by Zion's Fiction- A Treasury of Israeli Speculative Literature (retail) (epub)
They were received with thunderous applause. They briskly followed the green-clad usher to their places of honor in the first row.
“I wonder if these people already know that we’ve broken the world record,” commented Dave.
“I don’t think so,” replied Tommy. “The results are kept secret and are first announced on this very occasion. I believe they don’t even know what place we took.”
“Shh,” hissed Alfred impatiently. “The ceremony is beginning.”
The majestic ceremony was relatively short. The world head scientist gave a speech, and the chairman of the Competition Board delivered his congratulatory address to the winners.
The master of ceremonies called upon the Clarke team from Sunnyvale to ascend and receive third prize. Their excellent time was twenty-one hours, thirty minutes, and fifty seconds.
“… With only one assembly error,” announced the MC as the audience cheered and applauded.
Next was the team from the Einstein Institute in New York, who took second prize with the amazing time of twenty-one hours, eighteen minutes, and seven seconds.
“Without a single assembly error,” roared the MC. “Only twenty-three minutes from the previous world record.” The applause was long and loud, and in it were mixed whispers of anticipation and excitement. The allusion was quite clear—the audience was about to witness history in the making. The breaking of a world record!
“And first prize, by a very large margin, goes to a team that has continually surprised us this year,” announced the MC, his excitement mounting. “I am honored to invite to the stage an independent team from Cape Cass: Lily, David, and Tommy Linton. And their manager, Alfred Collins.”
The three children skipped onto the stage amidst deafening applause. Alfred limped after them more slowly.
“For the past nine years the world record was held by the Peterson team, and it was considered to be the ultimate in human puzzle-solving endeavor,” continued the MC, his enthusiasm gaining. “And here we have a group of children, not even of the elite priority study program, who have broken this record. Ladies and gentlemen, it is with no little pride and elation that I tonight announce new limits to the human capacity to solve puzzles. In first place: the Linton team, with a new, fantastic world record of fifteen hours and forty-two minutes exactly!”
It was as if an earthquake had struck. The cheers, the clapping, the whistles, the yells—all made for a roar so deafening that Tommy, who had opened his mouth to correct the MC, closed it in consternation. He glanced at Dave and Lily and saw the confusion in their faces as well.
“And now, a few words from the head of the team—Tommy Linton!”
Tommy found the microphone shoved in front of his face. He swallowed hard and said:
“We are very happy to have won first place in the competition. It has been our dream for a long time. We’d like to thank our parents who gave us all the backing we needed. We’d also like to thank all the citizens of Cape Cass for their support and encouragement. And very special thanks goes to Alfred Collins, without whom we would not be standing here tonight.”
The applause shook the auditorium, and Tommy waited for it to subside before continuing.
“However, there has been an error in the MC’s announcement. Yes, we did break the world record, but our time was nineteen hours, thirty minutes, and ten seconds.” He paused briefly and then went on. “And we need to add two minutes to this timing, because the package arrived two minutes early.”
The huge auditorium became as still as a cemetery.
“Just what do you mean, young man?” boomed the Competition Board chairman. He waved a large sheet of paper and added: “I have here the photo-image of the puzzle you constructed, with its time stamp. The time is exactly fifteen hours and forty minutes!”
Tommy took the photo-image and his blood froze. The chairman was right about the timing. But the picture, instead of showing a coral reef and a shipwreck, displayed a savage volcanic scene—bubbling lava flowing down a mountainside studded with fabulous, overturned statues. Something was definitely very wrong. The paper sheet fluttered to the floor, and Tommy turned desperately to Alfred.
“Can anyone explain what is happening here?” thundered the head scientist. The audience started to mutter and exchange whispers.
“I can, Dr. Daniel Carter, if you’ll permit me,” said Alfred suddenly and picked up the microphone.
“Alfred Edelberg!” exclaimed the head scientist in astonishment.
