And Other Stories (8 page)

“You already declared
war,” I said. “Someone’s already hurt. But you’re right. If we
continue like this, things’ll only get worse.”

Steeljack grinned.

I said, “So maybe I should fly you
to the top of Kilimanjaro or Mount Everest. Got a pref?”

Steeljack sneered. “I’d get back.
One way or another.”

“Yeah,” I said. “So
maybe I should drop you in the middle of the ocean.”

“Hah,” said
Steeljack. His hand became a knife that he pointed at me. I stared
at it. He returned his hand to flesh, but continued to point at me.
“You pacifist pussies don’t scare me.”

“Pacifist pussies,”
Chiller repeated with pleased respect.

“It’s a problem,” I
admitted. “Wanda?”

“Meow.” She strolled
down the steps, waving to Chiller and Steeljack like a cat
stretching its claws. “People like you must’ve gone through some
horrible things to turn out like you did.”

Steeljack touched his chest with
both hands. “Oh, no. Poor little misunderstood me.” He and Chiller
snickered. Steeljack said, “Keep your pity.”

“Pity? Nah. No pity
here.” Wanda smiled. “A telepath following you around, digging into
your thoughts, could learn a lot. Things that everyone would know.
Things that’d be waiting around school for you, written on
blackboards and in washrooms. Think about it.”

Chiller swallowed. “That’s
blackmail.”

Chris nodded. “Give the man a
prize.”

Steeljack said, “I thought
telepaths could only read surface thoughts.”

Wanda smiled. “Want to test
that?”

Steeljack looked at each of us.
After a moment, he shook his head.

Chris said, “By this afternoon, we
want to hear you’ve met with a counselor and confessed. Got
it?”

Chiller shivered. Steeljack said
quietly, “Okay.” They began to walk by.

I said, “Oh, something you should
know.” I pulled a masker ID out of my jacket. “Guess who registered
today?” I held the card out so they could see my photo, my name and
address, and the name typed in as my masquerader ID. Steeljack and
Chiller looked at it, then at me, and walked away shaking their
heads.

Chris said, “You think therapy will
do them any good?”

Wanda stared at
him. “Who cares? They’ll
hate
it.”

•

Jason grinned when he saw me
hovering outside his hospital window, pressing my masker card
against the glass. In my skull, I heard Wanda’s whisper. “He says
you didn’t need to skip school to tell him. He heard it on the
radio, Gaylaxian.”

“That’s not why I
skipped school.”

I stayed by the window. Wanda said,
“I wish I could give you two some privacy. But then you couldn’t
communicate.”

I said, “Yes, we can.” I blew Jason
a kiss, and then I did a triple back-flip in the air. I didn’t need
to hear his laugh to know how it sounded.

The People
Who Owned the Bible

Will Shetterly

It was time for another Mickey
Mouse Copyright Extension to keep Disney's star property out of the
public domain. Somebody's nephew had a bright idea. Instead of
telling Congress to add the standard twenty years to the length of
copyright, why not go for the big time? Extend copyright by 500
years.

Somebody's niece added a smarter
reason: A 500 year extension would let Disney track down
Shakespeare's heirs and buy all rights to the Bard. No matter how
much the heirs wanted, the deal would pay for itself in no time.
Every school that ever wanted to perform or study Shakespeare would
have to send a check to Disney. Every newspaper or magazine or
radio show that wanted to quote the Bard would have to send one,
too. So Disney asked, and Congress gave, and the World Intellectual
Property Organization followed Congress's example. Disney paid off
Shakespeare's heirs, then used the Shakespeare profits to buy all
rights from the heirs of Dumas, Dickens, Twain, Mary Shelley, Jane
Austen, Bram Stoker and more. Once most of the films in every other
studio's library were subject to Disney's copyright, they went
bankrupt or became divisions of Disney.

And everyone was content, except
for the storytellers who had to buy a Disney license or prove that
their work owed nothing to the last 500 years of
literature.

Then Jimmy Joe Jenkins's DNA proved
he was the primary descendent of the translators of the King James
Version of the Bible. At first, Jimmy was satisfied with ten
percent of the price of every KJV sold and 10 percent of every
collection plate passed by any church that used the KJV. But when
some churches switched to newer translations, Jimmy sicced his
lawyers on all translations based on the KJV. That got him a cut of
every Bible and every Christian service in English. Some
translators claimed their work was based on older versions and
should therefore be exempt, but none of them could afford to fight
Jimmy in court.

So the churches grumbled and paid
Jimmy his tithe, except for the Mormons, Christian Scientists,
Seventh Day Adventists, Quakers, and Unitarian Universalists. Jimmy
said their teachings hurt the commercial value of his property and
refused to let them use the Bible. All of those groups dissolved,
except for the Unitarian Universalists, who didn't notice a
change.

Then Jimmy took out all of the
parts of the Bible that criticized rich people. Most of the
surviving major churches didn't notice that. But they did complain
when Jimmy changed the traditional translations of Yusuf and Miryam
to Jimmy Joe and Lulabelle, the name of his pretty new
wife.

But when his Lulabelle ran off with
a Bible salesman, Jimmy retired to one of his mansions and refused
to let anyone print any more Bibles or use the Bible in any way
that raised money.

The surviving churches sent
delegates to Disney, begging them to get Congress to shorten the
copyright period to put the KJV back in the public domain. But
Disney had picked up the rights to a Restoration revenge tragedy
that looked like a great vehicle for Britney Spears, so they made a
counteroffer.

Congress extended copyright for an
additional two thousand years, and the WIPO followed their example.
Jimmy had to pay every dollar he had made to the Catholic Church,
because the KJV was based on St. Jerome's Vulgate version. In order
to use the Bible, all Protestants became Catholic. Disney bought
the copyrights and trademarks for Robin Hood, King Arthur, and the
Arabian Nights.

