Celestina, Felix murmured.
Outside the door, Leonard could hear the sound of scratching pens.
Flapjacks!
Leonard awoke to the sound of someone shouting, Five minutes! He looked outside and saw most of the Baconians in a walled courtyard, doubled over and breathing hard in their gray exercise suits. Sally was facing them, holding a stopwatch. Again she was wearing a waterfall of curls and headbeads, though no freckledot makeup.
Anybody get anything? she shouted.
Everyone looked around, then shook their heads no.
Not bad for a first try, she said. Shall we go again?
A few nodded halfheartedly.
Remember, she said, we’re thinking of demons, okay? Go!
Everyone started kicking the air, in poor imitation of Felix’s karate kicks.
At the far end of the courtyard, behind the kicking Baconians, was a stone archway that Leonard supposed fronted the abbey. On either side of the abbey were turrets—why hadn’t he noticed them before?—and in each turret he could just make out a man, in armor? And there, in front of the archway, a small group of monks—they seemed to be talking to a flock of pigeons!
Felix had arrived by his side.
They’re all crazy, Leonard said.
They found a bathroom, where Leonard made Felix temporarily borrow someone’s toothbrush. Then he watched as Felix washed his face and pits, then took the scrubcloth and washed behind Felix’s ears. They went downstairs and found Sue & Susheela in the stoveroom, the only Baconians, it seemed, exempt from that morning’s calisthenics. Leonard realized they were wearing the same skirts and aprons they’d worn the day before; the same smiles too.
Good morning, Stan and little boy, they said in unison. Would you like flapjacks?
Felix nodded with all possible enthusiasm.
Would you like jujuberry syrup with those or tree sap? they asked pleasantly.
You’re not like any girls I know, Leonard said, looking at them carefully as they mixed flapjack ingredients in a bowl.
That’s because we’re not real, Sue said.
I’m surprised you didn’t know, said Susheela.
What are you, then?
Failed models of the Brazen Head. Reworked by Dwane to be stoveroom drones and screen beauties. We’re very pretty, don’t you think?
Leonard nodded, then realized they weren’t altogether there. They were stirring batter, and the batter was real, and they were pouring batter onto real flamecatchers, but tiny spaces were visible between their molecules, or whatever they were made of. It was disconcerting, in part because he’d once wanted to marry one or both. What had he been thinking?—but he didn’t have time to ponder that now.
Does the new Brazen Head work better? he asked.
It is in good working order, Sue said.
The screen version?
Of course, said Susheela, smiling. You’re not very bright, are you?
What’s this? Dwane said from the door. His face spots were inflamed and sweat had left splotches all over his exercise suit.
Flapjacks! Sue said.
Neo-Maoist spies
We’re very interested in your Brazen Head, Leonard explained when they were seated at the table. Or rather, the little chappie is.
Felix nodded, his mouth full of flapjacks.
Uh-huh, Dwane said. What about it?
Did you ever use it to talk to Roger Bacon himself?
You’re loony tunes, you know that? Dwane said. I knew it was a mistake to bring you Stans here. They’re now saying the police broke up that riot with slow gas, so I don’t think young Stan’s a prophet at all, he said, pointing at Felix, who, it had to be admitted, didn’t look like anything so much as a small, sloppy boy with crumbs on his face and jujuberry syrup staining his shirt. I think you’re both neo-Maoist spies, Dwane said.
You didn’t answer my question, Leonard said.
Do we use our Brazen Head to talk with someone who’s been dead seven hundred years? Uh, the answer to that would be no. Anything else you neo-Maoist traitor spies need to know?
Why do you have guards in your turrets? What are they guarding and who wants it?
You’re not very bright, are you? Dwane said.
I could have told you that, said Sue.
They’re guarding the manuscript, Sally said. Leonard hadn’t realized she’d entered the room. When you’re done with breakfast, we’ll meet in the library and have a chat, okay?
