Page 84 - Psychoceramics and the Test of Fire

Hitler’s Ghost

Schischke, and right on time per my calendar. I’m a little hazy on the
nature of your business.”
He wasn’t going to shake hands or stand up. I would have to
compete with the ever-beckoning computer for his attention. Well,
my relative unreality might make it easier to get my cobbled-together
identity past whatever biological sensors and filters he still had in
operation.
“I’ll gladly explain. May I sit down?”
He moved his head enough to indicate assent without raising his
eyes. I sat next to him on the bench, inevitably closer than either of
us might have liked, and handed him my freshly-minted business
card. The ever-patrolling pigeons bobbed their beaks more
enthusiastically, mistaking the pasteboard for a piece of white bread.
“Mr. Ludwig, as I stated in my message yesterday, we—that is, my
editors and publisher: I am simply an assistant in the office—would
like to sign you to a contract guaranteeing first refusal of any rights to
publish the results of your new venture. I assure you that our terms
are extremely generous”—no exaggeration there!—“and have no
other strings attached. Advances will be offset by royalties, of course,
but that is standard for all imprints.”
“My venture?” His fingers ceased their restless movement over the
keyboard’s magical planchette. “What do you mean? CURSE and
CATARACT?”
I played dumb, no stretch.
“Are those acronyms? We are looking for the revolutionary new
computer system that will crunch terabytes of text in seconds and
reveal amazing literary relationships—at least that’s what it says in
this press release.”
Ludwig wrinkled his nose, a truncated pachyderm in miniature.
“Ha-ha-ha,” he laughed, the madness in his eyes dancing merrily.
“That’s good, don’t you think? Anybody can write that hype.
Anyway, I can and I did. But,” now squinting shrewdly, “it’s not
hyperbole. These algorithms will deliver the goods. Money, eh? From
a publisher? Sure, I can write a book, too. Just don’t expect any
proprietary information. You need to know what this really is, don’t
you, Mr. Schishke?”

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