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

by Rachel Cantor

  The letter seemed to float in Leonard’s hand. It was black in color, but contained all colors, just as its hum contained all music.

  Sally didn’t even look.

  Let’s get a move on, she said, and walked ahead.

  Sally not come home? Leonard’s health meter was buzzing. He closed his eyes, practiced a five-second Pythagorean meditation to calm his heart. Then he found himself drawing all his attention together and forming it into a sphere, and then into a perfect ray, and focusing it on the letter—instantly, the world around him blurred and drifted, and in the letter he saw so many things. So many it could have been all the things in the world: his mother on the day she died, fish stewing in Froga’s blandreth, pilgrims swarming a shrine, Abulafia juggling letters, a police caravan, a jujuberry bush, Sally forty years from that moment wearing a general’s round orange cap and dandling a baby on her knee, her grandson—Leonard’s grandson? His granddaughter? He blinked and saw the world as it was just then out of the corner of his eye, and the images were gone.

  His own voice

  The island just ahead was tightly encircled by grain smashers and fisher camps, and inhabited too by regular folk, which mystified Leonard and Sally, who knew that in a well-ordered society, islands belong to the Leader, lest food chains engage in battle for them. Most of the foot traffic, most of the carts, and, importantly, most of the fish were heading left, away from the island, into lanes surrounded by a mass of buildings. Leonard and Sally followed a fish cart pulled by a man who seemed to know where he was going, past some houses, a few gardens, some shops and towers.

  Look! Sally said.

  Women were walking in their direction toting small baskets of fish. The smell was unmistakable. And there, in an open square, fisherpeople! Selling all manner of fish on marble slabs balanced on the beheaded tops of ancient columns. Women crowded the fisherpeople, who shouted the unique attractions of their shad, while starveling cats braided themselves around the women’s feet, braving pointed boots in hopes of a fish head or tail. But when the fisherpeople cut off a head it went into a basket behind them, which they promptly covered. The cats remained optimistic, however: What choice had they?

  Which made Leonard think of Medusa, the neighborly cat: how she would rejoice if she were here! Medusa, who might never really know Sally …

  Signs? Sally prompted. Wonders?

  Leonard half nodded.

  I’m not sure you’re really trying, Sally said.

  What do you expect? he half shouted. You’d rather stay in this crazy place than come home with me. You don’t care one jujuberry about me!

  Wait! Sally said. What’s that? Listen!

  Everyone’s always telling me to listen! Leonard shouted. I’m tired of listening! Why doesn’t anyone ever listen to—

  Leonard was no longer shouting because Sally had covered his mouth.

  Listen, she said.

  Leonard listened. What he heard was his very own voice.

  Leonard hears his own voice

  This is what he heard:

  I WANT TO SPEAK TO ROGER BACON THROUGH THE BRAZEN HEAD PLEASE.

  Followed by a loud voice: BRAZEN HEAD? SOUNDS LIKE IDOLATRY! I SHOULD LIKE TO HARM THIS ROGER BACON, FOR EXAMPLE WITH A HEAD CRUSHER!

  Sally smacked him hard in the arm.

  That’s you talking to the Brazen Head! Wait—you spoke with Roger Bacon?

  Shh, he said.

  What did he say? Did he talk about the Voynich? What did he say?

  Sally!

  And there was Leonard’s voice again, broadcast as if through one of the Leader’s mobile shout machines: WHAT IS A CATHAR?

  CATHARS? boomed that loud voice. CATHARS BE THE VERY WORST FORM OF HERETIC! FELLOW CITIZENS, COME! JOIN ME! LET US CAPTURE SOME HERETICS! WE CAN INQUISIT THEM, THEN ALIENATE THEIR LIMBS!

  Which shout was followed by a murderous ululation—coming from just around the corner!

  Run! Sally suggested, so they did.

  Stone-bakers

  Leonard couldn’t say how they ended up there, in a dark road, where their eyes watered from noxious fumes and dust. Inside gloomy shops, one after the other, tired-looking men surrounded by bits of ancient rock tended gigantic ovens, where, it seemed, they were cooking stone.

  Stone-bakers. The world was full of wonders!

  They rested against the arcades.

  It was the navigator watch, Leonard said, still puffing. Saying back what I’d said to it. The Inquisitor has the watch.

  Obviously.

  You’re not really mad that I spoke with Roger Bacon. What did you think I did?