Abulafianism
See, I have this condition. You have it too, Sally said, looking at Felix. It’s called Abulafianism. Ever heard of it?
Leonard and Felix shook their heads.
Sally had changed out of her gray exercise suit into a very becoming orange-skin gown.
I didn’t think so. It only affects one in six-point-five million people, and most people who have it don’t even know it. You know how people with perfect pitch are able to identify the pitch of any musical note?
Leonard and Felix must have looked rather blankly at Sally.
Give any musician a C note and they can produce an A. Their ability to identify and produce pitches is relative; they just need an anchor, a point of reference. But someone with perfect pitch carries every note inside them, for them every note retains its absolute, unique identity. They don’t need a C, in other words, to produce an A.
Okay, Leonard said, a bit dazzled by the way light shone off Sally’s frock.
Abraham Abulafia was a Spanish mystic of the thirteenth century. He worked with the special characteristics of the Hebrew alphabet—the meanings and sounds and shapes and vibrations of each individual letter—combining them, being present to them. By doing so, he became a great prophet of extraordinary powers. Someone with Abulafianism has a similar relationship with letters—or, rather, with holy letters. Hebrew, for instance. For us, each letter has an identity in and of itself that goes well beyond its relative function in a word or sentence, and we sense this. You’ve felt this, right, Felix? The letters seem to dance?
Felix’s eyes were opened wide.
Yes! he whispered. You see it too?
Sally smiled. It was the first time Leonard had seen her smile, and he decided he loved her all over again.
The Top Secret part
Felix left Leonard’s lap and sat near Sally on the settee. Leonard wasn’t entirely happy about that.
What does it mean? the boy asked with a seven-year-old’s earnestness.
It means we’re special, that’s what it means.
Felix let out a huge sigh of relief. Leonard hadn’t realized that Felix was worried about this.
The next part is the Top Secret part, Sally said. You’ll have to promise not to tell.
Felix nodded enthusiastically, and this was enough for Sally: she wasn’t even looking at Leonard.
Because of this ability I’ve been able to read some of the Voynich. Don’t forget, no one before me has been able to translate even one line. Bacon used a lingua ignota to write it, a language with a wholly original alphabet and grammar inspired by his visions and mystical knowledge. Because it’s a holy tongue, I can read it—or rather I’ve learned how to go about reading it. It’s a slow process, and I’ve only just begun. The first bit I managed to read concerns your demons, she said, the ones in the drawing you made.
She paused for effect. Leonard nodded, but Sally didn’t see him.
I believe that during the Missing Years, between 1247 and 1256, Sally continued, Bacon was learning Hebrew somewhere in France or Spain when he came across some knowledge, maybe from the Kohen Brothers of Castile, about the demons of the third ether and how to use them to achieve a prophetic state—a state like the one you demonstrated yesterday. The Kohen Brothers were the first to introduce full-scale Gnostic imagery to Jewish mystic symbolism, though elements were certainly visible earlier—say, in southern France.
Leonard and Felix again looked blank, so she explained. You don’t know what Gnosticism is, right? Criminy. I’ll b
e really simple about this. It’s a dualistic belief in an unknowable good spiritual world and an evil material world—
Like the Cathars, Felix said.
Similar! Heaven only knows where they got these ideas; they probably originated in the East, maybe with the Manicheans. My guess is Bacon was so shocked by what he learned that he joined the Franciscans hoping to discipline his mind back to orthodoxy. Still, he was a scientist, so he had to record his knowledge—though not in a way others could read it. He enjoyed his life and didn’t want to die at the stake. Hence the Voynich. So now it’s your turn: time to tell me what you know.
Sally’s voice was so soft and enticing that Felix and Leonard both had their mouths open, ready to speak, before Leonard stopped himself.
Felix needs to go to the bathroom. Come on, Felix, I’ll take you.
But I don’t! Felix protested.
Kids! Leonard said, chuckling. Come on, Felix. You know what happens when you wait. He extended his hand, which Felix, reluctantly, took.
