"Close my market interest account at First National... and transfer the entire balance to my new bank in Anchorage." "That's the number I just gave you." "No, no, no, no, no, no, no." "Not that one." "That's the Fidelity account." "Leave that alone." "It's the other number, right?" "Hold on, hold on." "Hello?" "Mike Monroe?" "Yeah, that's me." "Hi." "I'm Ed, from Ruth-Anne's store." "Oh." "Oh, right." "Listen, I'm on the phone right now." "Could you just come inside?" "Sure." "No, no, there's somebody here." "Just a second." "Ed, there's some surgical scrubs just inside the door there, on the right." "One size fits all." "Could you try not to touch anything?" "Okay." "Hey, Ruth-Anne." "Are you here?" "Ruth-Anne?" "Over here." "Where you want the chain saws?" "In the back by the potting soil will be fine." "You need some help?" "Thank you, dear." "It's that little trophy, er, right by the welding torch." "Oh." "This little-bitty guy?" "Uh-huh." "Aw. "World's Greatest Mom. "" "Is that the tackiest thing you've ever seen?" "Matthew sent it to me last Mother's Day." "Matthew." "Now, he's the truck driver-poet?" "No, that's Rudy." "Matthew's the investment banker." "Oh, yeah." "The one from Atlanta." "Mmm-hmm." "He's coming to visit." "What's the occasion?" "I don't really know." "I've wracked my brain... and there's no birthday that I can think of, no anniversary, no holiday." "Maybe he just wants to see you." "Matthew?" "Well, anyway, you're going to meet him, Maggie." "It's unavoidable." "And when you do, try to be tolerant." "Tolerant?" "Matthew isn't like you or me." "He has no interest in music or books or gardening or dogs." "As a boy, his mind was only on money or things." "You know how kids collect stamps." "Matthew sold his collection in the fifth grade... for $2,000." "Wow." "So, you see, we have absolutely nothing in common." "Never really have, and never will." "Well, better go put this out somewhere." "So, um, I'll bring the truck around back?" "How about a mask?" "Do you have a cold?" "Lingering virus of any kind?" "No." "I wouldn't worry about it." "Now if I could just find my wallet." "Oh, here it is." "Wouldn't you know it?" "The one thing I couldn't find." "Hi, Ed." "Hi." "Here, take what you need." "Okay." "Oh, no, no, no." "You keep the change." "Thanks, Mr. Monroe." "Sure." "Please, call me Mike." "Mike." "You work for Ruth-Anne?" "Yeah." "She says you're allergic." "Well, she's right." "You know, I have an aunt that's allergic, too." "Really?" "Well, she doesn't live in a bubble." "She just can't eat oranges." "I'm very allergic, Ed." "Wow." "Yup." "You built this all yourself?" "Oh, no, no, no." "It's a pre-fab." "Had it brought in by helicopter." "You know, this reminds me of Close Encounters." "The special edition episode, where they let you go inside the spaceship." "Excuse me." "You wearing antiperspirant?" "Yeah." "Is that bad?" "No, I just have a little problem with aluminum chlorohydrate." "Oh." "Better." "Sorry." "No, no, no, it's not your fault, really." "Can I get you something to drink?" "Some, uh, distilled water, maybe, or some Chinese red plum juice?" "No." "I better get back to Ruth-Anne's store now." "Sure." "What would you like me to do with this?" "You can keep them if you want." "Really?" "Sure." "I gotta recycle them anyway." "Hey, thanks!" "Well, I'll see you later." "See you." "All right." "Thanks again." "Matthew." "Hi, Mom." "You scared the daylights out of me." "You're early." "Well, I got in a groove." "I pushed straight through from Whitehorse." "Oh." "You look great." "Terrific." "Oh?" "So, this is the famous cash cow, huh?" "Yeah, this is it." "Perfect." "I love it." "You do?" "Simple, to the point, direct." "It's you, Mom." "Matthew, you haven't exactly said what you're doing here." "Some big deal brewing?" "Since when does a person need an excuse to visit his mother?" "Matthew, you don't take vacations." "You once told me that your only regret... was that Wall Street closes for Christmas." "Well, people change, Mom." "My raping and pillaging days are over." "You're leaving Mergers and Acquisitions?" "Truth is..." "I got fired." "Fired?" "All of M and A got the ax." "It was sort of a sacrificial offering to the SEC." "Are you in some kind of trouble with the feds?" "No, no, no." "I kept my nose clean." "It was really the arbitrage guys." "Oh." "Hey, I came here to get away from all that." "To