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By Root 629 0

were pristine, in hues of pastel solicitude that soothed and beckoned. There were tables and chairs throughout, and at one end a counter of some magnificent gleaming metal that showed Colman his ravaged reflection, silvered and extruded, but clearly wan and near total exhaustion. Patches of snowburned flesh had peeled away on both cheeks, chin, nose. The eyes somewhat unfocused as if coated with albumin. The Sanctum of Coalesced Revelations was brightly lit, scintillant surfaces leading the eye toward the shining bar of the magic metal counter. Colman shambled forward, dropping his ice staff; he was a thing drawn off the mountain barely alive, into this oasis of repose and cleanliness, light and succor.

There was a man in his late thirties standing behind the gleaming metal counter. He smiled brightly at Colman. He had a nice face. “Hi! Welcome to The Fountainhead of Necessary Perplexity. May I take your order, please?”

Colman stood rooted and wordless. He knew precisely what was required of him—each and every one of the arcane tomes had made it clear there was a verbal sigil, a password, a phrase that need be spoken to gain access to the holiest of holies—but he had no idea what that open sesame might be. The Gardyloo of Ecstatic Entrance. Wordless, Colman looked beseechingly at the counterman.

He may have said, “Uh . . .”

“Please make your selection from the menu,” said the man behind the counter, who wore a classic saffron robe and a small squared-off cardboard hat. Colman remembered a film clip of The Andrews Sisters singing “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy,” wearing just such “garrison caps.” The counterman pointed to the black-on-yellow signage suspended above the gleaming deck. Colman pondered the choices:

THE OXEN ARE SLOW, BUT THE EARTH IS PATIENT

CHANCE FAVORS THE PREPARED MIND

IT TAKES A HEAP O’LIVIN’TO MAKE A HOUSE A HOME

DEATH COMES WITHOUT THE THUMPING OF DRUMS

I LIKE YOUR ENERGY

THE AVALANCHE HAS ALREADY STARTED; IT’S TOO LATE

FOR THE PEBBLES TO VOTE

EVERY CLOUD HAS A SILVER LINING

DON’T LOOK BACK. SOMETHING MAY BE GAINING ON YOU

YES, LIFE IS HARD; BUT IF IT WERE EASY, EVERYBODY WOULD BE DOING IT

LIFE IS A FOUNTAIN

TRUST IN ALLAH, BUT TIE YOUR CAMEL

THE BARKING DOG DOES NO HARM TO THE MOON

THE MAN WHO BURNS HIS MOUTH ON HOT MILK

BLOWS ON HIS ICE CREAM

NO ONE GETS OUT OF CHILDHOOD ALIVE

SO NEAR, AND YET SO FAR

MAN IS COAGULATED SMOKE FORMED BY HUMAN PREDESTINATION . . .

DUE TO RETURN TO THAT STATE FROM WHICH IT ORIGINATED

French fries are à la carte.

Colman drew a deep, painful breath. To get to this point, and to blow it because of a few words . . . unthinkable. His mind raced. There were deep thoughts he could call up from a philosophy base on the laptop, the aphorisms and rubrics of six thousand years of human existence, but it was only one of them, only one—like a prime number—that would stand alone and open to him the portals of wisdom; only one that would be accepted by this gatekeeper of Universal Oneness; only one unknown core jot of heart-meat that would serve at this moment.

He tried to buy himself a cæsura: he said to the saffron-robed counterman, “Uh . . . one of the those . . . ‘Life is a fountain’? I know that one; you’ve got to be kidding, right? ‘Life is a fountain...’”

The counterman looked at him with shock. “Life isn’t a fountain?”

Colman stared at him. He wasn’t amused.

“Just fooling,” the counterman said, with a huge smile. “We always toss in an old gag, just to mix it up with the Eternal Verities. Life should be a bit of a giggle, a little vaudeville, whaddaya think?”

Colman was nonplussed. He was devoid of plus. He tried to buy another moment: “So, uh, what’s your name?”

“I’ll be serving you. My name’s Lou.”

“Lou. What are you, a holy man, a monk from some nearby lamasery? You look a little familiar to me.”

Lou chuckled softly again, as if he were long used to the notoriety and had come to grips with it. “Oh, heck no, I’m not a holy man; you probably recognize me from a bubble gum card. I used to play a little ball. Last name’s Boudreau.” Colman asked him