The R a Lafferty Fantastic Megapack

by R. A. Lafferty

  You will immediately see the beauty of this skeleton, and yet to flesh it would not be the work of an ordinary man.

  He glanced over it with the sure smile of complete confidence. Then he spoke softly to the master of ceremonies in a whisper with a rumble that could be heard throughout the hall.

  “I am here. I will begin. There is no need for any further introduction.”

  For the next three and a half hours he held that intelligent audience completely spellbound, enchanted. They followed, or seemed to follow, his lightning flashes of metaphor illumining the craggy chasms of his vasty subjects.

  They thrilled to the magnetic power of his voice, urbane yet untamed, with its polyglot phrasing and its bare touch of accent so strange as to be baffling; ancient, surely, and yet from a land beyond the Pale. And they quivered with interior pleasure at the glorious unfolding in climax after climax of these before only half-glimpsed vistas.

  Here was a world of mystery revealed in all its wildness, and it obeyed and stood still, and he named its name. The nebula and the conch lay down together, and the ultra-galaxies equated themselves with the zeta mesons. Like a rich householder, he brought from his store treasures old and new, and nothing like them had ever been seen or heard before.

  * * * *

  At one point Professor Timiryaseff cried out in bafflement and incomprehension, and Doctor Ergodic Eimer buried his face in his hands, for even these most erudite men could not glimpse all the shattering profundity revealed by the fantastic speaker.

  And when it was over they were limp and delighted that so much had been made known to them. They had the crown without the cross, and the odd little genius had filled them with a rich glow.

  The rest was perfunctory, commendations and testimonials from all the great men. The trophy, heavy and rich but not flashy, worth the lifetime salary of a professor of mathematics, was accepted almost carelessly. And then the cup was passed quietly, which is to say the tall cool glasses went around as the men still lingered and talked with hushed pleasure.

  “Gin,” said the astonishing orator. “It is the drink of bums and impoverished scholars, and I am both. Yes, anything at all with it.”

  Then he spoke to Maecenas, who was at his side, the patron who was footing the bill for all this gracious extravagance.

  “The check I have never cashed, having been much in movement since I have received it. And as to me it is a large amount, though perhaps not to others, and as you yourself have signed it, I wonder if you could cash it for me now.”

  “At once,” said Maecenas, “at once. Ten minutes and we shall have the sum here. Ah, you have endorsed it with a formula! Who but Professor Aloys Foulcault-Oeg could be so droll? Look, he has endorsed it with a formula!”

  “Look, look! Let us copy! Why, this is marvelous! It takes us even beyond his great speech of tonight. The implications of it!”

  “Oh, the implications!” they said as they copied it off, and the implications rang in their heads like bells of the future.

  Now it had suddenly become very late, and the elated little man with the gold and gemmed trophy under one arm and the packet of bank notes in his pocket disappeared as by magic.

  * * * *

  Professor Aloys Foulcault-Oeg was not seen again; or, if seen, he was not known, for hardly anyone would have known his face. In fact, when he had painfully released the bonds by which he had been tied in the little room behind the cloak room, and removed the shackles from his ankles, he did not pause at all, but slipped into his greatcoat and ran out into the night. Not for many blocks did he even remove the gag from his mouth, not realizing in his confusion what it was that obstructed his speech and breathing. But when he got it out, it was a pleasant relief.

  A kind gentleman took him in hand, the second to do so that night. He was bundled into a kind of taxi and driven to a mysterious quarter called Wreckville. And deep inside a secret building he was given a bath and a bowl of hot soup. And later he gathered with others at a festive board.

  Here Willy McGilly was king. As he worked his way into his cups with the gold trophy in front of him, he expounded and elucidated.

  “I was wonderful. I held them in the palm of my hand. Was I not wonderful, Oeg?”

  “I could not hear all, for I was on the floor of the little room. But from what I could hear, yes, you were wonderful.”

  “Only once in my life did I give a better speech. It was the same speech, but it was newer then. This was in Little Dogie, New Mexico, and I was selling a snake-oil derivative whose secret I still cannot reveal. But I was good tonight and some of them cried. And now what will you do, Oeg? Do you know what we are?”

  “Moshennekov.”

  “Why, so we are.”

  “Schwindlern.”

  “The very word.”

  “Low-life con men. And the world you live on is not the one you were born on. I will join you if I may.”

  “Oeg, you have a talent for going to the core of the apple.”

  For when a man (however unlikely a man) shows real talent, then the Wreckville bunch has to recruit him. They cannot have uncontrolled talent running loose in the commonalty of mankind.

  ADAM HAD THREE BROTHERS

  Originally published in New Mexico Quarterly Review, Fall 1960.

  In the town there are many races living, each in its own enclave, some of many square miles, some of a few acres only, some of but one or two streets. Its geographers say that it has more Italians than Rome, more Irish than Dublin, more Jews than Israel, more Armenians than Yerevan.

  But this overlooks the most important race of all.

