novel 88 - 17. 230 million dollars

by nick nelson

part 17 of ?

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bradley barfield unlocked the sagging door of his miserable fourth floor room and tucker underwood followed him inside. why does he bothers to lock it, tucker wondered, it looks like anyone could just reach in and open it. bradley switched on a lamp. it barely lit up the room. he pointed to a chair. a black turtleneck sweater was draped across the back of the chair and a painting about twenty-six inches square sat on the chair facing outward for viewing. what do you think? bradley asked. i like it, tucker said aloud. it’s pretty good. in his head he thought, it is worth two hundred and thirty million dollars. but how much do you think it it worth? bradley asked um - hard to say. the market is pretty volatile right now. i am not volatile. i am starving. what will you give me for it? it is hard to say. i could give you something for it, based on what i think i can get for it today, and then next week i might get a lot more and you would think i was cheating you. i don’t need a lesson on economics 101 - i went to business school just like you did. yes, those were the happy carefree days, weren’t they? will they ever come back again? they might come back for me if you buy this painting before i starve to death. all right - i will give you seventy-five dollars for it. i will take it. this is too easy, tucker thought. his hand trembled as he reached into his pocket for his wallet, and bradley noticed it. what are you nervous about? bradley suddenly demanded. you are not trying to cheat me, are you? you said you would take whatever i gave you. i did not say that! hey, keep the noise down in there - people are trying to sleep! i am sorry, mrs moriarty , bradley shouted back. it won’t happen again. with a wild yet crafty look in his eyes, bradley turmed back to tucker. now, where were we? i said i would give you seventy-five dollars for the painting - the one on the chair there. you are trying to cheat me, man. i put my whole heart and soul into it, and it is worth at least ninety. i will give you ninety-five for it. to be continued

novel 88 - 16. the painting

by nick nelson

part 16 of ?

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dear mr dream, i hope you are well. thank you again for all your wonderful suggestions and for taking the time from your busy schedule to offer me your wonderful help and encouragement. i hope you will not think i am ungrateful if i tell you i have come up with an an idea of my own! here is the beginning. any comment you might make would be infinitely welcome, though of course i understand if you are too busy or just not interested. sincerely, joe lonelyroom the painting that fellow looks familiar, tucker underwood thought. it was a cold and rainy night. tucker and the familiar looking individual were the only patrons of the cafe de whatever, a once thriving establishment that tucker had frequented in his days as an aspiring young artist. tucker had long since given up his dream of being a great and famous artist, and had established himself as a player on the street, but he occasionally dropped in to his old haunt on the chance that he might meet an acquaintance from the old days, or just for a quick breath of nostalgia. tucker picked up his cup of the house’s special blend, and moved over to the familiar man’s table. do you mind if i sit here? he asked in his politest voice. suit yourself, the man answered, without pulling his face up from the heavy blue scarf wrapped around his skinny neck. i thought i recognized you from somewhere, tucker continued, after seating himself. i would hope so. i am bradley barfield, your old chum from international art school, and i taught you everything you knew although you were too much of a natural born bourgeois to profit from it. i see you seem to be doing well for himself. why, of course, bradley, i could kick myself, or shoot myself, for not recognizing you sooner. it must be the heavy blue scarf, ot maybe the two days beard. i remember you as always clean shaven and rosy cheeked, and quite the attraction for the fair sex, besides being the most promising artist in the school. as for myself, yes, i am doing all right, now that i i have found my natural environment in the world of finance. may i buy you a cup of coffee, or a croissant? you can buy one of my pictures. i might just do that. do you happen to have one with you? i have some in my hovel, which is just around the corner. then i would be happy to take a look at them. you can finish your coffee first. there is no hurry. * does this elevator work? sometimes. my room is on only on the fourth floor. you look like you spend most of your life in a gym. lead the way. the lights in all the stairs do not all work. i can handle it. next

novel 88 - 15. the old army game

by nick nelson

part 15 of ?

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harriet was a polite and well-bred person, and was in the habit of striking up polite conversations with complete strangers, even somewhat shabby and scary ones. harriet worked as a maid in a barely respectable downtown hotel, working the 4 pm to midnight shift, and took the last cable car home to her furnished room on california street. one chilly night she was riding home and there was one other passenger on the car, a man in a heavy coat several sizes too large for him and with a broad brimmed hat pulled down over his face but not concealing his long pointed nose. he looks familiar, harriet thought, familiar like a cartoon character - a comic villain. a bit cool tonight, isn’t it? harriet addressed the man. the man did not reply, and harriet decided he was not the talkative type. she never persisted in conversations if the person she spoke to did not respond. walter zank was a polite and well-bred person, though not very talkative, and liked to ride the cable cars at night. he would have liked to ride the cable cars all night long but they stopped at 2 a m and did not resume again until 6 a m. walter liked the long chilly foggy nights because they allowed him to dress as he liked best - in heavy coats several sizes too large for him and broad brimmed hats that he could pull down over his face, hiding the face except for his long pointed nose. although he never spoke to other passengers, even when they spoke to him, he took a keen interest in their mysterious existences and often reflected on them when he went back to his furnished room on o’farrell street. \ he recorded his reflections in school notebooks he purchased at walgreens. he did not keep the notebooks. when he had filled four of then,, he put them in an envelope and mailed them to the library of congress, with the return address of the doggie diner on geary boulevard and arguelo boulevard. he had learned in junior high school in davemport iowa that the library of congress kept a copy of every book ever written in the history of the world. he reflected on the middle aged woman who had observed that it was a chilly night. she did not invite much reflection but walter decided to give it the old college try, and play the old army game. now you see it, now you don’t. next

novel 88 - 14. belligerence

by nick nelson

part 14 of ?

