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A reader sat reading -- it was Mr. Harris with an
old mystery. He sat in one of a million conceivable
rooms of a city, bored witless.
One of
the three 60-watt bulbs in his overhead lamp had
burned out earlier in the week; every time he turned
it on for reading he got the sensation that he was
going blind. "I'll have to buy a new one soon," he
thought; but if he'd had a wife of ten years, she
would by now have learned that he wouldn't buy any
until they all burned out late one night.
It was the same with his television -- the tube
had burned out, what, a year or so ago, and he never
got around to having it fixed. A radio worked though.
"After all," Harris told Jones at work, "I don't do
anything when the TV is on, I just sit there."
"Ah, ya just sit there anyway," Jones replied.
"My kids watch it all the time." He scratched his
cheek, letting his eyelids droop. "I don't see how
they get their homework done."
"It's the schools, how do you know they even get
homework these days." Harris smiled. "Who cares, eh?"
The mystery revolved around a book theft, some
rare old Elizabethan folios. A literary scholar was
called in to consult with the detective, they sat for
lunch.
"Do you know," the scholar asked the
detective, "why the literary figures of the period are
often shown with a human skull on their desks?"
"No, why, I never thought about it,"
Harris read.
"Well, because many of them did keep skulls around." The scholar smiled. "They were called a memento mori, a death reminder. The point being that
we all end up there sooner or later, so why not live
in the present, get cracking?"
The detective was alert. "Seems like that
wouldn't work," he said, "for people who don't have any vision." He sipped his coffee, the meal over.
"I mean, these guys knew their strength, when they looked
at eighty years it was no time at all. Nowadays..."
He spun his hand at the wrist, trying to get the
general picture. "Well, with nothing but trivial
concerns, all that time is just a cross to bear. You
know."
"Eighty," said the scholar. "But in those days
you were an old man if you made forty-five." He
paused. "You're right, though. It's easy to drift
with external currents. And they were definitely not
holding stopwatches against themselves."
He rose to leave, the detective was getting up. "By the way," he
asked suddenly, "about the case. Can you find a clue
in the world?"
"The possibilities are endless. All we have is an
outline right now." The detective brightened up and
chuckled. "You know why those guys died early?" he
said. "I hear Marlowe used to drink wine the way we
drink beer."
Harris looked up at the clock. "A beer would be
nice right now," he thought, putting down the book.
Just then a knock came at the door. Harris walked
over and opened it, finding a man in a clown suit with
a gun, who aimed and fired. In Connecticut, at the
Ruger Arms warehouse, a shipping clerk was talking to
his girlfriend on the phone.
"The clinic said I was pregnant, Joey."
"Well, what do you want me to do about it?"
"I don't know," the doctor told his nurse. "But I think we'll need the inventory sheets first so we can
make out the claims for the insurance people to go
over when they get here."
"It's a terrible time we're living in," she replied,
shaking her head. "No one pays attention to
what our creator wants any more." She glanced down at
a copy of "Babelwatch" open on her desk. "Drug Scandal
Rocks High Circles", it told her. The article's
author was masturbating in Mobile, Alabama, the latest
issue of "Spermbank" magazine lying spread-eagled before
him on the bed.
The object of his attention, the Account of the
Month, Miss May, was at that moment in class at the
local business college in America, learning sales
analysis, an eternal golden braid in her hair.
"The time preference factor serves to explain
interest rates in micro-economies," the teacher told
them, closing the book on his desk and standing up.
"The vendor of credit has to avoid the 'Scylla' of
idle resources and the 'Charybdis' of liquidity problems,
all the while seeking the highest rate of return."
He gave a start when the bell rang, and turned
toward the wall.
"We have at least one person here who understands
about making use of her god-given capital,"
he said, turning back and winking.
"There's a world of
opportunity out there."
He wagged a finger at them.
"Potential waiting to be realized."
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