breathe the air and spend some down-home time with my mom." "More files." "Whose files, Marilyn?" "The Bubbleman." "Hi, Maggie." "Hi." "Hey, Fleischman, this is heavy." "Where do you want it?" "What is it?" "Foster Medical Supply." "Oh, careful with that." "Well, I am being careful." "Where do you want it?" "Let me have it." "I got it." "What's going on?" "What is it?" "Glass I.V. drip, gamma globulin." "Who for?" "The Bubbleman." "The what?" "Where you been, O'Connell?" "Fairbanks." "For three days." "Oh." "Thanks for noticing." "Now, what's the Bubbleman?" "He's not a "what," he's a "who. "" "Mike Monroe." "Ex-lawyer from St. Paul... currently living in a geodesic dome off Highway 3." "Really?" "Don't go out there." "Why not?" "Well, he's in quarantine." "Self-imposed." "He's allergic." "To what?" "The 20th century." "He has M.C.S. Multiple Chemical Syndrome." "People claiming that they can't work... because the environment screwed them up." "Wow." "See, what people like Mike Monroe contend... is that the environment has totally altered their immune system... to the point where the slightest whiff of toxic substances... can send them into anaphylactic shock." "Huh." ""Huh"?" "Huh, what?" "Sounds reasonable." "Reasonable?" "Reasonable?" "Everything about this so-called disease, O'Connell... is completely undocumented." "I mean, you take this Bubbleman." "It's a complete fairy tale." "He's made the rounds." "Michael Reese, Mount Sinai, the Mayo Clinic." "Nobody has been able to isolate anything more serious than hay fever." "Now, that doesn't mean what he thinks he has doesn't exist." "Why do I bother?" "You know, Fleischman, it never ceases to amaze me... that one person can be so consistently narrow-minded and predictable... in their own immutable, unchangeable world-view." "What's the Bubbleman doing here?" "Well, he's tried Phoenix, Minneapolis, Portland." "All too malignant." "I mean, he's moved nine times in the last three years to get out of that bubble." "And now, after months of study, he's decided that Cicely, Alaska... is the least polluted spot in the United States... that can boast a virtually board-certified physician." "You." "Me." "But you don't think there's anything wrong with him." "Well, that doesn't make him any different than half the patients I treat." "He's a nice guy, O'Connell." "He's just very seriously nuts." "Marilyn?" "Here it is." "I hope you're hungry." "We could've eaten out, Mom." "Not your first night." "I wanted to make you something special." "What?" "Pork chops was Rudy's favorite." "Oh." "No biggie." "You were meat loaf?" "Mmm-hmm." "With bacon and ketchup on top." "This is very good." "You haven't said how long you intend to stay." "A couple of days?" "A week?" "You know, getting fired, turning 40... it makes you take stock, Mom." "Re-assess." "All the way here I kept thinking about it." "Somewhere around Manitoba, I made up my mind." "About what?" "I'm not going back to Atlanta." "I'm staying here with you." "Here?" "In Cicely?" "With me?" "No more running after dollar signs." "It's time to start chasing those rainbows." "Matthew, wouldn't you" "No, I know." "You didn't think I had it in me." "You thought all I cared about was high-yield securities." "But things change, Mom." "People change." "Looking at the KBHR three-day forecast... free of charge, our friends at the US Weather Service... are calling for showers sometime in the next 48 hours." "But I don't think so." "Just doesn't feel like rain." "So we're gonna go ahead and spike that one." "Why don't you go wash the car, take that camping trip you've always wanted to?" "You've got the KBHR guarantee!" "Coming up this half-hour, "Dialectical Materialism:" "A Dream Defunct. "" "Right now, I got a note here from Cicely's latest resident, our very own Mike Monroe." "It seems Mike lost his bed linens in the recent move... so anybody out there with some 100% cotton bed sheets they can part with... drop by the bubble, okay?" "Here's what you do, wash them first in a little hot water with some baking soda." "No soap, please." "I think we can all get behind that." "Turning to the KBHR advertiser, got an almost new, black BMW for sale." "325-I, low mileage, belongs to Matthew Miller, son of Ruth-Anne." "Says he's looking to make a lifestyle change." "Car's priced to go, and he's gonna carry the paper." "Cool." "Stevens." "Yeah, boss." "What do you know