Freddie

"By the way, do you want me to pick up some Stoli tonight?"

I snapped out of my daydreaming. It was easier to relax now that she wasn't driving like a bandit. "What's that?"

Julia repeated patiently, "I said, would you like for me to grab a bottle of Stolichnaya before I come home this evening?"

"That would be lovely," I nodded. "Thank you."

"That is your favorite, isn't it?"

"I would say so, yes." Favorite, of course, was putting it very mildly. Stolichnaya was usually the only vodka I ever drank (last night, of course, I had to make an exception). Funny, I said to myself. She remembers that, of all things.

As we came upon the grounds of Princeton University at last, I realized that the tables had turned in yet another way. She was the one heading off to work now, while I was left to my own devices to make something of myself until night fell. "When do you get off usually?"

She looked at me with a sly smile. "Missing me already?"

"I just want to know when to expect you. I get lonely," I murmured, winking to make it seem I didn't mean the words as much as I really did.

"So lone-ly," Julia sang, and I laughed. Touche, my dear.

"Danny comes home well before I do, so you won't be alone," she finally answered. "I should be back, with the booze, to make dinner, around six or so. I was going to do something with a chicken, haven't decided what yet. Sound okay?"

"Sure," I nodded, but to myself I said, Oh, God, I shall be so bored till then.

It was then that "Back in Time" (apparently a Huey Lewis thing; she had basically put her entire music collection on random, so we were sampling songs from all over the place) ended, and became a song I hadn't listened to in a very long time, mostly because in 1977, the year I first heard it, the song had not yet been recorded.

"Ooo," I said, turning up the volume. "I remember this."

She looked surprised. "You do?"

"I've never heard anybody else with a voice like that," I replied. "It sort of stuck in my mind."

Unfortunately, before the lead singer for Maroon 5 could begin, the music cut out, and the car spoke: "Message Received From: Stuart Little."

I looked at Julia and burst out laughing, covering my mouth. "Oh, please tell me that's not really his name."

Her face turned bright red. "Of course not! Danny did that- I forgot to fix the contact- one second."

So, the name had been Danny's little prank? That alone made me decide right that very moment: I liked him. Ah, Mr. Phantom, there's hope for you yet.

The color in her cheeks slowly receding, Julia tapped the screen button that said, "Play," and in the next second, a clear, rather strident male voice boomed around us, while the words he spoke appeared on the screen, scrolling up rather like one of those teleprompter things:

"Hey, Jules, do you mind if I stop by your house a moment later tonight? I've got a few things to talk to you about, and I'll be tied up with Speck for most of today, so I won't be able to see you in your office. Will that be okay?"

"Stuart calls you Jules?" I asked when the music came back on.

"Uh-huh," she said.

I frowned. "It doesn't suit you though."

"Stuart thinks it does."

"Well, he's wrong."

To my disappointment, she shrugged it off. "I don't mind it; I've been called worse in my time."

For we had arrived. I peered out the window at the building she had pulled up alongside, itself encased in a huge cube made of glass and steel that seemed to be lit up from within and without. Julia pointed at the sign near the main entrance, which read 'Preus Hall.'

"That's his last name," she said, pinning her hair back up.

"Stuart Preus," I said aloud. A German, I thought to myself. Interesting. "So- wait, is that his whole building, or did they name it after him, or-?"

"Yes, and yes," Julia replied proudly. "He's a kind of a big deal around here."

For some odd reason, my heart sank a little. I glanced back at the glass cube, then looked at her again. "Where are you then?"

"All the way across campus in the Psychology Department building." With a sigh, she patted her hair one last time, looked herself over in the mirror, then grabbed her purse and started ransacking it for something.

So you two work within at least a kilometer of each other, I concluded. Oh, how terribly charming.

"How long is this going to take?" I asked.

"Not long. You'll probably only be here five minutes or so. If you want, I can leave you the car keys, and- Oh, that's right, you're not used to driving on this side of the road. Never mind."

I folded my arms, getting impatient. "You mean, you're just going to leave me here?"

"If you want, I can leave you the keys to the car, I can Uber my way around today if I have to-"

"What good will that do? I can't drive, remember?"

