(no subject)
Here, I finished Milk. You all are welcomed. If you'll want, I can send it by email or give you the print version.
the texp is divided into tree parts.
IV
He opened his eyes, saw a woman sitting by his side and some man reading. He knew exactly that he wasn’t at home, but he couldn’t understand where he was. His thoughts all the time were interrupted by something that he couldn’t manage, that confused him even more. The thing that bothered him the most was that he saw everything in double. His head ached and worked with difficulty.
- Why there are four lamps.
He wanted to know what was happening to him, but this was the best he could come out with. Some why he was sure that people, though he didn’t know them, would understand and help. Head was that he was most anxious about, he wanted to feel normal.
- Occam, Occam… What lamps? I’m here with you. Look I’m here and got rid of that bad cereal.
“Why does she know my name? I see you and that don’t make me happier. Is she crazy? I asked her what’s with lamps.”
- Cereal…? I hate cereal. Why there are four lamps?
He was surprised by his answer, because he liked cereal. He ate corn flakes that morning.
- Oh… I knew that…
- Who are you? And what’s happening with lamps?
- I’m Aurora, your wife. Honey, there are only two lamps. Look here is Plato.
“…But there are four lamps?”
- I don’t know you people. I don’t have a wife and not going at least till I’ll be 27… What in a hell is with lamps? Plato? He died before there were any lamps.
He felt that all his body was becoming heavier and heavier. It become harder to talk. Pleasant relaxation seemed to flow from some outside source into his body. It seemed more like a rage then reality.
- Honey, don’t you recognize us?
- What… what shoulddd I?…
- We got mar…
It took over him. Next thing that he remembered was the night.
Slight light in the room, it is dark outside the window. The same woman, different another person. Or there were two of them, sitting one next to another? Did Plato exist? Was he there the previous time when he woke up? Still four lamps? But two of them wasn’t as clear as the two other ones.
Occam heard a beeping sound and suddenly he felt he was saying something without his control over it. His consciousness was only watching happening from the side, commenting only what he said.
- Unexamined life is not worth living…
“Socrates.”
- …dare tot be what you are…
“Freidrich Nietzsche.”
- …all the world is a stage, and all the men and women are merely players: they have their exits and entrances and one man in his life plays many parts…
“Shakespeare.”
He lost his consciousness again.
Like in an odd dream he was waking up in a queer world that he didn’t know and falling back to his wild sleep. Everything was so fast that he wasn’t sure where reality ended. Borders of two worlds were erased making it more difficult for not clear head to respond to them. Sparse thoughts that came to him were all aimed at his present state. He wanted it to be gone, to feel as usual. But each time he came back to his confused, similar to that he had after opium feeling. He was scared that it won’t go away. He was afraid to get stuck in “the sky” without the control over his body. Thought sometimes he didn’t feel anything. He didn’t even hear his thoughts that made him feel that he was dead. Sometimes this scared, but sometimes he liked it, trying to stick to it. It always vanished, leaving him with his thoughts, which he was afraid even more.
Then there was a dream. He saw Moses coming from Egypt. He saw him coming to Jews and claiming them “the chosen nation”. And they were chosen. Then he saw Moses on the throne above everyone, he was sitting and looking. When he said that he created the world everything, even Jews, were in it, it was so. When he said that he will destroy the world and everything that he wants will go to the eternal kingdom, it happened so. When he said that the God was in everyone, it was so. Occam was watching from the side like he was there and saw how the map was created in his image. Occam identified himself with Moses and saw himself sitting on the throne above everyone, he was sitting and looking with a mockery. Then he saw Moses childhood, as it was his and saw Amenophis IV. He felt some power over him. He felt that there was something that even a God obeys. He started to learn about this power, as if he was a Zen Buddhist. He saw a twilight of all idols, while exploring the feeling. Then at the bottom he saw a “Black Square” and a name of the last idol, Malevich. Then he tried to go under and he understood that this wasn’t an idol and it disappeared. He felt life and death as it was the whole. Then he saw the end and fulfillment of the prophecy. He died with an Apocalypse.
When he woke up there were the same old lady and some strange woman. He noticed that the old lady was holding his arm. That scared him a little, so he quickly drew his arm from her embrace. She woke up too, raising her red eyes on him.
First that came to his mind was to ask where was he. And more from scare than from curiosity, he asked who she was.
- I’m Aurora, you wife… Do you remember?