about this Bubbleman?" "What do you mean?" "Well, this thing he has." "This, M.C. Whatever." "Oh, Multiple Chemical Sensitivity." "Yeah." "What do you know about that?" "Is that common... or is it a one-in-a-million shot, like being an albino?" "Well, that's a good question, Maurice." "You know, opinions vary, however." "I mean, personally, I think this guy's the tip... of the proverbial iceberg, you know?" "Considering the wholesale thrashing we've been giving the planet... you know, the daily degradation on Gaea... since the dawn of the Industrial Revolution... it comes as no surprise to me that we're not all walking time bombs... immunologically speaking." "You know, some of us are gonna go off sooner than others, you know what I mean?" "But right now, at this moment... you think there's a significant number of people with this malady?" "Well, the wagons are circled, the siege has begun, Maurice." "But if this guy can get healthy here in Cicely... presumably all his fellow-sufferers can get healthy, too." "Presumably." "Mike Monroe?" "Yeah." "And you are?" "Maggie." "Maggie O'Connell." "I brought your mail and some supplies." "Where's Ed?" "Well, I came straight from the airport." "I'm a pilot." "Well, I can't come outside, so do you mind coming in?" "Fine." "Door's open to the airlock." "Let yourself in." "Yeah?" "You wearing any makeup?" "Eyeliner." "Perfume, shampoo, conditioner?" "Baby shampoo." "Any synthetic clothing?" "This shell." "It has some nylon in it." "Well, if you could just hang that up on the hook." "Okay." "Thanks." "Here, I'll take that." "Thanks." "Yeah." "Homey." "Are you serious?" "Yeah." "Well, would you like a tour?" "Really?" "Is that okay?" "Yeah, I just detoxed." "Detoxed?" "Yeah." "Everything should be all right for a few minutes." "Come on in." "Well, what we have here is the dining room, reading room... living room." "The "everything but bedroom, bath, and kitchen. "" "Back here... this is the kitchen." "Got the composter here, trash compactor... solar-powered water purifier." "How interesting." "Everything's customized." "That's one of the drawbacks of dome living." "They don't make a lot of things for rooms with round walls." "True." "Behind you, you see the herb garden... basil, oregano, what have you." "And over here, the low-impact toilet and shower." "Upstairs is the bedroom." "No television?" "Killed me to give it up." "I was hooked on CNN." "But there's just too much plastic in a television." "The outgassing gave me tremendous headaches." "Outgassing, it's fumes given off by synthetic products." "Right." "The electromagnetic field didn't do too much for me, either." "My blood pressure would fluctuate all over the place." "I'm sorry, would you like to sit down?" "Sure." "Thanks." "Pretty nice place." "Thanks." "It's really beautiful up here." "And clean." "You know, I'm planning on going outside as soon as I build up my antioxidants." "And the fallout from Mount Pinatubo blows over." "Mount Pinatubo?" "In the Philippines?" "Three days ago." "Cinder, hot ashes, you know, toxic gases." "And you can feel that all the way up here?" "Well, depending on prevailing winds... humidity, other barometric factors." "Interesting." "Well, you can't be too careful." "Couple of months ago... they did underground nuclear testing in China." "Put me in bed for a week." "Well, listen, I thank you for the lovely tour... but I really think I should be going." "You don't believe me." "No, no, no, no, I think it's fascinating." "Mount Pinatubo and underground nuclear testing in China, and, hey..." "Your perfume." "My perfume?" "I'm not wearing any perfume." "Oriental blend... tangerines... castorium." "I showered before I came here." "Maybe a little myrrh." "Twice." "Opium." "You're wearing Opium." "I got it, didn't I?" "Yeah." "Bye." "Did you know Michael Milken?" "Nope." "How about Ivan Boesky?" "Nope." "I had lunch with Marty Siegel once." "Say, did he go to jail?" "He was sentenced to two months." "Wow." "Did the enoki mushrooms come in yet, Ed?" "Oh, yes, ma'am." "Thank you." "Unbelievable." "This is how you do your books?" "For 35 years." "Mom." "You're throwing money out the window." "I can set you up with a computer program... a real no-brainer." "It'll track inventory, flag pay" "I'm doing it, aren't I?" "Mmm-hmm." "Here, I'm supposed to be getting away from all that bottom line crap... the first thing I try to do