“Nothing,” I repeated.

“Yes, you’re the nothing man,” Takitall said to me. “Do you really believe in nothing?”

“I do.”

“It’s that powerful?”

“Like nothing you’ve seen. Or rather haven’t seen.”

Takitall smiled, nodded.

“So, Auric, is everything in place?” Sill asked.

DeMarcus, suddenly there again, set down the drinks. “And your Angostura Legacy, sir. Chilled to 0.55 degrees Celsius, as you like it.”

Sill stared at his glass, the golden color of the liquid. “Yum, rum.”

DeMarcus walked away.

“You were saying,” Sill said to the general.

“Damn near ready.” The general looked at all of us in turn. “Lady, gentlemen, as we say in the military, we’re going to do something, even if it’s wrong.”

“And especially because it is wrong.” Sill raised his glass.

4

Back on my veranda I coaxed Trigo into making a poop. Just as I had wiped his bottom there was a knock at my door. I opened up to find DeMarcus there.

“Yes?” I said.

“The poop, sir. I’ll take Master Trigo’s excrement.”

“How did you know?”

“It’s my job, sir.” He had a plastic bag with him.

“I usually just flush his shit away like my own.”

“How reasonable,” he said. He put the bag in his pocket. “Will there be anything else?”

“Yes, would you call me Wala?”

“I’m afraid the master wouldn’t like that.”

“Very well. Then, I’ll address you formally to keep things equal. What’s your last name? The name after DeMarcus.”

“There is none.”

“So, it’s just DeMarcus. Like Cher.”

“Quite so, sir.”

“Okay, then. I don’t need anything else.”

“Yes, sir.”

I returned to the veranda and sat with Trigo. My friend looked at me and wanted to speak. I understood him all too well. He wanted to say, “Darwin was right. A mathematician is a blind man in a dark room looking for a black cat that isn’t there.”

“How true,” I said.

Trigo rolled and exposed his round belly for a bit of scratching.

“Does that feel good, buddy?” I asked.

“Here’s one. A mathematician is asked if he’d rather have cold coffee or meet God. He says he’ll have the cold coffee.”

“Why does he say that?” I asked.

“He’s been told that nothing is better than meeting God and cold coffee is better than nothing.”

“Wala, wake up.” It was Sill. The sky was dark. I was still on the veranda. “Time to get up.”

“Is it dinnertime?” I asked.

“No, we don’t eat dinner around here. Want to see something cool?”

“Who doesn’t want to see something cool.”

He didn’t seem to mind my sarcasm. “Let’s go.”

I followed Sill down the corridor, but he stopped shy of the stairs and turned into a room that I might have guessed was a closet. Inside there was in fact a wall of shelves cluttered with cleaning supplies. On the opposite wall was a huge five-foot-square map of Miami. He closed the door and we stood there.

“And?” I said. At that moment I felt the floor drop. We did also drop, as the room turned out to be a rather speedy elevator. We descended many meters in a short time. My first thought was how and when I would get back up to Trigo. The machine stopped and all was momentarily silent.