He shook his head.
- You had been shot and hit in the head. You are in St. Patriks Hospital. Don’t you remember?
The last thing that he remembered was that a car had hit him. He didn’t have a wife and was only sixteen.
He pointed at Sophie.
“My arm, my hand. It… it… it is wrong. What is it? It’s… no! It’s all this state. Head is a circus… Why there are so many wrinkles. It’s wrong, it’s wrong. I… I… I’m 16, it can’t be true.”
- Give me a mirror…
“It can’t be. Get out from me! It’s fake, wrong… It’s all messed up. My head is lying to me. I’m 16, I remember school. Yes. I was at school today. You’re lying to me!!”
With an enormous strength he threw a mirror.
- Wife…
“ I need to think.”
- Bring me some sleeping pills. And you both, leave me. I need to sleep. I’ll try to gather my thoughts…
- Wait… What year is now?
- 2004
- Fifty eight years…
They left the room.
Occam fought. Inside against outside.
He rose his weak hands. Battle with uneven forces stirred the fire beyond boiling borders. His head went from side to side, slightly shaking. Doesn’t matter if you fight, objectivity always has more beneficial position.
- No, no… My universe can’t collapse. No, I’m the God… My mind is… hanging loose…
Heart beats faster, fast in a train to inevitable. Tun-tun, tun-tun, tun-tun…
- No… Uaaa…
Flash. All memories in a second, gone in a second, though all in a second, madness in a second… Just a second.
- No one knows or even feels, that anything is a limit, or a defect, until he is at the same time above and beyond it… O, Hegel… God is dead!!! Ha-ha!! God is dead. I’m dead.
V
“Milk.”
She drank her milk from the bottle finishing breakfast. Made herself comfortable in the dark-red good-old armchair and turned some black-n’-white movie.
“Another day, another morning.”
It was an old western. Fairytale where everything was simple. Rest for mind and id. Good guys kill bad guys, find love and merry. Everything is black-n’-white, overcrowded by nobility, dignity, universal duty and good-always-wins. She saw it number of times, repeating every part word after word. They were deep in her, deeply closed eyes in front of the color television.
Jack, Kathy, Bill, middle-aged bastard - barman John, were part of her good-old routine. With only rare thoughts to brake the silence.
Movies, reading conservative magazine after noon, two-tree hours of easygoing work, diner on Friday in an expensive restaurant, cleaning on Saturdays, sleeping, waking up, milk. Nothing in plenty, lightly sliding on the surface under a constant wind. O, she knew how to live, she had an instruction with strict tags to trifles.
Ring-ring.
- Here.
- Should be here 10 minutes ago. St. Patriks Hospital. Dad, got shot. Waiting, emergency. 8th floor.
Hang up.
“Dad got shot? It’s bad, very bad. Ok, I’ll watch it later.”
Sophie put an everyday dress, quick make up, grabbed a Tetris from a night table while wearing a tiny Channel hat with another hand. Ten minutes driving, four more to get to the seventh floor.
- Twenty two minutes, Elvis.
G-shock watch was the only thing in her that showed what she was from the XXth century. It was one of those elegant retro models, she got it for Christmas.
- Nice.
- 3rd, what’s happened?
Everybody spoke in low tones, making their gathering look like a squad of conspirators, as if to speak truth loud was a big crime.
- Doctor said he got shot in the lift leg and in the region of the heart. Also he was hit in the head. He may have ecmnesia, as…
- Ecm… what?
- - It’s a form of a partial amnesia. He may remember some events, while other will abolish. Thanks to the All Mighty ambulance was passing by and saw him.
- How’s mother?
- Difficult to say. There she sits infront of the operation room. She doesn’t answer questions. She stopped to cry and just waits. Let the Lord help her to overcome this…
- Ha, yes, right. Let the Lord help her, as he did to Jews in Germany.
- Not here Plato. People need hope…
- People need reality, not a hypocritical chimera.
- God helped me and millions other people. I’ll pray that you’ll understand. You’re too young and no one wants to hear it, right 3rd?
He nodded.
- Question is closed. Better bring us coffee.
- Hell no!
Sophie stepped closer to her mother. Gently took her wet hand and with to extremes hypocritically soft voice tried to come Aurora down. There was no respond. Sophie impatiently turned her head to a side.
- Ok. Anyway, we are here with you. No matter what’ll happen, we’ll always be near. Dad will be fine and in a week you’ll continue your usual cereal battles.
