Neetsa Pizza, Leonard said.
Sally looked at him with wonder and new respect.
How did you know?
Golden Mean pizza?
Yes! she cried. It’s like you know me!
It’s my favorite too! Leonard said.
We can order one from a greeter on the Walking Grounds, Sally said.
No, we can’t, Felix said. He’d gone to the window, which he now opened. Sounds of mayhem exploded into the room—which is to say, shrieking, shouting, banging, clanging, more shouting, alarm whistles, and innumerable varieties of cacophonous song.
A riot, Sally said, as Leonard arrived to look over her shoulder.
Hundreds of neo-Maoists and food representatives were wrestling, throwing punches, and chasing one another around the Walking Grounds. Some carried sticks; others flaming torches. Strawberry Parfait soda jerks made rude gestures at pizza greeters, who brandished clipboards. Tapas chefs from Jack-o-Bites menaced scantily clad Whiggery Piggery barbecuties with kebab sticks. A tree in the middle of the ground was alight—the Heraclitans’ doing, no doubt. Only the Dadaists seemed uninterested in fighting: they were … yes, they were admiring a stoveroom sink propped against a jujuberry tree.
The music came from dueling musicians, established in different corners of the grounds—Leonard could make out the Heavenly Spheres rock band, some court troubadours, a suburban-peasant-worker chorale, bagpipes, and Whig fanfare, all egging their representatives on with morale-boosting melodies. Leonard couldn’t help but feel Pythagorean pride as he heard strains of the Neetsa Pizza theme song.
The police are arriving, Sally said, and she was right: it was their alarm whistles they’d heard, and they were getting louder. A police caravan screeched to a halt and dozens of police jumped off the back, justice sticks and ID spray in hand, some still wearing their Chipmunk Patrol sashes. They began spraying and beating fighters and passersby indiscriminately.
Oh, no! Felix cried. It’s Mom! MOM! he shouted in a voice so loud it set bells and sirens off in Leonard’s head, and made the room tremble—then Felix was off, running from the room, Leonard after him, Sally grabbing her clutchbag.
Code yellow! she shouted to Peter as they made for the stairs.
Don’t you hate that?
When they got outside they saw something they couldn’t possibly have imagined: everything—every person, every breeze, every insect, even the flame in the tree—had come to a stop, everything but the three of them, and what looked like Carol’s red afro escaping around a corner. A policeman’s justice stick was frozen in the air, his face a grimace, a Whig’s fist was immobilized two centimeters from a neo-Maoist kidney, and so on. Leonard stopped short, and then Sally, but Felix kept running toward the spot where he’d seen his mother. When he saw she was gone, he reluctantly returned.
What did you do? Sally asked him.
She’s alright, Leonard said, taking Felix’s hand. Your mom always is.
I want to go home, the boy whispered.
What did you do? Sally said.
It’s hard to explain, Felix said. Can we go now, Leonard?
You’ve done that before? Leonard asked.
Only once. When the kids were about to throw me onto the municipal compost heap—
Don’t you hate that? Sally said.
You too? Leonard asked.
It happens to all people of substance and quality, she explained, also taking Felix’s hand. But you can’t go home now, I’m sorry.
No, really, Leonard said, I think we should.
Did the policeman ID spray your mom?
Yes, Felix said.
Then he’ll know who she is, right? She won’t be able to go home; maybe they’ll want you guys as witnesses. You don’t want to have to admit that you saw her here, right? How long will this last?
Not sure, Felix said. Ten minutes? My health meter has to calm down first.
Let’s do what we can while we’re waiting, Sally said. Leonard, you grab the justice sticks, Felix, you bring that hose to that flaming tree, and I’ll move people out of the way of some fists. When I blow my whistle, we meet back at the shining sun, alright?
She blew her whistle once for good measure and they were off.
