Y.A.I.W.L.R.
By Paul Stansfield

(continued)

"This man exhibits a few of them. Notice the faint stubble on the front and center of his head? He's not really balding — he just shaves it in the usual male baldness pattern. First it became cool not to care about being bald, then it went further into actual removal of a complete head of hair to achieve this, if nature didn't comply."

"So people aren't as shallow about their appearance as before?"

"Lord, no! If anything I'd say they're worse. It's just what's considered aesthetically pleasing has changed over the years. But it's all deliberate, very self-conscious. Now, let's shrink down to see another one."

Then they were smaller, and right in the man's face.

"Oh gross, Adlai! Looking into his nose. Great, there's a booger. Nice."

Adlai loosed a few more of his trademark laughs. "More grooming and hair removal here, but functional rather than for style. It's summer, so he's removed his nose hair to beat the heat."

Doyle laughed himself, then sputtered in disbelief. "Does that even do anything significant?"

"Not really. Again, the evidence is controversial and mostly anecdotal."

"Wait. Doesn't that nasal hair remove pollutants and even germs from inhaled air? And aren't the 2051 people responsible for maintaining good health, lest they spread it to others and then be imprisoned?"

"Well, there're less pollutants and better health care if something is slipped past the goalie; but yes, you're correct, it's almost certainty less healthy to do it. Contradictory behavior hasn't fallen out of fashion. Oh, but I almost forgot..." They pulled back from the guy's nose, and enlarged again. "Check out his written name on that form." They both looked, and saw that the place's occupant wag, "Fëlïx | Wïlsõn."

"Those are umlauts and tildes, right? But how can there be so many? And on consonants, is that right? How is this name pronounced?"

"No one knows, least of all Felix himself. You're quite correct — those symbols are used too liberally and over inappropriate letters. It couldn't be more of a pretentious affectation. But there's one more stop, and then we're done."

Doyle was still chuckling as they emerged for the last time. This situation appeared to be a place of business. The only appreciable difference was that the room was completely round and smooth.

"The latest architectural trend — no corners anywhere. It's all a get-back-to-nature bit. You know — there's no comers there, so this is supposed to result in both psychological and spiritual comfort."

"Does it work?"

"Depends on the individual. For some it's better, for most it's neither better nor worse, and for some it's miserable. But never mind, we should get back." The blackness fell once more.

They were silent for a bit, and then Doyle spoke up. "You worried whether or not you'll get your wings, then? Worried if you changed my mind and will save my life?"

"I'm not worried at all. I'm relieved, actually. I wanted to give you all the information about your effects, and I did so. Now, do or do not, but with the knowledge of the repercussions."

"That's just cool, pseudo-unaffected ta1k, I think. You secretly want your charge to do the right thing."

"Jeez, how many times do I have to say it? There is no objective, 'right' thing; whatever you decide is the right thing for you. And don't be so stuck on yourself. I watch other people besides you. You're one of many hobbies."

Doyle mentally chewed on this for the rest of the return trip. Then they reached the psychic's room and they detached. Doyle could see himself once more. "Farewell, Doyle Murdock. Oh, and it'd be nice if you tip this woman. Even if she had nothing to do with it, really. I fooled this faker by making it real. But the results for you were worthwhile."

"Bye, Adlai. I appreciate your effort, and semi-indifferent concern."

Ad1ai laughed once more. "Happy deciding." Then the peculiar look went out of Magda's eyes, and she was herself again. Doyle barely heard what she said. He made his excuse as quickly as he could, and paid the full price plus a bit extra. Next he was outside, standing on the empty street. The sidewalks and ground were still damp, but obviously the rain had stopped.

He started to walk home, and as he did he considered what he'd just experienced. Had it really happened? Had Magda slipped him some drug or something? Although Adlai had known things only he knew, he remembered. Of course, that wasn't proof in itself He could have imagined it, either on his own, or due to some chemical. He didn't have au objective third party witness to confirm what had been said. Furthermore, Adlai had been right on that. the whole thing had been awfully narcissistic and arrogant. His presence affected the world that much? Was it possible? Perhaps his subconscious was making things up to convince him to remain alive. But then again, even if the details were lies, the fact that part of him wanted to live was probably significant.

Doyle rounded a corner and noticed the form of a homeless person in the depths of an alley. The guy was sleeping on a pile of cardboard and rags. Was Adlai, or his subconscious, right about him being too negative? Surely that homeless person felt more "blah" than him. Maybe he was just being a whiner.

By the time his hand touched the doorknob to his place he'd just about come to a decision. He didn't think he'd commit suicide. His issues and frustrations still remained, but his view of them had been skewed somewhat. Plus, his curiosity had been piqued. Doyle wanted to stick around for a while and see what happened.