Unicorn Variations

FIRE AND/OR ICE

"Mommy! Mommy!"

"Yes?"

"Yes?"

"Tell me again what you did in the war."

"Nothing much. Go play with your sisters."

"I've been doing that all afternoon. They play too hard. I want to hear about the bad winter and the monsters and all."

"That's what it was, a bad winter."

"How cold was it, Mommy?"

"It was so cold that brass monkeys were singing soprano on every corner. It was so cold that it lasted for three years and the sun and the moon grew pale, and sister killed sister and daughters knocked off mommies for a Zippo lighter and a handful of pencil shavings."

"Then what happened?"

"Another winter came along, of course. A lot worse than the first.”

“How bad was it?"

"Well, the two giant wolves who had been chasing the sun and the moon across the sky finally caught them and ate them. Damned dark then, but the blood that kept raining down gave a little light to watch the earthquakes and hurricanes by, when you could see through the blizzards."

"How come we don't have winters like that anymore?"

"Used them all up for a while, I suppose."

"How come there's a sun up in the sky now, if it got eaten?"

"Oh, that's the new one. It didn't happen till after the fires and the boiling oceans and all."

"Were you scared?"

"What scared me was what came later, when a giant snake crawled out of the sea and started fighting with this big person with the hammer. Then gangs of giants and monsters came from all directions and got to fighting with each other. And then there was a big, old, one-eyed person with a spear, stabbing away at a giant wolf which finally ate him, beard and all. Then another person came along and killed the wolf. All of a sudden, it looked familiar and I went outside and caught one of the troops by the sleeve.

" 'Hey, this is Götterdämmerung,' I said, 'isn't it?'

"A nearby TV crew moved in on us as the person paused in hacking away at an amorphous mass with lots of eyes and nodded.

" 'Sure is,' he said. 'Say, you must be—' and then the amorphous mass ate him.

"I crossed the street to where another one in a horned helmet was performing atrocities on a fallen foeperson.

" 'Pardon me,' I asked him, 'but who are you?'

" 'Loki's the name,' was the reply. 'What is your part in all of this?'

" `I don't know that I have a part,' I said. `But that other person started to say something like I might and then the amorphous mass which was just stepped on by the giant with the arrow in his throat sucked him in.'

"Loki dispatched his victim with a look of regret and studied my torn garment.

" 'You're dressed like a man,' he said, 'but—'

"I drew my shirt together.

" 'I am—' I began.

" 'Sure. Here's a safety pin. What a fine idea you've just given me! Come this way. There've got to be two human survivors,' he explained, pushing a path through a pack of werewolves. 'The gods will give their lives to defend you, once I've delivered you to Hoddmimir's Holt—that's the designated fallout shelter.' He snatched up an unconscious woman and slung her over his shoulder. 'You'll live through all this. A new day will dawn, a glorious new world will be revealed requiring a new first couple. Seeing you waiting, the gods will die believing that all is well. . .' He broke into a fit of laughter. 'They think that all the deaths will bring a new regime, of love, peace and happiness—and a new race. . .' The tears streamed down his face. 'All tragedies require liberal doses of irony,' he concluded, as he bore us in a psychedelic chariot through rivers of blood and fields of bones.

"He deposited us here, amid warmth, trees, fountains, singing birds—all those little things that make life pleasant and trite: plenty of food, gentle breezes, an attractive house with indoor plumbing. Then still laughing, he returned to the front.

"Later, my companion awoke—blond and lithe and lovely—and her eyes flashed when she turned my way.

" `So,' she snapped, 'you drag me from this horrible masculine conflict that I may serve your lusts in a secret pleasure haven! I'll have none of it, after all you've done to me!'

"I moved to comfort her, but she dropped into a karate stance.

" 'Tell me,' I said then, 'what you mean. Nothing has been done to you. . .

" 'You call leaving a girl pregnant nothing?' she cried. 'With all the abortionists busy treating frostbite? No! I want no part of men, never again!'

" 'Be of good cheer, sister,' I replied, unpinning my shirt. 'I found myself too attractive to men, not to mention weak-willed--this long night being what it is—and suffering with a similar medical quandary, I resolved in a fit of remorse to lead the life of a simple transvestite.'

" 'Sappho be praised!' she replied.

"And we both had twins, and lived happily ever after. Winter faded, and the Twilight of the Gods passed. The world is a new place, of love, peace and happiness, for so long as it lasts this time. That is the story. Go play nicely with your sisters now."

"But they won't play nicely. They keep tiring me out doing the thing you told me not to."

"How did you even learn to do such a thing in the first place?" the other mommy asked.

"A shining person with a golden staff showed me how. She also said that the gods move in mysterious and not terribly efficient ways."

"This could be the beginning of philosophy," said the first mommy. "You might call it that," said the other.

