Five minutes, Felix said, and for this to work, I need everyone’s absolute concentration. Watch me unwaveringly and think only pure thoughts. You ready?
The alchemist nodded.
You’re supposed to say, GO!
GO! the alchemist said, and Leonard slipped from the room.
Speaking to Roger Bacon
He went quickly to the Brazen Head room and locked himself in. He knocked some checkers off a swirly chair and sat there a moment.
He didn’t know what to do. All afternoon he’d thought about this, but he was still at a loss. If it had been anything else about which he needed information, he’d have asked the Brazen Head!
That was it! He’d ask the Brazen Head! He pressed the Speak to Me button on his navigator watch, as if the Brazen Head itself weren’t there.
How do I use the Brazen Head to talk to someone? he asked, and chose the swiftest information-gathering mechanism: a simple riffle through a filing cabinet.
Lights in the room started flashing, because his query had been flagged, Leonard supposed, but the answer came up anyway, and it was simpler than he would have thought.
What a daft question, it said. Just ask! And so Leonard did.
I want to speak to Roger Bacon through the Brazen Head. Please.
A sound like an old-fashioned dialphone came from the screens.
Brazen Head? he heard an English voice say. Brazen Head, is it you?
Time for you to save the world
It is I, Leonard said. How are you?
How am I? I am speechless! I have long been staring at your brazen face, waiting for you to speak! It is a miracle! Where shall we begin?
Listen, Roger, I can’t talk long. It is very important that you listen. Very important.
Yes, Brazen Head! I am listening.
No, I mean, you really have to listen! What I am about to say will change the course of history. You have a destiny, Roger. It is time for you to fulfill that destiny, but you must listen to me. You must listen very, very carefully.
I’m listening, Brazen Head! Speak to me! Do you wish to reveal the secrets of astrology? Optics? I have this idea for a flying machine, perhaps you can help me with that? Ships that run on steam? Exploding powder? I have so many ideas, there is so much to do!
You are not listening, Roger! It’s time for you to save the world.
Oh, Roger said. I’m listening.
You are using your secret language to write a manuscript. I know of this.
Yes, I am.
It is imperfect. It will be used by future generations for evil.
No! I am using a method of encryption that no one can know.
I know, Leonard said. The letters dance, don’t they?
Roger gasped.
You are truly a miracle, Brazen Head!
You must anchor the letters. Find a way. They must not dance. Do you understand what I am saying? The letters must not dance. This is very, very important.
I must anchor the letters.
Will you do this? They must not dance.
I can do this. Yes, I know how to do this.
You know how to do this?
I am Roger Bacon, the most marvelous mind of my age!
How will you do this?
I will use a different ink! An ink made of snails!
No, Roger. You must use a different language. Not your lingua ignota, not the language you receive from visions. Others who have visions will be able to read that language, and they will use what you write for ill. What we need is an unbreakable code. Got it?
Can you speak to the dead, O Brazen Head?
Focus, Roger. I have a message for you. Have you understood me? I may not return, so it’s very important that you listen. I will tell you one more thing, something that will make you a famous man for all eternity. You must befriend Pope Clement …
Pope who?
Clement! Guy somebody or other …
Cardinal Guy le Gros de Foulques? He is to be pope?
Roger, I need you to listen! Your Franciscans will not allow you to write. Clement will allow you to write, but only for a short while. Use the time well, but whatever you do, do not write about what you learned in Spain. If you do that, Clement will burn you at the stake and your writings, all your knowledge, will be lost forever. I guarantee it and I am the Brazen Head!
What about the optical lenses I propose to place before people’s eyes to sharpen their vision? Can you not help me with that?
Do as I say. Over and out, and Leonard ran from the room.
Sally wasn’t clapping
Leonard snuck up on the library so no one but Felix would see.
Everyone was fixed on the boy except Sally, who stood against the wall where she could watch both Felix and the door. Her eyes shot lasers at Leonard. He held his stomach with his hand as if he’d been sick and pretended not to see her.