A Baconian safehouse
When they reassembled, Sally explained that they would have to go to a Baconian safehouse for a while, till things calmed down. She ran upstairs to leave a message for Peter, who she correctly guessed was also frozen. Which meant uncle and nephew got to watch as the rioters came back to life, slowly, as if drugged. Some swung softly at the air, falling off balance to the ground; policemen looked vaguely for their justice sticks; musicians made halfhearted tweets on their instruments; food chain representatives began groggily to stumble toward the periphery of the Walking Grounds.
It’s funny, Felix said. Like a cartoon.
Except it’s not, Leonard said. Look: some people aren’t getting up. They could be seriously hurt.
Felix hung his head.
Not to worry, little chappie, Leonard said, mussing Felix’s afro. I don’t know how you did it, but you saved your mom, and lots of other people besides. You’re a hero!
I am, aren’t I! Felix said, and Sally was back with her black leather clutchbag.
Come on, she said. The library’s about to go into lockdown. I got out just in time.
And Peter?
He’s barricaded himself with the Voynich. He’ll guard it with his life.
Sally flagged a wagonette and gave the driver complicated directions for a part of town Leonard didn’t know. The driver offered to read their palms or call up spirits of the dead, but they were tired, and low on lucre.
Another time, perhaps, Sally said politely, and took the driver’s card. All wagonette drivers were mediums, she explained. Leonard and Felix hadn’t known that: they’d never ridden in a wagonette. Dime a dozen, she whispered, but helpful in an emergency.
What’s your name? Leonard asked.
Sally looked at him blankly.
Your true name, Leonard said.
Sally, she said. You’re not much of a listener, are you?
Leonard was about to object, both to her inconsistency and her characterization of him, but already it was time to leave the wagonette.
It turned out it wasn’t possible to drive to a safehouse directly. After the wagonette, you caught a caravan, then an underground railway, then you walked a verst or two, always turning corners and doubling back and looking over your shoulder. Only then could you arrive at a house that looked just like any other house from the outside except for a sign that read:
Brazen Head Enterprises
You’re looking at the Brazen Head
Leonard had thought a safehouse would be, well, safe, with security guards and reinforced, steel-studded walls, but this looked just like a house. There was a living room with a comfortable-looking settee and padded swirly chairs and the ruins of someone’s solo-game. Posters with curling edges were taped to the walls—one of something that looked like a star system, another of an old-fashioned man named Doctor Mirabilis. The living room led to a dining room, where a half dozen young people sat around an oval table.
Is that revolutionary stew? Leonard asked before he knew what he was saying. He was hungry; he assumed Felix was too.
Who’s your neo-Maoist boyfriend? a boy with face spots asked.
We’re not Maoists, Leonard said. We’re nothing, really.
They’re Baconians, Sally said. Though they may not know it yet.
You shouldn’t bring just anyone here, the boy said, standing.
Shut up, Dwane, Sally said. Several of the others giggled.
The boy took Leonard’s picture with his navigator watch, pressed a button on the side, and examined the results.
Leonard, he said. My man Stan! Leonard is interested in caravan schedules, Cathars, Marco Polo, and some useless Stan named Isaac the Blind. Why, you’re a regular Renaissance Stan, aren’t you, Leonard? Oh, Dwane adde
d, looking more closely at his watch, as if he’d nearly missed something, Leonard has an abiding interest in Sue & Susheela. Hey, Sue & Susheela! You have a fan here in Stan the man!
From what must have been the stoveroom walked the very same, holding identical blue dish towels. Leonard blushed all the way to his shoulders.
I admire your, uh, performances, he mumbled.
He wants to know if you’re married! the boy shouted.
That’s enough, Sally said, and to Leonard’s surprise, Dwane sat down.
Pleased to meet you, Stan, Sue & Susheela said in unison. They smiled and returned to the stoveroom.
Pretty, Sally whispered, but not Dwane’s best work.
You guys have been intercepting my Brazen Head communications? Leonard asked.
You hear that? Dwane said, looking around the table for laughs. He’s wondering if we intercepted his Brazen Head communications! A couple of boys giggled.