EXEUNT OMNES

Houselights low. The Reapers and Nymphs danced as the bombs began to fall. Prospero faced Ferdinand.

" 'You do look, my son, in a mov'd sort, as if you were dismay'd. Be cheerful, sir, our revels now are ended. These our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits, and are melted into air, into thin air. . .' "

He gestured simply. The Reapers and Nymphs vanished, to a strange, hollow and confused noise.

" ' . . And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, the cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples," he continued, " `the great globe itself, yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve and, like this insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind. . . "

The audience vanished. The stage vanished. The theater vanished. The city about them faded, with a strange, hollow and confused noise. The great globe itself became transparent beneath their feet. All of the actors vanished, save for the spirits of Ariel, Caliban and Prospero.

"Uh, Prossy . . ." said Ariel.

" 'We are such stuff as dreams are made on—"

"Prospero!" bellowed Caliban.

" . . And our little life is rounded with a sleep."

Caliban tackled him. Ariel seized him by the sleeve.

"You're doing it again, boss!"

"'Sir, I am vexed—' "

"Stop it! The melt is on! You undid the wrong spell!"

" 'Bear with my weakness—my old brain is troubled. . . "

Caliban sat on him. Ariel waved his slight fingers before his eyes. They drifted now in a vast and star-filled void. The nearest sizable body was the moon. Satellites—communication, astronomical, weather and spy—fled in all directions.

"Come around, damn it!" Ariel snapped. "We're all that's left again!”

“ 'Be not disturbed with my infirmity. . . "

"It's no use," growled Caliban. "He's gone off the deep end this time. What say we give up and fade away?"

"No!" Ariel cried. "I was just beginning to enjoy it."

"We are disturbed by your infirmity, Prossy! Cut the Stanislavsky bit and put things back together!"

" 'If you be pleas'd, retire into my cell and there repose. . . "

"He's coming to the end of his lines," said Ariel. "We'll get him then.”

“ 'A turn or two I'll walk, to still my beating mind."

"Where are you going to walk, boss?" Caliban asked. "You took it all away."

"Eh? What's that?"

"You did it again. It's a terrific scene that way, but it tends to be kind of final."

"Oh dear! And things are pretty far along, too."

"The furthest, I'd say, to date. What do you do for an encore?”

“Where's my Book?"

Caliban flipped his flipper.

"It went, too."

Prospero massaged his eyeballs.

"Then I'll have to work from memory. Bear with me. Where was it?”

“A desert isle."

"Yes."

He gestured magnificently and the faint outlines of palm trees appeared nearby. A slight salt scent came to them, along with the distant sounds of surf The outlines grew more substantial and a shining sand was spread beneath their feet. There came the cry of a gull. The stars faded, the sky grew blue and clouds drifted across it.

"That's better."

"But—this is a real desert isle!"

"Don't argue with him. You know how he gets."

"Now, where were we?"

"The entertainment, sir."

"Ah, yes. Come to my cave. Ferdinand and Miranda will be waiting."

He led them along the shore and up to a rocky place. They entered a great grotto where a large playing area was illuminated by torchlight. Prospero nodded to Ferdinand and Miranda and gestured toward the stage.

"Boss, something's wrong."

"No tongue! All eyes! Be silent!"

Ariel lost his power of speech for the moment and regarded the scene that appeared before him.

The great globe of the Earth, sun dappled, cloud streaked, green, gray and blue, turned slowly above the playing area. Tiny sparks, missiles, streaked above it, vanishing to be replaced by minute puffs of smoke over the major cities of North America, Europe and Asia. The globe rushed toward them then, one puff growing larger than the others, replacing all else. Up through dust, fire and smoke the vision swam, of a city twisted, melted, charred, its people dead, dying, fleeing.

"Boss! This is the wrong bit!" Caliban cried.

"My God!" said Ferdinand.

" 'You do look, my son, in a mov'd sort, as if you were dismay'd,' " Prospero stated.

"Here we go again," said Ariel, as the world rotated and entire land masses began to burn.

" ' . . . the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself . . .’ ”

More missiles crisscrossed frantically as the icecaps melted and the oceans began to seethe.

" ' shall dissolve . . ' "

Large portions of the land were now inundated by the boiling seas. " '. . . leave not a rack behind . . ' "

"We're still substantial," Ariel gasped.

"But it's going," Caliban observed.

The globe grew less tangible, the fires faded, the water lost its colors. The entire prospect paled and dwindled.

" `. . . is rounded with a sleep. ' " Prospero yawned.

. . . Was gone.

"Boss! What happened to—"

"Sh!" Ariel cautioned. "Don't stir him up.—Prossy, where's the theater?"

" '. . . to still my beating mind. ' "

" 'We wish you peace,' " Ferdinand and Miranda said in unison as they exited.

"Where are we, sir?"

"Why, you told me 'twas a desert isle."

"And such it is."