She once more looked into her eyes, there were two little blue islands in a yellow-red ponds of unbreakable despair.
- Let the God be with you.
She kissed her in the forehead, took “lucky” Tetris and sat near.
More people came. Couple people from board of directors, friend Robert with wife, Plato’s girlfriend, 793rd’s wife with children. Some were watching the TV, Robert and 793rd said that the God won’t let such a person to die like this. Elvis is in the side, turned to the wall, saving himself from the social resonance. Also separate stands Plato and another new girlfriend. Sparkle of desire in his eyes, made his whole body burn unconsciously unveiling his essence. Sophie from to time for a moment tears away her avid glance from Tetris to examine the crowd and sinks back in virtual reality of abstractions.
Door opened. Aurora jumped from her seat. She made the wave of turning heads spread over the surrounded the center of the source samples, making censors oversensitive to happening.
- How is he?
- Situation is very unstable. Right now he is under narcosis.
No one dared to speak. Plato was absent.
- We will be able to give more correct diagnosis in couple hours. For now we’re keeping him alive. Without the equipment… he is unstable.
- O, doctor… Please, do everything possible… He… and kids are the only things I have left. What will I do without him? O, doctor… Please… he is very healthy, strong man… Please… I know you’re a good doctor, you can help him… right? Why not me? He should give them that they wanted… He is so stubborn… I’ll pray for him and for you, doctor… Please… We can pay… any price… I’ll find any money, but please… It’s because of those cereals… He is the only thing I have… and kids…
- We did our best, madam. I promise you that we won’t stop trying everything that’s in our powers till he will feel good. Sorry, but I need to rest and check other patients too. I’ll come by later.
- Please…
VI
- Please…
Aurora stretched out her right hand, leaning a bit forward. Doctor didn’t see it already.
- Harry, your suit not matching with the surrounding.
- Who knew that I’ll be here. Better look at her… Her sufferings make me want to cry.
- What you think about it?
His voice was hardly heard.
- Going from the experience that I had, I should say that chances are not as hoping as they may seam. As far as I can remember, she doesn’t believe in God. Though after such a … situation, I can say, she may start to believe, but chances are miserable. So I’m not considering that she’ll devote her life to God or some Christian ideas, because she never did. Without going in circles, I must say that Occam will die. He was the point in life for her, I mean the very point in her life. We, as she does, considering life as an absurd and don’t believe in life other then this, right Elvis?
- Yes, you right.
- If life is only that you make of it, then if meaning is lost, I would make a suicide. There is no point to bear everyday sufferings if everything is absurd. And I feel very solid saying that all, I want to underline, all existence is suffering.
Pathos straightened Harries back, his finger, as a torch, shined above heads.
- Pure logic calls upon death. We, as thinking beings, shouldn’t stand on her way and we should assist her in this not easy step. Words are unnecessary. I strongly recommend to leave her and she will make everything right.
- Harry, no, no. I don’t want her leave. I want her with me. Harry, not talk, please, not talk… I love her. She my mother. You stop… I’m asking you to stop…
- I’m only a messenger. It is an absurd world, you should face it!
- But… but I not want her leave…
They noticed Occam’s body was carried to a regular room.
- Can I visit him?
- Yes, you may. He is still under narcosis now. You can sit with him, but sorry, you can’t bring all those people in.
- Ok, ok…
Everybody followed Aurora.
Almost near the door Elvis stopped her by a shoulder. He bent his head down seeing Auroras face inevitably wet with tears.
“It shame. No, that is insipid reality.”
- Harry said that you die. I not want it. I love you.
VII
Almost near the door Elvis stopped Aurora by a shoulder. He bent his head down, looking ashamed and confused.
He mumbled something to Aurora, it seemed that she didn’t notice.
Only family members entered the room. Plato was still absent.
“All this machinery… He is a nice father. I realize his chances and doesn’t leave much space for hope.
He was always missing. In his 71st year I understand that I don’t actually know him. It seemed to me that he cared only about Plato. No, he also spent some time with us, but that is probably the problem, only some time. He used to speak for hours with Plato during childhood, when we were kind of disappointment. He never told us, but we always felt it.
He is my father, he gave me life, so I love him at least for that.
