The Strange Quilter Read Online Free PDF Page B

transmitted to our chosen destination and re-assembled a molecule at a time. The assembly process - the congealing - can take anywhere from a few minutes to an hour – however long it takes to clear the buffer. This procedure leaves a strong odor in the air, for which I apologize. The smell of ozone and burnt wiring is not pleasant.”
    “I don't understand,” Maxine said. “Is what you just said a joke? I'm probably too old to get it.”
    Nell felt compelled to elaborate, “It took awhile for Vanod's hands to appear. I was concerned. That's why I called you, Barb. I wasn't thinking right. You couldn't have done anything to help.”
    I listened to all this with waning interest. The joke was starting to turn a bit stale, unless this was going somewhere that related to quilting, so I asked, “Okay. How does this relate to quilting? There must be a quilting connection to this little skit.”
    Nell said, “It isn't a skit. It isn't a joke. Vanod is my friend. I'm trying to help it out.” The group laughed a little, but not for very long. Most of us were all starting to feel a bit uncomfortable with this act. “You all received your invitations. The Rolling Star block was Vanod's cute way of inviting you to hear his proposition. If you didn't find a block to bring, then you weren't invited.”
    Sharon was turning pale. I thought she might faint. Maxine looked fine. She appeared to be enjoying the presentation. Anne kept a slight frown on her face, a look that I thought represented indecision, as if she were trying to decide if this was funny or not. I thought it was amusing. Certainly Nell put a lot of effort into this joke, and I could appreciate that. But where does quilting come into the picture?
    Nell said to Vanod, “Tell the ladies about your proposition.”
    Vanod took his hands from his trench coat pocket and rested them on the table. They, too, were convincing pieces of costuming. It had three fingers and one thumb on each hand. The fingers were long, an extra joint in each finger and thumb, looking very alien compared to our own digits. “Where I come from, we love quilts. We love the beauty and comfort they bring. We display them on our walls and use them to keep warm in our beds. We love them, but we are not very good at making them. Even though I try very hard, I'm still a lousy quilter. Our physiology makes for bad quilting skills. Even our neural wiring is not optimized for that skill. We need your help. We need your quilts.
    We travel across all the standard universe trade routes, looking for those planets inhabited by beings that make quality quilts. We look for planets that appreciate the artistry and craftsmanship that go into their creation. Earth is one of those rare worlds that harbor inhabitants with the ability to make quality quilts. This very group is a fine example of our universe's gold standard of quilt making. My company would like to do business with you.”
    “How exciting!” Maxine said and clapped her hands together enthusiastically.
    “What? Are you serious?” I asked Vanod, then turned to Nell and asked her, “Is this real? This isn't some joke?”
    “Of course not,” Nell said, “this is a serious proposition. Vanod has come a very long way to make this business offer.”
    When the reality of the situation finally took hold, when I fully understood this was for real, the urge to flee swept over me. I can't speak for the others, but I wanted to run screaming out the door to my car, head home, and hide under the covers. But I didn't. Instead, I thought seriously about what was going on here. In an effort to quickly develop a more universal, cosmic sensibility, I accepted the situation, and took Vanod's proposal to heart. “How much? How much money are we talking about?”
    Vanod smiled, as best his small mouth would allow. “My company pays the equivalent of $10,000 for an original, bed size quilt. Any style of your choosing, but right now, the fad on my planet is for wacky