  Sally shook her head. She seemed close to tears.

  Maybe I’m mad that it never occurred to me, okay? I should have thought of that!

  Leonard shrugged and realized that if Isaac’s plan was to be complete, the Brazen Head would have to shut down, or at least shut down its connection to Bacon, lest someone, maybe even Sally here, call him and reverse Leonard’s good work. This saddened him.

  You didn’t think of it because it was too obvious. Your mind is more subtle than that.

  Sally considered this.

  Yes, she said, maybe. So what next?

  Leonard had no idea. If the navigator watch was talking to the man with the loud boots, it wouldn’t just be Leonard’s voice and interests it would share—Leonard had been cammed, so they’d also have his face, with or without his ebullient hair.

  What else had he asked the Brazen Head? Besides library hours and caravan schedules. He’d asked about Sue & Susheela. He’d asked about Milione, and Isaac. If Dwane were at the other end, he’d suspect that Sally was with him, and know that she’d asked about the pope. He also knew about Sally’s Abulafianism.

  Wait, he said, how come Dwane isn’t frozen?

  He’s not real, Sally said. He’s an early model of the Brazen Head, more successful than Sue & Susheela, but still.

  Dwane isn’t real and he wants to lead the Baconians?

  He thinks he’s real.

  I thought Dwane created Sue & Susheela.

  It’s complicated.

  Leonard’s health meter started to vibrate. Yes, Dwane knew about Leonard and Sally, but he also knew about Felix! Felix was always asking questions of the Brazen Head. If Dwane knew about Felix, then the man with the loud boots knew about Felix, and everything Felix was interested in: avoidance of compost-heap violence, the Talmud, who knows what else! If Dwane still thought Felix was a neo-Maoist traitor spy, it could be Felix the loud-booted man was after, not them!

  The navigator watch is our sign, Leonard said. The watch will lead us to Felix.

  Sally’s cheek

  They might catch us, Sally said. Who knows what Dwane’s told them.

  Leonard took her hand.

  It could be dangerous, he said. I’d understand if you didn’t come along—and he stroked her cheek.

  Uhhh, Sally said in a dreamy voice. I, uh …

  Felix is my responsibility, Leonard said. You could go find Bacon. I’d understand—and he stroked her other cheek.

  Her eyes fluttered shut; she looked like she was thinking about something very far away.

  I do care about you, she murmured. I, uh … I, uh …

  Astonished, Leonard stopped stroking her cheek; her eyes snapped open.

  Did you say something? she asked. Where are we? What are we waiting for?

  A villa in Viterbo

  They walked more or less on tiptoe, to the amusement of the stone bakers, who watched them stop every few feet or so to listen. Nothing. But the fish market wasn’t far—as they crept down the lane they could smell the shad and hear the proudly hawking fisherpeople.

  Do you have anything left in your inflatable pocket? Leonard whispered as they arrived at the corner of the market.

  I have my house ID scrambler, Sally said. I didn’t lose that.

  Keep it handy, Leonard said. Hear anything?

  They strained their eardrums for sounds of Leonard, or Dwane, bu
t heard only tumult around the corner, and then the man with the very loud voice:

  WHERE BE THE MISCREANTS WHO DOTH READ THE HERETICAL TALMUD TOME? I SHOULD LIKE TO HARM THEM, FOR EXAMPLE, WITH A BRANK!

  Leonard and Sally peeked their heads around the corner. An enormous man with spiked boots and a broad back and a very clean tunic was leaning over a marble stone, shouting at a fisherperson, who was plainly flummoxed.

  COME, MADAM, I SHALL NOT HARM THEE, UNLESS IT BE THEE WHO CONCEALETH THE BOY WITH THE EBULLIENT HAIR! SPEAK, MADAM! TELL UGOLINO DE BARBARUBEIS WHERE THE TALMUD READERS RESIDE, AND WHERE I MAY FIND THE BOY!!!

  When the fisherperson merely gawped, the enormous man yowled and grasped the marble stone with two colossal fists, upending it, with all its fish, into the mud. He then picked up the terrified fisherperson by the neck and, shaking her, said to the square:

  SOMEONE SHALL TELL ME WHERE THESE MISCREANTS BE OR THIS BLAMELESS FISHERPERSON SHALL DANCE IN A WELL!

  I’ll show him wells! Sally said, getting ready to fly at him, but Leonard restrained her.

