Рафаэль Лафферти - The Best of R. A. Lafferty

The setting and sole scene of Pettifoggers of Philadelphia is that same luxurious den of Aurelian Bentley’s, first placed under court seal, but then opened for a meeting which, as one of the parties to it stated, could not validly be held anywhere else. A probate judge was present, and pettifoggers representing several of the parties, and two of the parties themselves. It was a hearing on the disposition of the estate of Aurelian Bentley, of what might be left of that estate, he having died without having made a will. But one of the parties, Clarinda Calliope, insisted that Bentley had made a will, that the will was in this particular room and no other, that the will in fact was this room and the eared and tongued walls of it.

There seemed to be several meetings in this room superimposed on one another, and they cannot be sorted out. To sort them out would have been to destroy their effect, however, for they achieved syntheses of their several aspects and became the true meeting that never really took place but which contained all the other meetings in one theatrical unity.

The pettifogger of a second cousin once removed was there to present the claim of that distant person, as next in kin, to the estate of Aurelian Bentley.

The pettifogger of Adeline Addams of Newport was there to present the claim of Adeline to the estate, claims based on an irrefutable promise . This irrefutable promise was the marriage license for Aurelian Bentley and Adeline Addams. It was not signed or witnessed, of course. The marriage, the pettifogger said, had been scheduled to take place on a certain night after the presentation of an opera, that was contained in a television drama, that was contained in a riddle. But Aurelian Bentley had been killed during that opera, which voided the prospect of marriage, but he did not void the promise.

There were pettifoggers there for the different creditors. And all the pettifoggers were from Philadelphia.

And there was Clarinda Calliope representing herself (as Portia, she insisted, and not as a pettifogger), and she claimed rights by a promise too big and too intricate to be put on paper.

There was the probate judge of the private hearing who ambled around the luxurious den flipping a silver dollar in the air and humming the McGinty’s Saloon Waltz .

“Oh, stop flipping that silly silver dollar and get on with the matter of the probate,” Miss Adeline Addams complained to that nitwit judge.

“The silver dollar is the matter of the probate,” the judge said. “The dollar is important. It is the soul and body of what this is all about.”

The piles of paper began to accumulate on the tables there. There were the documents and attestations of the distant next of kin, of Adeline Addams, and of the creditors in their severality. And not one scrap of paper did Clarinda Calliope put forward.

“Enough, enough,” said the judge after the flood of paper had narrowed down to a trickle. “Stop the paper,” but he didn’t stop flipping that silver dollar or humming that McGinty’s Saloon Waltz . “All a-sea that’s going a-sea, Miss Calliope, it is time you laid a little evidence on the table if you are to be a party to these hearings.”

“My evidence is too large and too living to lay on the table,” Clarinda said. “But listen, and perhaps look. Due to the magic of the selenium ‘slow response’ principle, and to the walls of this very room being wired parallel to the receiver in this room, we may be able to bring to you a veritable reconstruction of past words and avowals and persons.”

And pretty soon the voice of the once-in-a-century man began, ghostly at first, and then gradually taking on flesh.

“Oh, Aurelian!” Adeline Addams squealed. “Where are you?”

“He is here present, in this room where he spent so many wonderful hours with me,” Clarinda said. “All right, Aurie baby, talk a little bit clearer and start materializing.”

“All these things I will give you, Clarie,” came the voice of Aurelian Bentley, and Bentley was there in shadow form of himself. “No one else would give you so much. No one else would ever care so much … trust me, Clarie.”

Aurelian Bentley was standing there solidly now. It was a three-dimensional projection or re-creation of him, coming into focus from all the eared and eyed and remembering walls of the room that was wired in parallel to the television receiver. Aurelian stood in the midst of them there in his own luxurious den.

“Clarie, I will do handsomely by you … a million dollars, my love, and I will give it to you.” Oh, these were startling and convincing words coming from the living ghost there! “I swear to you, Clarie … I will buy any island or group of islands in the Pacific Ocean for you … Hawaii, Samoa, Fiji. Name it and it’s yours.”

What man ever made such tall promises and with such obvious sincerity?

“Not on paper, not on air, Clarie, but in real life. I will make you the real and living queen.”

If they will not listen to one risen from the dead, whom will they listen to?

“Clarie, believe me, believe me, believe me! I will do all things for you. I promise it.” How are you going to top something like that?

“I leave you … my kingdom, ah, estate, Clarie. My word is good for that.”

It was all in the bag, and the drawstring was being tightened on the bag.

“I hereby attest that … my estate … belongs to you. Let the eared walls of this room be witnesses to what I say, Clarie. If the walls of this room will swear to it, then surely they will be believed.”

The image of Aurelian Bentley disappeared, and his sound was extinguished with a sharp snipping sound. Adeline Addams was putting a scissors back into her handbag.

“I’ve meant to find out what that wire there was for several times,” she said. “That sort of shuts it all off when the wire is cut, doesn’t it?”

“Here, here, you are guilty of destroying my evidence,” Clarinda Calliope said. “You can go to prison for that! You can burn in fire for that!”

A sudden flaming hay wagon with a wild woman driving it rushed into the room and seemed about to destroy everyone in the room. Everyone cringed from it except Clarinda and the probate judge. The flaming hay wagon did crash into all the people of the room, but it did them no damage. It was only a scene from one of the earlier plays. You didn’t think that Clarinda had only one circuit in that room, did you? But several of the persons were shaken by the threat.

“Good show,” said the probate judge. “I guess it wins, what there is left to win.”

“No, no,” Adeline cried. “You can’t give her the estate ?”

“What’s left of it, sure,” said the judge, still flipping the silver dollar.

“It isn’t the principle either,” said Clarinda, “it’s the dollar.” She plucked the silver dollar out of the air as the probate judge was still flipping it.

“This is the entire residue of the estate, isn’t it?” she asked to be sure.

“Right, Calliope, right,” the judge said. “That’s all that was left of it.”

He continued to flip an invisible coin into the air, and he whistled the last, sad bars of the McGinty’s Saloon Waltz .

“Anybody know where a good actress can get a job?” Clarinda asked. “Going rates, two dollars a day per role.” She swept out of the room with head and spirits high. She was a consummate actress.

The other persons fade out into indistinct sounds and indistinct shadows on the old kerosene-powered television receiver.

The prospects of retrieval and revival of the first and greatest of all television series, The Wonderful World of Aurelian Bentley, recorded and produced in the year 1873, is in grave danger.