"I know you don't, but- wait." Julia's eyes widened. "Hold on. Are you saying you can't, as in- you... don't know how?"

She looked so aghast that my face turned a little red with embarrassment. "It was never necessary that I know how before. I've always had drivers, don't you remember? Rudy first, then Terry-"

"I know, I know, I just- man. I'm so sorry. I just always figured it was an act of principle, or something, it never occurred to me that you might not know how to drive at all. Wow. I learned something new today."

I knew from her tone that Julia wasn't being sarcastic, she was genuinely shocked, but somehow that only made me feel even less intelligent. So I more or less lashed out.

"Look," I snapped, "in the UK lots of people can't drive, it's not that uncommon, and it doesn't make me an idiot just by being one of them!"

"I never said you were an-"

"No, but I could practically hear you thinking it! There's plenty of other things I CAN do, just because I can't drive- Can you play the piano? Can you write songs? Because I can. Does that make me smarter than you?"

"No, but-"

"There you are, then."

Julia opened her mouth, but all that left it was a sigh. She whipped out her new and improved Magic Mirror (by this point I knew they were called Droids or something, but I preferred to use "Magic Mirror" as the term, as I still do today) and started to tap around on it furiously, perhaps responding to Stuart, I don't know. I didn't ask. But once she finished, she turned back to me.

"Okay, hold out your hand," she said.

I arched my brow. "Shall I close my eyes as well?"

She rolled hers, and cleared her throat. "Okay, listen up, you smart-aleck. This is yours, to do with as you please." She placed a flat, plastic card into my palm. And my eyes widened.

"No, darling, no," I waved my open hands around. "I can't take one of your credit cards."

"You can, and you will. I hardly ever use the thing anyway, except to build my credit. I'll let you break it in as only you can. That should take care of cab fare, whatever retail therapy you may seek out, et cetera." She smiled. "So, no, you're not stuck. Far from it. The world is at your feet, my friend."

Stricken with guilt, I began, "Julia, please, I didn't mean that you have to-"

"Sh." She laid her finger against my lips. "I'm the boss this time, remember?"

I had to smile. "Yes, I- suppose you are, aren't you."

"I am," Julia nodded. "So take the card and shut up, you jackass. Now, [we both cracked up here] now, the lab rats are awaiting, so you should probably get going. Up the steps with you, now. Chop-chop."

As rude as I may have come across just before, I thought it curious, how long she kept touching my mouth this way. After another second or so, Julia gently ran her fingertip along the ends of my mustache. It tickled a bit; my lips twitched a few times across my teeth, but she kept doing it, a sweet smile crossing her face.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Julia shook her head. "I just cannot get over this."

I cleared my throat uncomfortably. I didn't give two fucks about what anyone thought of my mustache, and yet here I sat, turning pink because this woman wouldn't stop touching it. "Um, is- that a good thing?"

She sighed. "It's just different. I mean, of course, you look wolfishly handsome with it, but..."

Julia trailed off, leaving the caveat unsaid. Without realizing it, my own hand lifted to her lips, and lightly traced their edges- and to me, it seemed almost like her eyes softened just a little. I almost asked what she was going to say, except in the very next breath she snapped out of it. Her eyes drifted away from my face and over my shoulder. She jerked her hand away, and I turned to see a handful of youngish to middle-aged intellectuals approaching the car.

"Ah, here they come," she murmured. "You'd better skedaddle."

"Which one is Stuart?" I asked, scanning their faces.

"He's not there. He's got classes to teach in the mornings. What's more, you'll probably get to meet the guy yourself tonight anyhow. In the meantime, though, this is where you get out. K will take good care of you, I'm sure."

I slapped my knee. "Fuck. Oh, well, we can still practice later tonight."

"Practice what?"

"Why, the fifty ways to pique your lover," I quipped, modifying one of the songs we'd heard on the way to Princeton. I thought it was rather clever myself, wouldn't you agree?

"I don't think there are that many, Freddie-"

"Oh, really?" I whispered, leaning in close. "Why don't we see for ourselves?"

Swallowing, she pushed me back against my seat. "Later. Right now, I've got work, and K has you. I'll see you tonight, okay?"