  The dangling fisherperson tried to speak but could only produce a choking, burbling sound.

  WHAT? THE FISHERPERSON WISHES TO SPEAK? WHAT SAY THEE? the man asked, and dropped the woman to the ground.

  I merely wished to ask, yer honor, that ye release me, I being just then about to expire.

  HAST THOU NOT HEARD ME, FISHER WENCH?—but before he could pick her up again, someone from the crowd shouted: They’re in the thee-a-ter, yer honor. I seen ’em sneakin’ in, the Jew magician and his redheaded boy.

  GOOD MAN! the man with loud boots shouted. THOU SHALT HAVE FROM ME A VILLA IN VITERBO! And off he stomped.

  Instruction from a demon

  Sally and Leonard followed the man called Ugolino, while also trying to look inconspicuous: Leonard whistled the NP theme song, while Sally feigned interest in fish. When they were well away from the fisherpeople’s market, they could hear—was it? could it be?—Dwane, advising Ugolino about … Abulafia?

  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. By doing so, he became a great prophet of extraordinary powers.

  Familiar words.

  I wrote that, Sally said, disgusted.

  We need to get the watch back, Leonard said.

  Sally nodded.

  TRIPE! Ugolino shouted at the navigator watch. I SHALL DO GREAT HARM TO THIS FALSE PROPHET, FOR EXAMPLE, WITH A FLAIL!

  As you like, they heard Dwane say, but make sure you get the girl. She’s key.

  TRIPE AND MORE TRIPE! Ugolino shouted. THE DAMSEL IS NEVER KEY!

  Still, she’s bad and I think you ought to hurt her.

  I AM ALWAYS DELICATE WITH DAMSELS. WHAT’S MORE, SHOULDST I TAKE INSTRUCTION FROM A DEMON?

  Dwane laughed.

  Never been cammed

  As Ugolino argued with Dwane, he didn’t notice Leonard and Sally trailing a block behind him. They soon arrived at a massive rounded edifice consisting of two tiers of dirty brown and white arcades plus a third, walled level up above. The theater, presumably, though Leonard could see no banners or endorsements, no certificates of amusement.

  It seemed the people of this town would turn any arcade into a makeshift marketplace: here, swarthy carcass dealers shouted the benefits of their wares and gestured with enormous bloody cutlasses, their aprons smeared with effluvia. At their feet, the inner bits of beasts were gnawed upon by shameless cats.

  Leonard had never seen anything so horrifying.

  I’m going to stop him, Sally said.

  No! Leonard said, grabbing her arm.

  He doesn’t know my face. I’ve never been cammed.

  The Head didn’t cam you?

  Why would I let the Head cam me? and she was off behind Ugolino in a flash. Ugolino was pacing before the carcass dealers, shouting something Leonard couldn’t hear. Perhaps he was trying to find a doorway large enough to accommodate his gargantuan frame, or determine where he might create one with his fist.

  Sally crept up behind him and sprayed the building with her ID scrambler.

  Ugolino, alerted by the spraying sound, stepped back, bumping into Sally, who sprawled to the ground.

  DEAR LADY PILGRIM! he exclaimed. I AM MOST HEARTILY CHAGRINED. ALLOW ME TO HELP THEE TO THY PRETTY FEET!

  Are you looking for something? she asked, once upright, slipping the ID scrambler into her clutchbag. Can I direct you to another place very far away?

  WHY, YES, PRETTY LADY PILGRIM! I HAD THOUGHT THIS TO BE THE THEATER OF MARCELLUS, FORTRESS OF THE SAVELLI, WITH ITS CURVATURED FRONT AND REINFORCED ARCADERY. HOW SADLY I AM MISTAKEN. MANIFESTLY IT IS A MUNICIPAL COMPOST HEAP VERY NEAR THE BASILICA OF ST. PETER’S!

  The thronging pilgrims should be a clue, Sally said.

  Ugolino looked around, confused.

  YES! he shouted. I’M SURE I SHALL NOTE THEM MOMENTARILY. HAST THOU SEEN THE BOY WITH THE EBULLIENT HAIR?

  He is definitely at the theater, Sally said. I saw him there myself. Causing mischief and spouting heresy. A verst down the river that-a-way, across the bridge, left at the castle fortress. You can’t miss it.

  VERY GOOD, LADY PILGRIM. CANST THOU OFFER ME A KISS TO CHEER ME ON MY WAY?

