Hey Nostradamus! By Douglas Coupland

I'd ordered one. "Tell him to wait a second."
I phoned the number Yorgo'd given me. It rang maybe seven times, and I almost hung up. Then a man
answered, some Freon-blooded goon - a crooked cop? A junkie?
"Yorgo wants me to let you know where he is."
"Does he, now?"
"He's stuck up some river. A few miles east of Chilliwack, and I have the feeling he's been there a few
times before. Anyway, his left leg's broken. He can't move."
"And this is the number he gave you?"
"Look, I didn't have to tell you this. I'm doing you a favor."
"Yorgo? He's no favor to me."
I asked, "So are you going to go get him?"
"No."
"You're serious."
"Yes, I'm serious. Call the Girl Guides. I have to go now."
He was serious. I hung up. I bought a map and some gum, then taxied back to the Lynnwood Inn to
retrieve my truck. Once we arrived, I located my secret key, stashed beneath the fender, and opened the
door. I told the cabbie my money was fake, and to pay for the ride I gave him my CD collection. My
final request was that he take the map on which I'd written a reasonably detailed description of where
Yorgo was and of his condition, and deliver it to the Lonsdale RCMP station. He was to have no idea
who left it in the cab. He was a nice guy. He went.
And so I drove back home, where I am now, tired and hungry and coming down off God knows what,
and utterly in need of solace.
I guess the thing about blacking out is that you blacked out. There's no retrieval. There's not even
hunches, and you might as well have been under a general anesthetic. I mean, who was that guy who
picked up the phone when I called about Yorgo? I checked the criss-cross phone directory, but it's
unlisted. And Jesus, Yorgo, out on the rocks, maybe being rescued in an hour or two, either my friend or
my enemy for life.
My apartment feels like a mousetrap, not a place to call home. In the bathroom I expected Yorgo's twin
brother to jump out from behind the shower curtain with either a silenced Luger or a bottle of vodka to
celebrate all that's good in life. When I came out, some beer bottles settled on the balcony, and the
clinking made me spasm out of my chair.
I'm going to crash on a friend's couch for the night.
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