A Highly Unlikely Scenario, or a Neetsa Pizza Employee's Guide to Saving the World (10 page)

What are you doing, pushing a small boy like that? Are you crazy?

She pushed Leonard then. She was surprisingly strong and Leonard also stumbled backward.

Who are you? she shouted, her curls and headbeads trembling. Did you come here to make fun of me? All I have to do is press that alarm over there and Peter will come with his tranquilizing gun. He's a Baconian too, and we take the Voynich very seriously!

You're crazy, Leonard said. You just pushed a small boy against the wall because he has a reading problem!

I don't have a reading problem! Felix said. It's just the way I see things.

Then Sally shocked both man and boy by beginning to cry.

No one's supposed to know! she said, slumping onto one of the swirly chairs. How did you find out? Did my oculist tell you? Is he a Cathar? I knew he was a Cathar! All that talk about light and dark! I knew he wasn't talking about my iris!

We don't know what you're talking about, Leonard said softly, but if you're in trouble, we'd like to help.

I need both of you to leave now, she said, blowing her nose into the dustproof cloth. Leave your gloves in the catchment box as you go.

But, Sally! Leonard said. We don't know what we did wrong!

My name isn't Sally, Sally said. Now go.

Leonard consulted the Brazen Head on his navigation watch about caravan times and then, because they had time, brought Felix to the (Nondenominational) University Eating Establishment to get him a snack of fried grasshopper legs, which Felix loved but today would not eat.

Can it be the Time between Here and There? Felix asked.

Of course, Leonard said.

It's my fault, the boy said. I shouldn't have said what I said. Now you'll never get married!

You only said the truth, right?

Yup, Felix said.

I think she's a little crazy.

I think she's nice. I want you to marry her!

Me too, Leonard said, surprising himself. How about we find out what Cathars are?

Felix nodded and poured sesame sauce on a grasshopper leg.

The navigator watch didn't have as many options as the screen Brazen Head. Leonard chose the window shopper, then
pressed Speak to Me and asked, What is a Cathar? The window shopper smashed fancy store windows, grabbed shiny infofiles and hid them in his overcoat, then deposited them in front of the Brazen Head, which looked at them disdainfully and said:

“Catharism, also known as Albigensianism, was a medieval Christian sect that flourished in Languedoc and northern Italy in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Considered heretical by the Catholic Church, the sect was all but obliterated by the Crusades and Inquisition; a remnant found refuge in our Great Land, where they now form a small but powerful faction. According to Catharism's dualistic beliefs, an evil material world stands in possibly eternal opposition to a good, spiritual world. Personally, the Brazen Head believes the Cathars to have been influenced by Manichean dualism, though the Head recognizes that in holding this belief it bucks all manner of scholarly tide. Later, alligator!”

The Head stuck a finger in his ear, wiggled it about, and removed it to find, on its tip, a little woman, who was chased off the edge of the watch face by a black-robed man with an ax.

Not terribly illuminating, Leonard said.

It's the demons, Felix said. Don't you see? The evil material world standing in possibly eternal opposition to a good, spiritual world. He's talking about Grandfather's demons!

Leonard hoped Isaac would call with a Plan B, so he dragged his grandfather's settee back into the no-longer-white room and spent the night there. Carol wasn't back from her book group, so
Felix, who didn't love being alone in the dark, slept in Leonard's room with Medusa.

Leonard wished he could get in touch with Milione. Mill was a man of the world: he would know how to woo Sally, or whatever her name was; he could explain what Leonard had done wrong.

But Isaac didn't call, and neither did Mill. There would be no Plan B, no romantic assistance.

Realizing that Carol might be gone awhile, Leonard decided he needed to conserve cash, so the next morning, he packed a portable lunch consisting of jujuberries, some bridies, and cold revolutionary stew. He didn't have any lucre himself, having given half his salary to Carol, always, for his board, and half to the pizza-greeter ministry. Now he wished he'd kept some: he wanted to buy a fancy sash or a swatch-cut for his afro.

We need to bring Sally a present, Felix said. So she'll like us again.

Her name isn't Sally, Leonard said.

