Read Online Callahan's Place 07 - Callahan's Legacy (v5.0) by Spider Robinson - Free Book Online
Authors: Spider Robinson
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man.”
“Dammit,” Acayib said stubbornly, “I refuse to be grateful. I will not concede that Riley-Day Syndrome isn’t a fucking curse. It’s not a blessing, it’s a sentence.”
“Do you know who Neils Bohr is?” Solace asked him.
“Genius. One of the founders of quantum mechanics.”
“Correct. Listen, now: Bohr’s Codicil to Logic says: ‘The opposite of an ordinary truth is a falsehood. But there also exist great truths—and the opposite of a great truth is another great truth .’”
“Run that by me one more time.”
“‘Love is great.’ ‘Love sucks.’ Both eternally true. See? It’s a great truth, one capable of contradicting itself yet emphatically existing. ‘The blues make you feel sad.’ There’s another.”
He was looking thunderstruck.
“How about, ‘Civilization is a great invention,’?” Dave offered.
Marty Matthias-Goldblum, Dave’s husband, giggled suddenly. “‘True and self-contradictory,’ huh? I’ve got one that’s a single word.”
We all looked expectant.
“Gay.”
The result was a rumble, about a third laughter and two-thirds applause. Dave gave his husband a kiss, and the same mix recurred.
“And you, Acayib,” Solace said. “You feel no pain.”
Acayib burst into tears, long enough for us all to see that there were no tears, and then hid his face in his hands.
The giggles and cheers faded to silence.
“Acayib, my new friend,” I said, “go ahead and fret about your condition if you feel you must. Maybe things do have to balance, and you have to punish yourself for being unpunishable, I don’t know. But don’t worry about worrying, if that makes any sense. Okay? Don’t take on any more pain, more mental or spiritual pain, than you absolutely have to. There’s too much of it in the world for guys like you to be manufacturing more than God intended. Listen to what Mary McCartney told her son Paulie: let it be.”
He looked up at me, and then around at all the concerned bystanders—all of us, that is. I was interested to note that despite the absence of tears, his eyes were still red and weepy-looking. I wondered if he knew that…since he could not feel his lids stinging.
“Jake,” he said finally, his voice hoarse, “what do I have to do to hang out here?”
“Show up. Be kind.” I tried to think. What else? “Be merry.”
“By God, I will!” he cried, and the earlier laughter and applause returned redoubled.
***
When he was ready for his third drink, I suggested God’s Blessing, judging that he could use a little caffeine with his ethanol. He watched The Machine do its magical thing with great interest.
“That must be hell to clean, after closing,” he ventured.
“Not at all,” I told him. “I push the ‘goodnight’ button, and it hoses itself down inside with a decalcifier solution and a rinse cycle. Maintenance consists of replacing beans, booze, sugar and cream as they run out, and there are little warning lights to cue me.”
He took a sip. Atherton tablelands Bush Gold, mixed with the Bushmill’s 1608. People smiled as they saw his expression change. “My God,” he breathed. “That thing is the apex of technological civilization.”
“That it is,” I agreed. “The whole world will have one—just as soon as they deserve it.”
“You people deserve that? You must be pretty special.”
“Ve certainly like to sink so,” said Ralph von Wau Wau, who had climbed up onto a barstool to order a saucer of scotch. (Actually I don’t have classical barstools—it was more of a real tall armchair.)
I waited to see how Acayib would handle this, his first full step into the Twilight Zone. If you want to learn something about a new acquaintance, introduce him to your friend, the talking dog…
Acayib didn’t hurry. Nor did he glance around to see where the ventriloquist was. He
“Dammit,” Acayib said stubbornly, “I refuse to be grateful. I will not concede that Riley-Day Syndrome isn’t a fucking curse. It’s not a blessing, it’s a sentence.”
“Do you know who Neils Bohr is?” Solace asked him.
“Genius. One of the founders of quantum mechanics.”
“Correct. Listen, now: Bohr’s Codicil to Logic says: ‘The opposite of an ordinary truth is a falsehood. But there also exist great truths—and the opposite of a great truth is another great truth .’”
“Run that by me one more time.”
“‘Love is great.’ ‘Love sucks.’ Both eternally true. See? It’s a great truth, one capable of contradicting itself yet emphatically existing. ‘The blues make you feel sad.’ There’s another.”
He was looking thunderstruck.
“How about, ‘Civilization is a great invention,’?” Dave offered.
Marty Matthias-Goldblum, Dave’s husband, giggled suddenly. “‘True and self-contradictory,’ huh? I’ve got one that’s a single word.”
We all looked expectant.
“Gay.”
The result was a rumble, about a third laughter and two-thirds applause. Dave gave his husband a kiss, and the same mix recurred.
“And you, Acayib,” Solace said. “You feel no pain.”
Acayib burst into tears, long enough for us all to see that there were no tears, and then hid his face in his hands.
The giggles and cheers faded to silence.
“Acayib, my new friend,” I said, “go ahead and fret about your condition if you feel you must. Maybe things do have to balance, and you have to punish yourself for being unpunishable, I don’t know. But don’t worry about worrying, if that makes any sense. Okay? Don’t take on any more pain, more mental or spiritual pain, than you absolutely have to. There’s too much of it in the world for guys like you to be manufacturing more than God intended. Listen to what Mary McCartney told her son Paulie: let it be.”
He looked up at me, and then around at all the concerned bystanders—all of us, that is. I was interested to note that despite the absence of tears, his eyes were still red and weepy-looking. I wondered if he knew that…since he could not feel his lids stinging.
“Jake,” he said finally, his voice hoarse, “what do I have to do to hang out here?”
“Show up. Be kind.” I tried to think. What else? “Be merry.”
“By God, I will!” he cried, and the earlier laughter and applause returned redoubled.
***
When he was ready for his third drink, I suggested God’s Blessing, judging that he could use a little caffeine with his ethanol. He watched The Machine do its magical thing with great interest.
“That must be hell to clean, after closing,” he ventured.
“Not at all,” I told him. “I push the ‘goodnight’ button, and it hoses itself down inside with a decalcifier solution and a rinse cycle. Maintenance consists of replacing beans, booze, sugar and cream as they run out, and there are little warning lights to cue me.”
He took a sip. Atherton tablelands Bush Gold, mixed with the Bushmill’s 1608. People smiled as they saw his expression change. “My God,” he breathed. “That thing is the apex of technological civilization.”
“That it is,” I agreed. “The whole world will have one—just as soon as they deserve it.”
“You people deserve that? You must be pretty special.”
“Ve certainly like to sink so,” said Ralph von Wau Wau, who had climbed up onto a barstool to order a saucer of scotch. (Actually I don’t have classical barstools—it was more of a real tall armchair.)
I waited to see how Acayib would handle this, his first full step into the Twilight Zone. If you want to learn something about a new acquaintance, introduce him to your friend, the talking dog…
Acayib didn’t hurry. Nor did he glance around to see where the ventriloquist was. He
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