The Case of the Toxic Spell Dump

"Can you find out which more precisely?" The lazy part of me was still hoping to get away with running only one set of projections for the thecological impact of leprechauns on the Barony of Angels. If I had to run two, all right But ifl had to run two and then didn't know which one to we - nightmares spring from such things. So do blighted careers.

"I'm working on that now," Professor Blank said. By the way he said it, he hadn't the faintest idea whether what he was working on would work, if you know what I mean.

"Let me ask you something else," I said: "Suppose the Chumash Powers have withdrawn voluntarily - in their terms, suppose the great eagle whose wings support the Upper World has flown away. Is it goetically even possible for them to reverse the process?' "I don't know, just as I don't know why they've withdrawn," Blank answered. "My research team is still working on that, too. We're exploring various possibilities there."

"Such as?" I prompted.

"Speculation (and that's all it is at this point) ranges from withdrawal to maintain some level of survival - the Other Side's equivalent of fungi forming spores when the environment grows too hostile for normal growth - to an active protest against the thecological changes here over the past two centuries."

When I heard that, I wanted to bang my head on the desk. Protests about environmental issues are hard enough to deal with when they come from This Side.

What was going on down on the sidewalk showed how much more complicated they could get when Powers started playing what had at first been a human game.

Absurdly, I wondered whether the Chumash First People and Sky Coyote had gotten the idea from the parading succubi. After a moment, I realized that was impossible: the Chumash Powers had disappeared before the sexual demons went on the march.

"Hunger strike," I murmured, as much to myself as to Professor Blank.

"I pray your pardon?" he said.

"Maybe the Powers are starving themselves of recognition to force us to notice them and give them the veneration they require."

Thank you, Inspector Fisher; that will go onto the list.

And let me thank you again for involving me and my graduate students"-I presume that was what he'd meant when he talkedabout his research team before-"in this project I am confident we shall eventually learn a great deal from it.".

I didn't like the sound of that eventually. "When do you hope to have some results I can use to help plan policy, Professor? I think I ought to remind you that this isn't just a research project, but one where the answers will be put to practical use."

"I understand that, of course," he said, a little sulkily. He might have understood it, but he didn't like it one bit. A professor indeed, I thought. He went on, "We shall endeavor to be as expeditious as possible, provided that we remain consistent with appropriate experimental protocols." "That's fine, sir, but I think I ought to warn you that if I don't have harder data than you've given by, hmm, three weeks from today, I can't guarantee that your report will become part of the decision-making process."

Was I playing fair? Of course not, not even slightly. Professors always claim they go into the university or take holy orders or whatever so they can devote their full attention to whatever they're interested in; Roman epigraphy or beekeeping or the thaumaturgical arts of a vanished Indian tribe. Sometimes they even mean it But a lot more often, I've found that professors who see a chance to influence events outside academe will leap at it in spite of their alleged lack of interest Truth to tell, I don't know if a savant of Roman epigraphy ever got that kind of chance (at least since the days when the Empire was a going concern), but my guess is that he'd grab it, too.

And so now Professor Blank said, "Three weeks, eh?"

Even with two phone imps between his mouth and my ear, he sounded distinctly unhappy. Another phone pause followed. I understood the reason for this one: he was giving me a chance to say I'd made a mistake and the real deadline was three months - or three years - away. I didn't say any such thing. Blank sighed. "Very well, Inspector Fisher, I will attempt to meet the challenging timeframe you have outlined. God give you good day, sir."

The same to you, Professor, and I'm grateful for your help. I look forward to seeing your detailed report; it will be most valuable both to me and to the Environmental Perfection Agency as a whole." As long as he was going to do what I wanted, I had no problem with letting him down easy.

It worked, too; he seemed a lot happier by the time he got off the phone.