Part 26 (1/2)
Noel reclosed his eyes, waited for the right map to sharpen, like a print under emulsion. ”Tools and dies, superconductive magnets. Claddings for nuclear reactor cores-either alone or alloyed with zirconium-since it's compatible with uranium and resistant to corrosion by molten alkali-metal coolants ...”
Norval erupted into laughter.
”... and has a low thermal-neutron cross section.”
”Of course, mustn't forget the thermal-neutron cross section. Atomic number and weight?”
”Forty-one and 92.906.”
”Proceed.”
”Melting point 2,468 degrees C, boiling point 4,927.”
”In Fahrenheit?”
”4,474 and 8,901.”
”In Kelvin?”
”I don't know, you idiot.”
”Go on.”
”Specific gravity 8.57, electronic configuration (Kr)4d45s1.”
”Derivation of name?”
”After Niobe, the daughter of Tantalus.”
”The mythical king? Who was condemned to stand in water that receded when he tried to drink? Or was it with fruit that receded when he tried to grab it?”
”Both.”
”But what's that got to do with Niobium?”
”Because the two elements, Tantalum and Niobium, are always found together.”51 ”Noel, do you see now why I hang with you? Because you're a f.u.c.king marvel-with possibly the largest cranial junkyard in the world. But maybe I should write this all down, make sure you're not making it up.”
”I wish I was, believe me.”
”So what were we talking about? I've completely forgotten.”
”So have I.”
”Liar.”
”We were talking about ...” Noel let out a sigh, not his first of the day. ”... the psychology of love. We then moved on to all the women you've loved and lost.”
”Right, the null set.” Norval looked at his chained watch. ”I vote we change the subject.”
”I'll be right back.”
Noel rose and walked quickly to the men's room, where a tottering man was using both urinals, and the wall between them. So he stepped inside the only stall. I'll try one last approach, he thought, I'll ask him about Cynara. After another drink. He zipped up his fly but did not flush, as the bowl was blocked by a light bulb and a waterlogged roll of paper towels.
At the bar he had to shout to be heard, something he never liked doing. ”The toilet! It should not be flushed under any circ.u.mstances! And there's a man lying face down in his own urine!”
”What can I get you?”
Noel paused. What does Norval say? ”Irish single, two-storey. And a Blanche de Chambly.” Much Much cooler when he says it. With an attempt at Norvalian nonchalance, he glanced at a blonde woman with tweezed eyebrows on a barstool beside him, then at the table, now empty, where the man with the laptop had been sitting, then at a ”Culture Board” with posters advertising cooler when he says it. With an attempt at Norvalian nonchalance, he glanced at a blonde woman with tweezed eyebrows on a barstool beside him, then at the table, now empty, where the man with the laptop had been sitting, then at a ”Culture Board” with posters advertising Helium Induced o.r.g.a.s.ms: The Musical Helium Induced o.r.g.a.s.ms: The Musical and and Who Put the ”KY” in FUNKY a.s.s? Who Put the ”KY” in FUNKY a.s.s?
Norval, meanwhile, was conversing with two gentlemen: one was the guy in motorcycle leathers who had blocked his path earlier; the other was tall and stringy and metallic with a tiny hairless head, like a Giacometti man.
”My girlfriend says you're a hotshot writer,” said the leather man, with the inflection and warmth of a dial tone. ”Before I kill you, I want you to read my bro's script.” He nodded towards his slender companion, whose blinky grey eyes were cautious, constantly on the watch.
Norval looked calmly from one man to the other, and then at an attractive redhead at the next table. ”What's it about? The Pope's visit to Canada?”
”You're a dead man,” said the Giacometti man, displaying teeth like black pumpkin seeds. ”You cease to exist.”
”It's called The Phyllis Killers The Phyllis Killers,” said the leather man, a toothpick s.h.i.+fting from one corner of his mouth to the other. ”It's about two guys who rape and kill women-but only b.i.t.c.hes named Phyllis.”
Norval nodded. ”A sentimental comedy? Have you tried Disney?”
”Ain't no f.u.c.kin' comedy, dead man,” said the Giacometti man.
”No? Is it based on your doctoral work in Greek tragedy?”
”You know where f.u.c.k-heads like you end up, don't you.”
”Riding motorcycles?”
”At the bottom of the Saint Lawrence, you little f.u.c.ker. We know where you live, dead man. Next time we'll get the right house. You get my drift, you frog f.a.ggot?”
”Let me put it another way,” said the leather man. ”You go near my girlfriend again and I'll send her your fried p.e.c.k.e.r in a Fed-Ex box ...”
[image]
On his way back from the bar, Noel watched as the two bikers clomped towards the door. They had been replaced at the table, he noticed, by a crimson-headed woman. Noel ducked behind a wooden column with shelves for potted plants, and set the drinks down on a table. I'll wait till she leaves, he decided. I'll just make a fool of myself. He peered round the column. Maybe I'll pick up some pointers. Focus focus, hocus-pocus, don't let the colour-wheel spin ...
”Let me get this straight,” said the woman in French. ”I tell you my name, and because it's the right right name, I have the honour of going back to your place.” name, I have the honour of going back to your place.”
”Correct. You qualify.”
”I qualify.” The woman nodded, chomped on her gum. ”Tell you what. You You qualify if you've got a million bucks, are built like a gymnast and hung like a horse.” qualify if you've got a million bucks, are built like a gymnast and hung like a horse.”
Norval slowly exhaled smoke from his cigarette, squinted at her through the cloud. ”The first two conditions I can satisfy,” he replied, ”but I'll be d.a.m.ned if I get a p.e.n.i.s reduction for any woman.”
Through fleshy green leaves Noel saw the woman's electric-red hair fly back, heard her high-pitched detonation of laughter. Yes Yes, thought Noel, you have to make women laugh, something I never seem able to ...