"Very well," the fat man said. "It is all very strange, and yet it is not strange at all… I am at the moment less startled by the imminence of my death than by the fact that you have become a philosopher."
Ahlid shook his head. "I am a worldly man and a frightened man. But I am a man. I will look at what is in front of me."
"And I, too," said the fat man, "It has taken us many years to pay attention to what is important."
"That is not strange at all," Ahlid said. "If all men paid due attention to the great and important questions who would be left to make iced sherbet?"
"You are right again," said the fat man. "Now I would like to lie down for a while. Then we will talk more."
Ahlid rang a bell. "The servant and I will assist you to your bedroom. The doctor will be here before you awaken. He cannot cure you, but he can ease pain. Do you wish me to do anything about the business you were talking about?"
"No," said the fat man. "I don't care about that any more."
"Then we will speak of it no more. In one way or another, business matters always seem to solve themselves."
The servant came, and the fat man was helped to a cool white bedroom. He realized that he was happy. Truly, nothing upon the earth could be predicted.
74. All Alone and Feeling Blue
Mishkin sat at his desk at the foot of the glass mountain that lay just beyond the great forest of Harmonia. He drank his morning coffee. The robot brought in the day's mail.
First there was an official government notice concerning the undeliverability of Engine Part L-1223A. Five reasons were listed. Mishkin didn't bother to read them. The government notice was mimeographed.
Next, there was a letter from Uncle Arnold:
Dear Tom, You should only know the things I've done and the wires I've pulled, but nothing works, I just can't seem to get that engine part to you. I haven't given up hope, however. (Your Uncle Arnie never gives up hope!) Maybe you didn't know that your second nephew, Irving Gluckman, is a consulting accountant for a branch of the Rand Corporation. I'm going to ask him to ask his boss if they'll take on your problem as a matter of affecting the National Interest, which, in a way, it is. All of this may take a little time, so if you can get home in any other way it might be a good idea to do just that.
Keep your chin up, and my best regards to your robot.
Finally, there was a letter from The Man of a Thousand Disguises:
Dear Tom, I've tried everything in my power, and quite a few things beyond my power, to send you that engine part and get you out of this unfortunate mess, which I take full responsibility for getting you into. I even went so far as to construct an entire new sequence, with impeccable supporting logic and character relationships, all for the sole purpose of delivering the engine part to you. But my main (new) character caught the plague, lost all interest in life, and summarily refused to complete the job I had created him for. I tried to get his two helpers to do it, but they had fallen in love and gone off to the Seychelles Islands to make jewellery and live on organic foods. So I spent a hell of a lot of time and wordage to no purpose whatsoever, and I really am sorry, but that was my last bright idea, and now my doctor tells me that I must take a rest.
Tom, forgive me, my nerves are shot, I'm broke, and there's simply nothing more I can do for you. I can't tell you how sorry I am that it has all worked out this way, especially since you've been so helpful and patient right from the beginning.
I am enclosing under separate cover a box of Hershey bars with almonds, a tortilla press, and a manuscript copy of my newest book, entitled How to Survive on an Alien Planet. According to impartial readers, this is a well-researched and hiply written examination of problems very similar to yours and contains many practical hints and suggestions. Stay well, old buddy, keep the old flag flying and all that sort of thing. If anything turns up I'll act immediately, but you really shouldn't count on it.
All the best —
The Author
75. Black Moment
Ah, the loneliness of it all! The abandonment! The pain! Quick, Watson, the needle, the pill, the joint, the pellet! Too many stars, too many stares. Disembody. But first eat the nice cream cheese and jelly sandwich.
76. Final Transformation
"Tommy! Stop playing now!"
"I'm not playing, Mom. This is real."
"I know. But you have to stop playing now and come home."
Mishkin laughed bitterly. "I can't get home, that's the whole problem. I need a part for my spaceship…"
"I told you to stop playing. Put down that broom and come into the house at once."
"It's not a broom, it's a spaceship. Anyhow, my robot says…"
"And bring that old radio in with you. Come in right now and eat your dinner."
"Right now, Mom? Can't I play a little longer?"
"It's almost dark, and you have homework to do. Come inside right now."
"Aw…"
"And kindly do not sulk."
"All right. But really, it is a spaceship, and it is broken."
"All right, it's a broken spaceship. Are you coming in?"
"Yes, Mom, I'm coming in right now."
77. Final Deformations
The Man of a Thousand Disguises turns into Mishkin. The robot changes into Uncle Arnold, who turns into Orchidius, who changes into the fat man, who turns into the robot, who changes into The Man of a Thousand Disguises, who changes into Mishkin, who changes… coalesces, combines.
There will be a short intermission while the appearances reindividualize themselves.
Music of the spheres will be played. Refreshments will be served. Insights will be projected by the Illusion Machine. Smoking is permitted.
FINAL EXHIBIT
A photograph of the 2nd battalion of the 32nd infantry regiment, 7th division, 8th Army. It is a long photograph, a scroll, a souvenir. Unroll it carefully. How much alike the faces are! But look — Mishkin is in the fourth row from the bottom, third face from the left.
He has a silly smirk on his face. He is in no way remarkable.