Sally was dumbfounded.
I’ll be right here, she said, needlessly, as uncle and nephew left the room.
Looking like a baby
Once they’d locked themselves in the bathroom, Leonard turned on the water.
You made me look like a baby, Felix said.
Sorry! I needed to get you out of there. I think it’s time I told you about Isaac, but quickly. Listen, and Leonard explained about Isaac’s calls.
I don’t really understand, Leonard said, except that it’s all connected: Isaac, your dream about the orchard, the clapping song, the Voynich, even Milione’s Manicheans! And we can’t tell anyone about any of it. Not even Sally.
But I like Sally!
Me too.
I want her to like us so she’ll marry you!
She’ll have to like us for who we are, Felix, because we can’t tell her anything. That includes whatever it is you did yesterday when you screamed. Isaac knows Grandpa, your great-grandfather, and Grandpa told me not to say anything, that’s what he always told me. And now there’s this thing we have to do, we have to talk to Roger Bacon—we have to stop him.
Okay, Felix said.
Sorry if I made you look like a baby.
That’s okay.
I know you’re not a baby, far from it.
Okay, Felix said.
While you’re in here, though, why don’t you go?
Okay, Felix said, and he did.
World peace and that sort of thing
Sally was waiting outside the bathroom.
I have a feeling you’re avoiding me, she said. Her orange-skin gown trembled a bit.
Never, Leonard said. The boy will speak with you, but not at this moment. There are still some things we need to understand.
Let’s take a walk, Sally said, and took their hands. Again, Leonard’s arm tingled from wrist to shoulder, though he was aware that by taking their hands, Sally had separated him from Felix. She led them down a back staircase, through a storeroom, to a back door with a song lock. She released Felix’s hand and stood in front of the lock so they couldn’t see the numbers she keyed in—the song lock played the first few bars of the Sue & Susheela theme song! Leonard was elated; if Felix and he had to leave quickly, this wouldn’t be a problem: harmonic-interval identification was a core subject at Pythagorean boot camp!
Then they were outside in that same courtyard where Leonard had seen the Baconians doing karate kicks. Leonard remembered what Sally had said that morning.
You said the guards are guarding the Voynich. So the manuscript at the library is a fake? Or did you grab it before we came here?
The one at the library is a fake. Peter made it by scrambling a few examples of the Voynich script, which is why Felix saw the letters dance.
Why do you guard it if it’s a fake?
Because they’re watching, obviously. They expect us to guard it.
Maybe you should let them uncode it. Once they realize it’s nothing, maybe they’ll leave you in peace.
They won’t leave us in peace—they’ll know it’s a fake. They may be idiots, but they’re not stupid.
Felix giggled.
Sally smiled at the boy, and Leonard realized it was a beautiful day—all gentle breezes and the like. Sally squeezed his hand and he had to do a five-second Pythagorean meditation to clear his mind.
Can you tell us more about your plans for the manuscript, Leonard asked, once you translate it?
I told you: I want to unite the Baconians and put the Cathars and other pretenders in their place.
You say you want this. Is this what the Baconians want?
I’m their leader, ever since I cracked the first line, Sally said. Dwane was the leader before, when he was progressing with the Brazen Head. The Brazen Head was a preoccupation of Roger Bacon, but not his principal preoccupation. I always said it was a waste of time. Now what I want, they want.
Once you’re reunited and the others are put in their place, what happens?
What do you mean?
Once you master the powers described in the manuscript and achieve your goal of bringing the Baconians together, what then?
I don’t know, Sally said. I suppose I’ll work on world peace, something like that.
Ah, Leonard said.
Sally led them to a picturesque bench under a blossoming pear tree.
You can climb the tree if you like, she said to Felix.
No, thanks, he said.
Sally turned from Felix, and it occurred to Leonard that she’d just tried to get rid of the boy.
It’s a big job, running the Baconians, she said. The others are slow. Lambiekins, you’re the only one who understands.