is overhaul your store." "Matthew, you've devoted your entire life to maximizing the return on investment." "You can't be expected to break old habits overnight." "You're right." "One step at a time." "So, is there any simple... back-to-basics type of craft industry in this town?" "Something I could get in on the ground floor?" "You mean like basket weaving or pottery?" "That kind of thing?" "No." "Oh, a tackle shop!" "What?" "Remember those flies I used to make?" "Matthew, you hate fishing." "Fishing I could take or leave, tying flies I enjoyed." "Remember?" "You and Dad and Rudy would go down to the river... and I'd stay in the station wagon... with that little kit, tying up whatever was working." "Mmm-hmm." "Dad said I made the best Royal Coachman he'd ever seen." "And my rates were competitive, too." "Let's see, I'd need a space, around 400 square feet." "What about that vacant storefront next to the pizza parlor?" "That would work." "Matthew, you just got here." "Point taken." "Slow down." "Smell the coffee." "Why don't you go jog or something?" "Fleischman?" "You got a minute?" "Depends." "You sick?" "No." "I just had a few questions about Mike." "Mike?" "Yeah, Mike Monroe." "The Bubbleman." "On a first-name basis, are we, O'Connell?" "Well, I went out there, and- You went out there?" "Fleischman, it's really annoying when you repeat everything I say." "You went out there by chance or design?" "I had a delivery." "So you give it to Ed." "Ed's cleared for deliveries, you're not." "Since when do you even care?" "You don't even think he's sick." "Hey." "Despite whatever personal reservations I have about his condition..." "I'm obligated to provide Mike with the best possible treatment... which means keeping away walking contaminants like you." "Oh." "Thank you very much." "You're welcome." "It's just that he seems so lonely, Fleischman." "I'm sure he's used to it." "How could you get used to it?" "I mean, he can't ever have company." "You know, not company-company, for more than just a few minutes." "Well, if they follow all the rules... no synthetic clothing, no cosmetics, a few zillion other things." "But he can't..." "What?" "You know." "What?" "He can't, you know, touch people." "Touch people?" "Well, yeah." "You know, like, have a massage or anything." "A massage." "Yeah, well..." "A massage." "Forget it, Fleischman." "Hey!" "Are we talking shiatsu, Swedish, or your conventional deep muscle kind of thing?" "I don't know why I even bother." "I'm not the one who's talking about hot waxing the Elephant Man here." "Drop dead, Fleischman!" "So this CEO invites us into the deal." "He actually invites us to raid his own company." "Says he's doing it for the shareholders." "So we float the paper." "Slam dunk." "The company's sold, the slash-and-burn guys move in." "And you know what happens next, right?" "The CEO's back in my office, crying like a baby." "Where's his jet?" "The Matisse?" "The suite at the Pierre?" "Oh." "Flash forward a year... 10,000 people get canned, the company's on life support... and this guy's checking into Betty Ford, babbling in his sleep." "Huh." "Maurice Minnifield." "Oh, hey, the astronaut!" "Oh, my mom's told me a lot about you." "Fine woman, your mother." "Thank you." "Uh, Shelly, do you wanna take a hike?" "Okay." "Listen, Matthew, I'm putting together a venture that might interest you." "Thanks, but I'm out of the investment game." "Oh, you don't even want to look at it, purely for your own amusement?" "No, I'm out cold turkey." "It's the only way for me." "No more deals, period." "Well, say no more." "I understand completely." "Just thinking that... a couple of blue chippers like you and I might enjoy getting together for a few laughs." "Very few people around here speak the language." "I get that impression." "Yeah, well..." "What size start-up were you thinking about?" "Oh, nothing much." "Say, $20 million capitalized." "Small potatoes." "What field?" "Oh, no." "No, no." "I don't want to put temptation in your path." "Oh, Maurice, one prospectus is not gonna get me to jump on the next plane to Atlanta." "What do you know about environmental medicine?" "Genentech?" "Bioengineering?" "That sort of thing?" "I'm talking specialized health care." "Risky." "The Lower 48 is going to hell in a hand basket." "People down there are not gonna be able to drink the water or breathe the air... without turning into