  There is the further fact (known only to the more intense geographers): it has more Rrequesenians than any town in the world. There are more than a hundred of them.

  By the vulgar the Rrequesenians are called Wrecks, and their quarter is Wreckville. And there is this that can be said of them that cannot be said of any other race on earth: Every one of them is a genius.

  These people are unique. They are not Gypsies, though they are often taken for them. They are not Semites. They are not even children of Adam.

  * * * *

  Willy McGilley, the oldest of the Wrecks (they now use Gentile names) has an old baked tablet made of straw and pressed sheep dung that is eight thousand years old and gives the true story of their origin. Adam had three brothers: Etienne, Yancy, and Rreq. Etienne and Yancy were bachelors. Rreq had a small family and all his issue have had small families; until now there are about two hundred of them in all, the most who have ever been in the world at one time. They have never intermarried with the children of Adam except once. And not being of the same recension they are not under the same curse to work for a living.

  So they do not.

  Instead they batten on the children of Adam by clever devices that are known in police court as swindles.

  Catherine O’Conneley by ordinary standards would be reckoned as the most beautiful of the Wrecks. By at least three dozen men she was considered the most beautiful girl in the world. But by Wreckian standards she was plain. Her nose was too small, only a little larger than that of ordinary women; and she was skinny as a crow, being on the slight side of a hundred and sixty. Being beautiful only by worldly standards she was reduced even more than the rest of them to living by her wits and charms.

  She was a show girl and a bar girl. She gave piano lessons and drawing lessons and tap-dancing lessons. She told fortunes and sold oriental rugs and junk jewelry, and kept company with lonely old rich men. She was able to do all these things because she was one bundle of energy.

  She had no family except a number of unmarried uncles, the six Petapolis brothers, the three Petersens, the five Calderons, the four Oskamans; and Charley O’Malley, nineteen in all.

  * * * *

  Now it w
as early morning and a lady knocked at her door.

  “The oil stock is no good. I checked and the place would be three hundred miles out to sea and three miles down. My brother says I’ve been took.”

  “Possibly your brother isn’t up on the latest developments in offshore drilling. We have the richest undeveloped field in the world and virtually no competition. I can promise we will have any number of gushers within a week. And if your brother has any money I can still let him have stock till noon today at a hundred and seventy-five dollars a share.”

  “But I only paid twenty-five a share for mine.”

  “See how fast it has gone up in only two days. What other stock rises so fast?”

  “Well all right, I’ll go tell him.”

  * * * *

  There was another knock on the door.

  “My little girl take piano lessons for six weeks and all she can play is da da da.”

  “Good. It is better to learn one note thoroughly than just a little bit of all of them. She is not ready for the other notes yet. But I can tell you this: she is the most intelligent little girl I have ever seen in my life and I believe she has a positive genius for the piano. I truly believe she will blossom all at once and one of these days she will be playing complete symphonies.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I do indeed.”

  “Well then I will pay you for six more weeks, but I do wish she could play more than da da da.”

  * * * *

  There was another knock at the door.

  “Honey Bun, there was something wrong. I give you ten dollars to bet on Summertime in the first race at Marine Park; you say it’s a sure thing and fifty to one. But now I find there isn’t any such track as Marine Park and nobody ever heard of the horse. Huh, Honey Bun? What you do to your best boy friend?”

  “O, we use code names. What if all these hot tips ever got out? Summertime of course was Long Day and Marine Park was Jamaica. And he only lost by about six noses. Wasn’t that good for a fifty to one? And now I have an even better tip. It’s so hot I can’t even tell you the name of the horse, but I feel sure that twenty would get you a thousand.”

  “All the time I give you money but never I win yet, Honey Bun. Now you give a little kiss and we talk about another bet.”

  “I had surely thought our attachment was on a higher plane.”

  “Words, Honey Bun, always words. But you give, um, um, um, that’s good. Now I bet again, but I bet I better win someday.”

  * * * *

  There was another knock on the door.

  “How come you let my brother-in-law in on a good thing and never tell me? For a hundred he’ll have two hundred and fifty in a week, and you never tell me, and I’m your friend and never persecute you when you don’t pay your bill.”

  So she had to give her caller the same deal she had given his brother-in-law.

  * * * *

  After that she went out to take the game out of her traps. She had set and baited them some days before. She had gone to see five hundred people, which took quite a while even for one with her excess of energy. And to each she said this:

  “I have just discovered that I have an infallible gift of picking winners. Now I want you to give it a test. Here is a sure winner I have picked. I ask you bet it, not with me, not with one of my uncles, but with a bookie of your own choice. I prefer not to know with whom you bet.”

  Of the five hundred there were a hundred and forty-four winners, very good. So the next day she went to the hundred and forty-four with even more assurance and offered them the same proposition again. And of the hundred and forty-four there were fifty-six winners. Very good, for she really could pick them.

  To these fifty-six she went the third day and offered them the third sure bet free. And incredibly of the fifty-six there were nineteen winners.

