26

Chapter 26

It has been found through careful and extensive research that the path of asteroid orbits can be significantly altered simply by space-painting the object in question white. This "Yarkovsky Effect" causes thrust due to imbalances between solar energy reaching the object and heat being radiated out. Now this may not seem to have anything at all to do with Bufford's immediate situation but it does, and Bufford was only too happy to explain the connection to me. After his animated lesson, it actually made some degree of sense, though not completely: the asteroid is still an asteroid, but it looks more like a snowball from the outside and this perceived 'snowball-ness' is enough to throw off the energy reaching the object, the energy being, in this case, the intense manhunt currently underway for Bufford in his specific universe. In that universe, there was no 'clearing himself' like in the plot of some Harrison Ford/Tommy Lee Jones movie: ("I didn't kill my wife!" "I don't care.") He was guilty. He had kidnapped a woman, obstructed the operation of a business, destroyed public property, and probably committed a couple of more ticketable offenses. So, he figured he just needed to hide out a while and the whole thing would go away after an appropriate amount of time, when a tax levy or a levy break became more interesting to the media and the police. Do arrest warrants expire?

Bufford wiped his brow with the back of his shaggy arm and squeezed between me and the door to sit his huge purpleness down on my Lay-Z-Boy. He placed his head on the coffee table and leaned forward, as if preparing to divulge a nuclear secret.
"So that's what I'm going to do. The manager told me I've got this job as long as I want it. I have a sign I hang around my neck that says
The Bed Frame
 Water Beds
    Sale of the Century!
      Best Prices Ever!

and I've already staked out the best corners, Iliad and 3rd in the morning and Wysteria and 5th in the afternoon. It's all about traffic flow and the reverse commute. I'll walk the shopping mall for the rest of the day, looking at girls, sucking on a large sugary soda and eating french fries. I figure I do this for a few weeks then test the waters, you know? I'll move into that empty house next door to you and, as far as anyone knows, disappear without a trace. It's sort of exciting, really."
"Didn't Wally's ask you for proof of identification when you applied for the job?"
"Of course. I came clean and told him I was an undocumented worker from Auzer Bazan. He seemed OK with that."
"But you were born in Illinois."
"I've got a tribal robe on its way from EBay as we speak. I'll walk it out for him. There'll be no problem. He was especially impressed when I showed him the ceremonial jumping rite of my ancestors."
"Ah ha. What about a permanent address? Where is Wally sending your checks?"
"I'm picking up my checks personally, for simplicity's sake, but I gave them '2975 Artubus Dr.'"
"Oh. In reality, that's the address of..?"
"The humane society."
"Ironic and an interesting choice. It's clear you've thought this through to some point."
"Clever, huh?"
He was gloating and severely attached to this elaborate ruse. I didn't query further, as I felt it important for him that he retain the level of self-satisfaction with his plan. I sat down across the room on the couch, forming my opinion. Has there ever been such a thing as a 'perfect crime'? And did that crime involve a Snickers bar, a roll of Scotch tape, and a woman in high heels?
"Well, I guess that sounds like as good an idea as any. How much do you get paid an hour for something like this? You realize this is going to place you firmly in a higher tax bracket."
"These are desperate times, Brody. I've got to do what I've got to do."
He said this seriously, but it was hard to take him seriously in that purple dog suit.
We sat quietly for a while, letting the burgeoning morning traffic from the freeway create the soundtrack of our immediate lives. It was a type of existential crescendo building to a forte. For some reason this felt more like a rapidly approaching train in a tunnel than a true solution, but no one had produced a better idea as of yet. There was a slight rustling outside. Ethyl was planting flowers below my rolling trash cans. Waste disposal came on Wednesdays. Was that already tomorrow?