Glimmering (23 page)
Authors: Elizabeth Hand
Jack thought of Leonard, of his records of human and animal extinction purchased by collectors in Manhattan and Vancouver and Bloemfontein. He sank back into his chair. “Have you—have you ever actually
read The Gaudy Book
?”
read The Gaudy Book
?”
Larry Muso pursed his lips shook his head. “Myself, personally? No. But Mr. Tatsumi, our CEO—
he
reads it. He used to travel a great deal. He said that
The Gaudy Book
was the only thing he could read on an airplane.”
he
reads it. He used to travel a great deal. He said that
The Gaudy Book
was the only thing he could read on an airplane.”
Jack tried to figure out if this could possibly be a compliment. “Well,” he said at last, “does he still travel much?”
“Oh no. He has not left the desert in two years.”
“Probably behind in his reading, then,” Jack said, and was rewarded with a smile.
He straightened, putting on his best Face the Trustees expression, and stared at
The King in Yellow
on the table. “I’m afraid I can’t accept this.”
The King in Yellow
on the table. “I’m afraid I can’t accept this.”
Larry Muso looked puzzled. “Why not?”
“Because I’m not in a position to do business with you.
The Gaudy Book
is no longer a going concern. We’re suspending publication—”
The Gaudy Book
is no longer a going concern. We’re suspending publication—”
“I know, Mr. Finnegan.” Larry Muso’s voice sounded less conciliatory; more the voice of a man determined to do business, swiftly and with no interference. Surprised, Jack looked up and saw the other man draw a tiny palmtop from his pocket. “In the first quarter of this year, you showed a loss of—nearly two million dollars.” Larry Muso frowned, tapped once more at the keyboard. “Last year, your friend Leonard Thrope made the magazine the beneficiary of a modest grant—”
“A
loan
,” Jack said, but he knew he was losing.
loan
,” Jack said, but he knew he was losing.
“—which enabled you to produce the current spring issue.” Larry Muso tilted his head in the direction of the cartons by the wall. “Now you are unable to afford the cost of shipping those to your few remaining subscribers. If—”
“Did Leonard put you up to this?” Jack broke in angrily. “Because—”
“
If
you would let me finish, Mr. Finnegan,” Larry Muso went on, “I would be able to tell you that yes, Mr. Thrope has been in touch with us. We have mutual—friends.”
If
you would let me finish, Mr. Finnegan,” Larry Muso went on, “I would be able to tell you that yes, Mr. Thrope has been in touch with us. We have mutual—friends.”
In another oddly poised gesture he opened his hand “
Friend
,” he corrected himself. His soft black eyes gazed searchingly into Jack’s. “Another collector.”
Friend
,” he corrected himself. His soft black eyes gazed searchingly into Jack’s. “Another collector.”
Jack made a grim little face. “I see.”
“I hope you do. You must understand, Mr. Tatsumi is not just a collector. He is a collector of
Americana
. But very eclectic. Mr. Thrope has helped him with many items. An Edward Hopper, some Winslow Homer. Notebooks of Sylvia Plath and Ariza Davis. A drawing by Jeffrey Dahmer. He owns Judy Garland’s dress from
The Wizard of Oz
. Many letters of Thomas Jefferson—Mr. Tatsumi is very fond of Thomas Jefferson.”
Americana
. But very eclectic. Mr. Thrope has helped him with many items. An Edward Hopper, some Winslow Homer. Notebooks of Sylvia Plath and Ariza Davis. A drawing by Jeffrey Dahmer. He owns Judy Garland’s dress from
The Wizard of Oz
. Many letters of Thomas Jefferson—Mr. Tatsumi is very fond of Thomas Jefferson.”
“As was Mr. Dahmer,” said Jack.
Larry Muso did not hear him. “As I mentioned, Mr. Tatsumi enjoys reading
The Gaudy Book
. And he is not insensitive to your plight—”
The Gaudy Book
. And he is not insensitive to your plight—”
“Which he heard about from Leonard.”
“Which he heard about from Leonard. And so, I am here to deliver a proposal to you—”
The glossy black palmtop disappeared back into his voluminous jacket, and Larry Muso slid a folder onto the table.
