PIPE DREAM
BY FRITZ LEIBER
Simon Grue found a two-inch mermaid in
his bathtub. It had arms, hips, a finny
tail, and (here the real trouble began)
a face that reminded him irresistibly
of Grushenka Stulnikov-Gurevich....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, February 1959.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
It wasn't until the mermaid turned up in his bathtub that Simon Grueseriously began to wonder what the Russians were doing on the roof nextdoor.
The old house next door together with its spacious tarpapered roof,which held a sort of pent-shack, a cylindrical old water tank, andseveral chicken-wire enclosures, had always been a focus of curiosityin this region of Greenwich Village, especially to whoever happenedto be renting Simon's studio, the north window-cum-skylight of whichlooked down upon it—if you were exceptionally tall or if, like Simon,you stood halfway up a stepladder and peered.
During the 1920's, old-timers told Simon, the house had been owned bya bootlegger, who had installed a costly pipe organ and used the watertank to store hooch. Later there had been a colony of shaven-headedBuddhist monks, who had strolled about the roof in their orange andyellow robes, meditating and eating raw vegetables. There had followeda commedia dell' arte theatrical group, a fencing salon, a school ofthe organ (the bootlegger's organ was always one of the prime rentingpoints of the house), an Arabian restaurant, several art schools andsilvercraft shops of course, and an Existentialist coffee house.
The last occupants had been two bony-cheeked Swedish blondes whosunbathed interminably and had built the chicken-wire enclosures tocage a large number of sinister smoke-colored dogs—Simon decided theywere breeding werewolves, and one of his most successful abstractions,"Gray Hunger", had been painted to the inspiration of an eldritchhowling. The dogs and their owners had departed abruptly one night ina closed van, without any of the dogs ever having been offered forsale or either of the girls having responded with anything more than araised eyebrow to Simon's brave greetings of "Skoal!"
The Russians had taken possession about six months ago—four brothersapparently, and one sister, who never stirred from the house but couldoccasionally be seen peering dreamily from a window. A white card witha boldly-inked "Stulnikov-Gurevich" had been thumbtacked to the peelinggreen-painted front door. Lafcadio Smits, the interior decorator, toldSimon that the newcomers were clearly White Russians; he could tell itby their bushy beards. Lester Phlegius maintained that they were RedRussians passing as White, and talked alarmingly of spying, sabotageand suitcase bombs.
Simon, who had the advantages of living on the spot and havingbeen introduced to one of the brothers—Vasily—at a neighboringart gallery, came to believe that they were both Red and White andsomething more—solid, complete Slavs in any case, Double DostoevskyRussians if one may be permitted the expression. They ordered vodka,caviar, and soda crackers by the case. They argued interminably (loudlyin Russian, softly in English), they went on mysterious silent errands,they gloomed about on the roof, they made melancholy music with theirdeep harmonious voices and several large guitars. Once Simon thoughthey even had the bootlegger's organ going, but there had been a badstorm at the time and he hadn't been