Just then, someone tapped on the window. I turned- and before I knew what was happening, I was being escorted into Preus Hall, without so much as a goodbye kiss.

Julia waved goodbye, this time with a little worried crease in her forehead, before she pulled the passenger door closed and slowly drove away from the curb. Near the door, at the security desk, a burly man with a buzz cut and yellow mirror aviators watched us cross the lobby floor, but made no move to get these muppets off of me.

"Thanks, honey, you're a wonderful help," I muttered to myself, feeling like a helpless fool- and deep down, quite frightened. Looking back, I really shouldn't have been; they all went quite easy on me, compared to how they would behave at a later stage.

The Brians -I mean, the brains more or less forced me into a lift, faces as stiff as marble and every bit as cold. As soon as the doors slid closed, however, the dark one at my immediate right who wouldn't stop staring at me finally mustered up the courage to speak.

"Wow," he whispered.

I looked at him. "What?"

He shook his head, stammering incoherently, "Nothing, I- I just- I- thought you'd be taller."

Immediately I slid into "flamboyant frontman" mode, and I smirked. "Don't you worry, darling. I'm big enough."

"I know," the young woman behind me agreed in a dreamy sort of voice. "I saw."

I turned to look at her. "I beg your pardon?"

The lift doors slid open before she could explain- which really wasn't necessary at all, judging by how hard she was blushing as we filed out and into a long, sterile corridor. Before we could go very far, one of the many doors along the side swung open. My escorts shepherded me into this half-lit room and left me there, the door closing behind them as they walked out.

Fortunately, I was not left alone long enough for butterflies to start in my insides. I heard footsteps come closer, echoing against the barren emptiness surrounding me. All the lights flickered to life, and I jumped to see the old man standing a few meters off, waving for me to come closer. Because I could think of nothing else to do, I obeyed.

Silently he brought me into a small, round, bare room with a high, cone-shaped ceiling hanging above. I blinked, a bit unnerved by the strange fellow's advanced age and totally unsure why I was just letting this old man lead me around like this.

At last I broke the silence. "I think there must be some mistake. Because- Julia said something about an ID-?"

"Yes, I know, I sent her the message," the man said slowly, casually walking out of the small room. "And we will get to that in a moment. But first we have to do this little exercise- something I'm afraid we'll have to make an every other day thing, to be most effective, and something you will have to keep absolutely mum about."

"Even to Julia?"

"Especially to Julia."

"Why?"

"Do you trust me?"

I scoffed. "Uh, no, actually."

The little gnome shrugged, reaching into the room from which we had just come. "Then in that case, we'll save the why for another day. In the meantime, this might feel a little funny."

"What?"

The man didn't answer. I heard one hollow click, and then the most peculiar warm, gentle zap coursed through me, and then in a finger's snap the sensation vanished again. It happened so briefly I had to wonder if it had happened at all.

"What was that?" I demanded.

"Microwave radiation, nothing harmful," he replied. "You may feel a tad feverish later this afternoon, but I assume that will be the only side effect."

I wanted to ask why he had just blasted me with microwaves, but I had feeling the question would simply be ignored. He didn't seem like the best source of information anyway.

The old man dusted off his hands and put them on his hips with a smile. "Long time no see, Mark from Canada."

Mark from Canada? The name rang a bell, but still I squinted. "Who's Mark? My name is Freddie-"

"Mercury, I know." He shrugged. "Shame. I suppose you don't remember me. Ah, well. It was after all fifty years ago, and you know what they say... What happens in Vegas..." He trailed off, seeming to look through me.

And then I remembered. It all made sense suddenly. I snapped my fingers.

"You're the guy with the Mother Ship," I exclaimed, referring to the decrepit old pickup truck he had used to cart Julia and myself across Vegas- but that was another story. "Uh- Stan, or something. Right?"

"Close. Steve- but you can call me K," he grinned as he put out his hand.

"Good Lord, what a small fucking world," I said, shaking it. "Fifty years, you said? That can't be- oh, well, that was '77, I suppose that's accurate. My God..."

K nodded. "I'm not as young as I used to be, as you can see. But that's fifty years for you. Time isn't a friend to everyone. Now, come on, let's make you official."

