Rachel Cantor - A Highly Unlikely Scenario, or a Neetsa Pizza Employee's Guide to Saving the World

He’d not had much of a chance to examine Felix’s drawings, which were vivid and engaging. The ugly guy over there, now that he thought about it, had to be the demon Kafkaphony with his two wives, because the two women were fighting with drawn swords — and there, in separate sandboxes, were leprous babies and babes with two heads. And that guy, standing over by the goats that looked like people, had to be Kafsephony, surrounded by infants who jumped about the ether.

Hey, Sally said, standing and looking more intently at the demon pictures, is that what I think it is?

Leonard jumped up, but he wasn’t listening, for on the next wall, in front of a stand of fruit-bearing trees — the orchard of Felix’s dream, of his grandfather’s stories, it had to be — blocking the view of the two Bens, the other one, and the rabbi who were about to enter, was a marvelous drawing, clearly in Felix’s hand, of Leonard’s grandfather! Whom Felix had never met, whom he had never even seen in a pictograph. The figure was waving his arms, madly.

As in, literally: his arms were moving, right there on the no-longer-white wall; he was trying to get Leonard’s attention!

Grandfather! Leonard shouted. Isaac! Talk to me! How do we get Felix back? How do we keep Carol from the police?

Leonard? What is it? Are you okay? Sally asked.

Don’t you see? Leonard asked, pointing at the wall.

Boychik, she don’t see it.

You don’t see it! he said. It’s Isaac, he’s waving. He’s talking! From the wall!

Don’t worry about her, boychik. I need you to listen good. You did very very good with the Baconians.

Sally tugged on Leonard’s caftan. Who’s Isaac? The new Chief Librarian? Is this one of your tricks?

Shh, Leonard whispered. Go check Felix. I’ll tell you later.

She left the room, reluctantly, looking at Leonard over her shoulder.

Felix is okay, boychik, but you have to get him, I am sorry for this. There is no other way.

Get him? Now?

Leonard turned to leave the room and saw the shadow of Sally, hiding behind the door.

No, boychik. I don’t mean from the other room, I mean from the other century.

We’re listening

Boychik, I need you to listen good. Felix is with a very good, very important man. This man is taking care of him, but I need you to bring him home.

An important man? Another century? What is he doing there? Where is Felix!

Listen, you don’t know this man. He is Abulafia.

Abulafia? Spanish mystic? Worked with Hebrew letters?

Yes, I forget. The girl.

Abulafia? said Sally from behind the door.

Isaac! What is Felix doing in the thirteenth century! Where is he?!

Not to worry about it. I had to send him, or his brain explode. He is too young for this, boychik. Nothing for it. He need Abulafia to control his powers. Very simple.

Sally and Felix have Abulafianism, Leonard said.

Abulafia? Sally said from behind the door.

Silly phrase, but yes, they share this Special Gift.

Sally thinks she’s lost it. She’s very sad.

Not lost, never lost. You fix the Voynich, you did good, this is very very necessary. Now I need you to listen good. Boychik!

But Leonard was behind the door, hugging Sally.

Everything’s okay, he said. You still have your Special Gift. Felix is with Abulafia, we’re going to get him!

Abulafia is dead!

Isaac knows what he’s doing.

Boychik!

WHO’S ISAAC?

Leonard led Sally by the hand back to the no-longer-white room.

Sally, meet Isaac; Isaac, Sally.

Yes yes, Isaac said. I need you to listen, Lenny.

Where is he? Sally said.

We’re listening, Leonard said.

Finally! Isaac said. So this is how it goes.

Stop kissing the girl

Isaac explained to Leonard, and Leonard to Sally: Carol and Felix would be safe in Leonard’s garage apartment until they returned; they would find and know Abulafia by unmistakable signs. Most important, to save Felix, they had to convince Abulafia not to meet Pope Nicholas till Rosh Hashanah —later was okay, but any earlier and Felix, and they for that matter, would remain in the thirteenth century forever. The current world, then, the world they knew and loved, would stay frozen until the End of Days. Only there would be no End of Days, because there would be no Messiah to bring on the End of Days, heaven forbid!

Repeat after me, Isaac said.

He wants us to repeat after him.

I can’t hear him.

You repeat after me, buttercup.

Repeat after me, Isaac said. What do you convince Abulafia of?

What do you convince Abulafia of?

What do you convince Abulafia of?

No! You are not listening!

Isaac! We are listening!

Isaac! We are listening!

Start over, Isaac said. You are such a literal boy. Answer my question: What must you do to save Felix and unfreeze the world?

We must convince Abulafia not to visit Pope Nicholas until Rosh Hashanah!

We must convince Abulafia not to visit Pope Nicholas until Rosh Hashanah!

You know what is the Rosh Hashanah, boychik?

No.

No.

We’re not repeating anymore, Leonard whispered to Sally, and then, because he couldn’t help it, he kissed her muddled forehead.

Birthday of the world, boychik. You explain this later. She will come up with the explanation that will convince Abulafia, you trust her.

Leonard kissed Sally’s forehead again.

You’re going to save us, he whispered. You’re going to figure it all out!

Sally looked very pleased with herself.

You trust her with this one thing, Isaac said, but you don’t tell her anything what we do. The time will come. She will choose her destiny, then she can know anything. Not till then.

Leonard nodded and turned to Sally. You will choose your destiny, he said. Then you can know everything.

So what will happen, boychik, if you do not do as I say?

If we don’t do as you say, we will be stuck in the thirteenth century forever and the world will never unfreeze.

Sally gasped.

Not till the End of Days, Isaac said. Only there won’t be an End of Days.

Not till the End of Days, Leonard said. Only there won’t be an End of Days.

So stop kissing the girl, boychik, and listen.

Can’t do better, a man was saying.

They were standing on wet cobblestones on a dark, narrow street, conversing with a man who wore a yellow straw hat over his pageboy haircut, and a knee-length tunic over a linen shirt and hose. On his feet were soft leather slippers that looked like they’d been turned inside out. His fingernails were indescribably dirty and he smelled like fish.

Where had Isaac landed them? The thirteenth century, presumably, but where?

No decent establishment will take ye on spec, the man added. Go elsewhere and ye’ll have to share yer chamber with indigent Frisians and Franks. Whereas I am willing to wait till ye locate florins amongst yer alleged relations here.

Leonard nodded, abstractly, trying to catch up with the conversation, which seemed to have started without him. It had rained recently; the air was steamy with moisture and already sweat was accumulating on Leonard’s forehead and back. How wise Sally had been to insist he replace his slim-fitting caftan and trousers!

Who is this, then? the man asked, pointing at Sally. Yer wife?

Sister, Leonard said, just as Sally said, Wife.

’Tis Abraham and Sarah, ’tis it? the man said, laughing at his own inexplicable wit. Not to worry, this is no uncivilized land where a man must call his wife sister to save himself from murder. No one is opportuned or misabused in my hostellery! Though I fully admit yer caution, I do, and there are other hostelleries — all of them, in fact — where’d ye’d be not so keenly looked after. Have we decided, then? Shall we go up? What has happened to yer staffs, by the bye, were they stolen along with yer scrips and yer baldrics?