When Felix saw Leonard he was visibly relieved.
Then Celestina said, I love you, Felix, marry me! The end!
The Baconians looked at each other.
Great dream! Leonard said. I heard it from the hall. Fit of gas, he explained for Sally’s benefit. I especially liked the middle part about the …
The castle? Felix said.
No, the other part.
The ogre who tried to steal Celestina?
Yes! Gives us a lot to think about, doesn’t it? What do you think, Stans? How about some applause for young Felix? and Leonard started clapping. The Baconians joined in, confusedly.
Sally wasn’t clapping.
Where were you? she asked, when the rest had gone downstairs to debrief over some primrose tart. I know you weren’t in the hallway farting.
Felix giggled.
Felix made me leave the room. I make him self-conscious. He’s never told his dreams to a crowd before.
Hmm, Sally said, unconvinced.
I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier, Leonard said, about needing someone to guide the Baconians. I may be just the guy you’re looking for.
Hmm, Sally said.
Show us the part of the Voynich that you’ve translated. We’ll see if Felix can help.
This was an offer Sally couldn’t resist. She took the manuscript, which Felix had been holding to his chest, and brought it to the scholar’s desk. She untied the seven knots with which its slipcloth was fastened and removed the book, put on some silk gloves stored inside the slipcloth, and opened the book to a page toward the back, identifiable, she said, by a peculiar drawing of what looked like a woman in a bathtub.
Leonard got his first good look at the manuscript, and started: the script, while unreadable, was familiar, more familiar to him, almost, than the Leader’s Revised Alphabet, more familiar even than Screen Slanguage. It was the script his grandfather had scrawled on the walls all those years before, the script he’d always hoped Leonard could read. He understood now: his grandfather had wanted to know whether Leonard had the Special Gift! It had to be! How proud he would have been to know Felix!
Is she nude? Felix asked, referring to the woman in the bathtub.
Levitov says this drawing represents the Cathar rite of the Endura, but we …
Sally went pale. She stared at the page.
Do you see it, Felix? she whispered. Please, I know you guys aren’t telling me the truth, but tell me, Felix, please, do you see it?
Felix looked at Leonard. He nodded slightly.
Are you asking if the letters are dancing?
Sally nodded. Felix studied the page.
They’re not, Felix said. Not at all.
Sally turned some pages, more quickly than was probably good for the manuscript.
I can’t read any of it. What did you guys do? she whispered. All guile had drained from her face, and when Leonard looked into her eyes, it was only her eyes, bereft and lonely, that he saw.
He considered sticking to his original story, which was that the book had been with Felix, in plain sight, those few moments when he�
��d been out of the room, but he was finished with lying.
I can’t tell you, Sally. I’m sorry.
She dropped the manuscript and backed away from Leonard.
All this time we assumed Felix was the prophet, but it was you, wasn’t it? I’ve been such a fool! You saw right through me, didn’t you?
I’m not a prophet, Leonard said, but I do like you very much.
If they find out I can’t read this, I’ll be finished!
What do you mean?
Dwane. When I started cracking the Voynich, I put him in his place. We’ve got to get out of here, like, tonight!
At that moment, alarm whistles began to sound.
MAOISTS! someone shouted. THE NEO-MAOISTS ARE HERE!
The three ran to the window and sure enough, neo-Maoists in black climbing suits were surrounding the compound. Inside the courtyard, Latter-Day Baconians were running toward the abbey and returning with armor and arrows. A few had begun climbing the walls.
STOP! Felix shouted out the window. Don’t make me use my powers! They don’t want your stupid manuscript—they want me! Anyone moves, I’ll freeze all of you, and destroy your precious Brazen Head and burn your stupid Voynich and wreck your dumb alchemy lab and anything else I can think of!
Nobody moved.
Is she out there? Felix whispered. Can you see her?
