The World Behind the Door by Mike Resnick Read Free Book Online Page A

know," he added, lowering his voice confidentially, "I was kicked out of art school when I declared that none of my professors had the skill and knowledge to properly evaluate my work." He grinned. " That story made the rounds, I can tell you. They still talk about it."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "You look very proud of yourself," noted Jinx.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "I am."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "May I ask you a question?"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "Certainly."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "What did it accomplish, except to get you kicked out of school and convince everyone that you were a pompous, conceited, ill-mannered egomaniac."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  He stared at her in surprise. "No one has spoken to me like that since I was a child."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "Maybe they're afraid of you," suggested Jinx.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "And you are not?"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "Why should I be?" she replied calmly. "I know you're not going to hit me."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "Maybe I won't teach you how to paint."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  She smiled at him. "And maybe the next time you visit my world I won't show you how to get back to this one."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "Do you always speak like this to grown-ups?" said Dali.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "Only when I must," said Jinx. "Now, what about my suggestion?"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "What suggestion?" he asked, puzzled.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "That we go to a restaurant where you are not known," answered Jinx.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "I told you . . ."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "I know what you told me," she said. "But there are thousands of restaurants in Madrid. I refuse to believe that you have graced each and every one of them with your presence. Do you know what I think?"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "What?" asked Dali.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "I think you just do not want to go anywhere where people don't know who you are."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "Perhaps," he said with a noncommittal shrug.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "If you someday become a great artist instead of merely a very good painter, you will not be able to go anywhere in the world without people knowing who you are," she said. "You might consider that."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "You are very young and innocent of the world," said Dali. "The only artist of the past half century anyone but his friends and associates could identify was little Henri Toulouse-Lautrec, not because he was a great painter, but because he was a physical freak."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "You will find a way," said Jinx with certainty.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "You really think so?" said Dali, interested. "Why?"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "Because you are a pompous, conceited egomaniac."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "That again," he said. "Do you take a certain delight in insulting me?"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "I wasn't insulting you," said Jinx.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "Oh?" he said, arching an eyebrow. "Is that what you consider praise?"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "I wasn't insulting you or praising you," said Jinx. "I was defining you. You are an egomaniac—and an egomaniac will find ways to make himself noticed."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "Perhaps you think I should cut myself off at the knees like the little Frenchman?" he said sarcastically.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "No," she said seriously. "You are not the type to copy someone else. That's what you don't like about your painting; that it isn't uniquely your own. You will cultivate some physical feature or mannerism that no one else possesses, so that when people see it they will say, 'Why, who else could that be but Salvador Dali?'"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "I could shave my head bald," he suggested, half-seriously.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "There have been other bald artists."
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  "Then what?"
    Â Â Â Â Â Â  She shrugged. "I don't know. But you will think of something. It is your nature to be the center of