Clio & the Conscious

By Thomas D. Gale

Clio is a first year student in University with a part time job at a Smoothie bar. In the midst of completing her first year exams, she meets a gentle, timid, and very odd man, named Hal, at the library. She is put off by his behaviour, but eventually relents to his clumsy plea to talk to her. In turn, h

• Language: English
• Publisher: Oblong Otter
• Release date: Dec 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781778003318

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Clio and the

Conscious

Clio and the

Conscious

THOMAS D. GALE

www.OblongOtter.com

Clio and the Conscious

Copyright © 2021 by Thomas D. Gale

All rights reserved

Published by Oblong Otter Ltd. (www.oblongotter.com)

Permissions

Photo of and representation of the Titanium Telescopic Bo Staff, version 3, on the cover and in the text courtesy of J.P. Rishea and Bionic Concepts in exchange for the promotion represented by this fictional work. Thank you J.P. for having created an instrument that so closely represented that of my vision for Clio’s staff. Please visit www.bionicconcepts.ca to purchase your own collapsible/extendable, titanium bo staff!

Dr. Mohit Bhandari appears as a fictionalized version of himself with permission and courtesy of Doctor Mohit Bhandari, Professor and Chair, Department of Surgery, McMaster University, Senior Tier Canada Research Chair, Editor-in-Chief, OrthoEvidence, Order of Canada.

Use of drawings of Bailey and Woolcott the hedgehogs on the back cover with permission and courtesy of Lyla Gale and Eiley Gale, respectively.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission of the copyright holder and the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations, cited properly, contained within reviews.

www.oblongotter.com

Dedicated to Eiley and Lyla on their journeys through the Conscious.

Chapter 1

Clio and Hal

Clio sat in the public library next to a large bay window overlooking Derbyshire Lane. Umbrellas and raincoats trundled along beneath the window. Occasionally, a brightly coloured, or patterned umbrella would draw her eye up from her novel.

She was immersed in the world of Litron in a novel titled Council of Corsona, a sci-fi novel she’d found and checked out a few hours earlier. Next to her, on the empty chair, sat four more books she’d checked out at the same time: Little Women, Frankenstein, Fundamental Biology, and The History of Colour in Fashion.

Your taste is very … eclectic, a librarian had said during one of her recent visits.

Thank you, Clio had replied, uncertain if it was intended as a compliment, but still feeling quite complimented just the same.

She loved this library, it was a smaller, older branch, and she loved this section of the library as it was always quiet and she could look out the window and reflect on what she was reading. Presently, she was leaving a pink umbrella with white polka dots, bouncing along the sidewalk below, in order to return to the Litronians who were bombing the Gardissians out of existence in a retaliatory barrage designed to avenge a failed assassination attempt on the Litronian leader, Kolzar.

As her nose descended into the book and her mind submerged into the battle, she heard a small popping sound. It was very faint and sounded like someone had stepped on a loose floorboard, or maybe a opened a bag of potato chips. It was just loud enough to warrant a look. She lingered, briefly, on the page to finish the paragraph and then looked around.

She saw a man sitting in a chair, to the right of her, five chairs down from her own. He, too, was facing the bay window. She turned the page, absently, while she looked at him and was returning her gaze to the book when she spotted a whisp of smoke near the man’s hat. She quickly looked back to him, trying to appear nonchalant. The smoke had vanished and, as she stared at him, she doubted, immediately, whether it had been there at all.

She blinked him into focus. He was just settling into his chair and he sat up a little, to lift his coat. He lifted his hat, slightly, to adjust his hair. He sunk back into the chair and let out a large sigh. He didn’t seem to have any books and immediately began to stare out the window.

Before he had a chance to turn to look at Clio, she quickly turned back to her book to avoid an unwanted conversation. Her mind was distracted, now, though, and she struggled to pick up the narrative where she’d left off.

Her thoughts wouldn’t let go of the puff of smoke. Had the man actually been smoking in the library? She suddenly wondered if that popping sound wasn’t actually the cushion of the chair and was, instead, the sound of the man closing a cigarette case. She was looking at her book, but she was definitely not reading it now. She was consumed by these fleeting thoughts. She considered looking at him once more, but before she could, he spoke.