"Then what else would you? Find us food and drink. The other's but a dream."

"But, sir! Your Book—"

"Book me no books! I'd eat and sleep, I'd let these lovers woo, then off to Naples. All magics I eschew!"

Caliban and Ariel retreated.

"We'd best his will observe and then away."

"Aye, sprite. Methinks the living lies this way."

[Exeunt omnes.]

A VERY GOOD YEAR . . .

"Hello," he said.

She looked at him. He was sandy haired, thirtyish, a little rugged looking but well groomed and very well dressed. He was smiling.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Do I know you?"

He shook his head.

"Not yet," he said. "Bradley's the name. Brad Dent."

"Well . . . What can I do for you, Mr. Dent?"

"I believe that I am going to fall in love with you," he said. "Of course, this requires a little cooperation. May I ask what time you get off work?”

“You're serious!"

"Yes.''

She looked down at the countertop, noticed that her fingers were tapping the glass, stilled them, looked back up. His smile was still there.

"We close in twenty minutes," she said abruptly. "I could be out front in half an hour."

"Will you?"

She smiled then. She nodded.

"My name's Marcia."

"I'm glad," he said.

At dinner, in a restaurant she would never have found by herself, she studied him through the candlelight. His hands were smooth. His accent was Middle American.

"You looked familiar when you came up to me," she said. "I've seen you around somewhere before. In fact, now that I think back on it, I believe you passed my counter several times today."

"Probably," he said, filling her wineglass.

"What do you do, Brad?"

"Nothing," he said.

She laughed.

"Doesn't sound very interesting."

He smiled again.

"What I mean to say is that I am devoting myself to enjoying this year, not working."

"Why is that?"

"I can afford it, and it's a very good year."

"In what way is it special?"

He leaned back, laced his fingers, looked at her across them.

"There are no wars going on anywhere, for a change," he finally said. "No civil unrest either. The economy is wonderfully stable. The weather is beautiful." He raised his glass and took a sip. "There are some truly excellent vintages available. All of my favorite shows and movies are playing. Science is doing exciting things—in medicine, in space. A flock of fine books has been published. There are so many places to go, things to do this year. It could take a lifetime." He reached out and touched her hand. "And I'm in love," he finished.

She blushed.

"You hardly know me. . ."

". . . And I have that to look forward to, also—getting to know you.”

“You are very strange," she said.

"But you will see me again. . ."

"If it's going to be that king of year," she said, and she squeezed his hand.

She saw him regularly for a month before she quit her job and moved in with him. They dined well, they traveled often. . .

She realized, one evening in Maui near the end of the year, that she was in love with him.

"Brad," she said, clasping him tightly, "this spring it seemed more like a game than anything else. . ."

"And now?"

"Now it's special."

"I'm glad."

On New Year's Eve, they went to dinner at a place he knew in Chinatown. She leaned forward over the chicken fried rice.

"That man," she said, "at the corner table to the right . . ."

"Yes?"

"He looks a lot like you." Brad glanced over, nodded.

"You know, I still don't know you very well."

"But we know each other better."

"Yes, that's true. But—Brad, that man coming out of the restroom . . ."

He turned his head.

"He looks like you, too."

"He does."

"Strange . . . I mean, I don't even know where you get your money.”

“My family," he said, "always had a lot."

She nodded.

"I see. . . Two more! Those men who just came in!"

"Yes, they look like me, too."

She shook her head.

"Then you really never had to work?"

"On the contrary. I'm a scientist. Bet I could have had the Nobel Prize."

She dished out some sweet-and-sour pork. Then she paused, eyes wide, head turned again.

"Brad, it has to be more than coincidence. There's another you!”

“Yes," he said, "I always dine here on New Year's Eve."

She laid down her fork. She paled.

"You're a biologist," she said, "aren't you? And you've cloned yourself? Maybe you're not even the original. . ."

He laughed softly.

"No, I'm a physicist," he said, "and I'm not a clone. It has been a very good year, hasn't it?"

She smiled gently. She nodded.

"Of course it has," she said. "You say you always dine here on New Year's Eve?"

"Yes. The same New Year's Eve. This one."

"Time travel?"

"This has been such a good year that I have resolved to live it over, and over, and over—for the rest of my life."

Two couples entered the restaurant. She looked back.

"That's us!" she said. "And the second couple looks a lot older—but they're us, too!"

"Yes, this is where I first saw you. I had to find you after that. We looked so happy."

"Why have we never met any of them before?"

"I keep a diary. We'll go to different places each time around. Except for New Year's Eve. . ."

She raked her lower lip once with her teeth.

"Why—Why keep repeating it?" she finally asked.

"It's been such a very good year," he said.

"But what comes after?"

He shrugged.

"Don't ask me."

He turned and smiled at the older couple, who had nodded toward them.

"I think they're coming over. Perhaps we can buy them a drink. Isn't she lovely?"