PROSPECTUS FOR PURCHASE OF
The Gaudy Book
19 APRIL 1999
GORITA-FOLHAM-IZED
THE GOLDEN FAMILY INTERNATIONAL
AN UNLIMITED PARTNERSHIP
In the center of the portfolio, the silvery holographic image of a skeletal gryphon reared and grasped within its claws a spinning orb.
“I see.” Jack stared at the portfolio, then picked it up. When he opened it, faint bells chimed, and a breathy female voice whispered
The Golden Family Welcomes You
. He flipped through the pages, incomprehensible sets of numbers, with here and there the small square IT image of an athletic-looking blond man in a conservative dark suit, poised to deliver instructive commentary to arbitrage-impaired readers.
The Golden Family Welcomes You
. He flipped through the pages, incomprehensible sets of numbers, with here and there the small square IT image of an athletic-looking blond man in a conservative dark suit, poised to deliver instructive commentary to arbitrage-impaired readers.
Like me
, thought Jack. He cleared his throat again, tapping the prospectus against his hand. “Well, okay. I’ll have our attorneys take a look at it.”
, thought Jack. He cleared his throat again, tapping the prospectus against his hand. “Well, okay. I’ll have our attorneys take a look at it.”
“Mr. Thrope suggested that perhaps you use
his
attorney, rather than Mr. Gardino.”
his
attorney, rather than Mr. Gardino.”
“Tell Mr. Thrope I’ll keep my own goddamn counsel.” To Jack’s horror he felt tears pricking at his eyes. He tossed the prospectus onto the table and stood. “Thank you, Mr. Muso—I have some things to do now—”
Larry Muso jumped to his feet. His knees knocked against the table, sending the prospectus sliding onto the floor. At once he stooped to retrieve it; Jack did the same. The two of them nearly collided, Larry straightening with the portfolio in his hand, his pompadour grazing Jack’s cheek as he stepped backward. At the touch of his hair Jack shivered, felt an involuntary
frisson
at how soft it was. Not hard and lacquered at all, but silky and fragrant with that expensive perfume. For an instant he imagined them somewhere else; not in bed but sitting side by side in some forever lost and ordinary place, a bookstore perhaps, an espresso bar, knees touching as they turned the pages of a magazine.
The Gaudy Book
, of course: the special anniversary double issue. He could smell new glossy paper and scalded milk and feel a hand resting upon his . . .
frisson
at how soft it was. Not hard and lacquered at all, but silky and fragrant with that expensive perfume. For an instant he imagined them somewhere else; not in bed but sitting side by side in some forever lost and ordinary place, a bookstore perhaps, an espresso bar, knees touching as they turned the pages of a magazine.
The Gaudy Book
, of course: the special anniversary double issue. He could smell new glossy paper and scalded milk and feel a hand resting upon his . . .
Then the vision was gone. He blinked, seeing again those odd whorls of light at the corners of his eyes, and drew back, trying to cover his confusion. When he looked up he saw Larry Muso staring at him: his cheeks were spotted each with a single bright red dot.
“Excuse me,” Larry Muso said in a low voice. He dropped the portfolio onto the table, where it clattered and whispered to itself.
“I’m sorry.” Jack shook his head. “I didn’t mean to be rude—”
“No, no—” Larry smiled, a false bright flash. “It is your decision, of course. Only we were under the impression that the magazine’s demise was—imminent. Perhaps we misunderstood . . . ?”
“No, you understood perfectly. God forbid Leonard should ever miss a deathwatch.” Larry stared at him, his expression still frozen in that mask of benign agreement, but his dark eyes held a flicker of unease. “I just—well, even if I
did
want to sell the magazine, there’s the matter of choosing a successor—another editor.”
did
want to sell the magazine, there’s the matter of choosing a successor—another editor.”
The unease melted into another conciliatory smile. “Mr. Tatsumi would like
you
to continue as editor.”
you
to continue as editor.”
“But I don’t
want
to be editor anymore. I’m sick,” Jack said, and no longer cared if bitterness leached into his voice. “I’ve spent my whole fucking life on this magazine. I’m ready to give it up. Can you give
that
message to Mr. Tatsumi?”
want
to be editor anymore. I’m sick,” Jack said, and no longer cared if bitterness leached into his voice. “I’ve spent my whole fucking life on this magazine. I’m ready to give it up. Can you give
that
message to Mr. Tatsumi?”
