds the random key generator - while the other is an expert in breaking into secure systems. Congratulations, Rob, you just got your ticket to Leavenworth.
I tried to sit down and missed a chair. As I sat there on the floor, I laughed a bit wildly and said, "I know what happened."
Dave gave me a hard look. "I sure hope you do, because this list itself is probably top secret, and I'm not authorized to hold it."
I froze, trying to choose a plausible lie or the implausible truth, but I settled on the truth.
"You remember that 'Selene' character and story I showed you guys?"
Dave nodded.
"Well, she's an expert hacker. I added that onto her profile soon after showing her to you. And she's real." I explained the events of the day after, too.
Joe stopped playing the guitar. "Are you trying to convince us," he said, "that a figment of your imagination is actually real and hacking into the database of some spy, maybe?"
I nodded, slowly.
Dave grinned. "Well, that's either the best bullshit I've ever heard or it's the unvarnished truth, because Rob here doesn't do things halfway."
Now, I assured myself, I know how Selene has been keeping herself amused when she's all alone.
I advised him to delete all files coming from my login and only to give information or new scripts to me in person. I took the newest script from Joe's hand. Then I went home.
When I got back, I confronted Selene. She readily admitted that yes, she had hacked into an interesting-looking database while she was bored, and then accidentally sent a listing to Dave. She refused to tell me how she found it, and I could find nothing about it because she had deleted all the system logs. She did, however, tell me that she had gone for a walk on the roof. I shrugged on that, but it’s better to get to a city roof than stay inside all the time. Anyway, she seemed happy.
I went back to work. After reading some of the latest script, I realized that it would be easier if I had a model.
I called Selene in and explained.
"Fine," she said. She began to open the shirt she was wearing, and then asked, "You want a nude model or no?"
"I don't need that, whatever you're more comfortable with."
She stripped down anyway.
I started to draw on the sketch pad, which I use for experiments. I whistled a merry tune to keep my mind going. Every couple of minutes, I would ask her to change position. Every time she did, I could tell she was trying to provoke some reaction - she would wink, curl her tail or find a position to make curves stand out. A glance over the shoulder can sometimes be just a glance, but some make it much more. Here I was with one of those people who take body language and change it from an art to a tool. When I was done, I told her so. She stretched and dressed again, but as she left the room I heard her mutter something about "the perfect bastard."
May 29: Today I altered my security setup. I couldn't make a character a good hacker without having some skill in that area, and I gave Selene only maybe three-quarters of what I know how to do. With the remaining quarter, I set up a character-proof security system on my computer. Selene, I see, is more restless, and has been doing crosswords from the papers of two weeks ago.
I wonder what that scene with the modeling was about yesterday.
May 30: I am wondering what to do with this girl. She has already finished a second bottle of shampoo, and she is restless. She was also being snappish to me - "bitchy," if you'll excuse the pun.
This afternoon, it turns out, Selene decided to take a walk on the streets, despite the fact that she might be beaten or shot. She caused a car accident when a driver couldn't believe what he was seeing - and a pack of what she called "mongrels" chased after her. Maybe those other dogs like the smell. It could be that it's that time of month, which might account for the mood.
June 1, 2002: I was trying to prepare a sandwich for lunch today - I am going for a ride in the park with my friends - but I could not find the knife that I prefer to use for slicing meat. I probably misplaced it. On my way out the door, Selene mentioned that she would be waiting when I got back. I wonder why she told me that.
I got back from the ride today, and I got a faceful from Selene. She started growling about my nabbing her away from her friends - she seems to accept that fully now - and kept going on that the tapping and whistling were getting on her nerves, it was very lonely here, and finished with a howl that sent chills down my back. She was as angry as I had ever seen her. I wonder what will come of that.
Well, I found out where the meat knife went. Selene had taken it, hidden it in her belt, under her blouse, and she had been steeling herself to finally attack me. I guess she was sort of crazed with anger. Anyway, she came at me with that knife, but she didn't know how to use it, so I disarmed her and put her out with a blow to the chin. As much as I dislike doing this kind of thing, I need to get her away. I think I just might burn the sketch pad. Now I just need some matches. Or a lighter. But I can't find that pad, she hid it. I'll have to look quickly. I will come back to you, O journal, when I can spare the mind for it.
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The investigating detective put down the small spiral notebook and closed it. He looked at the two men seated before him.
"Joseph Darrel and David Green. Do you two expect me to take this seriously? A man has been murdered. Let me tell you, gentlemen, I used to read comic books day in and day out. The only harm it did me was waste my time. It never killed anyone."
"But sir, you saw the blood and the hairs. Can you explain that? Where did the extra blood come from? It appears to me that he grappled with her after she got up and she killed him, so - "
Dave never finished the sentence, because the detective grabbed the journal and threw it at him, shouting, "Get out of my office, you morons, and I never want to see you again!"
As they were leaving, Joe turned to Dave. "So it really was true."
Dave was not concentrating. "What?"
"That Selene was real. You still agree with the story, according to what we saw at the scene and read in the journal? She attacked him, he knocked her out and went looking, she got up and attacked again. As they fought he cut her but she hung on long enough to kill him. You saw it - something bit his throat."
Dave nodded. "My little brother's friend died like that - dog bit him. Yeah, I could say that Rob did have this Selene in this apartment, and she killed him. But then where's her body? She didn't leave; there would have been tracks."
Joe thought. "But Selene only existed because Rob wanted her to. When he died, he couldn't want anything, now could he?"
Dave understood. "So when his will… stopped willing, she disappeared."
"Something like that."
They walked together for a bit longer.
Joe checked his scheduler. "The funeral is in twelve hours. We need some sleep before then."
Dave agreed, and they split up, each one going back to his apartment.
The detective sipped his coffee as he read the coroner's report.
"Died of massive trauma to trachea and jugular vein with multiple stab wounds contributing."
There had been more blood than proper for one man, even a man the size of Robert Singer. The hairs were also a mystery - silvery gray or white. They most resembled a wolf's, but no wolf ever wielded a knife that way. But those fools earlier had tried to convince him that it was a cartoon character come to life! He had never heard anything more ridiculous. Not to mention that the journal had been rejected as useless evidence. He would recommend that this case be dropped, declared unsolvable, as soon as possible.
Detective Peter O’Brennan gathered the paperwork and went to speak to his friends.