There was a chiming sound.

“That will be the Council. Come along.”

***

Umptious Willoughby was back in the middle of the table’s arc, surrounded by Council members, and Murray was standing in the middle again.

“So the deal is, Murray, we hate to waste a good species. We’re willing to create a small self-contained universe, out of the way, for any species that can meet the requirements we set, and then forget about them and get on with things in your Universe. It ain’t much but it’s better than nothing.”

“Don’t I even get a vote?” Murray asked, “I thought that because the intelligent races were summoned, we got a vote.”

“And indeed you do. One vote. Split between all the races. We tallied it in, and it didn’t help much at all.”

“So what is it that I have to do?” he asked.

“Simple. Get everyone in your race who wants to be in the private Universe together, and we’ll see this and take them. There’s no lower limit, but I’m sure there will be many people. But they have to be directing their thoughts to us about this or we won’t notice them. We’re very busy, you know.”

Well, maybe if he promised them free roses, but Murray didn’t think it was too likely he could get lots of people. He hoped he could leave old Mr. Ashford and his projectile drooling habit behind. Then he thought about the mushrooms…if he could open everyone’s mind with those mushrooms…well, he’d have to start getting them out to the world when he returned.

“And how much time do I have?” he asked.

“Well,” Umptious Willoughby screwed up his face in thought. “It’ll take us up to, say, five million years to get the draft multiuniversal standard documents written and approved, then that will have to go up for review to become a final multiuniversal standard, and then there’ll be a couple of million years worth of gratuitous changes,” the old man shot a glance at the rest of the council, “so, let’s say – thirty million years till we get the final spec done for your private universe, and for the revisions for your old one.”

Murray exhaled sharply and relaxed. “Well why didn’t you say so in the first place!”

“Don’t get your hopes up, son,” the old man said. “Time is different here, and for us, than it is for you. You have about one week.”

Murray was about to protest, but the old man raised his hand, and Murray was gone.

After Murray disappeared back to his own world, Umptious Willoughby suddenly wondered if he shouldn’t have thought to warn Murray Hathaway that, in order to appease the faction of the council that didn’t want Murray’s Universe’s intelligent races consulted, each race member would barely remember anything to do with its meeting the council. Oh well…too late now.

***

Murray flopped around in his armchair and then woke up with a start. The room seemed unfamiliar, and then he realized he’d dozed and night had fallen. Rancid was laying next the chair; Murray straightened himself out and petted the dog on the head. Rancid whimpered happily in response.

The clock said it was almost 9PM. Murray turned on the light, closed the shades and looked at the TV schedule. Funny, he felt like there was something he was supposed to do, but he couldn’t figure out what. A dream. He thought that if he concentrated on it, he might remember. Then the phone rang. It was Ed Finnister. There’d been a run on the funeral home, and could he please borrow the freezer again? Of course he could, Murray told him.

Hmmm…there was an ad that said The Wizard of Oz was on next week. Maybe then he’d finally get to see it all the way through.