Another One Lost

Lucy has kept the women at bay. Which is fine by me, except my trade is slowly being brought to a halt. Still the state provides me with food and other such requirements. And Lucy fills my head with ideas. She still swears she knows nothing about transistors. But I have caught her no less than three times in as many days, holed up in my attic, tweaking dials and recording frequencies. Every time I find her she is sporting a grossly oversized pair of richly padded headphones, and nodding with the subtlety of a learned scholar. But still Lucy feigns ignorance. And I don’t complain, because I love her company.

Today she said she knew there was someone out in my yard.

“How? How do you know that, Lucy?” I asked. “Do vintage radios have nothing to do with it?”

She ignored me and ran out the back door. I followed. The backyard is within my Allowable Living Area. There was a rustle in the bushes and Lucy lunged forward, grabbing anything that moved. She pulled out a length of rope. It was hearty waxed hemp. She held it forward like a roadside opossum. A tag hung from its end:

PROPERTY OF ALISS H.

“That’s not a rope,” I said. “It’s a girl.”

“No, Old Uncle Charles,” Lucy said. “It’s a girl’s property. So I assume it’s a doll.”

“Perhaps.”

She told me to be quiet as she listened to the air currents. “This girl,” she said. “Aliss H. She’s not far.”

“But you let her slip through your fingers, Lucy.”

Lucy turned back to the house, the dark edge of gloom creeping across her face. “It’s not the first time Aliss has done this.”

I’m going to sleep soundly tonight, with Aliss’ rope by my side.