25

Jane surely was feeling guilty that she wasn't with Franklin, as if the good wife would tear apart every obstacle that kept her from getting to her man. But she did not tear anything apart. She continued with the simple life she had been living ever since Franklin had departed. This is not to say that she didn't think about him, but she surprised herself with how much time passed without remembering.

Whenever she thought of him, she immediately was overcome with anxiety; how horrible was it that her husband had gone and done this brave thing, nearly died—actually had been counted as dead—miraculously returned, and now was being held somewhere in some faceless government facility, and she was simply going about her life as if she had never heard of him. When they held the memorial for the Investigator crew, back before Franklin’s miraculous return, the pay that had been going into her bank account was converted to a generous widow’s pension in his name. She continued to receive this pension even though Franklin was no longer dead. She had panic attack daydreams where she imagined herself being hauled into court and accused of fraud. The worst part was how stupid she would feel when she admitted that she had simply avoided solving the problem. She felt like she ought to reach out to Barrow again—just to see if there was any news. But she was afraid of what would happen if she did.

It surprised Jane that she was so reluctant to talk to Franklin. She was never reluctant to see Leider.

‘I should try to see him,’ she said.

‘What?’ asked Leider.

‘I said I should go see my husband,’ said Jane. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to see him...I think I do. It’s just that this life is so good. I don’t want it to end, yet.’

Leider made a strange guttural sound.

‘What?’ asked Jane. ‘What’s wrong?’

Leider stopped making the noise but his mouth stayed open.

‘Hey!’ she said.

He didn’t respond.

She reached across the table and waved her hand in front of his face. Leider blinked but didn’t meet her gaze, staring instead straight through her. Jane watched as his face slowly lost its conscious tone, sagging into a vacant state.

She jabbed him in the chest.

‘Rudy! Hey, Rudy!’ she nearly shouted until his eyes resumed their focus. ‘Can’t you just turn it off for a minute?’ she asked.

‘It’s not like some battery-operated toy,’ said Leider. ‘Can you turn off your hearing? Or your sense of smell? It’s a part of how I interact with the world, it’s a part of me.’

‘But how do you ever focus? How do you have a normal conversation?’

‘I’m sure it comes down to willpower.¹ I just need to learn how to ignore it sometimes.’

‘Well, get some willpower now. I’m trying to tell you something.’