Yes it is, Felix said.

He seemed very certain about this.

I'm not sure she ever did like us, Leonard said. She was just doing her job.

I'm sure she liked you, Felix said. Before she pushed you. What can we give her?

I've never given a girl a present, Leonard said. What do you think?

She likes books so probably she likes drawings. That book of hers had drawings. I could give her a drawing. What about a drawing of the demon world from Grandfather's story?

Whatever, Leonard said. Sally probably wouldn't even be at
the library, and if she was, she'd refuse to be their Book Guide. He'd had one chance to find a wife and he'd bungled it! Still, Isaac had said the library, so after Leonard had supervised exactly five minutes of awesome karate kicks, they again went to the caravan. When the Service Desk assigned them to Dora, Leonard gathered his courage and said, We really enjoyed our conversation yesterday with Sally. In fact, we weren't quite done when our time was up.

This isn't our policy, the Service Desk said, so Leonard said, The young chap has a gift for Miss Sally, and Felix obligingly waved the demon picture. His sweetest little-boy smile did not soften the heart of the Service Desk, so Leonard said, Dora will be fine, but first the young 'un has to go to the restroom.

I don't, though, Felix said.

Yes you do, Leonard said, and they slipped off, first toward the restroom, then following the path from the day before, through the talking-books room, past the scriptorium, down the aqua hallway, past the scholar tables, till they reached the locked bubbleglass partition.

Criminy, Felix said. What now?

I guess we have some jujuberries and wait, Leonard said, but they didn't have to wait because along came a brisk someone wearing a senior librarian skirt who said, Chief Librarian Isaac said you were to pass?

That's right, Leonard said. Both of us.

Right, the senior librarian said, looking puzzled. I don't know any Chief Librarian Isaac, but he had access to my headset, and into the breathreader she blew.

Wow! Felix whispered as they continued along without her.

Between the two of them, they remembered every dark
hallway and stairwell till they reached the staircase that played marches.

Peter! Felix whispered.

Do you think she'll be happy to see us? Leonard asked.

Certainly, Felix said, but when they arrived, Library Security was there with their noise absorbers and library sticks to escort them out of the building. As Sally watched and bit her nails, Leonard's and Felix's hands were tied behind their backs and they were led exactly down the route whence they'd come, but not before Felix managed to drop his drawing of the demon world before Peter's desk.

That night as Leonard again waited on his grandfather's settee for word of Plan B, he got a call. He very nearly answered with his Neetsa Pizza script: those had been the only calls he'd ever received on a non-bleating, non-sirening phone.

It was Sally, or whatever her name was.

What do you want from me? she asked.

How did you know where to call? Leonard asked back.

The boy, he put your number on the drawing. Where did he get it?

The drawing? He made it. For you. To say he was sorry for whatever we did.

Yes, but where did he get it?

Too late, Leonard realized that he shouldn't have allowed Felix to give her part of his opus: it referred to demon stories he wasn't supposed to share.

I can't tell you, Leonard said simply, deciding that if Sally was to be his wife, he must be honest with her.

You're Baconians, aren't you? she whispered. I was wrong about you.

We're nothing, Leonard said. We don't know what Baconians are. We're not Cathars, either. I'm Pythagorean, and the boy is half Jacobin, sort of. You know, it wasn't necessary to tie his hands. You frightened him. We had to spend twenty minutes in the University Eating Establishment waiting for his health meter to normalize.

I think you'd better come down here.

Where? The library? Felix is sleeping. It's three in the morning.

Tomorrow, then. Come to the side entrance, the one with the sun on it. Be there at noon.

Will you tell me your real name?

But she was gone.

Leonard asked his screen Brazen Head what a Baconian was. He was too tired to choose an information-gathering method, so he got the stock figure of a woman checking her watch and tapping her foot in irritated boredom, then the Head appeared and said, “You're joking, right? Sounds like bacon and onion, maybe a made-up word for an unappetizing omelet? Another time, key lime.”

Maybe the girl really was crazy.

We have a second chance, Leonard advised Felix the next
morning. A third chance. We'd better look trim and act sharp.

