Page 6 of The Paradox Club

“Pills?”

“You can take pills if your mind isn’t feeling well, but the women were in the wilderness. There are no pills in the wilderness.”

“What then?”

“Stories. They told stories. Every day they sat for hours on the cool forest floor, and they told each other stories. And telling the stories and listening to the stories kept their minds from being sick, it kept them from going insane. When the two women finally hiked out of the wilderness and back to civilization, they felt fine.”

“The stories saved them?”

“The stories saved them. So, don’t tell me that stories aren’t important or that they can’t save lives, because they saved the lives of those two women.”

“But that’s just a story.”

“Exactly.”

“And stories are made up. They’re not true.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” said Harry. “Every story is true…somewhere.”

THE PRESIDENT OF THE PARADOX CLUB

The president of the Paradox Club sat on a cushioned lounge chair in the shade of a cabana, looking out over the undisturbed surface of the pool and listening to the rhythm of the waves on the beach a hundred yards away. Retirement, he thought, was not such a bad thing. He had spent forty-six years working in academia in cities where the winters were long and the pace of life was frenetic. Now nothing seemed so seductive as sitting in one warm place listening to the ocean for the rest of his days.

At the Waves Beachside Retirement Community, he was Richard Pollard, though on the premises of the Paradox Club he was known by his club alias, Calvin 4. Each member of the club chose a single name—generally from a classic science fiction book. Richard had been the fourth person in the club’s history to choose the character from Asimov’s I, Robot, so he became Calvin 4. Most members did not know each other’s real names, but Richard found this particular club tradition—which was not enshrined in any constitution or set of bylaws—silly. He made no secret of his identity as Richard Pollard within the halls of the club and often didn’t even answer to Calvin 4, but in this he was nearly unique. He knew the “worldly names” of only a small handful of members, chief among them one of the few members ever who refused to take a club alias, his friend and colleague Harry Maxwell.

Richard wondered if the relaxation and mental ease he felt at the Waves was akin to what Harry had felt at his lakeside cabin. Harry had never invited Richard to the island, but the stories of summer days there had filtered back from Harry’s wife, Marie, and their friend Vivian. Richard had felt jealous of that trio right up to the night of the fire. He had even tried to wrangle an invitation to the island that summer of 2005. He and Harry had sat sipping brandy in Harry’s office at the University of Wisconsin as the last snow of the season fell outside.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Richard had asked. “You don’t have to bring it to the club at all.”

“The club should know,” Harry said. “Maybe not all the specifics, but the club should know.”

“You haven’t told me all the specifics,” Richard said.

“And they should know about Pilgrim 3 and the danger she poses.”

There was a long silence as Richard swirled the brandy in his glass. “Will you go back this summer?” he finally asked. “To the lake?”

“You know I will.”

“I’m not teaching summer classes this year, so if you wanted some extra company…”

“You might need to keep an eye on the club after next week’s meeting,” Harry said. “And on Pilgrim 3.”

“It’ll blow over. You’ll go to the lake for the summer and by fall everyone will forget about it.”

“I doubt that,” said Harry, setting his glass on the desk and leaning across its expanse to look Richard in the eyes. “You will have to keep up the fight. Trust me, Richard, until the day you die you will have to keep up the fight.”

“With you to help me, of course.”

“I’m not the president,” Harry said. “After next week I could be persona non grata. And besides, I might not always be around.”

“You’re younger than me, Harry.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“Planning on doing something stupid on that island this summer? Because if so, I’d like to talk you out of it. And if I can’t do that, I’d like to be a part of it.”

“Marie has trouble sleeping,” Harry said, obviously eager to change the subject. “Things have been…strained between us.”