The Schwa Was Here

By now the Schwa was hanging around with us more—I mean when we actually noticed him there. Ira was not too thrilled about it. See, Ira was not invisible. He had made great advances into the visible world. Take his video camera for in­stance. You’d think it would make him a behind-the-scenes type of guy. Not so—because when Ira has his eye to the viewfinder, he becomes the center of attention. He directs the world, and the world allows it. So I guess I could see why he kept his distance from the Schwa. Invisibility threatened him.

Ira did join us on the basketball court, though. Couldn’t resist that, I guess, and in playing “friendly” choose-up games, we had quickly learned how to turn the Schwa Effect to our ad­vantage.

Move number one: Fake to the left, pass right to the Schwa, shoot, score!

“Hey—where did he come from?” someone from the other team would always yell.

Move number two: Dribble up the middle, flip it back to the Schwa, who’d drive down the sidelines for a layup—shoot—score!

“What?I Who’s guarding that guy?” It was great watching the other teams get all frustrated, never noticing the Schwa until the ball was already in his hands.

Move number three: Pass to Howie, back to me, and then to the Schwa, who’s right under the basket. A quick hook shot—score!

As for the other team, there would be much weeping and gnashing of teeth, as the Bible says.

On this particular day, after the other kids went off to console themselves in their humiliating loss, Howie, the Schwa, and I hung around on the court just shooting around. Ira also left right after the game, not wanting to hang around the Schwa any longer than he had to.

“We oughta go out for the team,” Howie suggested as we shot baskets. “We’ve got a system.”

“The Schwa oughta go out for the team, you mean,” I said.

The Schwa dribbled the ball a bit, took a hook shot, and sunk it. “I played peewee basketball a few years back, but it didn’t work out.”

“Don’t tell me—the coach always forgot to put even when you were in, and even when you were in, nobody passed to you.”

He shrugs like it’s a given. “My father never showed up for the games either. So I figured, what was the point?”

“How about your mother?” says Howie. I might be the prince of foot-in-mouth disease, but Howie’s the king. He gri­maces the moment after he says it, but it’s already out.

The Schwa doesn’t say anything at first. He takes another shot. He misses. “My mother’s not around anymore.”

Howie keeps looking at me, like I’m go

No. Instead I change the subject, changing all of our lives from that moment on, because that’s when I come up with what would forever be known as Stealth Economics.

“Hey, if the Schwa Effect works on the basketball court, there’s got to be other ways to put it to good use.”

The Schwa stopped dribbling. “Like how?”

“I don’t know ... Spy on people and stuff.”

Howie’s ears perked up at the mention of spy stuff. “The gov­ernment would pay big bucks for someone who’s invisible.”

“He’s not invisible,” I reminded him. “He’s invisible-ish. Like a stealth fighter.”

“The CIA could still use him.”

“And abuse him.” I grabbed the ball away from the Schwa, went in for a layup, and made it.

“I don’t want to go to the government,” the Schwa says.

“Yeah,” I said. “They’d dissect him and put him in a form­aldehyde fish tank in Area 51.”

Howie shook his head. “Area 51 is for aliens,” he says. “They’d probably put him in Area 52.”

“Maybe we should try something that isn’t so big,” I suggested. “Maybe just stuff around school. I’m sure there are people around here who would pay for the services of a Stealth Schwa.” At first this had just been my lips flapping, like they often do—but every once in a while my lips flap and something brilliant flies out. I realized that maybe I was onto something here.

“How much do you think people would pay?” the Schwa asked.

I took an outside shot. “How much is the stealth fighter worth?” Clank! Nothing but chain. I reveled in the sound.

Hypothesis: The Schwa can pass through airport security with an iron bar in his pocket.

Materials: JFK American Airlines terminal, a six- inch iron bar, and the Schwa.

Procedure: The Schwa was asked to walk through the security checkpoint, go to Gate B-l 7, then walk back.

Results: The Schwa stood in line at the security checkpoint, but the guy who was checking IDs and airplane tickets skipped right past him. The Schwa gave us the A-okay sign. Then he walked through the metal detector, and it buzzed. Security then no­ticed him. They made him raise his arms, passing a wand all over him until finding the iron bar. They called more security over and two national guards­men dressed in camouflage. They asked where his parents were and wanted to see his ticket. That’s when the rest of us came forward to explain that it was just an experiment and not to get all bent out of shape. The national guardsmen and security officers weren’t happy. They called our parents. They were not happy either. This ends our experi­mentation on the Schwa Effect.

Conclusion:

1. The Schwa is u

2. Iron bars in the Schwa’s pocket are still iron bars.

4. Making Big Bucks off of Stealth Economics, Because Maybe I Got Some Business Sense

Once we decided to turn the Schwa Effect into a money- making proposition, it wasn’t hard to get the ball rolling. When we had presented our series of Schwa experi­ments to the class, most everyone laughed, figuring it was a joke—but enough of our classmates had been part of the ex­periments to suspect there was something more to it. You know, it’s like that TV show where the psychic dude talked to your dead relatives—all of whom seem to be just hanging around, watching everything you do ... which is really disturb­ing when you stop to think about it. You don’t really believe it, but there’s enough borderline credibility to make you wonder.

That’s how it was with the Schwa. It was too much for most kids to really believe the Schwa Effect, but people were curi­ous—and curiosity was a key element of Stealth Economics. Mary Ellen MacCaw was the first to offer hard cash.

“I wa

“Do what?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Something.”

“The Schwa doesn’t do things for free.”

Mary Ellen reached into her pocket, jangled around in there for a while, and came up with four quarters. She handed them to me.

“For a dollar, the Schwa will appear out of thin air.”

“Where?” said Mary Ellen. “When?”

“Here and now,” said the Schwa.

And she jumped. I’ve never seen anyone jump like that ex­cept while watching a horror movie—because the Schwa had been standing right next to her all along.

She bumped into a locker and the sound echoed down the hallway. “How do you do that?I” she asked the Schwa.

“Guess you could call it a ’hidden’ talent.”

As Mary Ellen’s mouth was almost as big as her nose, by the next day people were waiting in line to pay the price and share in the Schwa Experience.