The Memory Artists - Jeffrey Moore [137]
“Have you thought about what you’ll do with your money, Norval?”
“Yes Jack, I have. It’ll go towards providing a university education for my twelve foster children in Africa.”
“All right baby! Maybe we’ll see one of them on the show one day! OK, it’s time for the five-question lightning round. You must get at least three of five correct to move on. Are you ready? You’ve got twenty seconds to tell me the author of these lines on the monitor.”
(1) He is crazed with the spell of far Arabia,
They have stolen his wits away.
(2) Ah tell me not that memory
Sheds gladness o’er the past;
What is recalled by faded flowers
Save that they did not last?
(3) Forgetfulness has made its country your red
Mouth, and the flowing of Lethe is in your kiss.
(4) A dream before the ledger flitted,
A dream before the brain;
Ah, yet the toil is unremitted,
The journeying is vain!
The train the city never quitted,
‘Twas but a phantom train!
5) The Clock! Sinister, demonic god that makes us tremble,
With threatening finger tells us: “Remember!”
In no apparent hurry, Norval scanned the audience with impervious calm. Was he looking at me? No, at Samira. “One. Walter de la Mare. Two. Letitia Elizabeth Landon. Three. Baudelaire. Four. May Kendall. Five. Baudelaire.”
Jack bit his lip, slowly nodded his head. “Amazing. Absolutely freaking AMAZING! All five correct for five thousand dollars! Let’s hear it for our resident genius, Norval Blaquière—who may be going where no other contestant has gone before!”
APPLAUSE sign.
Following JJ’s lead, Samira jumped to her feet, clapping wildly. Would she ever do that for me? I wondered, as I clapped along. Of course not. Why would she?
“All right, let’s pause here to catch our breath. When we return, Norval will be going for … ten thousand dollars!”
APPLAUSE sign.
“Back in the early seventies the image of Ella Fitzgerald’s recorded voice shattering a wine glass was seen and remembered by millions. And the accompanying theme line, ‘Is it live or is it Memorex?’ was quickly adopted around the world. To continue this tradition of excellence, we are now introducing our Pocket Memory CD-R. At three inches, Pocket Memory goes where no recorder has ever gone before …”
“All right, we’ve got Norval Blaquière on the hot seat. Or should I say, cold seat? So far Norval has won … five thousand dollars! Do you have any kids, my pal?”
“No.”
“For ten thousand dollars, another two-parter. First part: what does Liebestod signify? L-i-e-b-e-s-t-o-d. A German word, isn’t that right, Dr. Vorta? Is it (a) death as a result of unhappy love; (b) mutual love in which both lovers prefer union in death to separation in life; (c) a utopian state in which marriage does not exist; (d) a poem by Dorothy Parker?”
“B. And D.”
“Right you are! But you’re not out of the woods yet. Second part: in which of the following Elizabethan poems—”
“Hero and Leander. Christopher Marlowe.”
“Uh … sure you don’t want me to finish? No? Glad to hear it, my man, because you’ve just won ten thousand clams!”
APPLAUSE sign.
“I’m jazzed, and I know our audience is too! Are you jazzed, audience? Are you amped? I can’t hear you! All right, we’re now approaching the game’s final stage. It’s time to narrow your field. Which language is it going to be: (a) French, (b) German, (c) Spanish, (d) Italian or (e) Arabic?”
“E.”
“Really? Are you serious? Excellent stuff. Now, you know things are going to get trickier—no more multiple choice! Are you ready to rumble?”
“No, I’d like to use one of my lifelines at this point. I’d like my friend Noel Burun to trade places with me. Because my memory has suddenly gone blank.”
The studio went silent. “But … we don’t have lifelines on this show,” Jack said, with a puzzled expression. “What’s that, Dr. Vorta? We can bend the rules? We put it to the audience? OK, what do you say, audience? It’s in your hands. Should we go with the flow?”
APPLAUSE sign.
Jack shielded his eyes with his hand, surveyed the crowd, counted raised hands.