Either way, it makes it easier for them. They don't have to remember to put on hats in the morning when they go out!
"Trampas was one of the can-toi rovers. You might see him one day strolling along Main Street in Pleasantville, or sitting on a bench in the middle of the Mall, usually with some self-help book like Seven Steps to Positive Thinking. Then, the next day, there he is leaning against the side of Heartbreak House, taking in the sun. Same with the other can-toi floaters. If there's a pattern,
I've never been able to anticipate it, or Dinky either. We don't think there is one.
"What's always made Trampas different is a complete lack of that sense of jealousy. He's actually friendly-or was; in some ways he hardly seemed to be a low man at all. Not many of his can-toi colleagues seem to like him a whole hell of a lot. Which is ironic, you know, because if there really is such a thing as becoming, then Trampas is one of the few who actually seem to be getting somewhere with it. Simple laughter, for instance.
When most low men laugh, it sounds like a basket of rocks rolling down a tin coal-chute: makes you fair shiver, as Tanya says. When Trampas laughs, he sounds a little high-pitched but otherwise normal. Because he is laughing, I think. Genuinely laughing. The others are just forcing it.
"Anyway, I struck up a conversation with him one day. On Main Street, this was, outside the Gem. Star Wars was back for its umpty-umpth revival. If there's any movie the Breakers never get enough of, it's Star Wars.
"I asked him if he knew where his name came from. He said yes, of course, from his clan-fam. Each can-toi is given a hume name by his clan-fam at some point in his development; it's a kind of maturity-marker. Dinky says they get that name the first time they successfully whack off, but that's just Dinky being Dinky. The fact is we don't know and it doesn't matter, but some of the names are pretty hilarious. There's one fellow who looks like Rondo Hatton, a film actor from the thirties who sviffered from acromegaly and got work playing monsters and psychopadis, but his name is Thomas Carlyle. There's another one named Beowulf and a fellow named Van Gogh Baez."
Susannah, a Bleecker Street folkie from way back, put her face in her hands to stifle a gust of giggles.
"Anyway, I told him that Trampas was a character from a famous Western novel called The Virginian. Only second banana to the actual hero, true, but Trampas has got the one line from the book everyone remembers: 'smzfcwhen you say that!"
It tickled our Trampas, and I ended up telling him the whole plot of the book over cups of drug-store coffee.
"We became friends. I'd tell him what was going on in our little community of Breakers, and he'd tell me all sorts of interesting but innocent things about what was going on over on his side of the fence. He also complained about his eczema, which made his head itch terribly. He kept lifting his hat-this little beanie-type of thing, almost like a yarmulke, only made of denim-to scratch underneath. He claimed that was the worst place of all, even worse than down there on your makie-man.
And litde by litde, I realized that every time he lifted his beanie to scratch, I could read his thoughts. Not just the ones on top but all of them. If I was fast-and I learned to be-I could pick and choose, exacdy die way you'd pick and choose articles in an encyclopedia by turning die pages. Only it wasn't really like that; it was more like someone turning a radio on and off during a news broadcast."
"Holy shit," Eddie said, and took another graham cracker.
He wished mightily for milk to dip them in; graham crackers without milk were almost like Oreos without the white stuff in the middle.
"Imagine turning a radio or a TV on full-blast," Ted said in his rusty, failing voice, "and then turning it off again... justasquick." He purposely ran this together, and they all smiled-even Roland. "That'll give you the idea. Now I'll tell you what I learned. I suspect you know it already, but I just can't take the risk that you don't. It's too important.
"There is a Tower, lady and gendemen, as you must know. At one time six beams crisscrossed there, both taking power from it-it's some kind of unimaginable power-source-and lending support, the way guy-wires support a radio tower. Four of these Beams are now gone, the fourth very recently. The only two remaining are the Beam of the Bear, Way of the Turtle-
Shardik's Beam-and the Beam of the Elephant, Way of the Wolf-some call that one Gan's Beam.
"I wonder if you can imagine my horror at discovering what I'd actually been doing in The Study. When I'd been scratching that innocent itch. Although I knew all along that it was something important, knew it.