some kind of mutants." "Where do you think they're gonna turn?" "Alaska." "I've got 40,000 acres picked out." "Spaceship Cicely." "A planned community... with environmentally benign luxury condominiums." "Picture this." "People come in like sick caterpillars." "After a week or two, they emerge from their cocoons... beautiful butterflies able to work, play, enjoy life." "All at 30 years fixed with, say, nine percent?" "General offering?" "What do you think?" "Let's crunch the numbers." "See where they take us." "I've got the raw data right here." "Here." "Let me give you some more." "We've also got some eggplant, zucchini." "What did you think of the carrots?" "Good." "A little..." "Bland." "Well..." "I know, I know." "If they weren't orange, you wouldn't have a clue." "That's true." "You know, some day I'm gonna have Carbone's thick crust pizza again." "And garlic bread, and a frosty pitcher of beer... and tacos, and super burritos... and guacamole, and sour cream... and melted jack." "What's the point?" "I try not to think about it." "What?" "Nothing." "No, no, come on, please, tell me." "Well, I don't know, it's just that you..." "You seem so nice, so normal." "You've been talking to Dr. Fleischman." "Well..." "He thinks I'm crazy." "He does?" "Yeah, well, he does." "Did he tell you that he does?" "I know the look." "Listen, it took me a year to convince myself it wasn't all in my head." "So how did this happen?" "I mean, were you always this way?" "No." "I swam the butterfly in college." "Ran the 400." "I was healthy as a horse." "So..." "Well, the trigger mechanism hasn't been identified yet." "The best anybody's come up with is that the body simply gets overloaded with toxins... like overfilling a bucket." "You get hypersensitized, and then, basically, things go tilt." "But why you?" "I don't know." "Nobody really knows." "I used to work in one of those glass and steel office buildings in Minneapolis." "You know, windows everywhere, but none that work." "The firm redecorated." "Soon after, I started getting headaches." "Migraines." "The doctor said it had to do with fumes." "Paint, carpeting, whatever." "So I took a week off." "But things just kept getting worse." "Eventually, I developed every allergic reaction known to man." "I mean, I couldn't handle a deposition without breaking out in hives." "Going to the supermarket was a nightmare." "If it wasn't the pesticides on the produce, it was the fumes from the cellophane." "Wow." "Yeah." "The firm made me see a psychiatrist." "Eventually, he confirmed his own suspicions." "So, finally, I found a clinical ecologist... and he was able to make a diagnosis that made sense to me." "But there isn't any cure?" "Oh, sure." "Yeah." "Shut down all heavy industry and start over." "I'm not holding my breath." "Matthew?" "Just one second, Mom." "Let me throw a shirt on." "Come in." "Brought you some lunch." "Oh, thanks." "You haven't left this room all day." "Well, you know." "I never saw anybody throw themselves into something like this." "How many flies have you tied?" "Well, I'm concentrating on quality right now." "Oh." "I must admit, when you first mentioned opening a tackle shop..." "I thought you'd lost your mind." "What's that?" "My fax." "Fax?" "I'll get it." "You eat." ""Minnifield Holdings International"?" "That's right, initial offering's gonna go fast." "I'm giving you first look." "Well, don't think about it too long." "You bet." "Well, Ruth-Anne, what can I do for you?" "Did you ask Matthew to help you with this?" "He doesn't waste time, does he?" "He was supposed to be tying flies." "This is superlative work." "What'd you say?" "He wants to get out of investment banking." "Oh, yeah, he mentioned something about that." "And you got him involved anyway?" "I didn't exactly twist his arm, Ruth-Anne." "I suppose you'd offer a drink to a reformed alcoholic, too." "Well, hold on there." "I may have put some ideas in the boy's head, but he ran with them like a pro." "He's trying to change, Maurice." "Why?" "Why?" "Yeah, he's a crackerjack money man." "Listen, Maurice, didn't you ever want to change your life?" "No." "Well, he does." "And he needs time and encouragement." "Encouragement to do what?" "Open a tackle shop." "That's just about the stupidest thing I've ever heard." "Do you really think we need another tackle shop around here?" "Well, I wouldn't say there's a dying need for