“Not anymore,” corrected Alfred. He turned to the audience and addressed them directly, his voice carrying confidence and authority. “Today my name is Alfred Collins. In the past my surname was Edelberg. You may remember the Edelberg vaccine against aging—in fact, I’m pretty sure many of you have actually used it. It is named after me, as it was I who discovered it. Others may remember me due to the scandal that resulted when I accused the World Science Committee of limiting the freedom of research. I consequently lost my job, and I was expelled in disgrace from USA-Tech.”
His gaze scanned the audience. The whispers and murmurings intensified as several of those present recalled the episode that shook the scientific world some twenty years earlier.
“But I did not abandon hope,” continued Alfred, and he turned to face the head scientist, who sat motionless in his chair, his face as pale as a sheet. “I changed my name and continued my research, which now was, unfortunately, illegal, and I may be immediately arrested for it. I developed a series of biological grain types, easily produced by common plants, that raised the intelligence of the organism that ate them.”
He bent down to the floor, picked up the picture of the puzzle, and held it aloft for the audience to see.
“The puzzle in this picture was not assembled by Tommy, Dave, and Lily Linton. They assembled a different puzzle—a puzzle as difficult as this one, but a puzzle of my own design—and they completed it in nineteen hours, thirty minutes, and ten seconds. Two minutes must be added to this timing, because I delivered the puzzle to them two minutes too early. Thus, while they were busy with my puzzle, I intercepted the messenger with the real puzzle and took it to my house, next door to the Lintons’. There, in a simple and primitive assembly room, without the aid of a computer, the puzzle was assembled by the Zoko team in only fifteen hours and forty minutes.”
He smiled reassuringly at the three children who were staring at him, their mouths agape, their complexions ashen.
“However, the title of Humanity’s World Champion Puzzle Solvers still belongs to the team you see before you. There is no person, or team of persons, on this planet who could do the job better or faster than they.”
Alfred unscrewed the top of his walking cane, and withdrew from it a large roll of paper. He flattened it out and showed the stunned audience the picture printed on it.
“This is the team that broke the world record,” he cried. “They are only seven years old, but their individual IQs are higher than that of any other creature on this planet.”
The three orangutans in the picture were grinning broadly. Each of them held a yellow banana in one hand and a red portable supercomputer in the other.
“We’re so glad that you’ve managed to prove your theories, and that your banishment has been revoked,” said Lily. “But it’s such a shame that you’re returning to the university. We’ll miss you very much.”
The three champions sat in the large assembly room, watching Alfred wrapping up his memory cubes and placing them carefully into a large container.
“I won’t be so far away,” said Alfred. “Just about three hours’ drive from here. And you’ll always be welcome at my new location.”
“Lily will not be available until next year,” said Tommy. “We won’t travel to New York without her.”
“But you could visit me on holidays, couldn’t you?”
“Of course,” replied Lily. “We’ve long forgiven you for what happened. We love you very much, and we’re grateful to yo
u for, well, adopting us, in a way. Even though your motive was to snatch our puzzle away from us. You know, Alfred, you were very lucky in choosing to coach us when you moved to Cape Cass as our neighbor. What would you have done had we not won second prize last year?”
Alfred did not respond. He hugged the little girl, and tears welled up in his eyes. There was no point in revealing to them what was contained in those spinach pies that they loved so much. They would never forgive him, and the world would exorcise him for illegally experimenting on humans. Even the fact that he himself was his own guinea pig for the past thirty years, and that all his discoveries stemmed from these experiments, would not have saved him.
My Crappy Autumn
Nitay Peretz
I knew something was going to happen. Everybody knew something big was coming. I can still remember people walking around with that feeling. But these things, even when you expect them, they still take you by surprise. For me it was a double whammy: first Osher’s rotten stunt, and then Max’s revelation. God really kicked my ass that autumn month, you could say.