He and I walked out of the strange little radiation room (I was still scratching my head over what the purpose of that last five minutes happened to be). While he kept chattering on about how that day had marked a milestone in his life and how much it meant to him, and so on and so on, it hit me for the first time: it had been forty-two years since I was dragged out of my party. Where were all those people now? Where were Brian, John, and Roger? What had become of all my friends, my lovers, my employees? Forty-two years. God, that seemed like an eternity.

So much in this world had clearly changed- but how much?

"Were you happy to see her?" he asked suddenly.

I frowned. "See whom?"

"Julia, of course."

I looked down, still walking, hands in my coat pockets. "Um- why do you ask?"

"Curiosity."

I shrugged. "I suppose so. I wasn't any happier to see her, than she was to see me, I'll put it that way."

"That makes sense," K murmured, shooting me a little knowing look. "What do you think of Danny?"

"Nice kid," I replied. "Looks like she's done a good job." And I almost asked him if he knew the father, but again I chose not to ask. I wasn't going mad with questions about it just yet- yet being the keyword there, of course.

"She has," he nodded. "She really has, despite..."

I looked up. "Despite what?"

But once again, he didn't answer. K led me into some other kind of room, this one more like an office rather than a mad scientist's laboratory. A middle-aged gentleman with an unhappy mouth and rather pronounced bags under his eyes was seated behind a desk, tapping away on his impossibly slim screen. For a moment I wondered if that was Stuart- and deep down, I hoped it was- but what K said next put those suspicions to rest.

"Here we are, Tim," K announced. The so-called Tim looked up and stood to come closer. K introduced him to me as Dr. Christopher. I put my hand out to be polite, but Tim did not take it. Instead, he walked around me, sizing me up for the next few seconds, until finally he stopped and shook his head.

And the first thing to fly out of his mouth was "Good God, you didn't even try, did you?"

My eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

K rallied to my defense. "He didn't know, I don't think Julia made it a priority to tell him-"

"That's no surprise," Tim sighed. Then he looked back at me and asked, "Do you understand where you are? When you are?"

I bit my tongue. "I do."

"That's good," he said. "Then you also understand that maybe it's not such a good idea to go around in public like that."

I struggled to remain civil. "Like what, dear?"

Tim made a swooping gesture with his arm. "The whole thing," he said. "But we'll get back to that in a minute. Right now, sit down."

I already hated Tim and I'd only been around him ten seconds. I stayed standing, hands clenching and unclenching behind my back, my patience waning fast. I didn't tolerate this kind of attitude back home, and there was no fucking reason to take it now.

"Or not," he hummed, tapping against the screen. "Just a sec- okay. So- name?"

"Name?" I repeated. Doesn't he know my name already? What is this?

"Yes, Freddie. Your alias. You can't go by Freddie Mercury here."

"Why not?"

Tim balked, as I knew he would. "Well- because- I mean- you just can't. That's too high-profile a name, and it's been too long, and if word got out around the socials, in the media, that would make things so-"

"Too long since what?" I asked.

"Look, just pick a name, I have to get back to Speck."

I thought back to all the different names I'd used up till now. Larry Lurex? No, that was an old chestnut of a joke that only I seemed to get without needing some long, drawn-out explanation. I briefly had the idea of using the name I'd been given at birth, Farrokh Bulsara, but that too carried too much baggage. And then, I remembered, the name of Julia's fictional fiance from so long ago.

"Mark Zuckerberg," I declared. "Take it or leave it."

And I didn't understand why both K and Tim simply burst into laughter. Personally, I failed to see the humor in what I had said.

"What's so funny?" I demanded. "Who is Mark Zuckerberg, anyway?"

Tim dabbed at his eyes. "Only one of the richest and most powerful men alive," he gasped, suffocating from his mirth. "He's the CEO of Facebook- but I don't expect you'd know what that is."

How hilarious. You're right, I don't know how I'm managing to keep it together, that's just so unbelievably funny.

I had had it. I slammed my fist onto the desk, making both men jump. "Right, then. Fuck it. Let's go with Richard Dubroc and call it a day because I just do not give a damn about you and your stupid shit any longer. NOW can we fucking get on with it?"