it, no, but..." "Well, then, why do you want him to open one?" "I don't want him to open one." "He wants to open one." "I'm just trying to encourage him." "I must be missing something here." "I have never told either of my boys what to do... and I'm not going to start now." "You just said you were encouraging him." "Well, that's different." "It's just..." "Well, it's just..." "Oh, stay out of it." "All right, now let's see what we got here." "Your magnesium level is a bit elevated." "I'm gonna cut it back." "Lower levels seem to trigger nausea with me, Joel." "Well, that's not medically warranted." "A clinician at Mayo said... that it has to do with the combustion process during digestion." "I read the file, Mike." "It was an assistant clinician who said it was a possibility, a remote possibility." "Can we be frank, Joel?" "Absolutely." "You don't think I have a problem." "Well, that's not true." "I..." "I think you definitely have a problem" " But it's in my head?" "Basically." "I think that your symptoms are psychogenic, yes." "So at least you concede I have symptoms?" "Well, I would put your condition under the same heading... that I would hysterical pregnancy, hysterical blindness." "Except you have hysterical allergies." "And while I can sympathize with the fact that you do seem to be genuinely suffering..." "I think that the solution is psychological." "It's not metabolic." "Perfectly rational response." "Why do I feel like I was just insulted?" "No, no, no." "Not at all." "I consider myself a deeply rational person." "You do?" "Yes, I do." "How do you account for the stunning lack of corroborating evidence... for your condition?" "Historically, Joel... science only looks for what society's willing to accept." "For the AMA to admit my condition... would be to publicly admit that this planet is becoming dangerously toxic... for all living things." "Now, when people are ready to face that..." "I have no doubt that science will find... a medically supportable explanation for my symptoms." "And in the meantime?" "I think of myself as a canary in the coal mine." "I'm an early warning." "A foot soldier on the front line." "Hey, O'Connell." "The guy is unbelievable." "Who?" "Mike." "I just spent an hour with him." "He's brilliant." "It's like playing chess with Spassky." "I mean, he's always three moves ahead of you." "So now you're convinced?" "Convinced?" "Yeah, if I had the slightest doubt, O'Connell, it's gone." "I mean, demolished." "I told you he wasn't a lunatic." "No, he's crazy." "He is." "He's completely bonkers, beyond the pale... but what sublime madness." "I mean, the man has recycled every idea of Western philosophy." "Not to mention history, science, religion." "I mean, you got to look at the intellectual construct here." "The wheels within the wheels." "I mean, all fantasy, of course, but the erudition... the raw brain power." "Oh, this guy could have done extraordinary things... if he wouldn't have wigged out." "What do you want, anyways?" "When you're in a better mood." "I'm in a great mood." "No, no, no." "Oh!" "Fleischman." "Hey!" "Hey, that's mine!" "Fleischman, it's mine." "Immunology Monthly." "I didn't know you were a subscriber." "Well, I found it through CompuServe." "I was just flipping through the listings, and I found this article... on provocation neutralization." "I thought you might be interested." "Uh-huh." "Fleischman, you could at least look at it." "Hey, I'm aware of the concept, O'Connell." "And?" "And besides the fact that, as a trained physician..." "I have a hard time with the notion of injecting anyone with possible carcinogens... such treatment is extremely contraindicated in this case." "Mike's blood chemistry's abnormal enough as is." "What?" "What?" "Oh, I should've seen it coming." "What?" "The crush." "The infatuation." "Oh, Fleischman, please." "Right." "I suppose you spend hours reading through obscure medical journals... out of idle curiosity." "What I do for a friend is my business." "Friend?" "What happened to stranger?" "Acquaintance?" "I happen to find Mike's predicament interesting." "Give me a break, O'Connell." "See, the Bubbleman is right out of Emily Brontë." "He's handsome, flawed, and totally inaccessible." "He's perfect for you." "Oh, well, Fleischman, why don't you just stick to blood chemistry?" "That's something you know about." "Presumably." "Proust, you Francophiles will remember... spent