  This was repeated the next day, and of the nineteen there were seven winners.

  Now she went to talk money. The seven lucky clients could not deny that she indeed had the gift of picking winners. She had given them all four straight in four days and her secret should surely be worth money. Besides, they had all let their bets ride and they had won a lot, an average of more than six hundred dollars.

  But she would give no more free tips. She would only sell her complete and exclusive secret for a thousand dollars. And she collected from six of them. The seventh was Mazuma O’Shaunessey.

  “I have given you four straight winners, but I cannot give you any more free tips. We will now talk cold turkey.”

  “O, put it in a basket, Katie.”

  “Why, what do you mean, sir?”

  “I learned it in my cradle. The Inverted Pyramid. You tapped five hundred, and you got besides me how many? Five?”

  “Six besides you, seven in all.”

  “Very good. You pick them nice for a little girl. But isn’t that a lot of work for no more than a hatful of money?”

  “Six thousand dollars is a large hatful. And there is always one smart alec like you who knows it all.”

  “Now Kate dear, let’s look at it this way. I can really pick all the winners, not seven straights in five hundred, but all five hundred if I wished.”

  “O hah, you can’t fool this little-goose.”

  “O, I could prove it easily enough, but that’s showy and I hate to be a show-off. So I suggest that you take my word for it and share my secret with me and give up this penny ante stuff.”

  “And all you want for your sure thing secret is five thousand dollars or so?”

  “Why Kate, I don’t want your money. I have so much that it’s a burden to me. I only want to marry you.”

  * * * *

  She looked at him and she was not sure. O, not about marrying him, he was nice enough. She was not sure, she had never been sure, that he was a Wreck.

  “Are you?”

  “Why Kate, does one Wreck have to ask another that question?”

  “I guess not. I’ll go ask my uncles what they think. This is something of a decision.”

  She went to see all her bachelor uncles and asked them what they knew about Mazuma O’Shaunessey.

  He was known to all of them.

  “He is a competent boy, Kate,” said Demetrio Petapolis. “If I do not miscount I once came out a little short on a deal with him. He knows the Virginia City Version, he knows the old Seven-Three-Three, he can do the Professor and His Dog, and the Little Audrey. And he seems to be quite rich. But is he?”

  He meant, not is he rich, but—is he a Wreck?

  “Does one Wreck have to ask another that question?” said Kate.

  “No, I guess not.”

  * * * *

  Hodl Oskanian knew him too.

  “That boy is real cute. It seems in the last deal I had with him he came out a little ahead. It seems that in every deal I have with him he comes out a little ahead. He knows the Denver Deal and the Chicago Cut. He does the Little Old Lady and the Blue Hat. He knows the Silver Lining and the Doghouse and the Double Doghouse. And he seems quite likeable. But is he?”

  He meant, not was he likeable, but—was he a Wreck?

  “Cannot one Wreck always tell another?” said Kate loftily.

  * * * *

  Lars Petersen knew Mazuma too.

  “He is a klog pog. He knows the Oslo Puds and the Copenhagen Streg. He knows the Farmer’s Wife and the Little Black Dog. He can do the Seventy-Three and the Supper Club. And he runs more tricks with the Sleepy River than anyone I ever saw, and has three different versions of the Raft and four of Down the Smoke Stack. And all the officers on the bilk squad give him half their pay every week to invest for them. He seems quite smart. But is he?”

  He meant, not was he smart, but—is he a Wreck?


  “Should one have to ask?” said Kate haughtily.

  * * * *

  Her uncle Charley O’Malley also thought well of Mazuma. “I am not sure but that at last count he was a raol or so ahead of me. He knows the Blue Eyed Drover and the Black Cow. He can do the Brandy Snifter with the best of them, and he isn’t bashful with the Snake Doctor. He does a neat variation of the Bottom of the Barrel. He can work the Yellow Glove and the Glastonburry Giveaway. And he seems affable and urbane. But is he?”

  He meant, not was he affable and urbane (he was), but—is he a Wreck? Ah, that was the question.

  “How can you even ask?” said Kate.

  * * * *

  So they were married and began one of the famous love affairs of the century. It went on for four years and each day brought new high adventure. They purged for the good of his soul a Dayton industrialist of an excessive sum of cash and thus restored his proper sense of values and taught him that money isn’t everything. They toured the world in gracious fashion and took no more than their ample due for their comfortable maintenance. They relaxed the grip of tight-fisted Frenchmen and retaught them the stern virtues of poverty. They enforced an austere regime of abstinence and hard work on heretofore over-wealthy and over-weight German burghers and possibly restored their health and prolonged their lives. They had special stainless steel buckets made to bury their money in, and these they scattered in many countries and several continents. And they had as much fun as it is allowed mortals to have.

  One pleasant afternoon Mazuma O’Shaunessey was in jail in a little town in Scotland. The jailer was gloomy and suspicious and not given to joking.