I’m serious! Leonard said, emboldened by the presence of Sally.
Stan, you are looking at the Brazen Head!
Your inquiries got flagged, Sally said. You can understand why.
No, I can’t, actually. Look, can Felix get something to eat? Felix? Where’s Felix?
Bacon and eggs
Felix wasn’t in the dining room, or the stoveroom, or the living room.
Don’t worry, Sally said. He can’t get out. He’s here somewhere.
What do you mean he can’t get out?
It’s a safehouse, remember?
We’re locked inside?
You worry too much, Sally said.
As Leonard took the steps upstairs two by two, he realized he wasn’t sure whether he still loved Sally. There was too much he didn’t understand, like who the Baconians were, and why they hated the Cathars, and why they needed a safehouse, and why they’d monitored his Brazen Head communications, and why Isaac thought this had anything whatsoever to do with him.
This floor has the Brazen Head, see? Sally opened a door to an enormous screen room. Leonard had never seen so many screens, one on top of the other. Incoming were hundreds of faces, all unaware they were being cammed. On the floor and on folding tables were plastic toys, as if the room were a children’s playzone. And in fact, two young men sat on swirly chairs facing the screens. One played with a finger puppet, another with a handheld screen game. They looked up briefly, waved at Sally, and said no, there hadn’t been any small boys in there, not for years. Unless you counted Gideon here—at which point Gideon upended the puppeteer.
Down a long hallway were several doors, each leading to a dorm-style bedroom. Some looked more permanent, with messy bunk beds and three-layer dressers, while others appeared more recently inhabited, with collapsible cots and cardboard boxes for storage. Felix was in none of these rooms.
The library’s down there. If he’s not in there, we’ll check Alchemy and Optics.
But Felix was there, in the library, stretched out and snoring on a settee, Bacon’s Opus Majus on his belly, a small cat lying plumply on the book.
That’s Eggs, Sally said. As in—
Bacon and?
See, we do have a sense of humor, she said, though she wasn’t smiling. Let me get you something to eat.
More bacon and eggs
They brought their dinner to the library so they could keep an eye on Felix. It might not have been revolutionary stew, but it looked and tasted just like it, which made Leonard sad. Where was Carol? If the policemen caught her, would she be branded and forced to live outside the city walls? Would Felix be sent to the workhouse? What was that thing Felix had done today??
If the boys are hostile, Sally said, it’s because of the Schism—the wounds are fresh. They’re not ready to trust outsiders.
The Schism?
The Great Split. You know. No, you don’t. The Church of Bacon Scientist split from us some months ago—I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it. They’re in the process of opening a chain called Eggsperiment. It’s mortifying. They’re only interested in Bacon’s empirical work, his study of astronomy and his inventions. They call our work mystification.
Sounds like my sister, Carol. She used to say that about Pythagoreanism. So you’re interested in what, exactly?
Bacon’s work in astrology, alchemy, and new ways of seeing. Dwane’s in charge of re-creating the Brazen Head; Dravidian, whom you haven’t met, is our astrologer; we’ve got a team of alchemists and optic researchers. We’ve also got the Good Friars in the abbey out back. We’re struggling to keep them with us—they’re only interested in Bacon’s more orthodox theology; they think we’re heretics. But if we can crack the Voynich, we’ll unite all the Latter-Day Baconians. That’s my job. The Voynich will make clear the essential unity of the Great Man’s many interests.
I see, Leonard said, though he didn’t.
I knew you would, Sally said.
Leonard stared at his sailing shoes.
I’m really glad we met, he said, unable to look at her.
Me too, Sally said. I feel it was destined.
Me too, Leonard said, and might have said more except Felix stirred, the cat jumped, and the book Felix was holding fell to the ground.
I had the most amazing dream, Felix said.
Don’t mind them
A dream? Sally said, scrambling to her feet. Really? Wait, let me get the others!
What do you mean, the others? Leonard said.
Your nephew’s a Baconian prophet—everyone needs to hear, and off she ran.