Before it all happened we were having a pretty good time. The three of us sat down on the living room couch that evening with a bag of sunflower seeds to snack on. Max was on my left, Osher on my right, and the TV opposite me. Channel 1 was showing a soccer match, Maccabi Haifa v. Beitar Jerusalem, which had the potential to be a twofer: you get to see Haifa win and Beitar lose. Expectations in the living room were high. It was one of those evenings when anything could happen, or, as everybody’s favorite sportscaster Zuhir put it: “Good evening Meir! Good evening viewers! Here in Kiryat Eliezer the tension is colossal! Sky-high!” Haifa was leading 1–0 by halftime—Beitar never saw it coming. Roso was on a roll. Every time they scored, we sang and cheered and waved our green scarves. Max had bet on Beitar, and he realized pretty quickly he was screwed. Haifa trounced them 3–0. We ordered a pizza to celebrate. The loser delivery guy got there super fast, so no free drink, which they give you if they’re ten minutes late. Max paid him, cursed, and swore it was the last time he bet me on anything. And he didn’t tip the pizza guy.
I live on pizza. I’m crazy about pizza. I’ve tried their whole new international menu. My favorite is the Tuna Crème Fraîche. I can easily finish half a large one and down a 50-ounce Coke with it. Life is good.
After the pizza, Max rolled us a joint. We went out to the balcony, passed it around, and talked about life. When we realized how late it was we went inside, emptied out the ashtrays of their cigarette butts and sunflower seed shells, washed the glasses and plates, threw the pizza box in the trash, and went to sleep.
Osher was already in bed. I hadn’t noticed when she’d left the living room. I got into bed carefully, thinking she was asleep. The last thought that went through my head before I fell asleep was: Why is Osher tossing and turning?
I got up in the morning and brushed my teeth. I walked out of the bathroom with my toothbrush in my mouth. Osher was sitting in the living room. There was an empty coffee mug on the table and a lit cigarette in her mouth. Osher doesn’t smoke. Her eyes were puffy and red, like she’d been crying or something. I realized she’d been sitting there for a long time, even though I didn’t remember her getting out of bed.
“Hey, Ido,” she said, and there was something different in her voice, like a quiet, blue sea after the storm passes. “Ido, I’m done,” she said.
“Done with what, babe?” I asked. Then I noticed there was an ashtray full of cigarette butts next to her. When had she taken up smoking?
“I don’t know, all I know is I’m done.” She sniveled, as if something was about to stream out. “It’s not you. Not at all. The opposite—you’re so gentle and sweet and considerate and everything. It’s not you. You need to understand that. It’s me.”
Osher burst out crying, with tears and everything, and couldn’t stop. I sat down next to her, my toothbrush still in my mouth. I stroked her back, at the top, near her neck, where she likes it, just to calm her, but she shifted awkwardly and said, “No, Ido, it’s over.”
“Okay, honey,” I said. “I don’t have time now, we’ll talk about it when I get home this evening.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m done.”
“Okay, babe, I have to run to work,” I said. Even though that wasn’t true and I had loads of time before my shift started. Osher knew I was lying but she didn’t say anything.
I fixed my hair in the bathroom and rinsed out my mouth. I looked in the mirror, just to make sure this was really happening to me. I threw on a sweater and grabbed my bag. I tried to kiss Osher, but she turned away. “Bye, honey,” I said. “We’ll talk this evening.” I left before she could answer and slammed the door behind me.
I took my usual route to Café Gross. The sky was grayish black and the air was still. It started raining, and everyone sped up, or ducked into a corner store until it stopped.
I didn’t give a shit. I walked down the middle of the sidewalk and felt the drops run off my hair into my sweater and inside my sweater down my spine, all the way to my ass crack, then into my pants and my shoes, wetting Osher’s Winnie-the-Pooh socks that she loved so much.