Love, love, love, hate and hate… People get to extremes in front of the thread. Where is it in everyday life? Why couldn’t we show it then, before? Hmm, pathetic…
I’m worried about mom. If he was all the time at work, she stayed near. Now this merciless kick, it got cruel on her. And her late time illness. If we had less money, she would probably get to asylum… And now this… There is nothing to worry about, God knows what he does.”
It was a neat little room. Only what was necessary: bed, couple of chairs, wardrobe, night table, TV, that was somewhy on, showing soap opera. Aurora was mumbling something about cereal.
- Ok, there is no point for all of us to stay here. I suggest to agree on a schedule. Is that fine with you? 3rd?
- Yes, sure.
- Gee, where in the world is Plato? Will make a schedule without him.
- Works perfect for me. You go first, I need to bring Elvis home. What’ll we do with mom? Mom, do you want to go home or stay here?
Pause.
- Ok, if she will want one of us calls another and picks her up. Everybody stays for 6, no 5 hours. I’ll go first, then around 6 PM you change me, then at 11 starts Plato’s shift, then I’m here at… at… 4 AM, you at 9. Clear? Where a hell is Plato?
- Fine. I shall go then. You want me to wait for Plato with you?
Door opened. Plato with tired walk entered the room, carefully closing the door behind. Satisfied eyes examined everybody present, stopped with a tragic mockery on Sophie:
“Where have you been?”
- Giving pledge to conventions with your fake compassion. Fucking hypocrites, - he said it almost with love.
- Shut up. I hate you.
- People, come on. Afraid of God, at such a time…
- “You hate me and I hate you. You know what, you know what? It’s all in the family…”
- You’re impossible… How can such a dick be my brother, you’re probably adopted.
793rd felt very uncomfortable.
- The only my problem is that I call things with their real names. You all are hypocrites. Not you Elvis, you’re different. When was the last time when you came by to him? Hum? Or called to ask how he feels? Or her? Never! You both are playing that you care, obey your God’s commandments and don’t even care about them. Some stupid conventions that you follow, faking your altruism. And under surface you always selfish up to the bottom. I’m impressed how lying to yourself doesn’t cause you nausea. Got something to say on this, or I’m too right to argue?
- Plato, it’s not the place and not the time for this. There is no point for all of us to stay here, so we agreed on a schedule. Your shift starts at 11 PM. Everybody stays for 5 hours. Will you handle this or you’ll run to get high somewhere?
- I’m not breaking agreements, like you do.
- So I guess we’re fine. 3rd, Elvis see you in 5 hours. And I hope I won’t see you today anymore.
- We’ll see.
- Aurora was still mumbling something once in a while. Sophie made herself comfortable, took out Tetris, once more gave a look to her parents:
“I want that in my old age, there was someone to hold my hand.
Plato is an asshole. I shouldn’t consider his junky-brained thoughts.”
Still his speech couldn’t leave mind without a trace. Sword got stuck deep into the stone, disturbing basis. Looking for rationalization she put Tetris to the side.
Rationalization. What a person can’t rationalize? Person gets to a war, sees thousands of dead, he rationalizes it and continuos. 16 years old girl takes money for a blowjob, she rationalizes it and continuos. Official is open to bribes, he rationalizes it and continuos. Young man loses house and job, gets to the street, he rationalizes it and continuos. Continuous to live. They continue to live, making their nightmares routine, finding pleasure in their sufferings. Status Quo becomes firm and unmovable and world gets another slave. None of “the Greats” staid silent. It’s not the fire that is in them, but a jug of water. Drop after drop rock is defeated, constant flow cracks the mountain, when fires stops in ten minutes. “Dare to be what you are” cried Nietzsche and they made crazy out of him, still rereading his books. They say they’re not strong enough. Lie, they just don’t Will enough, getting down to rationalization.
“Blind atheist. Meekness to God’s Will that is the road to Heavens. He’ll probably never get there. Sometimes I feel pity for him. He used to play so peacefully when he was seven, and now look at him…
Don’t judge, Plato, don’t judge, it’s God’s privilege. Maybe sometimes I don’t show my love, but it is always inside of me. Not as deep, as you may think. God told as to love each other and forgive…
I forgive you and your ignorance. God will punish you for vices.”
“How he could have sex in such a situation? In the hospital, when his father is dying? I’m sorry, but you’ll be punished. Not now, but later.”
Now, when the offender was doomed to burn in Hell, Sophie with her wisdom got back to Tetris.
