The Midnight Plan of the Repo Man by W. Bruce Cameron Page A

pockets and glanced around the room. “Have you ever had voices in your head? Talking to you?”
    Milton stared. “You got voices in your head?”
    â€œNo, forget it. I mean yes, I do, but it is only one voice. He says his name is Alan.”
    â€œYou got a voice in your head named Alan?” Milton’s eyes were looking sort of milky. I wondered if he was calculating how long it would take the cops to arrive if he lunged for the phone.
    â€œForget it, it’s nothing.”
    â€œI’m afraid you’ve got the madness, son,” he whispered.
    â€œThe what?”
    â€œRepo Madness. It happens. The stress of snatching units off the streets, one day, you just crack up. I once saw a guy bigger than you sit right down on the curb and start to cry like a baby. Madness got him bad. He was never able to take another car after that day.” Milt beckoned and I reluctantly leaned forward. “Why do you think I never steal any of my own cars anymore, Ruddy?”
    I thought about it. “Because Ruby would kill you?”
    He blinked. “Ruby? The hell is Ruby?”
    â€œYour wife?”
    â€œMy wife is Trisha.”
    â€œThat’s her name! Trisha!”
    â€œJesus, you got voices in your head and you think I married some bimbo named Ruby?”
    â€œFor God’s sake, Milt, it’s just one voice and I have always thought your wife’s name was Ruby. I mean, I knew it wasn’t, but I couldn’t think of her any other way.” Already, the name Trisha was fading from my brain, replaced by a giant neon sign blinking RUBY, RUBY, RUBY .
    Milt eyed me for a minute. “It’s the madness, Ruddy,” he pronounced finally. “I just got the madness. One day everything is fine, and the next, no matter how easy the snatch, I start getting so damned scared I can barely move. Then I’m pulling a voluntary, guy voluntarily hands me the keys, and the same thing happens—my heart starts to pound and my hands shake. That’s when I knew I had to give it up, before I lost it completely.” He looked at me shrewdly. “Before I started hearing voices.”
    I remembered the dream, and how my heart had been pounding the “Night of the Attack of Doris the Goose.” Could this really be what was going on? Repo Madness.
    I shook it off. “Look, just forget about it, okay? I’m fine. Thanks. No problem. I’ll find this skip and look into Jimmy’s checks, okay?”
    Milton nodded sadly. As I backed up, my heel caught the lip of the rug and I tripped a bit, stumbling. He just watched with wise eyes, probably thinking this was another symptom.
    â€œSo you’re a repo man? That’s what the whole thing was about last night? I thought you were a cop or something,” Alan complained as I left Milt’s office.
    â€œYou don’t like it, go inhabit someone else’s psychosis,” I growled silently, keeping the dialogue in my head where it belonged. I expected a flip response, but instead I got back silence, with a bit of an impatient flavor to it. I stopped in the hallway. “So, no lippy comment? I just called you a psychosis,” I challenged him mentally.
    â€œWell?” he finally demanded. “What are we doing? Why don’t you say something?”
    â€œYou mean you can only hear me if I talk?” I asked out loud.
    â€œWell, of course,” Alan replied a bit indignantly. “You think I can read minds?”
    There were just too many things wrong with that question to respond to it. “Listen, Alan, we have to discuss something. I think I am handling this pretty well. I mean, I have a voice inside my head, but I’m not overreacting. But this isn’t normal. I’m obviously losing my grip. You have to go away now, Alan.”
    â€œI can’t go away, Ruddy. What do you think, I can just float out and up to the stars or something?”
    â€œI don’t know what I