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

Did Mr. Chaim have an answer for these weighty questions? Leonard wondered, and then the phone rang — or rather, it bleated feebly, like a sick lamb.

Leonard’s training kicked in. He took a deep breath, centered himself in his body, and allowed compassion to well in his probably reincarnated though not necessarily any-the-wiser soul.

Neetsa Pizza, we make it neat, he said. How can I meet your Neetsa Pizza needs?

Isaac? a male voice said. I have been dreaming of you. You are blind, are you not?

A crank. Of course. But for once, Leonard didn’t care. He referred to his screen for guidance. There he would find caller name, country of origin, previous history of pain, photo, justice record, ideological patterns (as represented by previous fast-food choices), and socioeconomic indicators, all routed through preapproved Listener algorithms, generating an optimal client-satisfaction strategy, as well as helpful tips, hints, pointers, and clues.

Only it didn’t. Caller information instead spun about his screen, a caroming jumble of letters and numbers. Without his optimal client-satisfaction strategy, Leonard would have to wing it, something he didn’t much like doing.

Neetsa Pizza, he said. Have you tried our mouthwatering isosceles sage pizza, loved by wise men the world over? What about our heavenly spherical pizza …

Pizza? the man asked. What’s that?

Leonard hung up.

The man called back.

You are Isaac, perhaps? I see your caftan in my dreams. It tells me you are of the Hebrew faith, resident of the Languedoc region. Dead some fifty years, if I am not mistaken. What can I do for you, Messer Isaac?

A man with an accent. A mentally deficient man with a very strong accent (rather like an accent on an accent). A Client Very Much Not Like Me! This could be a Neetsa Pizza test, Leonard realized. His Mentor had told him about such things.

This is Leonard, he answered, taking special care with his enunciation. How can I meet your Neetsa Pizza needs?

You are not Isaac?

This is Leonard, Leonard said, pleased that he had made himself understood and sensing conversion opportunity in the man’s hesitation. What is your name, good sir?

My Christian name is Marco, but friends call me Milione.

Where are you, Mill? May I send you a pizza coupon?

I am in prison, as the whole world knows. What is a coupon?

Leonard hung up.

The man called back.

Don’t you have someone else to call? Leonard asked.

I have the feeling I am meant to communicate with someone named Isaac. Is he there?

Maybe you should check the number.

Number?

Click.

Mill called several times, always surprised to find Leonard. He was imprisoned in Genova, he said, which Leonard was fairly sure was in the Finger Lakes District.

Am I speaking with Messer Isaac? the man invariably asked.

It’s me, Leonard, like last time. Don’t you have something better to do?

Alas, no. I am in prison.

And innocent, of course — a man of stature and achievement, guilty of nothing more than love of country. For which “crime” he was forced to share a cell with braggarts and brigands. Did Leonard, perhaps, hold sway with the duke?

He did not.

Of one thing Leonard was certain: this man was not, as he said, a prisoner of war. More likely, a loco in a loony bin. With a phone scrambler that haywired Leonard’s screen.

Understanding this, Leonard allowed compassion to surge and well.

I would like to help you, he said. Tell me how I can help you.

Who are you, esteemed friend? Mill asked. Whom have I reached on this mystical journey, if you are not to be my deliverer?

We don’t deliver to prison, Leonard said.

You are sure you are not Isaac?

I am Leonard, of Neetsa Pizza? We talked earlier.

Leonardo of Pisa? Prince Leonardo of Pisa? Why didn’t you say this? Your Grace, I have a message for your sister.

I am just Leonard. Would you like a coupon for our uniquely delicious “thick and thin” pizza, optimally designed for loved ones who stick by you? he suggested, congratulating himself on his innovative use of the Lateral Sales Strategy.

Loved ones? You mean my father and uncle? What use have they for gifts! They got the lion’s share of the jewels, don’t forget! Mill chuckled. I am well into my fifth decade, Messer Leonardo, but still they call me little Marco, tiny Marco, eensy-weensy Marco. Have you relatives such as these?

Leonard, please. A sister, Carol. She’s older. And a grandfather, but he passed. And a nephew, Felix. I am an orphan, he added, remembering that the strategic sharing of Personal Information can create empathy bonds with callers in their fifth decade.

I too! Mill said. An orphan until the age of fifteen. Which is when my father returned. Can you imagine my astonishment? The auntie who raised me told me he was dead!

That must have made you very happy, Leonard essayed. (He would have been happy to see his father again at any age.)

My auntie taught me penmanship and Bible verses, she wanted me for the Church, but I yearned for manly things. To join my father on those dread seas, to discover new lands! I yearned for adventure! My father, seeing that I was no longer a suckling babe, claimed me for his own and brought me to Acre. Have you been to Cathay?

I don’t think so, said Leonard.

You’d know if you had. Other places of interest? The Levant, perhaps?

I haven’t traveled, Leonard said. I’m only twenty-four.

Mill exploded in mirth; his laugh was low and wheezy.

By your age, good sir, I had crossed the whole flat earth! Find yourself a ship! Nothing compares with exploration: it enlivens the senses and broadens the mind — and the women! You have never seen such women!

Women? Leonard asked, despite himself.

Women! Mill said.

Tell me, Leonard said in a small voice.

Ah, the women! Mill said, evidently remembering the women.

Please? Leonard said.

You could never imagine there were so many types of women, Mill said. Truly! Brown women — did you know there were brown women?

Never mind, Leonard said.

The women of Tun and Kain, near the Solitary Tree — now, they are lovely, Mill said. The girls of Muhelet are perhaps the world’s most beautiful; but the women of Kinsai — ah, the women of Kinsai!

It’s okay, Leonard said. I don’t need to hear any more.

The Golden King of Caichu is attended only by damsels — can you imagine? Damsels pull his chariot! The world is full of wonders, Leonardo; you must investigate!

I am not so good with women, Leonard said.

Not a problem! In the province of Kamul, men lend their wives to passing travelers. No need for pretty words: they go willingly! This is the practice in Kaindu as well, near the turquoise mountain. Now, in Tibet …

The line went dead.

Mill called back. In Tibet, he said, and again the phone went dead.

In a certain province the name of which I may not mention, he said when he called back, no honorable man may marry a virgin! To prove she is favored by the gods, she must dally with as many men as possible — only then may she marry. A perfect place for a quiet man like you. If that does not suit, there are twenty thousand women of the world living in the suburbs of Khan-balik; the Great Khan makes them available to all ambassadors. We could go there together — you as ambassador from the great land of Pisa, I representing my native Venice! I have seen a land, he whispered, where women of quality wear trousers.

Can we change the subject? Leonard asked.

It is exactly as I say! Mill said.

I’m kind of stuck here, Leonard said. I can’t go anywhere.

I apologize, dear friend. Perhaps you also are in prison?

Feels like it sometimes.