the last 15 years of his life in a cork-lined bedroom... on Haussmann Boulevard in Paris, France." "Now, a lot of people at the time... thought that Marcel was off his nut... and while there may be little accounting for the behavior of a bedridden Frenchman... consider that this celebrated artiste was a known asthmatic... who demonstrated extreme sensitivity... to even the slightest change in environmental conditions." "Could it be that Mike and Marcel... are hyperallergic cousins under the skin?" "Food to boil on." "Have you got everything?" "Yeah." "Yeah, I think so." "Do you want me to carry that?" "No." "No, no, I'm fine." "Can you close the door behind you?" "Yeah." "Sure." "Here we go." "How we doing?" "Okay." "We're doing okay." "Wait." "What?" "Nitrogen count." "It's a bit higher than I expected." "You want to go back inside?" "No." "I'm fine." "I'm fine." "Okay." "Yeah." "Nice day." "Oh, it's gorgeous." "Gorgeous." "So, why don't you tell me about yourself?" "Me?" "Yeah." "You've been asking all the questions." "Now it's my turn." "Okay." "All right." "What do you want to know?" "Well, what brought you to Alaska?" "A grad student I was going with." "Dave." "He was a writer, a mountain climber." "He died." "Oh, I'm sorry." "How'd you end up in Cicely?" "Another boyfriend." "Bruce." "He ate bad potato salad." "He died, too." "Oh." "Yeah." "Look." "Look." "An eagle." "Well, would you look at that?" "Isn't that something?" "Oh." "Whoa." "Mike?" "Excuse me." "Mike?" "I think we better go back inside." "Okay." "Yeah." "What is it?" "Just a little reaction." "I feel a little constriction around my pharynx, but..." "Do you want me to call Fleischman?" "No!" "No, no, no." "It's nothing." "I'll be fine." "The Major Market Index up 0. 15... and the New York Composite down 0.35." "We're also fixing the SP 400, that MidCap down 0. 25." "Look at him." "He's like a deer caught in headlights." "He does seem to like that station." "Matthew always had tremendous powers of concentration." "I remember him just sitting at his bedroom window... watching raindrops streaking down the pane." "He could do that?" "For hours." "Maybe you ought to talk to him, Ruth-Anne." "The customers want ESPN?" "It's not that, it's that tackle shop of his." "It's not going to fly." "Why not?" "Well, be both know that the only reason... why people hang out in fishing shops is to talk fishing." "Matthew doesn't talk fishing." "I don't think he's ever been fishing." "...which has gold off $1.30... since silver's off 1. 7 cents, and platinum down $3..." "Thirteen in the side." "So?" "So?" "You saw Mike?" "Yes." "And?" "He's fine, O'Connell." "Fine?" "Well, I mean, his throat was a little raw, his eyes were bloodshot." "I gave him some Seldane." "He happened to be really sick a couple of hours ago." "Right." "He wasn't faking it, Fleischman." "Whatever you say, O'Connell." "Fleischman, he is not crazy." "He's calm, he's rational." "What better clue do you want?" "What are you talking about?" "If you were stuck in a bubble... if your life were basically destroyed by a bunch of paint fumes... if you could no longer hold a magazine or squeeze a cantaloupe... or make whoopee for fear of a hyperallergic reaction... you think you'd be calm or rational?" "I wouldn't." "I'd be mad, that's what I'd be." "I'd be really mad." "Oh, well, that's a good test of sanity." "How Fleischman would react to something." "Fleischman gets hurt, Fleischman gets angry." "Fleischman's frustrated, Fleischman gets angry." "Fleischman's wrong, Fleischman gets angry." "The man is in a bubble because he wants to be in a bubble." "I don't know why, you don't know why." "It would take years of Freudian analysis to know why." "But he has retreated from the world, okay?" "He's hiding from you." "He's hiding from me." "He's hiding from himself." "That's all there is to it." "You're wrong." "Look, I'll bet if he could walk down Main Street... right now, right this minute, he'd refuse, he'd plotz." "He's terrified of reality." "You are so wrong." "Leave him alone, O'Connell." "Find yourself another victim." "Buy a Harlequin romance, watch a soap opera." "You're not gonna help him, you know." "Matthew, it's 3:00 in the morning." "Hi, Mom." "I have the Reuters screen." "Tokyo exchange." "Tokyo?" "On my phone line?" "Well, I kept the company calling card." "See, I heard the Dow was down today... and I wanted to