  I think you’re in a hurry.

  Ugolino nodded and was about to stomp off when his wrist cried out.

  That’s her! I hear her voice! It’s Sally! Kill her! Hurt her! Kill her!

  Ugolino turned to Sally, his confusion rapidly turning to rage. He ululated and lifted his arm as if to strike her, then crumpled mightily to the ground.

  Hoarfrost

  Leonard had smacked Ugolino’s head with a paving stone, causing much murmuring among the carcass dealers. He now grabbed Sally and commenced to shouting:

  Abulafia! Abulafia! You have to let us in! Quick! Quick! We have to talk!

  Zedekiah appeared from the shadows behind the arcade and pulled them both after him, through a door into a dank, dark hallway.

  Abulafia is going to have to take care of him now, Zedekiah said. You realize that? And maybe all of those carcass dealers!

  What do you mean? Sally asked.

  You led him here, putting us all in danger.

  He led us, actually.

  He is here because of you, and now Abulafia must attend to him.

  Meaning what? Leonard asked.

  Better not to know, Zedekiah said, then flattened himself against the wall as a freakishly tall man—or maybe a rushing spirit?—flew past them, opened the door, and touched the prostrate Ugolino with a disgusted fingertip. After muttering a few unintelligible words, the man-spirit disappeared. Into the thinnest air, taking Ugolino with him. In a moment he was back, slamming the door behind them, and again streaming past.

  He was covered in hoarfrost, Ugolino nowhere in sight.

  My Master says there are regions so cold that moving things lose their life there. They become still as statues. Even water ceases to move. I know! Most remarkable! He has brought that terrible man to such a place.

  Abulafia left Ugolino on a polar tip?

  Come this way, Zedekiah said.

  The End of Days

  What is this place? Leonard asked, as they walked down the narrow stone hallway, with its uneven floor, grooved by centuries of walking.

  In the old days it was a theater, Zedekiah said, over his shoulder.

  So I gather.

  Now it is a fortress. It belongs to the Savelli, Zedekiah said.

  Name sounds familiar, Sally said.

  No relation to Bobolo, more’s the pity. Watch your head.

  They ducked under a low-hanging lintel and walked up first one, then another flight of stairs.

  The Savelli are no friends of the Jews, Zedekiah said, but they hate the Orsini more. They know of the Master’s plan to visit the Orsini pope …

  Nicholas III, Sally said, s
topping at the top of the stairs.

  They are hoping the Master will kill him, Zedekiah said, also stopping. Or shock the pope to death with his wondrous signs, or maybe send him to a far-off world. They hope one of their own can then be elected in his place. They’ve had rather a dry spell, pope-wise. They delude themselves, of course. When the Master visits the pope, it will be to announce and, by announcing, effect the End of Days.

  The End of Days? Leonard asked.

  The End of Days! Zedekiah confirmed.

  Awesome karate kicks

  Leonard gave Sally a tender shove so she’d start walking again.

  Where’s Felix? Leonard asked.

  Young Asher is fine, Zedekiah said. How could it be otherwise? He is learning with the Master.

  Why didn’t you just tell us where he was? Why confound us with riddles? Sally asked.

  You said you were guided, Zedekiah said. It was important to know if this was true.

  Why Asher? she asked.

  The boy needed a Hebrew name. Obviously. Asher means happy, like Felix. For someone who is guided, my lady, you seem to know very little.

  You’re not speaking as you were before, Sally observed.

  Zedekiah looked at them blankly. The man was now within Abulafia’s realm, Leonard realized; the translation, somehow, came from him, not Isaac. This made Leonard uneasy: could Isaac not reach them here?

  He wished he had a plan, but he was out of plans.

  Zedekiah led them into an anteroom and motioned them to sit on some wooden benches.

  Not till I see Felix, Leonard said.

  He and the Master are studying. You have seen what the Master is capable of. Interrupt him, and he could lose concentration, and who knows where they might end up, he and the boy. Best to wait. Please, sit. No, not together!

  Leonard and Sally sat on separate benches.

  Reading material is here, if you are feeling worshipful, Zedekiah said, pointing to some leather-bound tomes with golden Hebrew writing on their covers. They looked very much like the books Leonard’s grandfather read, only newer. One, on top, was very small and featured silver cornerpieces. Leonard was about to reach for it, to see the patterns stamped on its leather exterior, when Zedekiah said, It is possible to watch the learning.