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By Root 2311 0

after which he would, in so many words, elaborate on how his failure to skew his thinking to the standards of, as he termed it, the “intellectual marketplace,” along with his failure to conceal his unconventional studies and methodologies, had resulted in his longtime inability to secure a position within a reputable academic institution, or within any sort of institution or place of business whatever. Thus, in his mind, his failure was more or less his ultimate distinction, and in this sense he was typical of those of us who were seated at the few tables and upon stools along the counter of that miniature diner, complaining that Grossvogel had charged us entirely too much money and to some degree misrepresented, in his brochure, the whole value and purpose of the excursion to the dead town of Crampton.

Taking my copy of Grossvogel’s brochure from the back pocket of my trousers, I unfolded its few pages and laid them before the other three people who were seated at the same table as I. Then I removed my fragile reading glasses from the pocket of the old cardigan I was wearing beneath my even older jacket in order to scrutinize these pages once again, confirming the suspicions I had had about their meaning.

“If you’re looking for the fine print—” said the man seated to my left, a “photographic portraitist” who often broke into a spate of coughing whenever he began to speak, as he did on this occasion.

“What I think my friend was going to say,” said the man seated on my right, “was that we have been the victims of a subtle and intricate swindle. I say this on his behalf because this is the direction in which his mind works, am I right?”

“A metaphysical swindle” confirmed the man on my left, who had ceased coughing for the moment.

“Indeed, a metaphysical swindle,” repeated the other man somewhat mockingly. “I would never have imagined myself being taken in by such a thing, given my experience and special field of knowledge. But this, of course, was such a subtle and intricate operation.”

While I knew that the man on my right was the author of an unpublished philosophical treatise entitled An Investigation into the Conspiracy Against the Human Race, I was not sure what he meant by the mention of his “experience and special field of knowledge.” Before I could inquire about this issue, I was brashly interrupted by the woman seated across the table from me.

“Mr. Reiner Grossvogel is a fraud, it’s as simple as that,” she said loud enough for everyone in the diner to hear. “I’ve been aware of his fraudulent character for some time, as you know. Even before his so-called metamorphic experience, or whatever he calls it—”

“Metamorphic recovery,” I said by way of correction.

“Fine, his metamorphic recovery, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Even before that time I could see that he was somebody who had all the makings of a fraud. He only required the proper conjunction of circumstances to bring this trait out in him. And then along came that supposedly near-fatal illness of his that he says led to that, I can barely say it, metamorphic recovery. After that he was able to realize all his unused talents for being the fraud he was always destined to be and always wanted to be. I joined in this farcical excursion, or whatever it is, only for the satisfaction of seeing everyone else find out what I always knew and always maintained about Reiner Grossvogel. You’re all my witnesses,” she finished, her wrinkled and heavily made-up eyes scanning our faces, and those of the others in the diner, for the affirmation she sought.

I knew this woman only by her professional name of Mrs. Angela. Until recently she had operated what everyone among our circle referred to as a “psychic coffeehouse.” Among the goods and services offered by this establishment was a fine selection of excellent pastries that were made off the premises by Mrs. Angela herself, or so she claimed. Unfortunately, the business never seemed to prosper either on the strength of its psychic readings, which were performed by several persons in Mrs. Angela’s employ, or on the