Yes, Leonard said. I see red hair, over by the Brazen Head Enterprises sign. Let’s go. You coming, Sally?
Yes, Sally said. I guess I am.
Susheela growled
Sally grabbed her manuscript and clutchbag, and the three went quickly downstairs.
Sue & Susheela were waiting.
We don’t want to move, but we’d like to kiss the little Stan goodbye, they said.
That won’t be possible, Sally said.
One was holding a dishrag tightly in her hand. Sally was right! What if they’d tried to gag the boy!
Send him kisses, Leonard said. That will do.
Susheela growled.
What I do, it works on nonpeople too, Felix said.
Outside, they found Carol by the sign. Her climbing suit looked a bit tatty and her red afro was matted, but she looked healthy and in good spirits. Felix wrapped his arms around her middle and held on tight.
These folks are from my book group, she said, of the dozen or so neo-Maoists who had gathered round. We wanted to make sure you were okay.
Carol, this is Sally.
Carol looked Sally over.
She’ll do. I gotta go. I ordered a wagonette to take you home.
Is it safe? Leonard asked.
Of course. Casseroles in the freezer. Love you, jujuberry!
She kissed Felix and was off.
As their wagonette pulled away, the Baconians shot a few halfhearted arrows after them.
They’re just trying to prove a point, Sally said.
A point, Felix said. Get it?
I’m sorry about everything, Leonard said.
No, Sally said, I’m sorry.
I really do like you, Leonard said.
Me too, said Sally.
Is your name really Sally?
Of course it is.
You have to learn to trust each other, the driver said, handing back a few of his business cards (Elphadot, Senior Medium, Acme Medium Emporium). You pretended to be something you were not, he said, looking back at Leonard, while you pretended to have feelings you didn’t have, he said, looking back at Sally.
Watch the road! Sally said.
I have a message for someone named Leonard?
That would be me, Leonard said.
A blind guy told me to tell you, You did good, boychik. I knew you were a good egg. Does that make sense to you, because it sure don’t make sense to me.
Leonard smiled.
INTERLUDE
BOYCHIK AGAIN
Hero!
A person could excuse Leonard for smiling. He’d done a good job—Isaac had said so!—and now he was sitting with two of the three people he loved most in the world. Sally, moreover, had no place to go, no choice but to be with him, which was good, because if she had a choice, she might choose otherwise. Life was good, and Leonard was a hero. He’d done things he’d never imagined doing—he’d come up with plans, he’d defeated an entire Baconian empire, sort of. He’d changed the course of history—again! Twice in two days, almost! Only a short while ago, he’d been Just Leonard, who never left his White Room, who solved all problems with conversion scripts and preapproved Listener algorithms. Just Leonard, too shy to be a pizza greeter, living by his wits now! A leader of men!
Exultant, Leonard watched the flowering trees speed by as the wagonette made its way through a dusky residential district, full of shoebox houses painted blue and green, Failsafe Guards posted outside the gates, some of them snoozing, which made Leonard smile all the more. They would return to Leonard’s garage apartment, he’d give Sally the no-longer-white room for her exclusive use until they were married, as long as she promised not to paint over Felix’s drawings on the walls … Oh, joy! The sun seemed to agree, sending cheerful pink rays over the Industrial District, as it sunk behind spiraling smokestacks and liveried lorries. He wondered whether Sally knew how to cook.
Speaking of which, his true love was hiccupping! How adorable was that? Before he knew what he was doing, he put his arm around her and dared to look in her eyes.
She was fighting back tears; Felix was already squeezing her hand.
What is it, Sally? he asked.
She didn’t answer; she only shook her head.
Leonard felt like such a fool. Of course: good fortune was his only because Sally had lost hers! Her Special Gift, her friends, her job, her safehouse—all gone! Felix had understood, but Leonard—Leonard had thought only of himself! How lowly was that? Lowly as a worm! Leonard was no better than a worm! What did he have to offer Sally? No wealth, no position. Nothing! Less than nothing! He didn’t have a job, or any notion where to find one. He was responsible for a seven-year-old boy who no longer went to school, his sister was a renegade neo-Maoist wanted by the police, their home might not even be safe!