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adam was walking down the road when suddenly he met eve. what are you doing here? he asked her belligerently. i could ask you the same thing, she replied saucily. you are going in the wrong direction, he continued, studiously ignoring her tone. there is nothing behind me, that is why i am proceeding north, as you see. i will be the judge of that, eve answered in a more measured tone of voice. perhaps there are things i will see that you did not, or that i can make use of that you could not. suit yourself. step aside then, and let me pass. the road is wide as well as long, will it wear you out to walk around me? eve laughed. you always have to argue, do you not? goodbye. and adam stepped around eve, and continued heading north, toward the ice and wind and snow. women! adam thought. they always have to make a big deal out of everything and take everything personally. of course, he added on sober reflection, eve is the only woman i have ever known, so perhaps i should not be too hasty in my generalizations. perhaps i will find a very different woman in the wind and ice and snow. if i do, i wonder what i should call —— just then a blast of frigid air almost knocked him off his feet… next

novel 88 - 13. outside

by nick nelson

part 13 of ?

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every time margaret brindage looked out her window, she saw something new and horrifying, so she turned on her television set for reassurance, because on the television nothing ever changed. how different it had been when she was a child, when life was boring and one did the same things every day, and the television - and the movies - provided excitement and respite from the boredom. right now, below her window, a motley group of indescribable people were chanting - death to……! margaret could not make out the name of the person … or group … or oountry… or whatever… that the motley group of indescribable people were assigning death to. she debated opening the window so that she could better understand the shouting. but the shouters might see the open window and decide to throw things through it. she had seen a report of something of the sort when she still had a laptop computer that streamed the news from all over the world 24 hours a day. now her only link to the world was a television set with a single channel - the nostalgia channel. on which she was allowed six hours of programming a day - down from eight hours just a few weeks ago, she was tempted to turn the set on now and use an hour or so of precious programming, and drown out, to some extent, the crowd’s chanting. but she tried to force herself to wait until her meal delivery time, so that she could watch a show and eat her daily rations at the same time, which she had always enjoyed doing. and if she were really strong willed, she would wait until 1700 hours, when her favorite show - the seventh queen - was on. just the there was a light tapping on her door. oh no, margaret thought in a panic, it is day six! how had she forgotten! as if in response to her agitation, the shouting outside grew louder, and she could make out the words… death to………….. !!! next

novel 88 - 12. a time of upheaval

by nick nelson

part 12 of ?

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pope innocent xx, fomerly the stable boy gustav, had not always been pope innocent xx, and he had not always been the stable boy gustav. it was a time of upheaval, when no one knew who anybody else was, or what anybody else was, or who they were themselves, or what they were themselves. pope innocent xx/gustav had been born in a little shack beside a nameless river in the remote province of b———. he was given the name “little red” and the number 8954-30-732 by the county supervisor who found him floating in a cardboard egg carton by the water’s edge. society at that time was being transformed by two new inventions - the bicycle and the rocket ship. clyde murdock, at that time the administrator of the province of b————, was a proponent of the bicycle. with hundreds of other waifs who had been rescued from the swamp and the waters edge, 8954-30-732 aka little red was trained in bicycle warfare. in the climactic battle of p—————, clyde murdock’s bicycle army faced off against lucius xxiii’s and professor wilson’s rocket ships. clyde himself and little red were the only survivors of the bicycle army. after a desperate flight through the great swamp, they came to a river and built themselves a raft. behind them they could see the flickering flames of the celebration of lucius xxiii’s victorious army. as they strung the reeds together to make the raft, clyde resolved to design a new weapon and fight another day. little red resolved to get away from clyde and never set foot on a battlefield again. suddenly they saw a light on the other side of the river. next

novel 88 - 11. beyond the mountains

by nick nelson

part 11 of ?

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i am sorry, professor. but after this month’s payroll is delivered, i am going to have to leave you. really? i am sorry to hear that, mike. what is the reason for this sudden - i assume it is sudden - decision? i have met a wonderful girl named sally jane and we are going to start a new life together and raise a family and she does not approve of my having such a dangerous occupation as escorting payrolls across deserts and mountains. well, i am sorry to lose you, mike, but i wish you well in your new life, and thank you for all your past services. was there anything else you wished to communicate to me? no, that is all the information i have for you today. then i wish you a pleasant rest of your day. mike left, and the professor returned to his thoughts. professor isaac newton was a mad scientist of the old school, and conducted his experiments on time and space in a secluded laboratory deep in the mountains. respectable scientists of the establishment derided him a a quack, but he felt he was on the verge of a momentous breakthrough, and the decision of his assistant, mike tenth street, a semi-reformed desperado of the old school, did not trouble him greatly, as he was confident he would always muddle through. because of the professor’s craving for secrecy, and the remoteness of his workspace, his underlings had to be paid, not in the digital currency of the new modern world, but in gold and other old fashioned valuables. that is where mike had come in. but now mike was leaving. he might not have to be replaced, if the new time and space machine could be revealed to the world, before the next payday. time and space would tell. next