Terry Bisson - The Fifth Element

From the window, the Thai cook looked on with professional concern. He was holding the remains of the dessert. It was a special delicacy made with live squid, honey still in the bees, and sweetened jellyfish excrement.

“You no like the dessert?”

Korben gave a weak thumbs up, “I just ate it too fast,” he said. “I guess.”

The phone rang.

Korben picked it up. “Hello?”

“You are the nastiest dirtbag I know in this stinking city!”

“Hi, Ma,” said Korben.

He held the receiver a few inches from his ear. “I’ve been playing twice a week for twenty years! Twenty years I’ve been eating those shitty croquettes!”

Korben crossed the room and found a cigarette. “You wouldn’t even eat one to help your poor mother, and you win the big prize? Know something? The whole thing makes me sick!”

“I can relate, Ma,” said Korben, even though he had no idea what she was talking about.

He searched the pockets of his vest for a match. Meanwhile, at the window, the Thai Fly By was starting to clean up.

Korben covered the receiver. “Go ahead. This could take a while.”

“I leave it here,” said the cook. “Go ahead, take your time.”

He put the dessert on the windowsill and cast off with a wave.

The dessert was still moving. From inside the crust, Korben could hear tiny screams,

“Are you still listening, you ingrate?”

“Yes, Ma,” said Korben, sitting down at his table. “Other than that, you all right?”

He tried a match.

No luck.

“And now you’re making fun of me. Pm warning you!”

Korben tried the second match.

It lit.

“If you don’t take me after all those years of sacrifice, I’ll never forgive you!”

“Ma, what are you talking about?”

“I get it. You want to make me beg, is that it?” “All I want is an explanation,” Korben said. “I just got in, I lost my job, I smashed my cab. I got mugged, but other than that everything’s peachy, Ma. Thanks for asking. Now settle down and explain to me what you are talking about. Ooow!” The forgotten second match burned Korben’s hand.

He dropped it and it went out.

“You just won a trip, you dolt! Ten days in Fhloston Paradise for two!”

“Ma, if I had won, I would know about it. Someone would have notified me.”

“Meow.”

The cat was looking at the message tube. The “incoming” light was blinking.

Korben took out his last match. One more try.

“They’ve been blaring out your name on the radio for the last hour, blockhead!”

Korben looked at the message waiting in the tube. He was just about to reach for it when—

BBRRRIHNNGGG!

The doorbell rang.

Korben put his last match back in the matchbox.

“Ma, it’s the door. Wait a second…”

He clicked HOLD and turned on the hallway security monitor.

He saw a familiar face. Too familiar.

He clicked the phone back on. “Mother, I’ll call you back.”

He opened the door.

“Nice apartment, Major,” said General Munro, entering without waiting to be invited in.

Behind him was a woman in uniform. A sort of a woman. All she needed to be a man was a moustache.

“Looks like you’ve settled into a wonderful life since leaving the service,” said Munro. “Except I hear you’ve lost your job.”

Korben’s arms were folded. “I’ll find another one.”

“Don’t bother,” said Munro. “We have a job for you.”

“Nice to see you’re still thinking of me,” said Korben.

“More than ever,” said Munro. He snapped his fingers and the female officer opened a file and handed him a sheet of paper.

“Major Korben Dallas,” Munro read in his best clipped and pressed military tones. “You have just been selected for a mission of the utmost importance.”

“What mission?”

“To save the world,” said Munro.

“I was afraid of that,” said Korben. “I think I’ve heard this song before.”

Munro ignored him. “You are to leave immediately for Fhloston Paradise. Retrieve four stones from the Diva Plavalaguna. And bring them back with the utmost discretion possible.”

Munro handed the paper back to the female officer, who put it back into the file.

“Any questions?”

“Just one,” said Korben. “Why me? I’m retired, six months already. Remember?”

“Three reasons,” said General Munro. “One— as a member of the Elite Special Forces unit of the United Federation armed forces, you are an expert in the use of all weapons and spacecraft needed for this mission.

“Two—of all the members of your unit you were the most decorated.”

Korben remained unconvinced. “And the third one?”

“You’re the only one left alive.”

Before Korben could respond, Munro bent over

the flashing tube and took out the incoming communication. It was two tickets wrapped in a message. “Don’t you bother to open your incoming?” “I’ve had enough good news for today,” said Korben.

“You have won the annual Gemini Croquettes contest, and a trip to Fhloston Paradise,” said Munro, without reading the message. “For two. Congratulations.”

He handed the tickets to Korben, who looked at them, and then back at the general.

“You rigged the contest?”

General Munro nodded.

“You couldn’t come up with something a little more—discreet?”

Munro shook his head. “Old tricks are the best tricks,” he said.

He stepped back and the female officer stepped forward. “Major Iceborg here will accompany you, as your wife.”

Korben was already shaking his head. “I’m not going.”

“Why not?” asked Munro.

“One reason,” said Korben. “I want to remain the only one from my unit left alive.”

The hallway was dark.

Strange insects scurried out of sight, as Leeloo and Father Cornelius searched for Korben’s apartment.

Leeloo carried the cheap flashing business card Korben had given her.

She studied each door, and then the card, with all the intensity of a child learning a new language.

Match!

She held the business card next to Korben’s nameplate on the door, and was just about to knock (a universal sign meaning ‘request entry’) when Father Cornelius stopped her hand.

She looked at him inquisitively. “Asin get let deloun omekta?”

Cornelius carefully peeled Korben’s nameplate off his apartment door.

“Your friend won the last two tickets available,” he said. “I can assure you we are not the only people with the idea of contacting him.”

He handed the nameplate to Leeloo. “Stick it on another door—down the hall.”

Korben’s doorbell rang.

“’Scuse me,” he said to General Munro and Major Iceborg.

Looking through the peephole he saw what he first thought was a fantasy, and then a vision from heaven. It was her!

Leeloo.

The most gorgeous girl in the world—at his door!

Korben started to fling the door open.

Then he remembered General Munro and Major Whatsename.

“Shit!” he muttered under his breath.

“What is it?” Munro asked, worried. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s uh…” Korben fumbled for a handy lie. How could he get rid of these two? Something told him he did not want Leeloo mized up with the military.

“It’s my wife!” he blurted out.

“You’re remarried?” Munro asked.

Iceborg looked on icily.

“No,” said Korben, “I mean, yes. I mean, soon. It’s a brand new thing. You can’t stay here!”

“Why not?” Munro asked.

“She hates everything in a uniform,” said Korben. “If she sees you guys here, it’s all over.