A Highly Unlikely Scenario, or a Neetsa Pizza Employee's Guide to Saving the World by Rachel Cantor Read Free Book Online Page A

you?
    No.
    That is because I have told no one. No one knows of this. I became separated from my fellows there. The desert was full of apparitions, sounds that beckon—one hears voices there, the sounds of waterfalls, of livestock and bandits. You follow those sounds, or you run from them, it does not matter, you only ever find yourself alone. Within hours your brain empties, the insideof your head feels hot, as if filled with desert sand, your eyes become parched, your throat closes, you feel certain you will never speak again, and how could you, for you have lost all words. And there is no one there with whom to speak, nor will there ever be. Everywhere is light, but this light, it illuminates nothing! You are your inside, your outside is in, and you are as empty as can be. You are sere. Do you know whereof I speak, dear Leonard?
    Maybe, Leonard whispered.
    Nothing is more terrifying. It was like this for hours, days perhaps—it is hard to know because there was no night or day there, or maybe I was unable to discern the difference. A minute felt like hours, an hour passed like a drop of rain. The sunshine felt like mud, I could barely lift my feet. I walked, or maybe I sat, I dreamed, maybe I was covered with sand, or maybe the wind uncovered me, I do not know. I may even have died: this is not impossible. It is possible to die, then live again.
    Leonard didn’t know what to say.
    I opened my eyes, and there they were. The people whose name I dare not mention, of whom I have not spoken.
    Even Leonard dared not say the Tibetans.
    Yes, Mill said, as if reading Leonard’s mind. They were many. They wore silks, they wore garlands, they were like angels, riding on steeds with hooves adapted to the desert, steeds that flew across the sands. They took me to their tents, their huts, oh I’m too tired to properly describe them, but maybe you can see them, dear Leonard.
    I can!
    They administered potions and unguents, they put drops in my eyes. I saw things, dear friend, too horrible to mention, too beautiful to describe. My waking hours were as sleep, my sleep more vivid than any life. It was then that they taught me,or rather it was through their example that I learned, for they assumed I already knew. They saw how strange I was, how I had come from far away, they assumed I was like them. They are separated from their kind by vast distances, you see. But I think that is all I will say for today. Leonard?
    Yes, Milione?
    I have been in battle, I have crossed the raging seas, I have relied on my fellows and with them I have survived every hardship known to man, sorrows such as I hope you never experience. But you alone have become my friend.
    Really? Leonard said.
    You have an ability …, Mill said.
    To listen? Leonard asked.
    Yes, Mill said. To listen.
Rusty’s manner
    Mill had all but abandoned his nighttime tales. These days he spoke only of Rusty, the poncy blowhard who’d undertaken to write his history.
    I do not like his manner, Leonardo. He will not speak plainly. With him it is always You must take it as a fact, or I assure you most heartily that, or I will give over my wife to you should you find that it is not as I say … When a man speaks in such a manner, I know he lies!
    His ideas about what might interest a reader are most peculiar! he said on another occasion. I promise you, the only thing worth recording is these desert adventures of which I have not yet fully spoken. Others will soon return from the lands youhave heard me describe; they will recount the customs there—this will happen sooner than you think, and quickly my little book will disappear. But only I can describe the marvels I saw in that desert place, the things I learned to do there. Rustichello is stubborn, however: he will not hear of it! If I write what you say, says he, the world shall call us crazy and foolish and, he is at pains to remind me, he is neither crazy nor a fool. What he wants, though he