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

Visit the pope on that day, then, Sally said. The Franciscans may imprison you for a few days, but you will be okay. I promise.

How do you know this?

The Birthday of the World will protect you, Sally said. I know this from the future.

Abulafia nodded.

I met many Franciscan followers of Joachim in Sicily, he said. I shall be safe with them. Then he looked up, seeming to wake from his miserable haze.

The boy must come with me. I need him.

No, Sally said.

You would keep him against his will? Leonard asked.

Of course not, Abulafia said, standing, but he wishes to stay.

Can I, Leonard? Oh, can I?

Felix, we have to go home. If we don’t go now, you’ll be here forever.

Oh, no!

Asher, you like it here, don’t you? You like the games we play and the things I show you?

Oh, yes!

You will never see me again, Felix, or your home, if you decide to stay, Leonard said.

You will never find another teacher like me, Asher. Know this for sure.

Felix, you froze the whole world, you even froze yourself!

I did?

You will learn to do even more marvelous things if you stay with me, Asher. No one will ever toss you onto a dung heap again.

Compost heap, Sally said.

Are you going back too, Sally? Felix asked.

Sally didn’t reply.

You need a teacher, Asher. Know this: For fifteen years I was tormented because I had no one to guide me. The dung heap was nothing compared to the torture I endured. I was like a blind man. I will not let this happen to you.

Leonard? I want to stay! Can’t you stay too?

Felix, your mommy needs you.

Mommy? My mommy needs me?

She was injured the night you froze the world, Leonard said. Do you remember? She needs a healer, except all the healers are frozen.

Felix began to cry.

You are lying! You must prove this thing, Abulafia challenged.

If I can prove this thing, and the boy wishes to leave, will you agree to help us return? Leonard said. I will then give back to you what you lost.

Abulafia scoffed. I will do this thing, he said, though you will not do that thing.

Leonard is an honest man! Sally said. Even when he isn’t, he is!

Leonard smiled at her gratefully and sat on the ground, pretzeling his legs in Pythagorean fashion. He looked at the watch: the hoarfrost had melted from Dwane’s head, revealing inflamed facespots. Dwane’s eyes were blinking and shifting this way and that, as if he were trying to orient himself.

Come, Felix, sit on my lap. Quickly, please. Sally, hold on to my shoulder.

Once Felix and Sally were in place, Leonard cautioned them to be absolutely still and quiet. He pulled the aleph out of his underarm pocket. It shimmered black and all colors, it hummed all music, it smelled like revolutionary stew and all possible odors, both pleasing and vile, in all possible combinations. Leonard closed his eyes, did a five-second Pythagorean meditation, then gathered his thoughts, as well as the thoughts he was about to have, and might have had, and probably would never have, and concentrated them into an absolute point, hard and sharp as a diamond, and with that diamond inscribed the word Carol into his mind’s eye, then looked deep into the depths of the aleph — and there she was!

Felix gasped. Carol as a baby, a girl, Carol playing her clarinet, getting the news about their parents, Carol watching Joseph walk away with his oboe, Carol kissing their grandfather, and Leonard, and Felix as they slept, Carol cooking her Chicken-in-Every-Pot Pie and making Felix go outside to play, Carol sneaking out of the house in her climbing suit, Carol storming the Baconian safehouse, tripping in the Business District, being beaten by a justice stick, Carol curling into the classic defensive position, being carried through a frozen world, unconscious in her wheelbarrow, lying, unmoving now, in Leonard’s bed. Unmoving, still unmoving, always unmoving …

Does the aleph ever lie? Leonard asked Abulafia.

Never, the man said.

I need to go home, Felix said, sobbing. I need to fix my mother.

Sorry, Mr. Abulafia.

Just Abulafia, please.

Sorry, Abulafia, Leonard said, and looked at the watch. Dwane was confused, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

Time for us to go, he said. Goodbye, Mr. Abulafia. Come on, guys.

I need to say goodbye to Zedekiah, Felix said.

No you don’t, Leonard started to reply, but he was interrupted by Dwane’s reedy voice:

Kill the girl! She’s a liar! She’s evil! Kill the girl! She’s a heretic! She’s evil! The boy is a false prophet. Kill the boy! Kill them both!

What is this? Abulafia said, looking left and right. He didn’t seem to understand that the voice came from the watch. Am I having a vision? What mystery is this? What am I to understand?

Ugolino! Kill the girl! Ugolino! Kill the girl! Dwane cried.

Why do you call me this, Master? Abulafia cried, addressing the ceiling. It is I, Abulafia, Your faithful servant! Is this a sign? If only I had my aleph! Master, I thought I was to be Your Messiah! Tell me, Master, how have I displeased You?

Abulafia! Dwane said in a scheming voice. Why, yes, you’ve displeased me! Kill the girl, and you will please me.

Abulafia looked stricken, paler than his usual pale.

Is she to be my Isaac? Shall a ram appear to save me from heinous murder?

Abulafia had plainly gone mad — madder than mad, even! Leonard had to do something, but what?

I do not believe you wish this of me, Master! Abulafia said, still addressing the ceiling.

I do wish this! Dwane shouted. I wish this very very much! Kill the girl! Kill the girl! And the child! And the Stan with the big hair.

No one here matches that description, Abulafia said.

Sally grabbed the watch from Leonard’s hand and shouted, Go away, Dwane! We don’t need you here, Abulafia doesn’t need you.

My name is not Dwane! Dwane shouted. Kill the girl, kill the girl! I am your master, Abulafia, I command you!

Abulafia looked at Sally rather apologetically.

The voice is unequivocal, he said.

Dwane’s face was puffed and purple from the exertion of shouting and hating.

Look! Leonard said, putting the watch in Abulafia’s face. This isn’t your master, this is a face-spotted boy named Dwane.

Abulafia looked at Dwane and gasped.

That is not my master! he murmured.

That’s what I said! Leonard said, clapping Abulafia on the back.

This is one of the demons! Abulafia said. I am the Messiah! You have been false with me! This is one of the demons I must defeat in order to bring on the End of Days. I am ready for this ultimate battle! I had thought it would be in the presence of the pope that I would do this marvelous thing, but I am ready now!

I don’t understand, Sally said.

I am a demon! Dwane shouted. Kill the girl! Kill the girl!

We Masters of the Name, Abulafia said, use demonic ethers to attain prophetic states and transport ourselves, as well you know. The misuse of these powers by the uninitiated threatens the tender balance between good and evil in our world — your blind rabbi has dedicated himself to preserving that balance, precisely so that the Messiah — so that I —can defeat the forces of evil when the time is right. And the time is right, it is now! If the world were not about to end, I’d point you to Rabbi Isaac ben Yakov Ha-Kohen, who has written of this most eloquently in his Treatise on the Left Emanation . Please excuse me, gentlemen and lady, I must prepare myself for the final struggle … and Abulafia started toward the door.

Don’t forget to kill the girl! Dwane shouted.

Wait! Leonard shouted after Abulafia. First let this thing prove itself to be who he says he is. What is your name, demon? Leonard challenged. And you can’t ask the Brazen Head.