Page 125 - Just Deserts
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Chameleon Dress Tips
Frisko barely glanced at the large coffee-table edition in the gallery
owner’s hands. “What? Oh, that: I didn’t buy it, don’t like that kind
of stuff. Too weird and old-fashioned. No, somebody sent it to me
the other day—anonymously, but obviously a woman, because it
came with a rather heavily-scented gift card signed ‘your secret
admirer.’ I’m keeping it in case she shows up and wants a private
showing.” He smirked.
Beek did not acknowledge the attempt at male bonding. His eyes
were glued to a page in the Escher book. “That’s it!” he cried, all
reserve abandoned. “Eureka! This is too perfect! It will sell. I have
not a doubt about it. Look at this, Frisko!”
“Eh? What have you got there?” The artist shuffled over to Beek
and peered at the reproduction evidently provoking the latter’s
excitement. “What’s that, a lizard with its tail curled around?”
“What genus of reptile this may represent is irrelevant,” replied
Beek. “But it has crystallized a nascent structure in my mind. Here is
your next success, Frisko: the chameleon.”
“I don’t get it. I’m a conceptualist, not a biology textbook
illustrator.”
Evian Beek lay the book down, open to the page in question.
“Listen to me: the concept is right up your alley. You, and every artist
today, must be like the chameleon, changing your coloration to suit
the environment in which you happen to find yourself at the
moment. It is your protection, and it is your genius. The chameleon is
the new metaphor! And you will be its avatar. In a very limited run,
of course. We can announce an advance subscription, say, of fifty at
twenty thousand each. I’ll bet it would be snapped up in no time!”
“Whoa, wait a minute: nobody’s going to pay big money for an
image of a lizard. They’re not that stupid—are they?”
“Ah, but let me finish,” gloated the dealer. “My clients will not feel
the slightest bit stupid after I explain the concept behind the
chameleon, and after they see it change color they will be completely
entranced.”
“Change color?” The artist gawked at the book, as though
expecting a live animal to leap from its pages.
“Certainly! Haven’t you heard of meliorite? No? Well, it was
written up in one of the scientific journals not too long ago. It’s a
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