And everyone was content, except
for the storytellers who had to buy a Disney license or prove that
their work owed nothing to the last two thousand years of myth and
folklore.

Then Spike Greenbaum's DNA proved
she was the primary descendent of Jesus or his brother James. Spike
agreed to let Catholics use their Bible after the Pope married her
to her girlfriend. Then she said that since Catholic priests could
be married or celibate for the first thousand years, and then had
to be celibate for the next thousand, all priests should be married
to at least one other person. And since Jesus had told his
followers to sell their goods and give their money to the poor,
every expensive thing owned by the Church had to be given up for
AIDS research.

Catholics grumbled, but they took
some satisfaction when the courts ruled that the Qur'an was a
derivative work, and Spike would not let Saudi Arabia use it until
they ruled that women could drive cars and men could
not.

The Pope briefly considered
recreating the church of Mithra, which would let his people keep
worshipping on Sundays and celebrating a virgin birth on December
25th. But his wives pointed out that Rome's Mithra Cult fell within
the current period of copyright, and the primary heir was a charter
member of NAMBLA who was preparing legal action against Spike for
the rights to the Bible. So the Catholics sent delegates to Disney,
begging them to shorten the copyright period to put Jesus's words
in the public domain.

But Disney had just picked up the
rights to the Satyricon, which looked like a great vehicle for
Ashton Kutcher, so they made a counteroffer.

Congress extended copyright an
additional twenty-five hundred years. Spike Greenbaum owed every
dollar she had made to Israel, because St. Jerome's translation was
based on Hebrew sacred texts. To use the Bible, all Catholics
became Jewish, and Disney bought the rights to the Iliad and the
Odyssey.

And everyone was content, except
for the storytellers who had to buy a Disney license or prove that
their work did not owe anything to any story that had ever been
part of human civilization.

Then Kurosh Jadali's DNA proved he
was the primary descendent of Zarathushtra, whose teachings about
monotheism had been adopted by the Jews during the Babylonian
Captivity. Kurosh said that since Zoroaster had taught religious
tolerance, he would be glad to let the Jews use their sacred texts.
In return, he only wanted a thousand Euros for each Torah that was
published and three-fourths of any money that flowed through a
synagogue. When the rabbis grumbled, Kurosh asked if they were
communists who didn't respect intellectual property.

So all of the branches of Judaism
sent delegates to Disney, begging them to roll back the period of
copyright so that Zarathushtra's teachings would be in the public
domain. But Disney had picked up the rights to the Epic of
Gilgamesh, which looked like a great vehicle for Jim Carrey, so
they made a counteroffer.

Congress extended copyright for an
additional hundred thousand years. Kurosh Jadali had to give all
his money to the United Nations, since everyone's DNA proved they
were the descendants of the first people to tell stories about
gods. Disney bought the rights to a story that had been painted on
a wall about some people with some animals that they thought would
be a great vehicle for Mel Gibson.

And everyone was content, except
for the storytellers who had to buy a Disney license or prove that
their work did not owe anything to any story that had characters
doing anything.

Until one day a woman came into the
Disney offices and said thanks to the extension of the period of
copyright law, patent law had been extended, too. And since her DNA
proved that she was the primary descendent of the first person who
cast shadows on a wall and told stories about them, she would like
to speak to the C.E.O. about every movie and television show that
Disney had thought it owned.

Kasim's
Haj

Will Shetterly

Years ago, I read a version of this
story online. The writer guessed it might be from the 1001 Nights,
but it doesn't feel like a story Scheherazade would
tell.

•

Haroun al-Rashid, caliph of
Baghdad, dreamt that he was at the gates of paradise and heard a
voice: "What would you like to know, Haroun al-Rashid?"

He wanted to know if he would enter
paradise when he died, but it seemed rude to ask for himself. Since
he had just made his pilgrimage to Mecca, he asked, "Which of the
pilgrims who made the Haj this year will enter
paradise?"

"Only one."

"And who is that most favored and
deserving one?"

"Kasim of Ismail
Street."

The caliph woke. He disguised
himself as a man of modest means and went into his city. The hour
was early. No one stirred. When he came to Ismail Street, only one
window in a tiny shop had its shutters open. By the light of a
small lamp, an old man in old clothes was sewing a new sole onto an
old shoe. Haroun al-Rashid asked, "Do you know where I would go to
find Kasim of Ismail Street?"

The shoemaker said, "Oh, my friend,
I am very sorry that I cannot tell you where to go to find a man by
that name."

Haroun al-Rashid sighed in
disappointment.

The shoemaker added, "The only man
I know by that name you have already found."

Haroun al-Rashid stared at him. How
could this be? The shoemaker was too old to make the Haj alone and
too poor to make the Haj with helpers. Haroun al-Rashid asked, "Did
you make the Haj this year?"

"No," said the shoemaker. "I have
not had that honor."

"I am sorry to have troubled you,"
said Haroun al-Rashid, wondering how his dream had sent him so
wrong.

"I planned to make the Haj this
year," the shoemaker said. "I saved a penny every week for forty
years to make the Haj. And I thought I had saved enough coins at
last."

"But you hadn't?" Haroun al-Rashid
asked.

"Oh, I had," said the shoemaker.
"But on the coldest day of winter, my wife said she would like to
eat camel meat. We had not eaten anything but water and rice for
several weeks, and she was pregnant."

"So you bought so much camel meat
you couldn't make the Haj?" Haroun al-Rashid asked.

"Oh, no," said the shoemaker. "I
told my wife we could not afford meat. But then our house began
filling with the smell of camel stew. The smell came from our
neighbor's house. We could not escape it."

"And then you went to buy meat?"
asked Haroun al-Rashid.