Песах Амнуэль - Zion's Fiction - A Treasury of Israeli Speculative Literature

“However, the title of Humanity’s World Champion Puzzle Solvers still belongs to the team you see before you. There is no person, or team of persons, on this planet who could do the job better or faster than they.”

Alfred unscrewed the top of his walking cane, and withdrew from it a large roll of paper. He flattened it out and showed the stunned audience the picture printed on it.

“This is the team that broke the world record,” he cried. “They are only seven years old, but their individual IQs are higher than that of any other creature on this planet.”

The three orangutans in the picture were grinning broadly. Each of them held a yellow banana in one hand and a red portable supercomputer in the other.

“We’re so glad that you’ve managed to prove your theories, and that your banishment has been revoked,” said Lily. “But it’s such a shame that you’re returning to the university. We’ll miss you very much.”

The three champions sat in the large assembly room, watching Alfred wrapping up his memory cubes and placing them carefully into a large container.

“I won’t be so far away,” said Alfred. “Just about three hours’ drive from here. And you’ll always be welcome at my new location.”

“Lily will not be available until next year,” said Tommy. “We won’t travel to New York without her.”

“But you could visit me on holidays, couldn’t you?”

“Of course,” replied Lily. “We’ve long forgiven you for what happened. We love you very much, and we’re grateful to you for, well, adopting us, in a way. Even though your motive was to snatch our puzzle away from us. You know, Alfred, you were very lucky in choosing to coach us when you moved to Cape Cass as our neighbor. What would you have done had we not won second prize last year?”

Alfred did not respond. He hugged the little girl, and tears welled up in his eyes. There was no point in revealing to them what was contained in those spinach pies that they loved so much. They would never forgive him, and the world would exorcise him for illegally experimenting on humans. Even the fact that he himself was his own guinea pig for the past thirty years, and that all his discoveries stemmed from these experiments, would not have saved him.

Iknew something was going to happen. Everybody knew something big was coming. I can still remember people walking around with that feeling. But these things, even when you expect them, they still take you by surprise. For me it was a double whammy: first Osher’s rotten stunt, and then Max’s revelation. God really kicked my ass that autumn month, you could say.

Before it all happened we were having a pretty good time. The three of us sat down on the living room couch that evening with a bag of sunflower seeds to snack on. Max was on my left, Osher on my right, and the TV opposite me. Channel 1 was showing a soccer match, Maccabi Haifa v. Beitar Jerusalem, which had the potential to be a twofer: you get to see Haifa win and Beitar lose. Expectations in the living room were high. It was one of those evenings when anything could happen, or, as everybody’s favorite sportscaster Zuhir put it: “Good evening Meir! Good evening viewers! Here in Kiryat Eliezer the tension is colossal! Sky-high!” Haifa was leading 1–0 by halftime—Beitar never saw it coming. Roso was on a roll. Every time they scored, we sang and cheered and waved our green scarves. Max had bet on Beitar, and he realized pretty quickly he was screwed. Haifa trounced them 3–0. We ordered a pizza to celebrate. The loser delivery guy got there super fast, so no free drink, which they give you if they’re ten minutes late. Max paid him, cursed, and swore it was the last time he bet me on anything. And he didn’t tip the pizza guy.

I live on pizza. I’m crazy about pizza. I’ve tried their whole new international menu. My favorite is the Tuna Crème Fraîche. I can easily finish half a large one and down a 50-ounce Coke with it. Life is good.

After the pizza, Max rolled us a joint. We went out to the balcony, passed it around, and talked about life. When we realized how late it was we went inside, emptied out the ashtrays of their cigarette butts and sunflower seed shells, washed the glasses and plates, threw the pizza box in the trash, and went to sleep.

Osher was already in bed. I hadn’t noticed when she’d left the living room. I got into bed carefully, thinking she was asleep. The last thought that went through my head before I fell asleep was: Why is Osher tossing and turning?

I got up in the morning and brushed my teeth. I walked out of the bathroom with my toothbrush in my mouth. Osher was sitting in the living room. There was an empty coffee mug on the table and a lit cigarette in her mouth. Osher doesn’t smoke. Her eyes were puffy and red, like she’d been crying or something. I realized she’d been sitting there for a long time, even though I didn’t remember her getting out of bed.

“Hey, Ido,” she said, and there was something different in her voice, like a quiet, blue sea after the storm passes. “Ido, I’m done,” she said.

“Done with what, babe?” I asked. Then I noticed there was an ashtray full of cigarette butts next to her. When had she taken up smoking?

“I don’t know, all I know is I’m done.” She sniveled, as if something was about to stream out. “It’s not you. Not at all. The opposite—you’re so gentle and sweet and considerate and everything. It’s not you. You need to understand that. It’s me.”

Osher burst out crying, with tears and everything, and couldn’t stop. I sat down next to her, my toothbrush still in my mouth. I stroked her back, at the top, near her neck, where she likes it, just to calm her, but she shifted awkwardly and said, “No, Ido, it’s over.”

“Okay, honey,” I said. “I don’t have time now, we’ll talk about it when I get home this evening.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m done.”

“Okay, babe, I have to run to work,” I said. Even though that wasn’t true and I had loads of time before my shift started. Osher knew I was lying but she didn’t say anything.

I fixed my hair in the bathroom and rinsed out my mouth. I looked in the mirror, just to make sure this was really happening to me. I threw on a sweater and grabbed my bag. I tried to kiss Osher, but she turned away. “Bye, honey,” I said. “We’ll talk this evening.” I left before she could answer and slammed the door behind me.

I took my usual route to Café Gross. The sky was grayish black and the air was still. It started raining, and everyone sped up, or ducked into a corner store until it stopped.

I didn’t give a shit. I walked down the middle of the sidewalk and felt the drops run off my hair into my sweater and inside my sweater down my spine, all the way to my ass crack, then into my pants and my shoes, wetting Osher’s Winnie-the-Pooh socks that she loved so much.

I stood outside Café Gross. It has big windows, and you can see everything going on inside. There was a couple sitting by the window, and not just any couple—they were tall and beautiful, tastefully dressed, as in a European TV commercial. They were drinking steaming hot cocoa in tall glasses, eating croissants, and laughing, snuggled up in their private paradise. Rina went over to ask if everything was all right, and the man must have told a joke or something, because they all started laughing.

The rain was getting harder. There was a pretty scary clap of thunder; lightning lit up the street and little pellets of hail started coming down. I couldn’t feel my feet. Everything suddenly seemed so unfair. There was a lump of burning anger in my stomach, which climbed up and got stuck in my diaphragm. My eyes filled with tears, as at school when the older kids used to beat me up. I wanted to fight back, but there was no one to fight with.