The Museum of Eterna's Novel

THIS NOVEL BEGAN BY LOSING NICOLASA, ITS "COOK CHARACTER," WHO RESIGNED FOR THE NOBLEST OF REASONS

Nicolasa is leaving, and in this prologue the novel bids her farewell. More sad than ill-humored, Nicolasa and her corpulent volume leave “La Novela,” having resigned, as we already said. She passes in front of the novel’s little watchman, who, as a good friend, asks her in surprise:

“How do you feel about leaving the novel?”

“I don’t know. But you’re a man of good appetite, you can imagine what will come of a novel without a cook: a novel of fasters.”

The novel regrets this deeply, but hastens to add that when all of the furniture shops in Buenos Aires found out that Nicolasa was available, they fought among themselves to employ her and her 140 kilos, to test the resiliency of chairs and beds via the application of a certain part of her body. The chair or bed that can withstand her is thus imprinted with that certain body part, and this seal makes for a ten-year quality guarantee.

Nicolasa quickly tired of this position, though it earned her a lot of money, perhaps because she missed her position in the novel; she went to establish an Empanada Shop near the station, where you can catch the train to “La Novela.” The fact is that the aroma of those delicious empanadas was such a powerful enticement that she not only almost deprived the novel of readers, since everyone on their way there was waylaid by the Empanada Shop, but she also held up the locomotives, whom she had spellbound. This earned her a distinction from the Municipality, whose traveling public benefited from trains no longer passing through the station without stopping.

Despite her bulk, Nicolasa is very sensitive. She was mortified when she discovered that she might deprive the novel of readers, and she abandoned her enviable situation at the Empanada Shop and only worked in the winter, in the wide avenues of Buenos Aires, using her ample person to shelter transients from the wind and cold. So many took refuge there that space became very limited.

I can also add that the images (gustatory-olfactory-visual) of the last empanada we ate rendered us incapable of conversation. It was universal, in the world-village of Veronica, to launch the epithet “He’s got his head in empanadas” at the distracted listener, or repeat the saying “Whoever thinks of empanadas is not thinking badly.” So it was that business meetings or other urgencies were fixed for “before empanada-hour” and, having concluded business, the custom was to bet on empanadas and celebrate in the shop. The “empanada-and-a-half,” a gastronometric of Nicolasa’s invention, was a frequent betting prize: to put up a dozen “empanadas-and-a-half” was at times an acceptable solution to disputes and prognostications alike. An old resident of Veronica was known for his skillful way of drawing apart an “empanada-and-a-half” without damage; you “drew” them apart, you didn’t use the words cut or slice with empanadas-and-a-half.

The empanada-and-a-half was a unity¹ that was used, at times, as local currency; it wasn’t unusual for the clause “Against reimbursement in cash or in empanadas-and-a-half” to appear in written or verbal stipulations. Other times you might hear someone say, “There’s a storm coming on, amigo — Yes, not even empanadas can stop it now.”

But, in resolution, we already said that Nicolasa, who loved the novel so, moved elsewhere so as not to deprive it of readers who passed by “La Novela.” It’s a quiet example of loyalty.

We want her to know that the novel sends its fondest regards.

But we can’t say goodbye to so sweet a person so soon, we’ll say something more. For example, we’ll talk about Nicolasa’s metaphysical theory.

The cornerstone of her doctrine was this principle: that there are in reality two massive powers: Soot and Electricity. But the Verity of the world is such that it holds back these powers: Soot is kept at bay by the feeble piece of paper, and Light and Lightning are held back by a pane of glass, wood, or rubber. So we must conduct ourselves with the proper fear of these potencies and constantly remember that the world provides us with unlimited methods to frustrate them.

But apart from her metaphysical doctrine, Nicolasa also has a long-standing grudge against geometers, because of a certain episode in her life. What is known for certain is that she had her vengeance by sweetly inviting them to a banquet of her preparation. She made delicacies so perfectly spherical, particularly the first course, that, in their scrupulousness, the geometers couldn’t decide where to begin eating them (having found themselves confronted with an infinity, which of course they had to respect). They didn’t taste them, and not having begun the banquet from the beginning, they abstained from beginning on the rest, which only increased their mortification, since the subsequent delicacies did not present geometrical impediments to their gustatory pleasure.

And now it is finally time to leave Nicolasa in peace.

1 This daring innovation was compared (by a “character in the novel”) to the audacities of Causs, Riemen, and the Babylonian astronomer of the sexagesimal (or base 60) system, which were celebrated at least in their town, and those nearby. Soon it will be universal (Author’s note)