He straightened Felix's peaked cap, wiped cinnamon bun off his cheek.

Have you been brushing your teeth since your mom left? he asked.

More or less, Felix said.

What about baths? Have you taken a bath?

I don't get dirty, Felix said. I don't like dirt, remember?

Sounds good, Leonard said. Five minutes of karate kicks, okay?

Then Leonard fossicked for lucre and packed a lunch—what was left of the skirlies, and some jujuberries. He had no primary-colored stockings to wear, and no sashes, thick or thin, but he did find a nonpatterned tunic in a robust lavender. It would have to do.

The caravan was delayed. The Brazen Head on Leonard's navigator watch explained that this was because of explosions the night before in three Business District eateries—a Neetsa Pizza, a Heraclitan Grill, and a Whiggery Piggery. Some of the roads had become impassable. The culprits had cleverly disassembled all the neighborhood webcams, so their identity was not known. Heraclitans (naturally) blamed the Pythagoreans, who blamed the monarchists, who blamed the Whigs. No one blamed the Luddites, whose machine-breaking bakers were presumed not to know about webcams. The caravan had to detour around the Business District—already Leonard and Felix were late.

They hurried through the University Walking Grounds, Leonard holding Felix's hand because he could see fights breaking out between pizza greeters and flamethrowers, royal pages and neo-Maoists. It was well after 12:30 by the time they arrived
at the Library and found, in the back, an entrance on which someone had painted a crude yellow sun with spiky orange rays.

Sally wasn't there, she wasn't anywhere. Leonard wanted to cry.

We'll wait, he said.

She'll come, Felix said, and they leaned against the door, chewing on jujuberries.

Suddenly the door opened behind them and they tumbled into a dark hallway.

Shh! It was Peter. Quickly, he said.

Now that Peter was out from behind his desk, Leonard could see that he was terribly short, no taller than Felix, which is to say, about half Leonard's height. He wore layers of checked suede—shirt, waistcoat, jacket—and walked, quickly, with a gnarly cane.

You should have come on time, he muttered. Miss Sally will be displeased.

As they walked swiftly down yet more dark hallways and up and around various dark stairwells, Leonard, still holding Felix's hand, took the opportunity to think about Sally. Now that he was to see her again, now that she had asked to see them, it seemed safe to contemplate her perfections. There was the matter of her waterfall curls and headbeads, her uniquely stylish garb, and the mystery of her name. Leonard hadn't realized how much he liked mystery in a woman! Because he was still in essence if not in employment a Pythagorean, he took a moment also to consider her proportions—she wasn't wanting there, either! Her legs were just the right length vis-à-vis her arms, and her torso, and her cute freckled nose. There was also the alien quality of her obsessions, and the way his arm tingled when she shook his hand. Yes, Leonard concluded as they approached the wooden revolving door, Sally, Baconian or no, Sally or no, was perfection.

To move through the wooden revolving door, Peter first had to shift a standing sign that read,
Closed for Renovations
. At which point Leonard realized that the
Priceless Manuscripts
sign had been replaced by a crooked, hand-printed banner that read
Archive of Severely Damaged, Unreadable, Out-of-Date Caravan Directories
.

There's a new Chief Librarian, Peter mumbled. An Isaac Someone-or-other. No one's seen him, but Miss Sally wishes to take precautions.

Felix tugged at Leonard's outback jacket, but Leonard took his hand and squeezed it. Once inside the Precious Manuscripts parlor, he was surprised to see the room outfitted as if in preparation for a siege. Someone had brought in a small refrigerator and a hot plate and a tea service for eight, in addition to a crate of apples, a bag of dried grasshopper legs, and a large store of peanut-butter jam squares.

Someone has to be here at all times, Sally explained from behind the desk. Her hair was pulled back severely and contained in sparkling fishnet. She wasn't wearing freckledot makeup; Leonard could see now that she didn't need it.

Let's go in, she said, accepting antiseptic gloves from Peter as they entered the small room to the side. Inside, there was a cot, on the ground next to which someone had placed a torchlight and some books. Sally, probably, since her clutchbag was also there.