"And there was something worse, something I hadn't suspected, something that applied only to me. I'd known that I was different in some ways; for one thing, I seemed to be the only Breaker with an ounce of compassion in my makeup. When they've got the mean reds, I am, as I told you, the one they come to. Pimli Prentiss, the Master, married Tanya and Joey Rastosovich-insisted on it, wouldn't hear a word against the idea, kept saying that it was his privilege and his responsibility, he was just like the captain on an old cruise-ship-and of course they let him do it. But afterward, they came to my rooms and Tanya said, ' You marry us, Ted. Then we'll really be married."
"And sometimes I ask myself, 'did you think that was all it was? Before you started visiting with Trampas, and listening every time he lifted up his cap to scratch, did you truly think that having a litde pity and a little love in your soul were the only things that set you apart from the others? Or were you fooling yourself about that, too?"
"I don't know for sure, but maybe I can find myself innocent on that particular charge. I really did not understand that my talent goes far beyond progging and Breaking. I'm like a microphone for a singer or a steroid for a muscle. I... hype them. Say there's a unit of force-call it darks, all right? In The Study, twenty or thirty people might be able to put out fifty darks an hour without me. With me? Maybe it jumps to five hundred darks an hour. And it jumps all at once.
"Listening to Trampas's head, I came to see that they considered me the catch of the century, maybe of all time, the one truly indispensable Breaker. I'd already helped them to snap one Beam and I was cutting centuries off their work on Shardik's Beam. And when Shardik's Beam snaps, lady and gentlemen, Gan's can only last a little while. And when Gan's Beam also snaps, the Dark Tower will fall, creation will end, and the very Eye of Existence will turn blind.
"How I ever kept Trampas from seeing my distress I don't know. And I've reason to believe that I didn't keep as complete a poker face as I thought at the time.
"I knew I had to get out. And that was when Sheemie came to me the first time. I think he'd been reading me all along, but even now I don't know for sure, and neither does Dinky. All I know is that one night he came to my room and thought to me, "I'll make a hole for you, sai, if you want, and you can go boogiebye-bye.' I asked him what he meant, and he just looked at me.
It's funny how much a single look can say, isn't it? Don't insult my intelligence. Don't waste my time. Don't waste your own. I didn't read those thoughts in his mind, not at all. I saw them on his face."
Roland grunted agreement. His brilliant eyes were fixed on the turning reels of the tape recorder.
"I did ask him where the hole would come out. He said he didn't know-I'd be taking luck of the draw. All the same, I didn't think it over for long. I was afraid that if I did, I'd find reasons to stay. I said, 'Go ahead, Sheemie-send me boogiebye-
bye."
"He closed his eyes and concentrated, and all at once the corner of my room was gone. I could see cars going by. They were distorted, but they were actual American cars. I didn't argue or question any more, I just went for it. I wasn't completely sure I could go through into that other world, but I'd reached a point where I hardly even cared. I thought dying might be the best tiling I could do. It would slow them down, at least.
"And just before I took the plunge, Sheemie thought to me,
"Look for my friend Will Dearborn. His real name is Roland.
His friends are dead, but I know he's not, because I can hear him. He's a gunslinger, and he has new friends. Bring them here and they'll make the bad folks stop hurting the Beam, the way he made Jonas and his friends stop when they were going to kill me.' For Sheemie, this was a sermon.
"I closed my eyes and went through. There was a brief sensation of being turned on my head, but that was all. No chimes, no nausea. Really quite pleasant, at least compared to the Santa Mira doorway. I came out on my hands and knees beside a busy highway. There was a piece of newspaper blowing around in the weeds. I picked it up and saw I'd landed in April of 1960, almost five years after Armitage and his friends herded us through the door in Santa Mira, on the other side of the country. I was looking at a piece of the Hartford Courant, you see. And the road turned out to be the Merritt Parkway."
"Sheemie can make magic doors!" Roland cried. He had been cleaning his revolver as he listened, but now he put it aside. "That's what teleporting is! That's what it means!"
"Hush, Roland," Susannah said. "This must be his Connecticut adventure. I want to hear this part."
ELEVEN
But none of them hear about Ted's Connecticut adventure. He simply calls it "a story for another day" and tells his listeners that he was caught in Bridgeport while trying to accumulate enough cash to disappear permanently. The low men bundled him into a car, drove him to New York, and took him to a ribjoint called the Dixie Pig. From there to Fedic, and from Fedic to Thunderclap Station; from the station right back to the Devar-Toi, oh Ted, so good to see you, ivelcome back.