Free Jim and the Flims by Rudy Rucker Page A

still watching us. And, for the moment, Weena was too stoned from her sprinkles to be much help at all.
    As the mist thinned, the sun was gaining in force. I unbuttoned my flannel shirt, thinking. If we couldn’t rush off to Flimsy, we needed another plan.
    â€œDo you know much about those surfers who live in the house?” I asked Weena.
    â€œI know what you’ve told me,” she said. “And what I see in your memories. And what I’ve garnered via surreptitious teep. And I know a bit more regarding the fourth one who lurks within that house. He and Header killed the Graf.”
    â€œYou’re talking about Skeeves!” I exclaimed. Light dawned in my muddled mind. “You’re the mummy woman that he’s been fucking all these years! He’s been hearing your voice in his head. You’ve been telling him what to do. And—and you’re the one who made sure that I got that special tip for the scanning-tunneling microscope. The tip that killed my wife.”
    â€œCalm yourself, Jim. Things are not as you may imagine. Look at me, dear. I’m no mummy. Yes, I’ve had some unwholesome interactions with Skeeves. The man is unspeakably vile. I’m only trying to help you people. And that’s why I stopped the Graf.”
    â€œMaybe I’m saying that you killed my wife.” I didn’t totally believe the accusation. It was more that I wanted to hear Weena deny it. I wanted to be reassured.
    â€œI didn’t, Jim,” said Weena right away. “Not at all. Poor Val had cancer. It had nothing to do with me.” She took my face in both her hands and stared into my eyes as if hypnotizing me. “Help me. And if you play along—well, maybe I shouldn’t promise this...”
    â€œWhat?” I said, a crazy burst of hope blossoming in my chest. “Maybe there could be a way to bring back Val. I had nothing to do with her death, no, but I might know of a way to resurrect her.”
    â€œOh, Weena. Don’t play with me.”
    â€œTrust me, Jim. But first of all we have to find that house. And Header. The Graf may be back in Flimsy by now, but I think that before he left, he somehow took control of Header.”
    So now we were back to gibberish. “So who is the Graf?” I dutifully asked. I wasn’t quite ready to ponder what it might be like to bring back Val.
    â€œThe Graf is a flim who lives in Flimsy,” answered Weena. “Like me. He’s a friend of the yuels. And—I may not have mentioned this before—he was my lover. Besotted as I was, I shared the secret of my tunnel, and he pushed through before me, bribing the keeper as well. He planned to invade your world with yuels. More fool he.”
    â€œI have an idea about finding that trashed Victorian house,” I said, thinking things over. “Probably Header and Ira and the girl go surfing every day. Maybe we could follow them home if we could find them around town. Or I guess we could check all the surf breaks. Or—how about this—can you do a telepathic search?”
    â€œI can’t promiscuously teep the whole county,” protested Weena. “The lower my profile, the better I can ambush my foes.”
    â€œI’ve got it!” I exclaimed. “I’ll just ask Chang. I’ve known him since high school. He knows everything about the surf scene. He was riding the pro circuit for awhile—but this summer he’s giving lessons down at Cowell Beach near the pier.”
    â€œCapital!” said Weena, smiling at me. Her first rush from her sprinkles was wearing off, and she was more like her usual self. “We’ll interview your friend, pass the day in idleness, and tonight, after my new jivas hatch—we act!” Weena shaded her eyes, glaring down the street at the enemy yuel.
    The yuel squatted on the pavement, watching us with his shiny golden eyes. His gray tongue lolled over his thin lips. He almost