“I will remember, Lord,” the spirit whimpered. “Please, now, please release me!”
The Master ignored the entreaty. “You must not take this lightly! There are certain immutable Laws we must all obey. Yes, even I. My kingdom is a realm of order and for a reason. Without law, there is chaos; and, with chaos, there is no obedience; and, if there is no obedience, there is no power. Therefore, you shall be taught the Laws which pertain to your powers and will be expected to obey them. Know this, if you bend a Law, you will suffer a corrective punishment. If you break a Law, you will be cut off and destroyed. The man who last wore this body broke a law. Do you understand?”
By now the distraught spirit could barely function, but somehow forced itself to respond. “I understand, Lord. Please, please…”
“Know this also,” the Master continued increasing rather than slacking his vise over his captive’s will, “this body is not to be abused. You will take very good care of it.”
“Yes, of course, Lord. Please release me.”
The Great Lord hid a chuckle of amusement with a cough. “Patience. This skin will fit you better and better the longer you wear it. And after you’ve become adjusted to it and are ready for more, I will visit you again. I will teach you how to exit and enter this mortal frame at will. It is, after all, merely a physical apparatus with which to work in a physical world. Think of this body as a vehicle, my son, a miraculous vehicle.” The Great One paused, tapping his chin. “Think of it as … a Lamborghini. Yes, that’s it! Think of it as a Lamborghini.”
The spirit quailed, confused. “A what, Lord?”
“Never mind,” the Master huffed. “Just remember, this is no small gift you are being given. Take care of it. Appreciate it.”
“Of course, Lord, of course.”
“Good. Well then, now that’s settled, let's put you in the driver’s seat and take it out for a ride, shall we?”
7
A COLLECTION OF KNICK KNACKS
After only a single week, Omega caused another stir in the calm, ordered waters of his secretary's life. He realized he had, perhaps, overstepped his bounds with his personal inquiries about a boyfriend on only their second day together and, so, kept a polite, professional distance between them for a few days. But he could not keep it up. She was going to be a part of his life now, and there was no sense wasting time treading water. Time passed too swiftly to let it just flow by.
He was over two hours late this particular Monday morning. She was already at her desk, typing away like a hen pecking at a June bug when he came bursting in through the outer door, walking backwards, lugging behind him a load of heavy boxes on a wheeled cart and holding in his teeth a plastic Home Depot bag containing an electric drill, a rubber mallet, wood glue and a sack of assorted metal fasteners. Anna Dawn's eyes widened in disbelief as she watched him drag the paraphernalia past her toward his office.
“Beth not to athk,” he said, passing her with a Cheshire grin, his diction slurred by the plastic bag in his mouth. He
ambled past without another word, shutting his office door behind him.
Within a few moments, sounds of drilling and pounding were rattling the walls like an earthquake. He knew she would be curious, but, if he was any judge of character, she was not going to give in, out of principle. He was right. For three hours, he hammered, glued and drilled in total privacy.
Finally he emerged from the small, very-white office, victorious. “Wahla!” he announced, beaming with pride as he dusted off his pants. “Want to see?”
“Let me guess,” she said, giving nonchalance her best shot. “A built-in entertainment center?”
“Sadly, I am not much for television. Try again.”
She stopped her typing. “How can that be? You're on television! You're Mr. “Save the Animals”, himself, for goodness sake.”
He was brushing dust from the top of his head. “Want my autograph?”
“Just on my paycheck.” Her typing resumed.
“Aw, come on. Guess.”
The typing continued. “I thought you wanted this syllabus typed by the end of the week.”
“This will only take a second.”
“Professor….”
“Ms. Hamlyn, stop what you are doing and come in here! Right now!”
She froze, looking at him over the top of her glasses, polite insubordination written all over her face. “You just want me to come in there and gush all over whatever it is you've done, all the while knowing I'm the one who will have to clean it up.”
“Certainly not!” Omega beckoned impatiently. “Gush or not, as you wish. Just come see!”
“Oh, all right.” Anna Dawn pushed back her chair and followed him into the room. “You know you've probably made a huge mess in there ... with who knows what, all over the place. Bad enough, I cleaned up after your paint job, I'll be hanged if I'm going to....”
“Look.”
With a sigh, she walked in.
“Shelves!” he said. “What do you think?”
She peered past him. A set of finished oak-stained shelves, five levels high, stretched the length of one wall behind the desk.
Anna Dawn took off her glasses and wiped them on her crisply-ironed shirttail. “Keep this up, Professor,” she muttered from the side of her mouth, “and they'll fire you from your day job and write you up full-time on the maintenance crew.”
“That good, huh?”
She nodded, approvingly. “Surprisingly good.”
He plopped down in his leather chair, a little cloud of shredded packaging material powdering the air around him. “I do have purpose behind this madness, you know.”
“Uh-huh. What?”
A gleam shone in his eye. He rubbed his hands eagerly. “I have some ... things ... that will be arriving any day now. Knick knacks, you might call them, very old and very special. They deserve a place of honor.”
“Oh?”
“You will see, when they arrive.”
“Fine, be secretive. But I'm warning you, Dr. Omega, dusting knick knacks is not in my job description!” She folded her arms with a mock pout.
“No dusting will be expected.”
“I want that in writing.” She turned to leave.
He rose from his chair. “Wait, Anna Dawn, I have something for you.”
She stopped, looking uncomfortable. “You don't have to give me things, Dr. Omega. The roses were great, but I don't think.… ”
He interrupted, “Anna Dawn, someone told me you are a botany major when you are not busy being my secretary."
“That's right,” she answered, warily. “I’ve scheduled all morning classes during fall term and will work here afternoons.”
“Well, then, from one scientist to