The Schwa Was Here

Procedure: The Schwa was asked to walk through the security checkpoint, go to Gate B-l 7, then walk back.

Results: The Schwa stood in line at the security checkpoint, but the guy who was checking IDs and airplane tickets skipped right past him. The Schwa gave us the A-okay sign. Then he walked through the metal detector, and it buzzed. Security then no­ticed him. They made him raise his arms, passing a wand all over him until finding the iron bar. They called more security over and two national guards­men dressed in camouflage. They asked where his parents were and wanted to see his ticket. That's when the rest of us came forward to explain that it was just an experiment and not to get all bent out of shape. The national guardsmen and security officers weren't happy. They called our parents. They were not happy either. This ends our experi­mentation on the Schwa Effect.

Conclusion:

1. The Schwa is unnoticed by your generic secu­rity guard unless he's tipped off to his presence by advanced technology like a metal detector.

2. Iron bars in the Schwa's pocket are still iron bars.

***

4 Making Big Bucks off of Stealth Economics, Because Maybe I Got Some Business Sense

Once we decided to turn the Schwa Effect into a money- making proposition, it wasn't hard to get the ball rolling. When we had presented our series of Schwa experi­ments to the class, most everyone laughed, figuring it was a joke—but enough of our classmates had been part of the ex­periments to suspect there was something more to it. You know, it's like that TV show where the psychic dude talked to your dead relatives—all of whom seem to be just hanging around, watching everything you do ... which is really disturb­ing when you stop to think about it. You don't really believe it, but there's enough borderline credibility to make you wonder.

That's how it was with the Schwa. It was too much for most kids to really believe the Schwa Effect, but people were curi­ous—and curiosity was a key element of Stealth Economics. Mary Ellen MacCaw was the first to offer hard cash.

"I wanna see the Schwa do something," she said to me in the hall after school. Most everyone else had left, so we were pretty much alone.

"Do what?" I asked.

"I don't know. Something."

"The Schwa doesn't do things for free."

Mary Ellen reached into her pocket, jangled around in there for a while, and came up with four quarters. She handed them to me.

"For a dollar, the Schwa will appear out of thin air."

"Where?" said Mary Ellen. "When?"

"Here and now," said the Schwa.

And she jumped. I've never seen anyone jump like that ex­cept while watching a horror movie—because the Schwa had been standing right next to her all along.

She bumped into a locker and the sound echoed down the hallway. "How do you do that?I" she asked the Schwa.

"Guess you could call it a 'hidden' talent."

As Mary Ellen's mouth was almost as big as her nose, by the next day people were waiting in line to pay the price and share in the Schwa Experience.

My dad says that at Pisher Plastics they believe anything can be marketed and sold. "They'd put a price tag on a dead rat if they thought it would sell," he once told me. "Then they'd hire an advertising firm to show beautiful women wearing them on their shoulders. It's all part of a free-market economy."

I can't vouch for the dead-rat theory, but I do know that in our local free-market economy, the Schwa was a high-ticket item—and as his manager, lining up his jobs, I got a decent percentage of the money he made. I gotta admit, though, the money was just gravy. It was great for once to be the center of attention—or at least positioned next to the center of atten­tion. Funny how the Schwa could be right in the middle and still go unseen.

"It's a waste of time," Ira said, when I asked him if he and Howie wanted in on our business venture.

"Yeah," said Howie. "I can think of a hundred better ways to make money."

They were still pretty annoyed about the grade we had got­ten on our Schwa experiments. "F for eFFort," Mr. Werthog had said. He thought the whole thing was a scam when, for once, it wasn't. After that, Ira and Howie wanted nothing to do with Stealth Economics.

"Why don't you forget this Schwa thing and help with my next movie," Ira said. "Gerritsen Beach Beauties."

"I'm casting director," says Howie, beaming with pride that may have just been hormones.

I told them no, because I couldn't just bail on the Schwa.

"Suit yourself," Ira said. "But when we're surrounded by babes begging for a part in the film, don't come crying to us."

In the end no girls were stupid enough to audition for them, so they had to settle for Claymation. Stealth Economics, on the other hand, turned out to be a much better business decision than anyone thought.