That Sisyphus Essay

Is Gaius named in this story? asks Vello.

Naturally, says Camus. He ate the pie.

Could he not remain anonymous? asks David.

'Ten years ago, anonymous man eats penguin pie', says Camus. I don't think so.

At least you must clear it with Gaius, says Vello. He may have a different version. 

Yes, says David. We won't pay for the article if it's going to end up in court. 

All right, says Camus. What's his number?

Here, says Sweezus, bringing up Gaius's number on his phone.

Shizz! I dialled it accidentally.

Let it ring, says Vello. The sooner this is cleared up the better.

Ring ring!

Gaius answers.

Hey! says Sweezus.

What is it? asks Gaius. I'm busy unpacking. 

Camus's here, says Sweezus. He wants to ask you a question.

Put him on, says Gaius. Wait, Camus who?

Albert Camus the guy who wrote The Stranger, and The Plague and that Sisyphus essay, says Sweezus. And we met him in Victor ten years ago when we were both there.

I remember, says Gaius. What does he want?

I'll let him tell you, says Sweezus, handing his phone to Camus.

Hello, Gaius, says Camus.

Hello, says Gaius. I believe you have a question.

I do, says Camus. I have just submitted an article to Velosophy, which names you, and I'd like your permission....

O everyone names me willy-nilly, says Gaius. Quoting my tales. Go ahead. It's all the same to me. And how is your family? Are they here with you?

No, says Camus. The twins are grown up now.

It happens, says Gaius. Even young Terence, perhaps not so much, but he's looking older since he lost his side curls...

Yes, but I do need your specific agreement, says Camus. The editors wish to be certain I haven't defamed you.

Very canny, says Gaius. What did you say?

That you ate a penguin pie, says Camus. You did eat one, didn't you?

A penguin pie, says Gaius. It doesn't sound like a thing I would do. Ah, the doorbell! It will be Terence and Katherine. Must go. Let's catch up sometime. 

Click.

He's gone, says Camus. 

Did he deny it? asks Vello.

Not exactly, says Camus. He seemed not to remember. Will that suffice?

It won't, says Vello. You must get a written affirmation. 

Very well, says Camus. Gaius suggested a catch-up. I'll go now.

Got a car? asks Vello.

I've hired one, says Camus. Electric. Address, please.

I'll come with you, says Sweezus. 

They go downstairs together.

Camus sees a clear path ahead, leading to him getting published, and paid.

Sweezus, unsurprisingly, doesn't.