And just like that, in the spur of the moment, the name Julia had made up for me on a whim became my actual undercover name. Richard Dubroc, Rick for short. Rick Dubroc. It didn't exactly roll off the tongue as nicely as Freddie Mercury, but desperate times called for desperate measures, I suppose. It would do in the short term.

Things moved along fairly smoothly after that, right till the very end, when Tim nodded at last with satisfaction. He touched a button on his desk, and half a minute later the young blushing woman from the lift opened the office door and peered in.

"Madelyn, please go down across the hall to Room 523, pick up the license that's printing out, and bring it here," he instructed her.

"License?" I asked as she scurried out of sight.

"New Jersey drivers license," K replied. "It just seemed to make the most sense."

"But I can't-" I started to say before cutting myself off.

Tim looked up. "Can't what? Can't drive?"

Fuck.

"Is that what you were going to say?" he pressed eagerly. "I mean, if you can't drive, it's no big deal, that just makes you all the more convincing as, you know, a millenial- I just find it hard to comprehend, someone at your age, from your time, not knowing how to-"

"Are we finished?" I snapped.

"Almost. You just need the license, and then- here she is!" Madelyn had just appeared in the doorway, license in hand. Cautiously, she walked up to me, placed the little iridescent card in my palm.

"Here you are, Mr. Di- um, Rick... Dubroc," she stammered.

I nodded, feeling far too frustrated to so much as smirk at her almost-slip of the tongue. "Thank you very much, now if you'll excuse me, I must be going, which way is the lift? Never mind, I'll find it."

So saying I made my way back into the hall. I couldn't take it anymore. I was seething with embarrassment and rage- and right at that moment I would have not thought anything of walking all the way across the college grounds, even as conspicuous as I might have looked, just to see Julia. At least she didn't consider me some laughing matter- and, from the other extreme, she didn't freeze up and stammer like some kind of moron every time I looked at her. Whatever things were, or were not, between us now, she still treated me like a human being.

"What is a millenial anyway?" I muttered aloud.

"It's just a label for anyone born after 1981 and before 2000," a deep voice answered.

I looked up to see that same security guard with the close-cropped hair standing by the lift. "Oh, thank you."

He bowed his head a little. "I couldn't help but overhear that- you're in need of transportation?"

"It's nothing," I waved my hand, stepping into the lift. "I can just- do with a taxi or something."

The big man followed me inside. "But taxis are unpredictable- and I'd assume you haven't a smart phone to call for an Uber."

"I'll be fine," I sighed, pushing the lobby button. "I'm not exactly in the position to hire a chauffeur at present, you see."

"Perhaps not; that may be why one of the counselors paged me and asked if I might do the honors of driving you around-"

"Counselor?" My eyes widened. "Which one?"

"I forget the name. Stanford, or Samuel. She's Dr. Preus's girlfriend, I think. Nice woman."

I blinked. "Julia asked you to be my driver?"

"In so many words, yes." He had a peculiar accent- it was American, certainly, but the particular region was difficult to place. "And I would be happy to help. Won't cost you one cent, my salary is my salary. But of course, I won't do it if the idea makes you uncomfortable. She just wanted you to have the option."

Oh, Julia, I said to myself. I'm so sorry for snapping at you. You really are trying...

The lift doors pulled apart. We were at ground level again, with what sun was visible sparkling against the glass panes all round. I looked at the license in my hand, wondering where in the world they managed to find such a terrible picture of me.

"So," the man asked, "does that sound like something you'd want to try, or- what?"

I looked up at the fellow, my brow arching. "What's your name?"

The man hesitated, then said, "Charles. Call me Charles. And yours?"

I lifted my chin. "Richard Dubroc, at your service."

"Nice," he said, shaking my hand. "For a minute there, I thought you'd say your name was Freddie Mercury."

I think I'll have some fun with this, actually. "Oh? Why's that?"

"I mean- you look just like him. 'Stache and everything."

I tried to keep a straight face. "Yes- but with better teeth, right?"

"Of course," he said quickly. "Way better, that guy had the wor- what did I say?"

I lifted my hands away from my face, trying so hard not to laugh. "Nothing at all, dear. I just- you have such a way of putting things, I couldn't help it."

And I thought that morning was a trip. I didn't know the half of it.

This was only the beginning.