felix woke up.
it was 0700 hours. he was supposed to be at work at 0830 hours.
felix did not want to go to work. he not only did not want to go to work but felt it was very unfair that he was expected to do so.
at this period in human history only 24.6 percent of the population “had to work”. and felix was one of the 24.6, a fact which filled him with a dull resentment which occasionally flared into blinding rage.
on this morning he decided he would not go to work. he decided he would get up, drink his glass of grape juice in leisurely fashion instead of gulping it down. and then go to the museum.
there was a picture felix had seen at the museum, a painting of a woman sitting on a beach and looking at a sunset, and he had enjoyed looking at it and thought he would like to go and look at it again.
felix called his workplace and left a message that he would be absent that day, because he was ill.
what felix did not suspect was that his employers had, just in the last week, installed a new sensor system in their phone network that could determine if a caller was lying or telling the truth. on a scale of 0 to 100, with 0 being absolute truthfulness and 100 absolute deceptiveness, felix’s message immediately registered a 99.9.
so it was, that when felix had finished his grape juice, and dressed, in what he hoped would be appropriate attire for the weather he would encounter, and stepped out into the street, he was immediately spotted and followed by glenda and hector, two officers of the security police.
glenda and hector, no less than felix, resented having to be employed - in their case, employed in following and arresting deadbeats and slackers like felix - and it was with no good humor that they arrested felix as soon as he took up his position in front of the painting of the woman looking at the sunset.
felix made no resistance to his arrest, realizing that it would be futile to do so, but he was a bit surprised that hector, after a brief conference with an official of the museum, took the picture off the wall and carried it with him as he and glenda escorted felix to the fifty-story headquarters of the security police.
nobody in the street showed the least surprise at watching the trio - felix in handcuffs , hector with the painting under his arm, and the scowling glenda - promenading down the street to the headquarters.
glenda and hector took felix to the thirty-seventh floor in a swift elevator and brought him to a small interrogation room. the room was featureless but clean, and contained only a chair, which felix was directed to sit on, and a table, in which hector propped up the picture of the woman watching the sunset.
glenda pointed to the lower right corner of the picture. “what do you see there?” she asked felix.
felix had not noticed the corner of the picture before, but he looked at it and said, “it looks like a signature.”
“exactly. and what does the signature say?’
hector squinted and said, “i think it says - ‘dubois’”
“that is what it says,” glenda agreed. “but do you know what?”
“no, what?” felix replied dutifully.
“it wasn’t painted by dubois at all!” glenda cried. “it was really painted by a clever forger named reynard! what do you think of that, smart guy?”
felix just shrugged.
“this picture is a fake!” glenda hissed. “nothing but a lousy fake! you have betrayed your contract with society, and destroyed your own existence for a picture that is nothing but a fake! ha, ha, ha!”
hector joined glenda in her laughter, and felix had no choice but to sit there and listen to them.
felix was sentenced to fifty years breaking rocks on one of the moons of jupiter. during his long years he found peace with himself, and he also developed something of a reputation among the other prisoners for saintliness and wisdom.
finally felix’s fifty years were up. as was the custom at the rockpile, all the prisoners were gathered together as the warden said a few words.
“we are here today,” the warden intoned, “to wish our brother felix farewell. as you know he is no ordinary con, but has long been a source of solace and a beacon of compassion to his fellows, and an all-around great guy.” the warden cleared his throat. “does anybody have anything to add?”
“i do!” a woman seated on the ground in front of the crowd cried. she stood up.
felix had never noticed her before, but thought she looked familiar. did she resemble the police officer glenda, who had arrested him on that long ago day? or maybe the woman in the picture on the wall of the museum, looking at the sunset?
“i got something to say,” the woman announced in a loud voice. “i know this guy. everybody thinks he is so wonderful and some kind of guru or shaman or holy man or whatever but i am here to tell you he is nothing but a ————— “
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