Hello, Clio, he said in a light, warm and friendly voice.

Clio froze. Still staring at her book, her mind raced through her memory looking for some trace of this voice in a past conversation. Nothing.

Her mind was furiously flipping through her memories, now, still looking for something that resembled his face. Nothing - apart from maybe a mild resemblance to her late Uncle Keith.

She, very slowly, looked up from the book, but remained looking straight ahead. Outside, she saw a black and white striped umbrella undulating along, in time, with a grey umbrella next to it. She was stalling, hoping her memory would produce something if she moved slowly enough.

Her eyes turned to the right as far as they could, trying to see him without turning her head. Then, slowly twisting her head, in small increments, she tried to find him in her field of vision with the least movement possible. Finally, she caught a glimpse of him in her peripheral vision, but could not see enough of him to recognize any discernable features. She became frustrated with her futile attempt to draw him into a furtive focus and she foisted her head to look upon him fully.

He was smiling. She smiled back, ever so slightly.

He had a very disarming smile. It was slung to one side. It was partially covered by his moustache, too, like a bedsheet hanging out from under a rumpled duvet on a poorly made bed. His messy hair poked out from under his tweed fedora like the edges of a badly thatched roof.

"Do I … know you?" she asked, relaxing her shoulders a little. She felt not at all threatened by him. It was weird that he seemed to know her, but he was, upon review and clearer observation, a kindly, elderly, almost feeble looking gentleman.

His raised eyebrows were knitted into a little woolly draw bridge and were cleaved by a crease at the base of his forehead. He said nothing at first, but his mouth dropped open, suggesting he was about to say something.

As Clio waited, she wondered if perhaps he didn’t speak English very well, but she hadn’t detected any accent in his greeting.

He turned to face her a little more squarely. She took in his disheveled hair, then moved down to observe his rumpled attire. He had an all-around unkempt appearance. She waited patiently. He looked as though he might be about to ask her where the bus stop was.

Uh … no … you don’t, he said, finally. "But, I know you." He said it as though it was some sort of a consolation, but it didn’t make Clio feel any better. It made her feel weird.

She always kept her wits about her as her mother often cautioned her to be wary of strangers in this day and age. Even if he was harmless, she was not keen to get into an hour-long conversation with a kindly old man when she was in the throes of a battle between the Litronians and the Gardissians and probably should be studying for exams.

In a pre-emptive tactic, she began to surreptitiously pack her books into her backpack. She’d already checked them out and she could make a hasty departure if required.

The man took note of her actions, though, and his cheerful expression folded and fell into an upset, nervous and anxious one.

"Oh, no. Don’t go. I can go, if I’ve frightened you!" He said and placed his hand on his chest, pressing into his rumpled coat and sweater. His look of concern was deepening as he moved to stand up.

"I wouldn’t say you’ve frightened me," Clio said, feeling fairly confident she could rather handily take him down in a fight if she had to. She was versed in some basic Jiu Jitsu. She felt strongly that she could readily subdue him if need be. It really did not look like it would need be, though. He looked so piteous, anxious and feeble.

I would more say you’re freaking me out a little bit. How do you know me, exactly? Clio tried again.

Well, we’ve been watching you for some time now.

Um OK … that’s not really helping you with the whole ‘freaking out’ thing, she said. She zipped up her backpack and lifted it on to the chair.

"Oh … wait! I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s all very peculiar, but … there’s … there’s probably no good way to approach this without … uh … ‘freaking you out,’ as you put it, to some degree, anyway." He removed his hat and, in his hands in front of him, began to rotate it, clockwise, nervously.

"Well, that just freaked me out a lot," she said picking up her back pack and slinging it over one shoulder.

No. Honestly, I’d much rather go than to have you leave on my account. I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable, he said with great sincerity. He put his hat back on and started to rise.

As Clio watched him haul himself out of the chair, she started to feel a little guilty – and curious. Who had been watching her and who was this guy?

No, she said. I need to know, now. How do you know me? Who is ‘we.’

He sat back down, turned to her and removed his hat once more. Again, he held it in both hands in front of him. He looked at her with a pathetic expression. His mussed and tousled hair looked to be, ardently, in a competition for ‘most dishevelled body hair’ with his broom-bottom moustache and his squirrelly eyebrows.