take a peek to see how it was affecting T-bills... and sure enough, right there... it's up a blip, a thirty-second of a point." "You'd have to put on a derivative hedge... to lock in the gain, but I thought" " Matthew." "You have to go back to Atlanta." "No, Mom, I'll try harder." "Look, look, I..." "Gone." "I'll throw the damn thing away." "Matthew, you simply are not cut out for life up here." "You're not a child of nature." "Mom- Hear me out." "I always wanted you to be more like your brother." "Outdoorsy." "A dreamer." "Like you." "Oh, I'm not like that at all." "I'm a doer, like you." "But I always wanted you to do what I wanted you to do... instead of what you wanted to do." "And I'm not going to have you turning yourself into me... on my account." "Now, admittedly, to me, investment banking... is about as exciting as watching paint dry." "But if that's what you want, then I want it for you, too." "This isn't you talking, Mom." "It may have taken me 40 years to realize it, Matthew... but you're more me than I'd have liked you to be." "Forget the tackle shop?" "Definitely." "You won't be disappointed?" "You're a good man, Matthew." "I mean that." "So... lock in those T-bills." "Mike- Hold on a minute." "Just a second." "Yes." "What?" "I got it." "What went wrong yesterday, I know what it was." "Yeah?" "No, it's gonna be a few days before I, you know... get the satellite photos to confirm... but look at this." "The wind was coming out of the northwest... at about eight knots, right?" "Right." "Right." "And there's an alfalfa field here... about three miles away." "That's Hobart Ramsey's field." "It was dusted with pesticide two days ago." "Ed told me." "And we were here, right?" "So the wind just came right through this break here... and pow!" "You seemed pleased." "Well, I am." "Not only does this confirm that I'm not a paranoid delusional... but it also proves that yesterday's troubles... was not caused by general environmental conditions." "So it wasn't the air." "Not at all." "So you can take a walk?" "Sure." "How about now?" "Now?" "Yeah." "Well, we could do that... but I was thinking maybe, you know... more like a couple of days, you know." "Maybe Tuesday." "Tuesday?" "Yeah, these things, you know... they have to be planned, Maggie." "There's pressure charts and weather readings." "Just a little walk." "We can always come right back." "I don't know." "Well, on the other hand, look, no sense pushing." "No sense taking any unnecessary risks." "I think that's probably the best course." "Okay." "So, I'll see that prospectus next week?" "Yeah, I talked to Steve Nesbitt, my demographics guy... at Wilshire Associates this morning." "He said he'll have the projections for me by the time I get home." "Outstanding." "If you don't leave now, Matthew... you're not going to make Sleetmute by nightfall." "Have a safe journey." "I'll be in touch." "Well, Mom..." "Call me." "I will, Mom." "I'll call you from Sleetmute." "Matthew." "I'm sorry." "I know." "I love you." "I know, Mom." "I love you, too." "Bye, Matthew!" "Matthew Miller." "Ruth-Anne's son." "He's just visiting." "Oh." "How you doing?" "Great, I feel very strapped in, very secure." "You don't think this is too scary for children, or anything?" "No." "Hi, Maggie." "Oh, hi, Shelly." "Shelly, this is Mike Monroe." "Mike, Shelly Tambo." "Nice to meet you." "I like the look." "Thank you." "See you." "Bye." "Bye." "Oh, Maurice!" "Maurice, this is Mike Monroe." "Mike, Maurice Minnifield." "Oh, the Bubbleman." "How's the weather in there?" "Fine, fine." "Thank you for letting me use your suit." "No problem." "How's it fit?" "Well, it's a little short in the arms... but other than that, fine." "Be careful with it." "That's a genuine piece of American folklore." "This is Mike Monroe." "Oh, hi, hello." "How are you?" "Just like The Andromeda Strain, huh, Dr. Fleischman?" "What?" "Oh, you know, Maurice letting Mike wear his spacesuit." "Well, of course, Maurice can't fit into it anymore." "Too many mooseburgers." "So this was Maurice's idea?" "No, Maggie's." "O'Connell's?" "Oh, hey, look, there's Fleischman." "There's Fleischman." "Oh." "Hi, Fleischman!" "Hello, Joel!" "I just landed on Earth!" "Are you friendly?" "Want to go to The Brick?" "Buy you a drink?" "Sure." "Okay." "Hi, guys." "This is Mike." "Hi." "How are you?" "I don't think they're used to seeing anybody... in something like this."