The Book of Masks (Abridged)

A Tree House Conference

"LET'S GO TALK IN THE TREE HOUSE," you say, standing up.

It's in the backyard, a ramshackle collection of platforms and boxes that you and Carson cobbled together in elementary school. He takes the rope ladder, while you grasp the lower branches and swing up like a long-limbed gibbon. "Sleeping bags should still be in the chest, if you wanna be comfortable," you suggest, but he just drops onto the dirty flooring with a look of intense curiosity on his face.

"Yeah, Cameron offered me his position on the team," you start. "He offered me his girlfriend, too. The clothes on his back. His friends, enemies and his problems--the team's in shit shape, you know. His mom and his dad." Incredulity creeps over Carson's face. "He offered to let me be him."

"And what did you say?"

"Well, first I told him he was crazy. Then he was full of other crazy talk. He said I could be him. He said you could be someone else." You punch him lightly on the knee. "Paul could be a third person."

"Who?" Carson says--a noise like a perplexed owl.

"Well, I guess that would be up to you guys. But it's according to a plan. You know how fucked up the school is. Jason Lynch, Dalton Douglas, those guys. Gordon Black at the very top. We'd become some of them, take over their lives. Start changing the school around. Beat up on the other bullies, instead of being bullies ourselves."

Carson stares. "So what happens to those guys? I mean, to Cameron while you're being him?"

"Well, he goes off and bees someone else. But I'm being Cameron, so I'm helping him out. We all are. As for the other guys, well--" You scratch your head. "They kind of go off into the Twilight Zone. They're not dead or anything, but they're out of the way. Oh, also, we get these robot things--those simulacra you were reading about--to take our places, so no one misses us."

"And all this is connected to that book, that Libra Personae?" You nod. "How did Cameron get ahold of it?"

"Well, it's more than just Cameron involved. In fact, to be totally honest, Cameron isn't involved. It's Will Prescott and Caleb Johansson. Caleb is the one who's actually in charge."

"I'm totally confused now," Carson says. "And I think you are too. Is Cameron involved or isn't he?"

"Sort of. Actually, he's in that Twilight Zone. So's Sean Mitchell."

"Mitchell?" Carson rubs his forehead with the heel of his hand.

"Yeah. Cameron and Sean are in the Twilight Zone. The Sean and Cameron walking around at school? That's Caleb and Will. The Caleb and Will walking around? Those are simulacra things."

Carson pulls at his mouth and chin. "So I'll ask you one last time. What did you say to all this? Oh, why am I asking? You're the one with that dress-up-as-other-people fetish."

You punch him hard in the shoulder. "Shut up. That wasn't a fetish, that was just-- Oh, alright, it is a fetish. I gave you your stuff back."

"Did you give Jenny her stuff back?"

You thrust both middle digits in his face. "Do you want to hear about this, or do you wanna play Piss-the-Fuck-Out-of-James?"

"Both, if possible. But you told him you'd join their club, right? Oh God, listen to me," he groans. "Treating this like it's on the level."

"It is on the level, and I said I would join."

"So when do you get to be Cameron?"

"I already am," you smile. "I'm over at Cameron's right now. Or maybe I'm on a date with Anne. I haven't been in touch since this afternoon."

He stares at you, hard, for almost a full minute, while you stare back, smiling faintly, without breaking. "Oh, fuck you," he finally cries, and starts to stand. "You got me going."

"I got you fooled," you laugh. "I'm totally James Lamont. You can't tell the difference. I'm totally the guy who's been friends with you since Mrs. Cash's class in the second grade. Remember the time we put Tabasco sauce in her tomato juice?"

"So you're saying you're a fake," he says with a very weary sigh. "You're one of those simulacra. Ooo, creepy!"

"No, I'm telling you--"

"It's almost October, and this is your conceptual Halloween costume! 'I'm James Lamont, and for Halloween I'm going as James Lamont's doppelganger'!" He stops in mid-laugh and cocks his head. "Actually, that's kind of a cool idea."

"What I'm telling you, Carson, is that I'm actually Will Prescott. Watch." You put your hand to your face and pull. It's already very dark up in the tree house, so it only gets a little darker as you topple to the side.