He had thought it might be gratifying to insult his visitor. Instead, Jack immediately felt awful. Larry Muso stared at him with such pity and embarrassment that Jack found himself reassuring
him
.
him
.
“Look, Mr. Muso, maybe I could help you find someone to replace me, someone who—”
“But your family—the magazine has been in your
family
—”
family
—”
“Well, yes, but it was always just a sideline to the department stores. And it’s been a hundred years. I mean, we’ve had a good long run—”
“I am
certain
that Mr. Tatsumi wants the magazine intact.” Larry Muso shook his head; his pompadour waggled furiously. “It is part of the entire aesthetic of the purchase. We will have to discuss this, I think.”
certain
that Mr. Tatsumi wants the magazine intact.” Larry Muso shook his head; his pompadour waggled furiously. “It is part of the entire aesthetic of the purchase. We will have to discuss this, I think.”
Jack cast a quick look at the prospectus on the table. “Maybe,” he said, trying to imbue the word with menace. “But right now I really have to get back to work. So—”
He beckoned at the door. Instead Larry Muso stared at him with an oddly frank sort of interest, neither sexual nor businesslike; as though Jack were wearing some highly unusual item of clothing. After a moment he said, “What are you doing for it?”
Jack frowned. “Some phone calls—I have a few—”
“No, no—for your disease. What treatment are you undergoing?”
“That’s none of your fucking business.” Jack’s face tightened with anger, “I said—”
“Because you are looking very well.” Larry Muso stepped around Jack, still giving him that appraising stare. “There are some unusual drugs, we have several major pharmaceutical holdings, and I was just—”
“
OUT!
”
OUT!
”
Jack stormed after him, but at the door Muso stopped and made a mocking half bow.
“That was inexcusably rude. Please forgive me.” For a moment Jack thought Muso was going to burst out laughing. “But I should warn you, Mr. Finnegan—The Golden Family is quite serious about acquiring your magazine. I volunteered to make this inquiry, out of respect for what Leonard Thrope told me of your work, and because I thought it would be more—palatable—than introducing you to our attorneys so early in the negotiation process. But the attorneys will come . . .”
Absently he fingered his waistcoat. “There is a word we use, Mr. Finnegan—
nemawashi
. It is a business term, but the word is derived from gardening. It is what one does when planting a tree. To cut the roots, to wrest the plant from the earth too quickly, is to kill it. The roots wither, the tree will die. A wise gardener will pluck and prune carefully over several weeks, so that the tree can adjust to its new life.”
nemawashi
. It is a business term, but the word is derived from gardening. It is what one does when planting a tree. To cut the roots, to wrest the plant from the earth too quickly, is to kill it. The roots wither, the tree will die. A wise gardener will pluck and prune carefully over several weeks, so that the tree can adjust to its new life.”
Larry Muso’s eyes gazed directly into Jack’s. “These are dangerous but very interesting times for investors, Mr. Finnegan. That is why The Golden Family is launching a sky station from the Mongolian desert. That is why we have very exceptional gardeners.”
With a flourish he smoothed the front of his coat, bowed again, and walked out the door. Jack could only watch, chastened and amazed, as the slender figure strode vigorously back up the rain-streaked drive, until it was lost to sight.
He turned and sank into a chair, picked up first
The King in Yellow
and then The Golden Family’s prospectus. The novel he gazed at longingly and set aside. The prospectus earned more resigned attention. He weighed it carefully in his palm, wondering what, exactly, the cover was made of—the material felt smooth and taut, but also supple, like the skin of an underripe fruit. Tentatively he pressed it with a finger, and was rewarded with a slight dimpling in the material.
The King in Yellow
and then The Golden Family’s prospectus. The novel he gazed at longingly and set aside. The prospectus earned more resigned attention. He weighed it carefully in his palm, wondering what, exactly, the cover was made of—the material felt smooth and taut, but also supple, like the skin of an underripe fruit. Tentatively he pressed it with a finger, and was rewarded with a slight dimpling in the material.
“
Another product of The Golden Family, GFI International,
” breathed the portfolio. “
Manufactured entirely in the Nippo-Altai Commonwealth
.”
