It was the greatest show on earth. It was the highest-stakes gambling history had ever seen. It was the ruination of nations, the menace of all men, the last-ditch absolutely-desperate attempt by the greatest powers of human history to come together and solve a problem that had defeated all of them alone.
A tall serious man with tall serious hair climbed to a tall serious podium. Six dozen translators watched him like hungry hawks.
He coughed.
He snorted.
He spat, then cleared his throat. “’Scuse me. The bidding for the first Interintraglobal Proposal to Permanently Solve All Parking Issues is now open!”
Paddles flew. Spittle sprayed. Blood was shed.
“Applesoft bids to replace the north pole with a giant helicopter that will fly cars around, instead of letting them clog the highways!” screamed some nerd in a t-shirt. “Seven septillion dollars! It’s the future”
“Exxon-Mobil-Standard-Nestle will drain the entire Atlantic for use as garage space!” hollered an emaciated and wan-faced old coot, driving his cane deep into the spine of the CEO in front of him. “Imagine the amount of space that can be reclaimed in the suburbs! A hundred billion trillion million dollars!”
“McDonalds will donate one out of every seven hundred pennies we make for one year towards funding solutions for individuated parkers in need of parking,” wheedled a sack of flesh in a half-sack suit. “No charge…. Although we WILL be wanting tax rebates for our time and charity and effort.”
“I will pave the entire horizon of the Earth for one hundred dollars.”
That got people’s attention, and as sure as if a giant drain had opened up in the floor all other noise swirled away into nothing.
“How?” asked the auctioneer.
“The power and wonder of imagination,” said the bidder serenely. He was an older man with an older man’s beard and a warm smile somewhere in there.
“How much again?”
“One hundred dollars – in advance, if that’s alright. Oh, plus expenses.”
“Sold! To the old coot!”
“Constructioneer, if you please,” he corrected.
“Sold to the constructioneer coot!”
“Ah, much better. ”
***
The one hundred dollars were crisp and clear and as freshly-made as a dewy daisy, and the constructioneer took them down the street to an orphanage and purchased six children at a nickel each.
“No bulk discount?” he asked.
“Each of our children is a priceless little tootsie-angel in their own special way,” declared the manager. “And we don’t do refunds either, so no bitching allowed.”
“No worries, no troubles, it’s fine. C’mon kids, we’ve got a job to do! Have any of you ever wanted to be construction workers?”
Feet were shuffled, eyes were averted, no hands were raised.
“Perfect!”
***
It was a very simple procedure.
“Up and at ‘em! Just a little hike! You can be malnourished later, we’re almost there! Last stretch! Don’t lag too far behind, Suzy!”
“Stacey.”
“Sure! C’mon! C’mon! C’mon! We’re here!”
It was an unpretentious little hill at the edge of a modest little parking lot – wedged full of cars criss-cross-cranny-crammed atop one another, naturally. The spring thaw had been unkind to it; and most of it was exposed sand, mud, and sad.
“Alrighty. Back to back, please. Wait, you too, you two. And you other two! All of you! Back to back to back to back to back to back now, chop chop! There we go! Now hold this in your left hands – your LEFT hands. I don’t care if you’re a southpaw, Andre.”
“Why are we holding lumps of asphalt? And it’s not Andrew, it’s And-”
“It’s fine! Are you all ready?”
Vague mumbles.
“Good! Are you all steady?”
Shrugs and nods.
“Great! Are you set?”
Noncommittal noises.
“Now hold your pointer finger on your right hands across your eyes and block out the horizon in front of you GO.”
They did. And the constructioneer chuckled warmly.
“Excellent! Now hold your asphalt that’s in your LEFT hands up behind your right fingers.”
They did. And the constructioneer giggled happily.
“Wonderful! Now drop your right hands.”
They did. And the constructioneer chortled merrily.
“Beautiful! Now drop your left hands.”
They did. And the asphalt wasn’t in their hands anymore. It was very, very, very, very, very far away.
“And we’re done!” said the constructioneer. And he laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed until his cheeks and his beard and his warm smile were all red as a cardinal’s crown.
***
Reconvening the delegates of the first Interintraglobal Proposal to Permanently Solve All Parking Issues took more time than expected. For one thing, many of them had already gotten up to leave. For another, every single axis surrounding the planet was now covered in pavement
“I have paved the horizon, thus circumferencising the planet with the aid of six nickel-priced children and their imaginations,” said the constructioneer proudly. “Well ahead of time and very under-budget. Please shower me with applause.”
The sound of vigorous clapping echoed throughout the vast halls.
“Alright that’s enough. Now, my expenses: everything.”
“I’m sorry?” asked the auctioneer.
“Everything.”
“All the… money?”
“No, everything. Everything ever.”
“But… but… you said that the children only costed you a nickel each!” exclaimed a vice-president with an unearthly wail.
“A nickel each for the children,” corrected the constructioneer, kindly but firmly. “The imagination of a child is priceless. And I will be reimbursed as such. Really, I’m within my rights to demand this six times over.”
“We shan’t,” said a president.
“We won’t,” said a prime minister.
“Nix,” said a premier.
“Oh yes you will,” said the constructioneer. “After all, you only have a few minutes left.”
“I hardly think losing out on a little sunlight will snuff out the planet in a few minutes,” said the world’s most famous political cartoonist, with the world’s most derisive snort.
“That won’t be the problem,” said the constructioneer. “But you’d better hurry if you want a spot.”
And he smiled his big warm smile.
Thirty seconds later every human being on earth with a driver’s license was dead. Primary causes were road rage, pedestrian collision, parking-lot fistfights, and ferocious rear-enders.
***
The constructioneer dug up the horizon’s pavement and put some tulips in. He felt he owed it to the neighborhood.