* * * * *

You wake with a groan and flop over to the side, limbs flailing clumsily. It's still very dark. "Carson," you say muzzily. There's no answer. You blink into the darkness and stare. "Ioeger!" But you're alone. You feel around for the mask, but the floor is bare.

A cold hand grips your heart. Stupid stupid stupid. Carson is totally a chiseller. You were led astray by James' affection for his friend. He's probably made off with the mask and is going to--

Well, what?

The answer comes a minute later, when the branches below creak and a dark figure swings into the tree house. "Oh, you're finally awake," James Lamont says. "You were out cold. So I went in and snagged us some beers." He hands you a can.

"Took the mask, too," you observe as you crack it open.

"I had to try it out. I mean, what the hell. It's totally the bomb, you know. His mom wouldn't let me take the beers unless I picked a number between 1 and 10. 'What base?' I asked, and she got them for me herself." He raises his can in a toast. "Here's to wiping the school of one asshole at a time."

"So you're on board?"

"Absolutely. Oh, since we're teammates now, I should tell you that one of those professors at the university wants to buy the Libra Personae."

"Well, fuck that, right?"

"Yeah, fuck that. So, how about you let me have those clothes?"

"What? You let me have the mask."

"No way. I get to be James tonight if he gets to be Cameron."

"And what about me?"

"Can't you go home?"

"I got a duplicate at home."

"A robot? Get rid of it."

"It's not that simple."

He sighs. "So you'll do a sleepover here. I'll tell my mom--"

"James's mom!"

"I'm James at the moment, so--" He pauses. "You know, actually, maybe I'll stay in Carson's clothes. This is kind of a turn on."

"James is going to kill us when he sees us again," you sigh.

"So, you sleep over here," he continues, and traces a finger in the air as though working out a very difficult geometric proof. "That's okay because you've got a double at home. I call Carson's folks and tell them that he's sleeping over ... and that covers us." His smile is so big you can actually see it in the dark.

"Well, take the mask off anyway. You'll have to when you call your folks."

"I'll just call as James and give 'em the message."

"And if they want to talk to you?" He seems awfully unwilling to take the mask off.

"I'll them 'em he's in the bathroom."

"Oh, fine." You knock back the beer as he fumbles in the dark until the glow of the cell phone illumines his face.

"Hello, Mrs. Ioeger? This is James Lamont. How are you tonight, ma'am?" He grins over at you. "Yes, I know Carson isn't there. He's over here actually, and he'd like to spend the night." He listens. "Well, he's indisposed at the moment. Yes, the facilities." As he listens, his mouth curls. "I'll have him call you back, then. You fucking nosy bitch," he mutters after he's closed the phone. "Shoulda said it to her directly," he adds. "She wants to talk to me."

"Toldja."

He puts his hands to his cheeks, then freezes. "How do you take these things off?"

"Here, lemme show you," you chuckle. You'd been waiting for this moment.

* * * * *

You spend the night in the tree house, with an electronic lantern, a bug zapper, and some porn. The latter get ignored, though. "So, you're going to become Gordon?" Carson says. He's got James' mask back on.

"That's not been decided yet."

"I get my choice?"

"From a range of possibilities, I guess." It suddenly strikes you that Caleb hustled you into Cameron, who's not really a target that fits in with the plan.

"Do you we have to be guys?"

"You wanna be a girl?" That thought also hadn't occurred to you.

He's silent for a few moments. "Chelsea Cooper," he finally says.

"Whoa!" Then you frown. "But then if I'm Gordon--"

"I'll totally make it worth your while." He reaches over and strokes your chest. "Oh Gordon," he moans in a falsetto. "Oh my God! Oh! Ohhhhh!"

You slap his hand away. "Actually I was thinking it would be kind of creepy. I mean, I'd know what you look like under that thing."

"And I'd know what you look like," he retorts. "And I'd have Gordon's hairy cock up my pussy."

"In your mouth, you mean."

"It's a price I'd pay. Pull your desk back, you loser," he mimics her again in that same falsetto. "I don't want it touching mine.'"

Man has a point, you reflect.