Clio looked him up and down and she smiled pityingly - mildly amused by his unkempt, absent-minded professor look. She reminded herself not to assume he was harmless, though and mentally prepared herself to conduct a double underhook clinch manoeuvre, if she needed to.

What’s your name? she asked. He did look timid. She was, ironically, trying to calm him down, now.

Oh … oh yes. I’m sorry - so rude of me. Hal, he said. Hal Benson, he added and extended his hand to shake hers. It struck Clio as absurdly cute to see him nervously extending his hand in anticipation, despite the fact that he was all the way at the end of the row of chairs, about fifteen feet away.

Hello, Hal, she said. Her backpack accidentally slid off the chair as she made towards him. She stopped, looked down to try to catch it, but it landed with a clunk. She picked it back up and placed it back on the chair in a swift motion. She looked up and began to extend her hand, with the intent to walk down the length of the aisle of chairs and meeting him halfway, but jumped back immediately when her hand hit his. He was already right there in front of her.

It startled Clio so badly that she shrieked and stumbled backward a few steps.

"Oh! I’ve done it again, haven’t I? I’m so very sorry," he said, he turned and retreated. As he did, Clio thought she saw more whisps of smoke from his hat and coat, but she was so shocked and struck by this encounter that she dismissed it.

He looked as though he had decided to abandon the whole affair, now, and had begun to hurriedly walk the length of the row of chairs.

"No! No, no. Wait! It’s just … you startled me, she said, imploringly. You moved so quickly! I … just … wow!" she said. She chuckled half out of nervousness brought on by Hal’s unexpected speed and half from amusement at Hal’s genuinely mortified expression of shock and guilt.

"You move like a cat!" she said, chuckling, but also revisiting her Jiu Jitsu defense in her mind. She was blushing at having been caught so far off guard.

I’m sorry? he said, looking confused.

"You came across the room in seconds flat! I didn’t even hear you take a step!"

Oh, yes, I uh … I get excited sometimes and I get overly … uh … exuberant, he said smiling faintly and apologetically. Sorry, he said raising his eyebrows once more and again removing his hat and his mouth dropped open and, somehow, also formed a little smile.

It’s ok. It’s nice to meet you, Hal, she said walking slowly towards him and keeping her eyes on him this time. They shook hands.

Nice to meet you, too he replied, appearing quite relieved now. His handshake was very enthusiastic. It was the kind of handshake she imagined a Great Dane puppy might use if it were a person. I’m very sorry I startled you, he said as he kept shaking for an inordinately long time.

Clio politely wrested her hand free. She had a sense the handshake would have gone on for a while if she didn’t bring it to a close. "So, … what, exactly, do you mean when you say ‘we’ve been watching you?’ She asked. I have to say that’s staying with me at the moment, and still freaking me out."

Oh … uh … yes, well, it’s complicated, really, he said.

Clio’s smile dissolved and her face went white and blank. When you say ‘we,’ who do you mean? she asked tentatively.

Oh … uh … uh … I don’t think that is the best place to start, really, he said. He looked around clearly trying to think of a right way to say what he wanted to say and cleared his throat.

Oh, I’m so … so terribly dreadful at this … he said, looking up at her with such an anxiety that Clio immediately felt sorry for him and felt as though she was imposing on him.

Maybe we should start by talking about something else and then we can come back to it? she offered.

"Oh … yes … that is a wonderful idea. Thank you! he said. His shoulders seemed to release some tension and drop down and he smiled enthusiastically. Yes, let’s … let’s talk about something else. What shall we talk about?"

Um … I don’t know … Clio said. At the same time, she thought You’re the one who approached me, like some lunatic, in a library, no less, and now I have to come up with an icebreaker?!

She stilled her mind and thought: What do people typically talk about when they don’t know each other? Kids? Pets? The weather? She didn’t have kids and it was obviously raining outside, so she decided on pets.

Um … do you have any pets? she asked

No, he said, flatly. I used to, when I was young, I had a gecko and then, later, a grey tabby cat, but now I’m so busy.

A gecko! Wow! That’s so interesting!

Yes. Peter was his name. A leopard gecko. I let him run around my home. He kept the insects down. Perhaps not the best idea. He got out one day and he never came back. I fear he maybe froze to death in our winter.

