The Flex of the Thumb by James Bennett

quad with two maintenance men and a nondescript student of passive body language. He sat down just in time to hear Sydney Gibbs ask Oboe, “How many kids do you have, Oboe?”
    â€œSixteen. I have sixteen children.”
    â€œWhy so many?”
    Oboe did not find this question impertinent. He said, “I will be happy to tell you.”
    Reggie Rose turned instantly glum, for he knew this answer would be lengthy in the extreme.
    Oboe began by saying, “There is in every man a longing for recognition which endures. The idea of a lasting effect. Some people call this immortality, and link it in some fashion with a belief in God and/or the hereafter.”
    He continued, “I too have such a longing. I too want to have an impact on the world. My way of doing this is by creating as many little Meels as possible, and sending them out into the world. In other words, my offspring are my lasting effect.”
    â€œWell, I always wanted to know,” said Sydney Gibbs. “Thanks a lot for telling me.”
    â€œDid you ever hear of a thing called birth control?” asked Billy Byrd, the second maintenance man.
    But as Oboe was not finished, he found it convenient to ignore both remarks. “It isn’t only that I have sired 16 children. Oh no. I have sired 16 consuming children. Most all of my offspring have reached adulthood; only one is still in her teens. All the children are voracious consumers. They all own at least one full-sized car which consumes large quantities of fuel. They all have closets full of clothes. They have computers and video games and televisions and VCRs. They have audio tapes, video tapes, and CDs. They use many cans, bottles, plastic, and paper products.”
    â€œWell, thanks again for telling me.”
    Oboe went on, “Having 16 children would account for some impact on the world, I suppose, but having 16 consuming children! Think of the impact on the world’s resources! Think of the drain on forests and petroleum products and landfills and even the sea itself! In this way, do you see, I am achieving a lasting effect.”
    Oboe paused long enough to take several deep breaths. He took out his red bandanna and began wiping his forehead. Leaping to their feet, Sydney Gibbs and Billy Byrd seized the opportunity to excuse themselves. Vano Lucas, the silent student, did not move or speak; he took no notice of the two maintenance men in motion.
    Reggie had taken the matchbook absently from his pocket. He worried it from one hand to the other. Having endured Meel’s excruciating verbal tome, he had little patience: “See here, Meel, there’s a great deal of work to be done in curriculum development.”
    Oboe’s eyes were closed. “Does this sound like a topic which will excite my interest?”
    â€œIf we don’t do something soon in curriculum development, we will be in serious trouble.”
    â€œWhat I know about curriculum development would probably not fill a thimble. What I care about it would be considerably less.”
    â€œThe trustees’ report is quite specific on this point,” persisted Reggie.
    Oboe responded with a rhetorical question: “Have I not told you on prior occasions that your trustees’ report is a fiction?”
    Reggie fumed inwardly, but sighed out loud. His eyes traveled impatiently across the printing on the matchbook in his hand. A thought came to him: “See here, Meel, what about astrology?”
    Oboe opened his eyes long enough to ask, “What about it?”
    â€œI’m asking you for your opinion on astrology.”
    He closed his eyes again. “There are those who find it fascinating. For example, the lady who scavenges the aluminum cans from the dumpsters in our neighborhood.”
    Reggie stood up abruptly. He felt his energy returning. “Meel, I have to say I find your remarks encouraging. I say, let’s consider that this matter is now under