Terry Bisson - The Fifth Element

“Absolutely,” said Cornelius. “There are the Four Elements on her wrist!”

David bowed low, while Leeloo extended her thin wrist for his examination.

Meanwhile, Cornelius took Korben’s thick wrist in his two small hands and steered him toward the door.

“Thanks so much for your help, Mr… ?” “Dallas,” said Korben. “Korben Dallas. But—” Korben looked back over his shoulder. Leeloo was no longer laughing. She was watching him with sad eyes.

“Yes,” babbled the priest, “that’s fine. Thank you very much, a thousand times over!”

“Think I might call to check up on her?” Korben asked as the apartment door slid open. “You know, to see if she’s better?”

“She’s fine, really,” said Father Cornelius as he expertly hustled Korben through the door. “Don’t worry. She just needs some rest. She’s had a very long trip!”

“I know,” Korben said. “I was there when she arrived.”

He was neatly deposited in the hallway.

The door was just about to slide shut when he checked it with his hand, tripping the safety override.

“Excuse me. One other thing, Father. She said something to me a while ago and I didn’t really get it. Akta gamat?”

“Akta gamat,” repeated Cornelius, hitting the safety override. “It means ‘Never without my permission.’”

“That’s what I thought,” said Korben as the door slid shut in his face.

“Evening!” said Korben to the robot doorman.

It was a half hour later. He had taken the cab back to the garage, and he was returning to his lonely apartment halfway up the towers of the city. Not high enough for the truly clean air, but above the worst of the smell.

“Evening,” he said to his neighbor in the hallway.

“Fuck you,” said the nasty neighbor. It was what he always said to everybody.

“Thanks,” said Korben wearily. “You too.”

He slipped into his tiny apartment module.

“Meeeow!”

The cat came running and started rubbing against his leg.

“Oh, God, I forgot your food! I’m really sorry!” Korben turned and pressed a button on the wall. It was directly connected to a fast-food restaurant. “How about a nice Thai nosh to apologize? How does that sound?”

“Meow.”

The phone rang. “Hello?”

“Hey, bud,” growled Finger’s voice. “I’m waiting all day here at the garage.”

“Finger, man,” muttered Korben. “I’m sorry. Listen, the cab is fine. Purring like a cat.”

“Yeah? Well, if that’s the case why don’t you let me hear it?”

“Okay. Look,” said Korben, “I was on my way over, but I had a fare fall into my lap. You know, one of those big fares you just can’t resist?”

Finger was still suspicious. “How big?”

“About five-foot-nine,” said Korben, pulling a cigarette from his vest “Green eyes, long legs, great skin. You know? Perfect.”

He tried to light a match.

It sputtered damply and went out.

“Uh huh,” said Finger. “I see! And this perfect fare—she’s got, like, a name?”

“Yeeaaahhh,” said Korben dreamily. “Leeloo.”

“What’s she doing!?” David demanded.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

First she had walked nearly nude out of the shower.

Now she was sitting at the computer, wearing only a skimpy towel, wolfing down fried chicken.

Leeloo was surfing around the Internet so fast that the modem cable was smoking, the hard drive was whining, the chip was barking like a dog.

On the screen, data was scrolling past in a

steady stream.

“She’s learning our history!” said Cornelius. “The last five thousand years that she missed. She’s been out of circulation a while, you know!”

Both men looked over, startled, as Leeloo broke into laughter. Her laugh was a bright, musical sound, like die laughter of children, totally without malice or cruelty.

“What are you laughing about?” Cornelius asked. What could she find in the bloody history of

humanity’s last five thousand years that could be the slightest bit amusing?

“Nap Oh Leon,” said Leeloo.

“What the heck is funny about Napoleon?” David asked.

“Small!” chirped Leeloo. “So small!”

Still giggling, she tossed two more KwikChick capsules into the microwave.

The microwave scanned the capsules, clicked on the timer, and turned itself on.

“Uh, Father,” said David. “I know she’s been through a lot. But we don’t have much time. The Ultimate Evil is getting closer and closer.”

“Yes, of course,” said Cornelius.

Ding!

Leeloo opened the microwave. The capsule had expanded into a steaming plate heaped with chicken and vegetables.

She set the chicken dinner beside the computer and sat down in front of it, scrolling with one hand and eating with the other. Her appetite seemed bottomless.

“Leeloo,” Cornelius began. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but…”

He held up the broken handle she had given him.

“The case?”

Leeloo shrugged, starting on her second chicken dinner. The screen scrolled faster.

“The case with the Sacred Stones,” Father Cornelius went on. “You were supposed to have it.”

“San Agmat chay bet,” said Leeloo. “Envolet!”

“The case was stolen?”

Leeloo nodded, seemingly unperturbed. She helped herself to more chicken.

“Who in God’s name would do such a thing?” Cornelius asked, shocked.

Zorg, that’s who.

At that very moment, the galaxy’s cruelest financier was lurching crabwise across his warehouse in his best Byronic limp, musing on how to use his zillions most strategically, to the detriment of all that is wholesome and good.

For Zorg the equation was simple: whatever course of action gave the most benefit to himself and the least to humankind, was always to be preferred.

He was lost in these lofty thoughts when his most valued assistant scurried closer.

“Excuse me, sir,” said Zorg’s right arm, Right Arm. “The council is worried about the economy heating up. They wondered if it would be possible to fire five hundred thousand. I thought maybe from one of the smaller companies, where no one would notice. Like one of the cab companies.”

Zorg thought for a moment. “Fire a million.”

“But sit; five hundred thousand is all they need.”

Zorg turned slowly and eyed his assistant.

The thin scar that ran across his face was reddening. His right eyelid was beginning to flutter a sign that he was about to fly into a vicious rage.

The message dearly written on Zorg’s face was not lost on Right Arm. “A million! Fine, sir! Sorry to have disturbed you, sir!”

Meanwhile, back on the 323rd level of a middle-income racktower, in a spartan monastic apartment cubicle, Father Cornelius was talking to himself:

“Who would do such a thing? Hmmmmm…”

His young novice, David, entered the room with a bundle of clothing. Women’s clothing.

“There was this guy with a limp… and a scar,” Cornelius mused aloud. “Cameby a month ago. Said he was an art dealer… . Asked all these questions about the Sacred Stones.”

David handed the clothing to Leeloo, who was seated at the computer, still dad most fetchingly in only a towel.

“I didn’t know your size,” he apologized. “And I found this makeup box.”

“I didn’t think anything about it at the time,” continued Cornelius absentmindedly. “ What was his name? I’m so bad with names… .”

Leeloo stood up, smiling. She stripped off the towel and threw it into the corner.

Father Cornelius and David stared, transfixed.

She was nude.

Wonderfully, beautifully, perfectly nude.