The Fall by R. J. Pineiro Page A

illusion?” The word struck a chord in him.
    â€œThat’s right, my friend. You see, there ain’t no accidents, Jack. Everything, stock market swings, oil prices, and even the news is centrally controlled and managed. Sometimes things gets away from them, shit like 9/11 cybercrime, and AIDS, but eventually Uncle Sam manages to un-fuck its fuck-ups and keep the machine rolling forward.”
    Palmer steered the rig from Highway 528 onto A1A at the end of the bridge as it reached Cocoa Beach and the entrance to the Kennedy Space Center off to their left.
    â€œSo it’s still there,” Jack mumbled, for a moment wondering how his altered mind would see the Cape. But it looked just as he had left it this morning, and for a moment he almost told Palmer to drop him off at the security checkpoint. Walking straight into NASA with his suit in hand would be one quick way to get answers.
    â€œWhat’s still there, Jack?”
    â€œAh, nothing,” he replied, but Palmer had already caught him looking in the direction of the brightly lit KSC. “Take a right at the next light,” he added, guiding the truck driver toward his home and his wife—at least according to his confused mind.
    â€œYou’re one strange man, Jack Taylor,” the trucker replied, shooting him another glance before steering the rig onto the right lane as they approached the intersection. “But I still think you’re one of the good guys.”
    â€œWhat makes you think so, Lou? You’ve known me for less than an hour.”
    Palmer shrugged, put on his blinker, and made the turn. “I may not be the smartest guy on the planet, Jack, but I’m a pretty darn good judge of character.”
    â€œKeep down this street for about a quarter of a mile. Take a right on DeLeon Road. It’s right before we get to the Cocoa Beach Junior High,” Jack said, before asking, “So, why am I strange?”
    â€œFor starters, you’re full of contradictions.”
    â€œHow so?”
    â€œWell, you’re genuinely fascinated by the sky, especially the moon. You’ve been staring at it most of the way here, like you haven’t seen it before. Then you’re staring at roads, billboards, and buildings with almost childlike interest. Some signs even make you close your eyes, like their mere presence is shocking you. So that suggests that you’re either not from here or haven’t been around in quite a while, which contradicts the fact that you claim to live in the area. But you do seem to know where you’re going, at least based on the directions you’re giving me. And then there’s this futuristic suit you’re wearing and your comment about the KSC still being there .” Palmer made quotation marks with his fingers, returning his hands to the wheel and adding, “Weird, Jack. You’re just one very weird dude … but still a good guy.”
    Although he found it amusing that Palmer was calling him weird, Jack didn’t want to engage this guy any more, chastising himself for having been that transparent. But he couldn’t help it. So much just didn’t make sense. Why were some things the same while others had changed, and quite drastically? Why was he alone at the landing site? Where had Claudette gone?
    â€œBut I respect your privacy, my friend,” the trucker continued, taking a left on DeLeon. “Everyone’s entitled to their secrets. I sure have plenty of them.”
    Jack’s heartbeat kicked up a notch the moment Palmer turned onto his street. In this part of Cocoa Beach, city streets resembled fingers surrounded by the calm waters of the Indian River, the body of water in between the city of Cocoa and Cocoa Beach. The houses on either side had backyards facing the water, where homeowners kept their boats and other water equipment with ready access to the river and the Atlantic Ocean. Jack and Angie owned an old but reliable