Loneliest Man Who Ever Lived Ch. 14

He looked at the smiling image of Goldie on his wall. That was the only image he had of her. He wished he had taken another.

And so Harry returned to his ordinary life. He followed the stock market. He walked along the promenade. He looked into the waters of the wharf.

Three days passed. He wondered if Goldie was happy with Greg. He wondered if she ever thought of him. He probably would never know.

Then, three days after he had returned to New York, Harry heard a knock on his door. He looked through the peephole, and saw two men. He picked up his compression pistol, and, holding it behind his back, opened the door.

They were tall men, wearing dark winter coats. Harry didn't know them.

"Harry Crater?" one of them asked.

Harry nodded.

The two men entered his apartment. They drew compression pistols.

"Who are you with? The Society? The Foundation? Something else?" Harry asked.

"The Foundation," said one of the men.

"What do they want with me?" Harry asked. "I have already turned over the data crystal to the FBI. I'm no further threat to them."

"The Foundation wants to see you, Harry. There are still some good works you can do for them," said the man.

"I don't think so," said Harry.

"That wasn't a request, Harry," said the first man.

Harry drew his hand from behind his back. The hand holding the compression pistol.

The expression on the men's faces didn't waver.

"This is set to kill," said Harry. "I imagine yours are set to a gentler setting. I have no reason left to live, boys. Do you?"

The two men looked at each other. They had been programmed to bring Harry in. How intensely had they been programmed? Had their programming been general in nature, say, to "Bring Harry in", or had it been more specific, such as "Bring Harry in at all costs, even over your own personal safety"? Could people be programmed to have such disregard for their own lives? Harry had a feeling he was about to find out.

The two men seemed to communicate wordlessly, then they turned and aimed their guns at Harry. They figured at least one of them would get him. He aimed his own pistol at one of their heads, and his finger tightened on the trigger, when all of a sudden-

Shots from a compression pistol rang out. First one man dropped, and then the other.

In an extreme sense of deja vu, Goldie stepped forward, holding a smoking compression pistol. She looked down at the bodies, and then up to Harry.

"Harry, don't you think it's time you considered moving somewhere else?"

********

"You came back," said Harry warily.

"Yes I did, Harry." There was no shame or embarrassment on her face.

They were sitting on a bench in Central Park. Harry had hurriedly packed a suitcase, which was stored in his air car.

"And Greg?"

"He didn't come with me," Goldie smiled.

"Goldie?"

"I don't love him, Harry." She looked at him. "I spent several days with him, and I'm sure of that now."

"How do you know? You may have been programmed-"

"He bores me Harry," said Goldie. "I had him take me to a bookstore. He didn't make fun of the books like you did. We went to the movies. He couldn't flirt with me afterwards like you did. I even had him take me to a concert. When I asked him what the trumpets reminded him of, he said, 'a military march'."

"Oh."

"Oh indeed," said Goldie. "Before I met you, Harry, I was getting ready to settle for Greg. I might actually have done it, or I might not. But after meeting you, there's no way I can settle for someone like Greg. You spoiled me, Harry. You spoiled me for other men."

It sounded like an accusation, but somehow, it made Harry proud. "And did you..."

"Did I sleep with him? No, Harry, we were perfect monks," said Goldie giving him a little smile.

Harry stared at her more intently.

"Of course I slept with him! This is the only thing men want to know. Who was better? Is that your next question? Am I right, Harry? Is that the most important question on your mind? Tell me, Harry, tell me it's something else." Her grin grew wider, as she saw how embarrassed Harry had become.

"Yes, I suppose... I'm a little curious," said Harry.

"Curious about what, Harry? I'm not a mindreader, Harry. I can't tell what's on your mind. Ask your question, Harry. Tell me what's foremost on your mind." She moved her face close to his. The redness of her sexy, plush lower lip was driving Harry mad.

"Who... who was better?" Harry whispered.

Goldie looked away for a moment, as if she were trying to evade the question, then she looked back at Harry. "You were, Harry, of course. Compared to you, Greg was tiny. I had forgotten how small he was. Compared to you, he was just a little pinky finger. You've stretched me, Harry. You've stretched me so much, that I can't even feel normal men inside me anymore."

Harry looked at her mocking smile, and as she started to laugh soundlessly, a smile grew on his own face, and Goldie reached forward and grabbed him by the back of the head, and gave him a strong, warm kiss. Harry responded by grabbing her body to him tightly.

It lasted for a good, solid moment, as their bodies fused together. When it was done, Goldie looked at him. "I missed you, Harry, really I did."

"I missed you too," said Harry.

"I'm... sorry about the things I said to you earlier." She looked pensive, and a little regretful. "But never hand me off to another man, Harry. Never do that again."

"I... I won't," said Harry. "But even if you don't love Greg, when you get deprogrammed, you may not want to be with me."

"Thank you for reminding me! I have two great things to look forward to: getting deprogrammed, and to stop loving you!" said Goldie. "But before I can have my brain altered to stop loving you, we have to find my sister, Claire. There's an order to things, Harry. You have to help me find my sister before I will abandon you forever."

Harry nodded. Even as she said it, a smile appeared on his lips. He loved her so much.