No matter what.
Good, Carol said. I’m glad we had this little talk. Chicory’s almost ready. See you in the morning!
It is Isaac
I must tell you, Milione said the next night. Some days when I speak to Rustichello, I see someone looking out through his eyes. It is not Rustichello, for he is a shallow man; nothing lurks behind his eyes but lunacy and the basest of passions. No, it is someone else. Can you imagine this?
Leonard said nothing. His grandfather’s eyes on occasion had slipped from blue to palest green, his pupils expanding, becoming one with the deepest dark: then young Leonard had looked into something strange and black, an emptiness larger than the world he knew. His grandfather would return then and say, Boychik, you’re trembling, what do you see?
You think me mad, Mill said sadly.
No, I have felt this, Leonard whispered, and wiped a tear from his eye.
You understand! Mill said. I knew you would. Leonard, you are like my very own brother. It is Isaac, he confided. I know it is he. But why?
Who is this Isaac? Leonard asked. Why do you dream of him?
He is a Jew, he is blind, and a holy master of secrets — this is all I know.
What does he want from you?
He wants me to talk with you, that is all.
With me? Leonard asked.
No other, Mill said.
Do you know a story about four men who walk into an orchard?
No.
Do you know a story about demons in the third ether?
No, but if it is a good one, I will gladly hear it.
But you know about the invisible circle? You know what to do with it?
Of course.
And this is what you propose to write about in your book?
Yes, I will do this.
Leonard’s heart began to pound. This was very wrong. Leonard knew this because his grandfather had told him so, and because the thought of it made him sick, a sickness he knew would never leave him if Mill did as he said. Only the grandson of grandsons could know about the circle.
It is a bad idea, Leonard said. A very bad idea.
No, Leonard, it is a very good idea! Imagine how useful it will be for seamen and merchants, separated as they are from their families! Imagine if kings could speak with each other as we do now, separated by immense distances: trade could be conducted, and wars averted.
Leonard had to think quickly; there were no Listener algorithms to help him now.
Have you used your circle and formulas to speak with anyone but me? he asked.
Not exactly.
You’ve tried?
I tried to reach Kokachin, Mill admitted.
What happened?
Nothing. I heard a sound like forests falling inside the ocean. It was quiet but for six days it deafened me.
And when you got me you were trying to reach someone else, right?
This also is true, Mill said.
Forgive me for saying so, but you don’t seem very good at this just yet. Maybe you need more practice? So no one gets hurt?
Mill didn’t reply.
You could write about this in your next book, perhaps? Leonard said, knowing somehow that there would be no next book.
Still no reply.
Mill? Are you there?
Leonard, you are a most trusted friend, and you speak wisely. I shall consider your words; possibly I shall do as you say.
When they parted that night, Leonard had no way of knowing he would never speak to Milione again.
INTERLUDE BOYCHIK
A friend
The complaints returned the next night. The phone didn’t bleat — instead, the usual clients-in-pain called complaining that they’d ordered Neoplatonist, not Neapolitan. Leonard listened, used approved nicknames and the Lateral Sales Strategy to good advantage, demonstrated largesse with Neetsa Pizza coupons, and gained a more or less average number of converts, but his heart wasn’t in it. Where was Milione? Was he okay? Leonard was sure now that Mill had rerouted Leonard’s calls — how had he managed to do that? Now that the complaints had returned, did this mean Mill had gone away? Was he in trouble? Was his invisible circle dance the one Leonard knew? Would he hear from him again?
He felt uncomfortably bereft. He had enjoyed their conversations, he had looked forward to them, he had found in Mill not just a client-in-pain but a friend.
Yes, Milione had been his friend.
He was surprised to realize this, because really, he didn’t have friends. He sometimes screen-yakked with fans of Sue & Susheela, or other Listeners, using an alias or avatar. To none of these had he ever confided the emptiness he’d felt when his grandfather died, or his lack of skill with women, or the mystery of his grandfather’s changing eyes, or his occasional sadness. With none of these had he exchanged fears, or experiences of orphanhood; certainly, none had urged him to be more than he was. Yes, Mill was a friend. But still he didn’t call.
When the phone bleated a few nights later, Leonard grabbed it with unprofessional enthusiasm and shouted, Milione? Mill? And was deathly surprised to hear another voice, a voice he thought he’d never hear again.
Listen, boychik, the voice said. I need you to listen good.
Boychik
Grandpa? Is it you?
It sounds like me, the caller said, but it isn’t.
I don’t understand, Leonard said, tears already streaming down his cheeks. He’d spent ten years on his grandfather’s settee, listening to his grandfather’s stories: he knew his grandfather’s voice!
Who is it? he sobbed. Why are you calling me?
Boychik, I need you to listen good, the man repeated, causing Leonard to sob even more. You saved the world, just like I ask. You did very very good. I always knew you were a good egg.
Grandpa! You’re dead! Why are you calling me?
I tell you, it’s not me, the man said, but I need you to listen good.
Who is it, then? Leonard said. Why are you doing this?
You did very very good, said his grandfather’s voice. I am so proud of you.
You are? I started telling Felix the stories, I couldn’t help it. He’s so lonely! I’m never going to have grandsons!
You know nothing about the future, the voice said. Trust me on this one thing. On this one thing there can be no question. You will have grandsons, and more grandsons, on this there can be no question. That Felix, he is a good egg, he is a good egg and so are you, you are very very good to him. This is very important. Don’t you worry about Felix, we talk about Felix later. For the moment I need you to listen.
Grandpa, I was so bad to you before you died. I’m sorry! I am so very sorry!
It’s not me like you think, the man said, but your grandpa he know this, he know you are a good egg. Not to worry, boychik.
I was just a kid, I didn’t mean it when I said you were stupid and horrible and smelled like herring and I hated your stories. It wasn’t true!
Boychik, I need you to listen.
I am listening, Leonard said, wiping his face with his flared cambric sleeve.
You are not listening, said the voice, and he was right. You have the possibility to be the world’s great listener, but you don’t listen!
Oh, Leonard said. Sorry. I’m listening now.
You saved the world, the voice said. I don’t expect you to understand, someday I explain.
I don’t understand.
Your advice to Marco save the world, for the time being, this is what I mean.
I was his friend. I called him Mill. I was allowed to call him Mill because I was his friend.