I stood outside Café Gross. It has big windows, and you can see everything going on inside. There was a couple sitting by the window, and not just any couple—they were tall and beautiful, tastefully dressed, as in a European TV commercial. They were drinking steaming hot cocoa in tall glasses, eating croissants, and laughing, snuggled up in their private paradise. Rina went over to ask if everything was all right, and the man must have told a joke or something, because they all started laughing.
The rain was getting harder. There was a pretty scary clap of thunder; lightning lit up the street and little pellets of hail started coming down. I couldn’t feel my feet. Everything suddenly seemed so unfair. There was a lump of burning anger in my stomach, which climbed up and got stuck in my diaphragm. My eyes filled with tears, as at school when the older kids used to beat me up. I wanted to fight back, but there was no one to fight with.
I decided to go back home. Skip out on my shift. No one at the café had seen me anyway.
The apartment was empty. Osher had left. She’d emptied out the ashtray, rinsed it, and put it in the drying rack with all the coffee mugs she’d used at night. A closer examination of the apartment revealed that her toothbrush was also gone, and the clothes she left there for when she stayed the night. Her teddy bear was gone too, and her pillow, which she couldn’t sleep without and even took with her when she went on a trip to the US.
There was no question about it: Osher had left, without any explanations or apologies. Just like that. What a crappy world. After four years together you’d think you deserve a warning—but nothing. I wanted to yell, I wanted to scream loud enough to shatter the windows. I wanted to kick and punch, break and smash—but that’s childish and silly. I sat down on the couch and lit a cigarette. I felt all the anger that was bubbling and sizzling inside me begin to cool down and slowly congeal and harden into determination. I decided that this world, which had taken Osher away from me, did not deserve to have me in it. And not only that—I would not suffer alone. If this kind of shit could just hit me out of nowhere, without any warning, then it would have to hit someone else too. I was going down, baby—and I was taking a few assholes with me. Woo-hoo!
Max walked in, eyed me from head to toe, and said I looked wet. He had this talent, Max, for stating the obvious.
Max is my roommate. Sometimes people think we’re brothers, because he too is one of those tall, skinny guys who look like they’re about to topple over. I don’t know how anyone could think that. We don’t look anything alike. Max is a sound man, and he does customer phone support for a credit card company. And almost every Saturday he goes to a rave in some forest. I think he comes back high on molly, but we don’t really talk about it.
I told him Osher left me. Max said that was too bad, we seemed like a great couple and he was sure we were g
oing to get married. He asked me if I threw her out. I said she was the one who dumped me, and she didn’t even tell me why, she just said she was done. Max’s eyes glazed over. He stared into space and said he could really relate to that, that he’s also done, and he feels like things can’t go on this way, that something needs to change in a big way soon. It’s not like Max to talk that way. I expected him to be on my side.
I blew off Max’s bullshit. Usually he’s awesome to talk with. He knows how to listen, which is an important quality that lots of people don’t have. He gets things, and he has a good head on his shoulders. He’s really a great roommate. He didn’t deserve it, that whole tragedy that happened to him afterwards.
Right from the start I made up my mind that nothing was going to get in the way of my depression. I’m a serious guy. Everyone says that about me. So when I say nothing, I mean nothing. I settled on a daily routine, and for the next month, despite all the insanity going on in our place, I tried not to deviate from it.
It went like this: I’d get up at twelve-thirty on the dot every day and make myself some Turkish coffee, no milk. I’d make sure not to brush my teeth or even rinse out my mouth first. I’d sit down at the kitchen table and drink my coffee. I’d spread out a white sheet of paper and crumble all the weed I wanted to smoke that day. When I’d finish the coffee, I’d put my cup in the sink. I had a rule against washing cups. I was only allowed to do it when I was completely out of clean cups, and even then I’d only wash one, just so I’d have something to drink out of. When I couldn’t be bothered, I wouldn’t even do that. I’d just empty out the old coffee grounds and cigarette butts, flick out whatever was left with my finger, then pour fresh coffee into the same cup.