Oh, Clio said frowning and showing sympathy.

Later I got a grey tabby cat. His name was Albert. I quite liked him. Good little lad.

Clio smiled. She studied his reaction. She could see he wasn’t becoming much more comfortable. He seemed to have the air of someone neglecting his duties with idle chit chat. She decided to try to shift the focus to herself.

I have two hedge hogs! she proclaimed. Hal was absently looking out the window.

Hmmm? he said looking back to her. Oh yes … sorry … two hedgehogs … Bailey and Woolcott he said.

Yes! And they … Clio froze.

Wait. How do you know their names? She said, backing away.

"Are you … are you stocking my Instagram account or something?" Clio asked and once again bristled with a fighting energy. Goosebumps ran along her forearms. Her stomach fluttered.

Hal once again recoiled. He looked frantically around as if looking for an exit or for someone to rescue him.

No … no … I don’t even know what an insta … what’s it called? I don’t even know what that is. Oh, bother! … he said, looking as though he were about to leave again. I’m completely … I … I have to go, he said, putting his hat back on, turning and walking briskly away. He walked to the end of the row of chairs, rounded the aisle and then walked along the rows of bookshelves.

Clio wanted to stop him, but was still shocked by the exchange and just watched as he reached the third row of bookshelves, his coat, rather pathetically, caught a book carousel. As he turned the corner and headed down the aisle of books, the carousel snagged and pulled his coat taught. He continued to walk and the carousel toppled. It landed with a loud crack and launched a landslide of books that flooded the floor.

The tumbling, sliding books chased him as he briskly walked down the aisle, between two bookshelves.

Clio suddenly had a change of heart and began to run after him. She shouted, Hal! No! Hal, please. That’s not even the way out. Come back! Please!

Clio almost caught up to him, but as she arrived at the fallen carousel, the last of the books slid to a halt. The books created what looked like a large lava flow blocking the entrance to the aisle. She danced cleverly and daintily amongst the spilled books, slipping a little, only once, and then emerging into the aisle.

She leaned up against one of the shelves to steady herself and then looked up. The bookshelves on both sides ran almost all the way to the ceiling and ran the full length of the aisle, without a break, until they met a wall. Yet, Hal was nowhere to be seen.

She walked slowly down the aisle, astonished. She looked up the shelf to her left and then across to her right. The shelves on both sides ran to within a few inches of the ceiling. He couldn’t have gone over, she pondered aloud, but …

She walked to the end and touched the wall and made sure that the bookshelves on both sides also touched the wall. She looked to her left; the books were packed tightly. She looked right and saw a single hole in the wall of books, three shelves up from the floor. The hole went through to the aisle next door. She bent down and poked her head through the hole. She looked to her left and saw the wall and then to her right where she saw the feet of the toppled book carousel. Beyond the carousel, she saw the backs of the chairs where she and Hal were sitting. The rain was still spattering and streaming down the window.

"There’s no way," she whispered.

She pulled her head back through the hole in the book shelves. She stood up. She looked down her own aisle again, and saw the books blocking her way. She walked slowly back to the end of the aisle.

She bent down and started clearing the books out of the way with her feet. She walked up and down the aisles of books looking for Hal. She spotted the emergency exit but knowing she’d seen him go down the aisle, and knowing that door was armed with an alarm, she knew he couldn’t have gone that way.

She walked slowly back to the carousel trying to take all of this in and, realizing the huge mess would likely be blamed on her, she bent down to pick up the carousel. With tremendous effort, managed to haul it up. She began placing books back onto the wire shelves. She heard a tutting sound and looked up to see a librarian rushing towards her.

"Honestly! The librarian shouted, in a hushed, harsh tone. How could you possibly have done that?" she said through gritted teeth as she got down on hands and knees and started organizing books on the floor.

"I didn’t!" Clio said.

The woman paused from collecting the books, looked at Clio with incredulity and disgust. She then went back to collecting the books.

"I didn’t! A man just ran down this aisle and his coat caught the carousel! It just started to fall over. I couldn’t get to it in time and …"

"Man! the librarian muttered, interrupting Clio, and then, Pfff!"

"Yes, a man!"