Felix got off the couch, somewhat groggily, and got onto Leonard’s lap.
The dream was about someone named Isaac, he murmured. Is that the guy you said you’d tell me about? He had a message for you.
Leonard heard voices, then some shouting downstairs, and the sound of running.
I’ll explain later, I promise, but in the meantime, don’t tell anyone what Isaac said, okay? Not till we know what’s going on.
Gotcha, Stan, he said.
I’d prefer it if you didn’t call me that, Leonard said, and mussed Felix’s hair.
I’m worried about Mom.
What you need is some exercise! Come on! Time for some awesome karate kicks!
Felix nodded enthusiastically. The voices had stopped shouting and Leonard could hear the heavy sounds of young men treading upstairs.
Don’t mind them, he said. Five minutes. I’ll keep time, and Felix began to kick.
A funny dream
One by one, as Felix practiced his kicking, two dozen Baconians crowded into the library. There were the half dozen they’d met at the dinner table, plus Sue & Susheela, plus more in lab coats, even a monk in a brown wool frock.
We’re just waiting for Dravidian, Sally said. He’s on the roof.
Shh, Leonard said, and pointed at Felix.
Several of the lab-coated gentlemen took notes.
Five minutes! Leonard shouted, and Felix stopped, his face pink and triumphant.
That was great! Felix said, and plopped back onto Leonard’s lap.
Best ever, Leonard concurred.
Was that a prophetic ritual? one of the lab men asked another.
A breathless, wizardy guy with a starry cap and gown finally arrived—Dravidian, presumably.
We’re ready, Sally said, looking at Felix with an awe that Leonard couldn’t help wishing he’d inspired.
You guys really want to hear my dream? Felix asked. It seemed better at the time.
The lab guys all had their pens poised over mini notebooks.
Well, he said, and looked up at Leonard, who squeezed his hand. It was sort of like what happened today. All the Pythagoreans and Maoists and other Stans were on the Walking Grounds fighting each other, but slowly. I thought it was funny.
The Baconians looked at each other.
Is that it? one of them asked.
It was funny because none of the Stans got hurt, he said, looking at Leonard.
Sounds very funny, Leonard said, mussing Felix’s a
fro. What a great dream!
He looked at the others as if challenging them to disagree. They nodded sagely, checked their notebooks, and filed out of the room, murmuring to each other.
Sally gave Leonard and Felix a cold look.
Let me show you to your room, she said.
Footsteps
So what was your dream? Leonard whispered as he tucked Felix into bed.
It was this guy named Isaac, Felix whispered back. He’s blind, you know.
Leonard nodded.
He said we have to talk through the Brazen Head.
Through?
Yup, Felix said.
To who?
That’s the weird part, Felix said.
Yes?
He said we have to talk to Roger Bacon!
The dead guy?
The dead guy!
What are we supposed to say?
He just said stop him! He said you’d know what that meant.
Wow, Leonard said. You did great, you know.
I did?
Sure! You’re great at this dreaming stuff, and at freezing people. Do you know how you did that?
It’s hard to explain, Felix said.
Can you try? Leonard whispered. And keep it a secret from the others for the time being.
I sort of lied before, didn’t I? When I told my dream.
Yep, but that’s okay. You did good. So, about what you did this afternoon …
Remember when I told you about the dream where four men walk into an orchard?
Suddenly Leonard heard a noise, the sound of tiptoes stopping outside the door. Under the door, interrupting the light, he could see a slight shadow—someone’s lab slipper? He put a hand over Felix’s mouth.
Later, he whispered. Everything’s good, but it’s time for you to sleep.
Felix nodded.
You need a story?
Felix nodded again.
I can’t tell you any of Grandpa’s stories here. So you’ll have to help me out, okay?
Again Felix nodded, this time sleepily.
Once upon a time there was … Who should the story be about? Leonard said out loud.
A Highly Unlikely Scenario, or a Neetsa Pizza Employee's Guide to Saving the World Page 9