The old man bustled off to a storeroom. “You want thirty copies of each?” he called back.
“One will do just fine.”
“Oh, you’re a tutor. All right.” And he came back in about ten minutes, staggering under a stack of books. “I’ll get the rest now.” And he went back and came out staggering under a second stack.
Heller checked off the titles. He got almost to the end. “There’s one missing: Third Grade Arithmetic.”
“Oh, they don’t teach that anymore. It’s all ‘new math’ now.”
“What’s ‘new math’?” said Heller.
“I dunno. They put out a new ‘new math’ every year. It’s something about greater and lesser numbers without using any numbers this year. It was orders of magnitude of numbers last year but they were still teaching them to count. They stopped that.”
“Well, I’ve got to have something about basic arithmetic,” said Heller.
“Why?”
“You see,” said Heller, “I do logarithms in my head and the only arithmetic I’ve ever seen done was by some primitive tribe on Flisten. They used charcoal sticks and slabs of white lime.”
“No kidding?” said the old man.
“Yes, it was during a Fleet peace mission. They wouldn’t believe we had that many ships and it was really funny to see them jumping about and counting and multiplying and writing it down. They were more advanced than others I’ve seen, however. One tribe had to use their fingers and toes to count their wives. They never had more than fifteen wives because that was all the fingers and toes they had.”
The old man said, “A Fleet man, huh? I was in the Navy myself, war before last. You just wait there.”
He went back and searched and searched and finally came out with a dusty, tattered text that had been lying around for ages. “Here’s a book called Basic Arithmetic Including Addition, Multiplication and Division With a Special Section on Commercial Arithmetic and Stage Acts” He opened the yellowed pages, “It was published in Philadelphia in 1879. It’s got all sorts of tricks in it like adding a ten-digit column of thirty entries by inspection. Old-time bookkeeper stuff. Lot of stage tricks: they used to go on stage and write numbers and do complicated examples upside down leaning over a blackboard and get the answer in three seconds and the audience would flip out. Mr. Tatters said to throw it out but I sort of thought I should send it to a museum. Since they passed the law that kids had to use calculators in class, nobody is interested in it anymore. But as you’re a navy man like myself you can have it.”
Heller paid and the old man wrapped up the books into two more huge packages. Another two hundred pounds of books. I expected Heller to heft them up and walk off. It disappointed me when he found four hundred pounds too cumbersome. I’m sure he could have, with some strain, walked off with them. He had them call him a taxi. The old man even got a dolly and helped him load up. Heller thanked him.
“Don’t throw that book away,” said the old man at the curb. “I don’t think there’s a soul in this country knows how to do it anymore. I don’t think they even remember it ever existed. When you’re through with it, give it to a museum!”
“Thanks for piping the side!” said Heller and the taxi drove away leaving the old man waving at the curb.
Code break. “Piping the side!” It must be some Voltarian Fleet term. No, wait a minute. I had never heard the term on Voltar. But Heller wouldn’t know Earth terms like that. Or would he? The Voltarian Fleet doesn’t use pipes. A lot of them use puffsticks. Only Earth people smoke pipes. It was moving into the New York rush hour so I had a lot of time to work on this. I got as far as Earth sailors as well as spacers have a lot to do with whores when my concentration was interrupted.
A houseman was wheeling all that book tonnage across the lobby and Vantagio popped out of his office like some miniature jack-in-the-box.
He stared at the packages, tore a piece of paper off a corner and opened a rucksack to verify they were books. “They accepted you!” He let out a wheeze of relief and mopped his face with a silk handkerchief. He waved the houseman on and pushed Heller into his office.
“You did it!” said Vantagio.
“I think you did it,” said Heller.
Vantagio looked at him with feigned blank innocence.
“Come on,” said Heller. “They waived everything including having a head! How did you do it?”
Vantagio started laughing and sat down at his desk. “All right, kid, you got me. It was awfully late and I had an awful time getting hold of the university president last night but I did it. You see, at peak periods, we use some of the Barnyard College girls here. So I just told him that if you weren’t enrolled in full by 9:30 this morning, we’d cut off our student aid program.”
“I owe you,” said Heller.
“Oh, no, no,” said Vantagio. “You don’t get off that easy. You still have to do what I tell you. Right?”
“Right,” said Heller.
“Then get on that phone and call Babe and tell her you’re enrolled!”
Heller turned the desk speaker phone around to face him and Vantagio pushed the lease line button. Geovani in Bayonne transferred the call to Babe in the dining room.
“This is Jerome, Mrs. Corleone. I just wanted to tell you what a great job Vantagio did in getting me enrolled.”
“It’s all complete?” said Babe.
“Absolutely,” said Heller. But I noted he did not tell her, as he had not told Vantagio, that Miss Simmons had really set him up to fail. Heller was sneaky.
“Oh, I’m so glad. You know, you dear boy, you don’t want to grow up to be a bum like these other bums. Mama wants you to have class, kid, real class. Become president or something.”
“Well, I certainly do thank you,” said Heller.
“Now, there’s one more thing, Jerome,” said Babe, a little more severely. “You’ve got to promise me not to play hooky.”
That stopped Heller. He knew very well he would be missing in as many as two or three classes a day! Bless Miss Simmons!
Heller found his voice, “Not even one class, Mrs. Corleone?”
“Now, Jerome,” said Babe, her voice hardening, “I know it is a terrible job bringing up boys. I never did but I had brothers and I know! Let down your guard for one second and they’re off and away, free as birds, skylarking and breaking neighbors’ windows. So the answer is very plain. I give it to you absolutely straight. No hooky. Not even one class! Mama will be watching and Mama will spank! Now promise me, Jerome. And Vantagio, if you’re listening to this, which you are — I am sure you are as I can tell it’s the speaker phone on your desk — you look at his hands; no crossed fingers, no crossed feet. All right?”
Vantagio peered at Heller. “They aren’t crossed, mia capa”
Oh, what a spot Heller was in! With his nonsense Royal officer scruples about keeping his word, I knew he was suffering agonies. He couldn’t keep that promise so he wouldn’t make it. And I was sure that, to Babe Corleone, the phrase “Mama will spank” translated more truthfully into “concrete overcoat.”
“Mrs. Corleone,” said Heller. “I will be truthful with you.” Ah, here it came! “I promise you faithfully that, unless I get rubbed out, or unless something happens that closes the university, I will complete college on time and get my diploma.”
“Oh, you dear boy! That is even more than I asked! But nevertheless, Jerome, just remember, Mama will be watching. Bye-bye!”