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

I don’t wanna go home! You can’t make me !

It’s not going to work, Sally said. Abulafia, it’s not going to work.

All turned toward Sally. Abulafia put down his bag.

What do you mean? the mystic said. Of course it’s going to work — and he raised his arms over his head. I am the Messiah, moshiach , the anointed one, descendant of David, messenger of peace! I will share holy signs and wonders with the pope and he shall see ! The End of Days shall be upon us! Glory, glory! Only I need my aleph, if you don’t mind — and he extended a hand to Leonard.

No, Sally said. Don’t you see? If you bring on the End of Days, how can you explain our being here?

You are sent here to annoy me. By Isaac the Blind, who doesn’t want me sharing secrets with the pope, this I already know. He is jealous. GIVE ME MY ALEPH! PLEASE! Do not make me send you to the land of frozen things!

No, Sally said, you’re not thinking. Where do we come from?

You come from an undiscovered land, this I already know.

Yes, but when? What time do we come from?

Abulafia leaned against a low table and scrutinized Sally.

Can you rephrase the question?

We come from the future, Leonard said.

Stuff and nonsense, Abulafia said, though he didn’t look so sure.

It’s true, Sally said. Far, far in the future. More than seven hundred years.

Fiddle-dee-dee, Abulafia said, looking from Sally to Leonard and back again, waiting for one of them to concede the joke. You are serious?

Utterly, they said in unison.

You must prove this thing to me.

Leonard and Sally looked at each other.

The navigator watch, that can only be from the future, right? Leonard said, inching toward the watch on the table.

I am willing to believe, he said, shifting a step or two to his left so he could stand between Leonard and the watch, that undiscovered nations produce wonders in our very day that are unknown to me.

Ask Felix, Sally said. You know he doesn’t lie.

Yes, Leonard said, ask Felix. Felix, you must tell Abulafia the absolute truth.

Yes, Felix said. We come from the future. Can I show my uncle a trick?

All the air seemed to escape Abulafia’s arms and legs. He lowered himself to the floor and slumped over his long limbs, hopelessly tangled.

If you come from the future, he said softly, his head in his hands, then I cannot usher in the End of Days and I am not the Messiah. The world cannot end and produce a future.

He looked so dejected, he seemed to have shrunk four sizes.

And the pope will kill me, he added.

I can help, Sally said.

You cannot help, Abulafia said, so deflated his forehead almost touched his toes. I will go — I must, or too many will lose their faith. But he will definitely kill me.

I can help, Sally said. If you follow my instructions, I can guarantee your safety.

Abulafia shook his head.

There can be no helping me. Who am I if I am not the Messiah, moshiach , anointed one, descendant of David, messenger of peace? What is my purpose if not to bring on the End of Days? Be quiet, I must meditate on this.

He straightened his back and closed his eyes. Leonard had never seen anyone sit quite so stilly before.

Sally and Leonard looked at each other.

He can sit like that a long time, Felix said.

Really?

Felix nodded.

Sally approached him.

Mr. Abulafia? she shouted into his ear. Mr. Abulafia? I can help you!

That won’t help, Felix said.

Mr. Abulafia! Time is running out! You need to listen!

Sally prodded the master’s shoulder. He swayed but did not attend.

You’ve seen this before? Leonard asked Felix.

Felix nodded.

How long does it last? What brings him out of it?

Felix shrugged and looked at his toes.

You know, don’t you?

It’s embarrassing.

Embarrassing? Leonard asked. How can you be embarrassed with us? We love you more than anyone anywhere, except your mother, right?

Just yesterday, your uncle here ran through ancient Rome in crayon-colored sleeping togs. All the girls tittered, but he wasn’t embarrassed, were you, Leonard?

I’m not sure they tittered, exactly.

They tittered! Sally said, and Felix giggled.

Just this afternoon, Leonard said, Sally here, who has to be the bravest girl ever, got scared of a man covered in wheat flour. She thought he was a ghost!

Felix smiled. Sally glared.

You weren’t embarrassed, were you, Sally? Not in front of me, right?

Sally considered this.

No, she said, I wasn’t.

Why are you afraid of ghosts? Felix asked.

It’s complicated, Sally said.

Felix waited.

The kids at school, Sally said, they used to make me sit on the municipal compost heap till after dark, then they scared me with white sheets. I was very little.

Didn’t you have an uncle to take care of you?

No, Sally said. I didn’t have anyone. Not anyone. I would have nightmares but no one noticed.

No one? Felix asked.

My parents, well, they were busy, she said, and maybe her voice faltered.

Leonard squeezed Sally’s hand; she squeezed it back.

So what is it? Leonard asked Felix. No embarrassment. What makes Abulafia wake up?

He wakes up when I tell him stories, Felix said. He likes to hear about Princess Celeste.

The Princess Celeste

Felix said storytelling always worked better on Leonard’s knee, so Leonard sat on a wooden bench and Felix climbed onto his lap.

Abba says Celeste is really the Shekhina, and the compost heap is the unredeemed material world, Felix explained.

Ah! Leonard said, squeezing Felix.

You start, Felix said.

Me? Leonard asked.

Yes, Felix said. The stories are better when you tell them.

Oh, Leonard said. Okay.

He looked at Sally, who waited attentively.

Who should our story be about today? Leonard asked. And Felix said, A beautiful princess named Celeste! and Leonard said, Oh, and where does Celeste live? and Felix said, In a great wooded land surrounded by beasties! and Leonard said, Beasties, oh my! and Felix, his pale cheeks pinkening, said, They’re terrible! They like to dump little boys onto the municipal compost heap! And on it went.

Abulafia opened his eyes.

What happens next? he said.

Sally’s plan

I have a plan for you, Mr. Abulafia, Sally said.

I’m listening, Abulafia said glumly. Neither his meditation nor Felix’s story had improved his spirits.

First you must give us the watch, Sally said.

Abulafia looked at her blankly.

The demon in the reliquary, Leonard explained.

Abulafia nodded listlessly. Leonard took the watch from the low table and strapped it to his wrist. It was still cold, and on its face Dwane’s head was frozen and covered with hoarfrost, though the icicles on his chin had started to drip. Leonard pressed the Go to Sleep button to silence Dwane, but the button seemed to have frozen — once defrosted, Dwane might say anything! Leonard nodded to Sally in a way that suggested urgency.

How many days before the birthday of the world? she asked Abulafia.

Five, Abulafia said.

Good number! Leonard said, approving.

But you’re leaving today, correct?

Correct. The plan was to convert the pope and be back in time for the Sabbath.

Does your plan still matter now that you know the world will not end?

Of course it matters! A Jewish pope? We would all be safe then.

Okay, Sally said. Well, the birthday of the world must be a powerful time.

Naturally, Abulafia said. Rosh Hashanah is the Day of Remembrance, the Day of Judgment, the day on which we are inscribed in the Book of Life, when our holy shofar cracks open the heart, and the Gates of Heaven.