She squeezed Leonard’s hand now with both hands, causing tingles to surge past his neck straight through to the crown of his head. I need someone to help me, she said, someone like you, and Leonard could see himself becoming king of the Baconians, or at least their co-leader, here in this courtyard, near this pear tree, with Felix by his side, and Sally, dear Sally, always near him, his queen, really, only then, as he met dear Sally’s eyes, he saw it again, eyes that didn’t belong, looking out at him.
A Plan
GET OUT OF HER! he shouted. I mean it! Isaac, get your ibbur out of her!
Suddenly the world zigzagged—it shot forward and back, leaving Leonard nauseous from his toes to his afro, and Sally, who had apparently not heard him yell, saying, as if for the first time, You’re the only one who understands—and looking deep into Leonard’s eyes.
Leonard closed his eyes, so he wouldn’t have to gaze into eyes-that-weren’t-Sally’s. And discovered within himself a Plan.
The boy would like to see how the Brazen Head works, he said, when he’d reopened his eyes. Felix nodded obligingly.
I’ll tell Dwane, Sally said, taking Leonard’s other hand.
Now, Leonard said. Felix wants to see it now.
Sally looked at Leonard rather coldly.
Of course, she said, releasing his hands. Follow me, and the three went back inside.
Dwane and a few others were in the Brazen Head room. Sally explained what Felix wanted, and Dwane said, No.
You have no choice, Sally said.
He gave her a dark look and proceeded to explain the workings of the Head. The many screens made the system look more complicated than it was. Really, it was mostly automatic by now. Incomings flashed on one of the screens, and their requests for information were routed through enormous infovats. Queries about certain topics were flagged, as by now Leonard well knew. These days, all the Baconians had to do was create information-gathering scenarios to amuse their subscribers.
Like the compostmen? Felix asked.
That was mine, Dwane said. The best ones are.
In response, one of the young men sitting on a swirly chair tossed a rubber duck in Dwane’s direction.
It doesn’t look like a head, Felix observed.
The one Bacon had did, Sally said. It was made o
f brass, that’s why it’s called brazen; it took him seven years to build. He thought it would answer any question for him, but he never quite got it to talk. We find a screen head works better.
How do you use it to talk to someone? Leonard asked.
You don’t, Dwane said. Another daft question from our man Stan.
Leonard didn’t have a clue how he was going to make his plan work, but he had no choice. No choice and just one chance.
Go!
Midafternoon tea wasn’t much fun. Dwane kept giving Leonard the evil eye, and Felix couldn’t stop fidgeting, maybe because Leonard had apprised him of his plan, and Felix didn’t like telling lies. Sally sat so close to Leonard he could feel her orange-skin gown brushing beguilingly against his leg, and when he spoke she looked at him adoringly. Leonard might have liked that had he been sure it was he whom she adored and not the information she thought he had. Like about the demons, and whatever it was that allowed Felix to stop time.
After the jujuberry tea had been passed and everyone was nibbling a primrose tart, Leonard tapped Felix’s leg under the table and Felix stood and said, I’ve had another dream.
Where? Sally said. When?
Sometimes he dreams when he’s awake, Leonard explained.
It’s a good one, Felix said. Much better than the last.
What? Sally said. Tell us!
I’d like to be in the library. I’d like to be holding the manuscript. Everyone has to be there.
Okay, Sally said. Hop to, Stans! Dwane, go ask the Good Friars if they want to send a representative. Hurry!
Everyone reassembled in the library; Leonard made sure he stood next to the door.
Is everyone here? Felix asked. If anyone’s missing, this won’t work.
Sally did a head count.
Everyone’s accounted for, she said.
I need to do my prophetic ritual first, Felix said. Who will time me?
Twenty hands shot into the air. Felix picked an alchemist standing far from the door.
A Highly Unlikely Scenario, or a Neetsa Pizza Employee's Guide to Saving the World Page 10