The sky was no longer rosy, it was streaked with gray. They seemed to be on the edge of the Business District, but it was smoky, and darkening, and hard to see.
Your home isn’t safe, the wagonette driver said, pulling over to the curb. My wagonette oath does not permit me to deliver you there. Besides, you haven’t the lucre to pay me.
Simultaneously, the three dug into their pockets. Among them they only had three coins.
I’ll leave you here, then, shall I? the wagonette driver said, releasing the airlocks. Around them, the dusk-laden street was lit only by roving beams from unmanned fire towers. Leonard rolled down his soundproof window and heard, from not far away, the distinctive zing-hiss-boom of pocket rockets. And shouting. Lots of shouting.
What’s going on? Sally asked as Leonard grasped her hand, but she was addressing Elphadot, the driver.
More of the same, he said. You’ll want to avoid Main Street. And most of the side streets.
You can’t just leave us here! Leonard said.
The police are at your house, he said, but they’ll be too busy to bother with you here. Just avoid Main Street, like I said. And most of the side streets. Lucre, please?
The three handed over what was left of their cash, and as the wagonette reversed direction and sped off, Sally pulled a small round of material from her clutchbag, then pressed what appeared to Leonard to be a pumpswitch. The material expanded into a hat—a very stylish hat with a wide brim and cherry blossom–jujuberry motif. Placed on Sally’s head, it illuminated a twenty-foot radius.
Stan the man! Felix exclaimed.
It’s a personal collapsible beacon, beta version, based on Baconian optics, Sally said proudly. She took it off to show Felix, and they were in darkness again. It works only on my head!
Light, please, Leonard said, feeling jealous of the bond Sally and Fe
lix were forming. At his expense, he assumed, though he couldn’t say how.
Sally put the hat back on and they found themselves in a Business District none of them recognized. While the side street they stood on was quiet, at the intersection a quarter verst ahead they could see one building reduced to a smoking titanium frame, while another, to its left, was fully aflame. As they crept forward, Sally’s hat illuminated bands of Heraclitan flamethrowers running through the intersection, chased by monarchist jousters on horseback and—could it be?—off-key singing waiters from the Dada Dinner Diner. Soda jerks from the Strawberry Parfait were shouting insults and trying to trip the horses. The street was cluttered with abandoned torches, eatery leaflets, and broken glass; neighborhood webcams and Hello! lamps had been wrenched from their Everything’s-Okay poles. It smelled—not just of smoldering buildings but of burning pizza, blackened bacon, charred grillsteak, and blistering jujuberries. The musicians had wisely stayed away, but amid the exploding rockets and shattering glass and clattering of horses’ hooves, they could hear, faintly, as if from an old-fashioned discograph, a tinny rendition of the “Internationale.” In Chinese.
Mother! Felix whispered, and Leonard grabbed him.
No running off, Leonard said. And no shouting.
I think it would be prudent if we put the hat away, Sally whispered, and again they were in darkness. Shall we sidle to the side and make a plan?
A plan? Leonard was good at that! He would choose for himself a role that allowed him to be brave—brave but not foolhardy. He would protect Sally from danger—well, not immediate danger, but imminent danger, probable danger … But just then, alarm whistles sounded, audible even over the din, and a dozen neo-Maoists, visible in silhouette against the flames and identifiable by their dust caps, ran through the distant intersection, pursued by police. One slightly built Maoist tripped on a fallen neighborhood webcam. As her jaw hit the cobbles, her dust cap flew off. A policeman was immediately upon her, beating her backside with his justice stick. She curled to her left in the classic defensive position, and they could see … Was it? A red afro?
A Highly Unlikely Scenario, or a Neetsa Pizza Employee's Guide to Saving the World Page 11
