The Memory Artists - Jeffrey Moore [55]
“So how do you feel? You must be disappointed.”
“Not everyone can medal, eh? I’m happy just to be here.”
“Right. But you came sixty-eighth.”
“I’m here for the experience. To meet the other athletes. Watch their events now that mine’s over. Just relax for the rest of the week.”
“You don’t feel disappointed?”
“I’m happy just to be here.”
“So this is like a junket for you, a joyride?”
“I’m here for the experience. I hope to build on this for the next Olympics.”
“But you’re forty-three.”
“I’m happy just to be here.”
“Anybody else show up while I was changing?” asked JJ as he emerged from his bedroom wearing a T-shirt that said
THE RIGHT CHEMISTRY
, filthier than the one it replaced. “I’ve invited some mega-watt scientists, including Dr. Ravenscroft and Dr. Rhéaume—and of course Dr. Vorta. I’m his number-one fan, eh? I keep a scrapbook on him. And you know what? He’s the one responsible for us meeting in the first place!”
“Think we could have a glass of that red?” Norval nodded towards the table.
“I haven’t done the dishes for a while.”
“I’ll drink it out of the bottle.”
“Will a paper cup do?”
“Fine.”
“Or plastic?”
“Goatskin, anything.”
“Would you like some wine, Samira? How about you, Noel?”
“Noel is a temperance expert,” said Norval. “I’ll have his glass. Didn’t you mention something about absinthe and/or laudanum in your invitation?”
“I’m saving that for later. I’ll just pour Noel a taste. Here you go, Noel, Sam. I’d like to propose a toast to the world’s greatest scientist, Dr. Émile Vorta!”
They clinked plastic cups, with the exception of Norval, who was already pouring himself another.
“Today is a magic day,” said JJ, wiping his wet chin with his T-shirt. “In five minutes we’ll be experiencing something that won’t happen again in our lifetime.”
To anyone else, the stretch of silence that followed might have been seen as disturbing indifference. Not to JJ. “Yup, a magic moment is about to occur …”
“Really?” said Samira, like an actress suddenly remembering her lines. “What won’t happen in our lifetime?”
“At two minutes past eight, the clock will read in perfect symmetry. It will say 20:02, 20/02, 2002. It’s only happened twice before in history and will only happen one other time, in 2112. It’s a thing of mathematical beauty—and a palindrome! And that’s why we’re meeting tonight, that’s why we’re inaugurating our club tonight, at this time! It’s a palindromic moment!”
They all clinked cups again with the exception of Norval, who was blankly watching an interview with a British ski-jumper. His attention was diverted to three pump-like contraptions standing beside the television. He picked up one of them. “Uh, JJ?”
“Yes? You’d like to know what those are for?”
“I would, actually. But first I’d like to point out that today is the second of February.”
“That’s correct.”
“Your ‘palindromic moment’ will not occur until the twentieth.”
With a worried look, JJ began writing in the air with his pointer finger. “Oh my God! You’re right. I’m a blithering idiot!”
“Maleesh,” Samira said comfortingly, her hand on his shoulder. “I got confused too. Why don’t we just make tonight a kind of … dry run, test flight. We’ll hold the official inauguration on the twentieth.”
“Yes!” said JJ. “What a great—”
“You were going to tell me what these are,” said Norval, still clutching one of the pumps.
“Well, the one you got in your hand is an inside-out sherlock, that one there’s a purple flamer, and the other’s a standup double mushroom side lock.”
Norval nodded. “Penis enlargers?”
“Bongs. Hand-blown soft-glass pipes. Using the X-Tractor, the ultimate cold water extraction system.”
Norval examined them further. “So I presume you have something interesting to fill them with? Is that what