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“Best of luck.” She looked at her watch, touched the napkin to her lips. “Bolivar’s meeting should be done by now. I must fly. Bye.”
Then she was away in a burst of enthusiasm. We finished our luncheon and returned, sated, to our rooms. Eager to find the response to my queries.
Which was exactly nothing. Nor was it any better a day later. My letters had vanished into the interstellar void. Like magic. Then the message-received bell pinged and, with sudden joy, I lifted the sheet from the tray.
Glanced at it and cursed fluently in Esperanto as I crumpled it and hurled it to the floor.
“Fiegulo! Bastardego! Ekskrementkapo! “
“I gather you are not too happy at the result?” Angelina said.
When I answered her I had to speak through grated teeth. “I have never been so insulted in my life. Not only rejected but sneered at, put down, derided, despised…”
“And all of the rest. Well the study of magic is obviously a very secretive thing. So what do you do next?”
“Find another answer,” I said as I paced gloomily about the room. Which is not an easy thing to do. Nor is pacing angrily. Nor raging fatuously. “Not a single famous magician will take me.”
“Then why don’t you try the not-so-famous?”
“Not so good. I need only the best.”
“Maybe the best are dead. If they were really good they should be able to speak to you from beyond the grave.”
“No jokes! This is a serious matter…”
Then I stopped in my tracks as the idea popped to the surface. “Not alive, not dead … but … retired!”
My faithful suitcase had but to be commanded. There were only two names on the new list, the first one lightyears away right across the galaxy. But then, with quavering finger, I pointed out the address of the second name.
“Retired and living in Happy Hectares, a retirement home for actors. Sounds very nice.”
“But do you see where Happy Hectares is?”
“Of course. Here on Elysium. And why not? This is a pleasure planet serving a number of star systems. Shall I call Rent-a-Rover and get us some transportation?”
“By all means. I look forward intently to meeting the Great Grissini. While you do that I’ll get a printout of his career highlights.”
Some hours later we rolled through the entrance of Happy Hectares, under a curling archway that had HOME OF THE STARS spelled out in twinkling lightbulbs. We passed resplendent gardens with elderly types strolling the paths, or sitting in shaded pergolas. Robot gardeners worked away in the flower beds; butlerbots circulated with trays of tea and little sandwiches and cakes. And some with chilled glasses. Angelina saw the direction of my gaze and shook her head.
“Too early for you to get tucked into the sauce, Jim. First we find your magician.”
The elegantly gowned and carefully coiffed lady at the front desk was kindness itself.
“The Great Grissini, of course. Let me find out where he is right now.” She punched the keys; and I tried to remember where I had seen her before. Angelina was far quicker off the mark then I was.
“Why you must be Hedy Lastarr. I so enjoyed seeing you in Planet of Passion.”
“How nice of you to remember,” Hedy cooed, patting the curls of her stylishly gray hair. “Not many people remember the old threedees these days.”
“They are missing a lot. Far better than the current rubbish.”
“I could not agree more. Ahh, here we are. The Great Grissini is in the west garden just follow the attendant. And don’t forget our tax-free status.”
She pointed delicately at a collection box on the desk before her that was labeled with HELPING THE NEEDY IS A REAL GOOD DEEDY in ornate curled lettering. I stuffed credits through the slot in the top until she beamed with pleasure. We followed the blue-painted robot out into the gardens.
“He is the one you seek,” the robot said, pointing to a man under an umbrella, then rolling away.
The Great Grissini was not looking that great today. He was very thin, pale and bony, with his toupee not too well secured. He looked up suspiciously when we approached. I remembered the reaction-and lack of reaction-of the magicians I had tried to contact. I did not want to repeat my mistakes. They were surely a prickly lot. A strong sales pitch was very much in order now. I had boned up on his biography while Angelina drove, so I could be a little more subtle in my approach.
“Might I ask if I am speaking to Pasquale Grissini—known throughout the galaxy as the Great Grissini?”
The grunted response could have meant anything. I tried to smile warmly while I introduced myself and Angelina. He broke in before I was done.
“You want a drink?”
“Why, yes, of course. Kind of you to ask.”
His next grunt was a more enthusiastic one as he pressed a button on the table before him. When he took his thumb away I saw that the button was inscribed with a symbolic cocktail glass. Things were indeed looking up.
A boxish wheeled robot rolled over. It had arms at the front end beside a male ma
“I’ll take a double,” Grissini said, leaning forward; the first sign of animation I had seen. We ordered the specials as well. Something hummed in the thing’s interior. Then a hatch sprang open and the iced drinks were there on a tray. Behind a transparent door.
“That will be twenty-two credits,” the robot said. “Cash only.” Then it opened its mouth wide, revealing a money slot where its tongue should be. I looked out of the corners of my eyes at Grissini who was as a marble statue. My round, obviously. I stuffed in coins until a horn sounded a quick fanfare and the door slipped out of sight. Mechanical arms seized the tray and deposited it on the table before us.
“And some deep-fried seaweed pretzels,” our new friend said, almost smiling. I paid with pleasure. Then, while he was getting tucked into his toxic tea, I hit the high points of his career.
“Your vanishing Boy Sprout was the hit of the circuits. Where a real live Boy Sprout climbed a rope right before the audience-then vanished in an instant.
Did you know that there have been two books written about that trick? Each one said that they knew how it had been done.”
“Did they?”
“No. As far as the galaxy goes your mystery is still a mystery. Living on in the memories of your grateful audiences.”
“They loved it,” he said, nodding but not letting this interfere with some serious sipping.
“What the public admired most, I do believe, was your disappearing porcuswine. Where right before their eyes this large and ferocious creature simply vanished. The magic-loving theatergoers of the galaxy owe a lot to the Great Grissini and will never forget him.”
“Porcuswine-crap,” he snapped, stirred to activity at last. “If they remembered me I would not be retired and sitting here thirstily in the sun and living off my memories.” His eyes went damp for a moment. Then he drained his glass, put aside the moment of self-pity, and held the glass out for a refill. He sat silent until it arrived. A long swig put him back in control.
“Audiences don’t give a damn when you start to get old nor do producers. Plenty of new acts coming down the pike. So I got out before they threw me out. Now I’m stuck here in this pay-as-you-die dump. Room and board as promised when I signed up. My fault was that I didn’t read the fine print, too smart by far in those days. Let my wiseguy lawyer take care of it for me. Didn’t know until it was too late that he was senile. Signed me up here without looking at the contract. Didn’t even notice that just the basics are provided. Enough food, but not too good. A bed, but not too soft. Anything else you gotta pay. Which they forgot to tell him when he signed me up here.” He slurped up the last of the drink and I enthusiastically thumbed the button on the table again. There was nothing forced about my smile now. Bad news for him was good news for me.