The Future for Curious People: A Novel by Gregory Sherl

Author:Gregory Sherl
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Algonquin Books
Published: 2014-09-02T04:00:00+00:00

Evelyn

A COLLABORATION

Shaken by my last disastrous envisioning at Chin’s and the encounter with Adrian, I’ve got new resolve. I go back through my old recordings, put in new endings, and upload them to the database. It takes a while, but I save them—one by one. I reunite lovers and families and push many great and tragic literary figures to better fates, and damn it, it feels good. I’m just now getting back to The Great Gatsby. Mr. Wilson comes over to Gatsby’s with a gun but not to kill him. He invites Gatsby and Nick hunting in some East Egg woodlands. “The boar was almost too heavy for the three of us to lift,” I fake-read. “Gatsby thought it better to just leave it.” I flip a page, for effect mostly.

I’m getting into the rhythm of it when there’s a knock at the door. I wonder if it’s Binter coming to apologize for . . . what? Wanting me to be not-weird when that’s just not realistic at all? Or it might be someone interested in postcards about Salisbury Cathedral or cable cars (both found in box 2).

Mr. Gupta says, “Evelyn, can I talk to you?”

I wonder if he’s mad at me. I’m not volunteering on library time. I can prove this with time cards. “Sure,” I say. A key in the lock again and there’s Mr. Gupta, “Jesus, Evelyn,” he whispers. “Why do you do this in here?”

I open my mouth to explain, but Gupta raises his hand then squeezes his forehead as if his head is about to explode and he’s trying to mitigate the spray of his brains on the holdings within Special Collections. “Look,” he says. “We got a call.”

“From who?”

“A blind person.”

“Oh.”

“I know what you’re doing.” He lowers his voice. “And Charlotte’s Web ! That’s for children, Evelyn Shriner! You can’t revive Charlotte and think that sight-impaired children won’t know the difference!”

“I assume they know,” I tell him frankly. “In fact, sometimes I talk directly to the listener. I talk about sorrow in literature. Sometimes I talk about sorrow in life. Sometimes I whisper to them that it’s just me in a room and that there’s been enough sorrow. Every book has a past, a present, a future, and the future, by definition, is splintered, Mr. Gupta, so I’m being true to a larger order here, if you get what I’m saying.”

“I do not get what you’re saying. Not at all. What would Salinger think? My God.”

“I never touched Catcher in the Rye. I feel like you should know that.”

“This is literature, Evelyn. Literature is a language handed down from one generation to the next. Without that consistency, the world order breaks apart completely! You’re fired.”

“From my job?”

“You’re fired from this volunteer effort.”

“But can you fire a volunteer?”

“Would you prefer to resign?”

“I would.”

“Then . . .”

“I resign, but I would like you to tell the board—”

“I’m not going to relay this to the board.”

“Tell them that I believe in—”

“What do you believe in?”

I grip my copy of The Great Gatsby and my digital recording device.

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