"There is no man. You’re the only person on this floor. I work the entrance to this floor and there’s no other way in or out except for that fire exit, she paused from collecting the books to point, and it’s armed with an alarm. You’re the only one who came in," the Librarian said as she furiously resumed gathered the books.

"No, I’m not! I … he was sitting right there! Clio pointed to the chair where Hal had been sitting, … and then he …" She turned to follow his path.

There was no point. The librarian was ignoring her. Clio no longer felt an obligation to pick up the books. She went and collected her back pack from the seating area and made for the doorway, frowning, glowering and marching furiously.

Very nice! the Librarian called after her.

Clio didn’t look back. She jogged down the stairs and out into the rain. The rain had slowed to a light sprinkling by now and Clio didn’t bother to put up her umbrella. She looked both ways down the street wondering if she might see Hal jogging in the distance. She did not. She drew the hood out from under her coat and pulled it up over her head. She started home with her hands in her pocket, staring at the ground and snarling at the librarian’s earlier admonishments.

Smoothie Moves

Clio put on her smock and ball cap.

Can you clean these for me? Jose asked as Clio looked at the pile of smoothie mixer jugs piled high in the deep, industrial sink.

"Uck! They’re crusty! How long have they been sitting here?" She asked with her upper lip curled high to one side and her nose scrunched in disgust.

"Yeah … well, Stu says I don’t need help for the first hour of this shift, and, it’s true, I don’t! I don’t need help, as long as I can just make the smoothies and I don’t have to clean the jugs. So, … there you go! Take it up with Stu!" he said and he turned and marched out of the kitchen with a cocky swagger.

Hmmm Clio said dubiously.

You’re lucky! he turned his head and shouted over his shoulder as he scooped ingredients from a bin in the cooler. It was a pretty light rush today! Could have been much worse. He spun, planted the mixing jug on its perch, closed the silencing shield, adjusted the setting, hit the start button, and swiveled back to the counter to serve the next customer. Welcome to Smoothie Moves, what can I get started for you today?

After taking the order and nodding, he turned back to the mixers, pulled a jug and poured a ‘Strawberry Pineapple Halo’ and an ‘Orange Ya Glad I Said Banana’ smoothie into cups, placed their lids, spun around, handed them to two customers who’d ordered earlier. He said, Here you go … thanks for visiting Smoothie Moves!

Clio realized, that staring at Jose wasn’t going to wash these dirty jugs, it was just going to make more of them. She turned away and started washing. She hated washing them, but she soon lost herself in the work. She placed the sixth jug on the drying rack and, then, yet another vitamix container soared over her shoulder and landed, with several loud, echoing, clangs and bangs, into the bottom of the sink.

Clio cinched up her shoulders and shouted JOSE!

Sorry! he shouted and flipped the switch on the mixer to begin grinding a new smoothie. He went to the cooler and started scooping more ingredients into a new mixing jug. Clio sighed and returned to her sink. She tried to steady her nerves. I hate when he does that, she said out loud. She turned her body slightly to ensure that her peripheral vision would pick up any more inbound pitchers, but she knew she would likely lose herself in the work again.

The work was hypnotic and she could feel her body delving deeply into the cleaning while her mind floated up and out of her body. She watched herself for a moment from above and then floated up through the ceiling and into the night sky. She looked around and drifted above the brick building where she worked. She glided along over the streets of the town of London. She loved this small, amiable town, especially at night. It was, ironically, very still. Despite the large bustling metropolis for which her little city in Canada had been named, this tiny town was stubbornly quaint and cute.

This small section of the city was a heritage section with older store fronts along a paver stone road. Charming old buildings and houses with a mix of restaurants, shops and bars. There weren’t many areas like this, too few for her taste, in fact.

The street lights were mock lanterns. She drifted down from her thoughts to land next to a bench and watched a small child pulling his mother’s hand toward a sweets shop. The mother relented. In they went.

Clio watched the child offer suggestions of what he wanted and, eventually, his mother, reluctantly, bought a few of them for him. He pulled her to the back of the store and persuaded her to let him buy an enormous ice cream in a waffle cone. The girl at the ice cream counter adorned it with sprinkles and chocolate buttons. His mother paid the cashier, again. She, and her son, emerged from the store.

Clio followed them down the sidewalk. The