by Jon Thorpe
daughter Barbara getting married while wearing the novagem, this time around her wrist, and after her untimely death in a copper quarry in the early 70s, it was clearly stated in her last will and testament that the novagem was to remain in the care of the Museum Mysterious of Crafts and Oddities until 2079. In 2079 an envelope in the possession of Domingo St. Luce’s heirs would be opened to reveal the next destination for the novagem.
“And this Museum Mysterious of Crafts and Oddities, do you know where it’s located?” Malfeasance asked with exceptional enthusiasm.
“Three blocks from my apartment!” I answered.
“Here is the file! Bring us back the gem!”
Five
It was not difficult to obtain the gem. A blow to the head of the museum’s ancient docent and a hammer to crack open the case. I took the gem and placed it in my pocket. No alarms sounded. I walked down the stairs, past the admission booth, and out into the street.
I found a pay phone and dialed the secret number included in the file.
“So you have it?” the electronically camouflaged voice asked.
“I have it.”
“Return to the pyramid immediately. There is a helicopter waiting for you on the roof of First Lutheran Hospital. Tell the pilot this phrase: I like to eat pancakes.”
“I like to eat pancakes.”
“I like to eat pancakes.”
I repeated the phrase over and over as I made my way to First Lutheran. It would take me about ten minutes to walk to the hospital.
However, I felt compelled to detour from the direct path.
I walked into the antique store.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the novagem.
“Please do not call the police,” I said meekly and the girl stood and I slowly extended the novagem to her.
I cleared my throat.
“Do you love me now?” I asked and my voice was soft and hoarse and uncertain.
“Ask me again,” she stated.
“Do you love me now?”
The girl smiled a beautiful, comforting smile.
She took the novagem from my hand.
“Of course I love you now,” she said and her voice was sincere and serene and I believed her.
She wrapped her fingers around the novagem and tightened her grip.
She brought the novagem to her lips and kissed it.
“Thank you,” she said and she let her eyes settle on the the gem. “God, I can’t express how much I thank you. I understand now. You were right. I understand.”
The girl gently placed the novagem down.
She moved out from behind the counter.
She stood in front of me.
She raised her hand and let her fingers gently stroke my hair.
“And this just might be the last thing you will remember for a while.”
And I felt a small prick in the back of my neck.
My world became a pool of black.
I heard her voice state that I should no longer fight it anymore, that I should just give in and accept everything as it was.
SIX
On June 26 the Transamerica Pyramid vanished.
I read about it in the newspaper as I sat in the café across from the antique store. I had just finished serving six months in prison over the issues that had occurred at the Museum Mysterious of Crafts and Oddities. I ordered a cup of coffee and picked up the newspaper and there it was on the front page in all caps: TRANSAMERICA PYRAMID VANISHES!
It had been there the night before and now all that remained was an immense hole that had served as the pyramid’s foundation. I read maybe the first three paragraphs and then set the paper down on the table.
“Crazy isn’t it?” the waitress asked and I shook my head.
“Not crazy at all.”
“They think it might be an act of terrorism.”
“It’s most definitely not an act of terrorism.”
“Then what?”
“The pyramid is on its way to the sun.”
“The sun?”
“That’s right, it’s heading to the sun as we speak. It will return, if all goes well.”
I finished my coffee and walked across the street to the antique store.
The girl sat behind the counter.
But now I was scared to enter.
So I chose to walk away.
SEVEN
And I was correct. On the morning of June 30 the Transamerica Pyramid returned. The world was baffled, in shock, searching for an explanation.
The people who worked inside the pyramid had little to add. To the predominantly Spanish-speaking janitorial staff who scuffled out of the pyramid into a massive throng of photographers, journalists, television cameras, cops, government agents, and onlookers, everything was quite bewildering.
“I just clean the building and time to go home now. Why the fuss?” one janitor asked.
A few associate attorneys who had been working late on the 26th floor for Razon, Marinneti, & Justice rubbed their eyes and began to get genuinely angry about the line of questioning they were receiving. However, this anger turned to confusion when they realized they were not the victims of an expensive, well-coordinated prank and that they had been missing for four days.
“We haven’t been anywhere! We’ve been at work!”
“This is madness!”
“What did you say the date was?”
“Oh my God!”
“I hope I wasn’t probed.”
Each individual leaving the pyramid was escorted by a government agent into a windowless black bus.
When the commotion outside the pyramid began to die down the government stormed the building with guns drawn.
Eight
I sat down in the café.
I ordered an espresso.
The girl sat down across from me.
She set the novagem on the table.
“I would like to apologize,” she said.
“There is no need to apologize,” I answered. “I would just like an explanation.”
“We needed to create a diversion.”
“A diversion?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s okay.”
“Why didn’t you take the novagem? Why have me steal it?”
“I couldn’t take the novagem.”
“And why not?”
“Because that’s not my role in all of this. That was your role. My role was to wait for the diversion, obtain the novagem from you, and bring the gem back to Malfeasance.”
“But I was going to bring the gem back to Malfeasance. I was on my way to the hospital. I had memorized the code. I was ready to go to the helicopter.”
“But then why did you come see me first?”
“Because I told you I would.”
“Because you had no choice.”
“That’s right, I had no choice. No, that’s not right, I had a choice,” I replied and then I thought deeper and shook my head. “No, that’s not right either. I had no choice. I’ve never had a real choice.”
A broad smile crossed her face.
“That’s exactly my point,” she said. “That’s exactly my point.”
And I thought about it for a long moment and I knew she was right.
There was no such thing as choice.
I finished my espresso.
“All of this was predetermined,” I said flatly.
“As much as it could be.”
She tapped the novagem with her left index finger.
“This is yours now,” she said. “Its powers are all used up.”
“And the mission was a success?”
“Yes it was.”
“And are we right?”
“We have visited the sun.”
“And?”
She picked up the napkin underneath my espresso cup’s saucer. She stood and unscrewed the lightbulb from the lamp that dangled over our table. Everything in
our little world grew darker. She handed me the bulb and I took it.
“A souvenir,” she said.
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you see?” she asked with such earnestness. “I hope you see.”
“Please explain.”
“It’s a piece of the sun.”
I held the bulb up in front of me and examined it.
“Incandescent,” I said. “I knew it.”
The waitress approached our table and told us that we can’t just be removing the light bulbs anytime we feel like it.
“But this is different,” I explained to the waitress.
“How is this different?” the waitress asked.
“This is not a light bulb.”
“What is it then?”
“This is unlimited power. This is the source of all illumination in our universe.”
And then the waitress said something that stunned me.
“I like to eat pancakes,” she murmured almost beneath her breath so that it was difficult to hear.
She turned and assisted another customer.
Nine
I have placed my piece of the sun in an old lamp that used to belong to my grandmother. I love when night arrives so that I can turn on the lamp and illuminate my small apartment with true sunlight.
Next to the lamp I have placed my powerless novagem.
The girl has told me that Malfeasance will be in contact with me shortly, that there is another mission I will be asked to carry out. Apparently the mission to the sun raised more questions than it answered.
“Will it be a diversion again?” I asked and she shook her head.
“We never know the true meaning of what we do until after the fact,” she answered.
“Do you actually love me?” I asked. “Or was that just a line you needed to recite to get the mission moving forward?”
“It’s both,” she answered. “It can’t help but be both. But who knows, really? Maybe it was improvised. Maybe after the fact I understand that it was improvised.”
“Let’s get married.”
She shook her head.
“That’s impossible.”
And so I wait.
It has been three weeks now since the last time she and I spoke.
I wait for my phone to ring.
I