Page 123 - Just Deserts

Chameleon Dress Tips

may consider that we have a solid working relationship as of this
morning. However, it must be exclusive: I hope you realize that.”
“Oh, no problem,” Frisko chortled, waving his free hand in an
arabesque of dismissal. “Now, dig this: ‘Balloon Moon June.’ A year
from next June, in fact, if all goes according to schedule. I have
already explored the limits of the terrestrial canvas, polka-dotting the
desert orange and purple, chaining trees to skyscrapers, wrapping an
entire African village in bubble gum. My new horizon is outer space
itself. The French are quite sympathetic to my artistic goals, and have
promised me part of the payload on a satellite launcher slated for
blast off at the end of May. On board will be my most audacious
creation yet: an artificial moon, a monstrous spheroid of Mylar and
helium and a hundred thousand tiny mirrors. It shall go into orbit at
such a speed and at precisely an altitude to appear on earth as the
moon’s twin sister: sometimes brighter, sometimes dimmer, but
totally, wonderfully, indestructibly visible to every man, woman and
child on this planet!”
Evian Beek’s eyes closed briefly, suggesting the brain behind them
needed privacy in order to savor an internal image of surpassing
beauty. “That is truly a majestic concept,” he said, a trace of New
World enthusiasm creeping into his voice. “Man has merely walked
on the moon up to now. You shall have a moon, so to speak, walking
on us. The assonance with post-constructionist destructuralism is
almost supraliminal! You’re right, Frisko: this far outstrips anything
you’ve done before.”
The artist beamed, and put down his mug, drained to what could
not properly be termed the dregs. “Great! I knew you would instantly
grasp the profound implications of my balloon.”
“Indeed I do,” nodded Beek. “By the way, how do you plan to de-
install it once July rolls around?
“Oh, no big deal. The French will send up another rocket sooner
or later and they can poke a hole in it.”
“So it will fall into the atmosphere and burn up?”
“I suppose so.” Frisko wrinkled his nose and upper lip. “But that
aspect of the project is not my concern at the moment. The real
problem is financing. That’s why I need your help.”

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