Another product of The Golden Family, GFI International,
” breathed the portfolio. “
Manufactured entirely in the Nippo-Altai Commonwealth
.”
“What’s it made of ? ” demanded Jack, half-fearful that he would get a reply; but the portfolio was silent. He turned to the first page, activating the icon.
“
John Finnegan! We welcome you
,” spoke a brisk voice. “
Within these pages you will see the future that The Golden Family has to offer you and
The Gaudy Book—” A chiming, followed by a throaty
boom
, as of a gong being struck. “
The Golden Family is a privately owned corporation formed by the merger of major international corporations from the United States, the European Union, Mongolia, and Japan. In 1987 .
. . .”
John Finnegan! We welcome you
,” spoke a brisk voice. “
Within these pages you will see the future that The Golden Family has to offer you and
The Gaudy Book—” A chiming, followed by a throaty
boom
, as of a gong being struck. “
The Golden Family is a privately owned corporation formed by the merger of major international corporations from the United States, the European Union, Mongolia, and Japan. In 1987 .
. . .”
The voice was silenced as he turned the next page. Rows of numbers, interspersed with small but luminous photographs: trees, mountains, a welder smiling behind a mask as golden sparks fell about her head. He pressed another icon.
“. . .
assets in excess of forty-seven billion dollars annually, chiefly from holdings in
. . .”
assets in excess of forty-seven billion dollars annually, chiefly from holdings in
. . .”
The next page brought a molten sunset over Mongolia’s Flaming Cliffs, the sound of tinkling herd-bells and chanting.
“
In 1995, GFI completed the acquisition of a 75 percent working interest in the Saraagalt Basin, Mongolia. GFI now owns 100 percent of two contract areas in the Saraagalt Basin in the Gobi Desert, totaling 7.32 million acres. Historically, Mongolia has not had access to its mineral and natural gas deposits. Consulting geologist and engineering firms hired by GFI determined that vast untapped stores of minerals and fossil fuels beneath the Gobi could in future
. . .”
In 1995, GFI completed the acquisition of a 75 percent working interest in the Saraagalt Basin, Mongolia. GFI now owns 100 percent of two contract areas in the Saraagalt Basin in the Gobi Desert, totaling 7.32 million acres. Historically, Mongolia has not had access to its mineral and natural gas deposits. Consulting geologist and engineering firms hired by GFI determined that vast untapped stores of minerals and fossil fuels beneath the Gobi could in future
. . .”
Jack shook his head in a sort of desultory amazement.
The sky is falling and they’re still buying up mineral rights.
He turned to the center of the prospectus, where a double-page spread showed a sky pulsing with color: purple, green, indigo, gamboge yellow, crimson. Stars showed very faintly through violet flames. In the foreground a shining silver dirigible towed some sort of platform, a huge golden grid with batlike wings. Behind it trailed glittering constellations like so many diamonds tossed upon a jeweler’s velvet table. The same earnest voice intoned.
The sky is falling and they’re still buying up mineral rights.
He turned to the center of the prospectus, where a double-page spread showed a sky pulsing with color: purple, green, indigo, gamboge yellow, crimson. Stars showed very faintly through violet flames. In the foreground a shining silver dirigible towed some sort of platform, a huge golden grid with batlike wings. Behind it trailed glittering constellations like so many diamonds tossed upon a jeweler’s velvet table. The same earnest voice intoned.
“In late 1999 The Golden Family will set in place the first SunTerminus™ skystage. Designed and produced by an international team of the world’s foremost research scientists and aerospace engineers, Sun Terminus ™ is the most innovative system ever designed to offset the dangerous effects of ozone depletion in the earth’s atmosphere. Unlike conventional satellites, which have been crippled by recent atmospheric disturbances, the worldwide network of SunTerminus™ stages will be set aloft by GFI’s Lighter-Than-Air (LTA) fleet of Fouga™ Dirigibles, each one capable of towing a five-ton payload. Once in place, SunTerminus™ will be the newest, most reliable telecommunications network on earth, providing broadcast and communications services. Because of their lower placement in the earth’s atmosphere, the stages will be unaffected by terrestrial catastrophes, and GFI’s unique and highly specialized security system will prevent any risk of terrorist attack.
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