Her shift was almost over, she decided to get something to drink. But what was her astonishment when she saw Plato reading right behind the door:
- What are you doing here, - it seemed to irritate her.
- I’m doing what a child should do - staying with my mother.
- Didn’t you leave?
- No, and I ain’t going nowhere!
- Fine… I need to go. 3rd’ll be here any minute.
- See ya…
Sophie though that she’ll wait for 793rd, but after seeing Plato, she decided that she needs to rest and left.
Plato came in.
She came home and without thinking long took four sleeping pills. Set an alarm and woke up an hour before 4 AM.
Slept perfectly fine, without even a slight dream, as all people as she do. Something to eat and the same again.
Sophie put everyday dress, quick make up, grabbed Tetris from a night table, while wearing a Channel hat, with another hand. Ten minutes driving, four more to get to the seventh floor.
“Twenty five minutes.”
- How is he?
- Nothing changed much. Woke up in a rage ones. Talked some bs about lamps. Didn’t recognize me.
- How’s mom?
- Same. Oppressed and ignorant to surrounding.
- Did you get a sleep?
- No, and ain’t going to. Take your shift, sis. I’ll be on my spot outside.
He took his coffee, thick book under the arm and left Sophie in dark room with samialive couple. She was like a tank, even closeness to unavoidable didn’t brake the armor.
“Wise man walks with his eyes in his head, but fool walks in darkness; yet I perceive fate comes to all of them. Ecclesiastes 2:14. I guess he was a Wiseman, still… He’ll get in heaven.”
In spite of her resolution to stay up and absorb every moment of a disaster with unseen sharpness, she felt asleep.
Sophie turned 10. Morning before school. She is coming to dining room and see a happy family. She stops on the stairs and vividly looks on them trying not to brake fragile peace. Aurora, young, feeds newly born Elvis with her breast. Elvis is still fine now. 793rd runs around the table, pretends that he is an airplane. Occam, already with his half head bold intensively reads stock exchange charts. Aurora is trying to say something to him, but he is busy, he doesn’t hear. Still half asleep and with a merry smile Sophie, quietly gets back to her little bed, just closes her eyes and… Occam is looking over the newspaper on the empty chair, like he’s waiting for something. Aurora stops too, 793rd turns around, with a little fright looks at the empty spot, screws his eyes. Everything turns black and white. And from underneath the table crawls up Plato with a cigarette in his mouth and a crystal pigeon in his hands. She sees him with unwanted sharpness, everything around seems to fade. He takes his hands up, from a cigarette goes smoke that irritates her, but she can’t do a thing about it. Frighten Sophie looks at Occam for help and on her eyes he turns into Plato, the same Plato which stands near the table holding a fragile expensive pigeon above his head. Plato looks right in her eyes and smashes the pigeon. That noise was too real to be a dream:
- No, no… Why… No…
She woke up and saw that it was not Plato. Occam smashed a mirror to the wall.
- Wife… - said Occam, spiting fire of inside battle with a word.
- Bring me some sleeping pills. And you, both, leave me. I need to sleep. I’ll try to gather with my thoughts.
Sophie obeyed without a slightest back thought.
- Wait… What year is now?
- 2004.
- Fifty eight years.
Plato was already standing near the door, waiting for details:
- He’s being weird… I’ll go get a doctor. Don’t bother him for now. He doesn’t want to see any of us.
- Like he ever did, - he wasn’t fair enough.
At the counter there was standing some old lady, wearing unnaturally blond wig.
- Can you call a doctor to 709? My father getting bad. As fast as possible, please.
- He’ll be there in a minute. I’ll call him, - answered with common indifference of a stranger.
With fast walk she came back. Only now she remembered about “The offender of their father” and decided to ask Plato if he talked with cops. He did. They said that he didn’t have any documents and didn’t come to consciousness yet. Nothing new, case was pretty complicated. Maybe in couple of days there will be some news.
They stopped talking when saw doctor entering the room. They followed him with their heads. When he came in they continued to talk.
- I think it was a regular robbery and the case won’t get clear. Where’s mother, - asked Plato.
- She went to get sleeping pills for father.
- And you could let her go by herself? Stupid bitch! In her state, you should be near her!! I thought she stayed in the room!
Hate sized him in a second. He pushed Sophie to the side and ran away.
“She is a grown up. Nothing would happen to her, simpleton!”
Aurora stepped out of the elevator holding something in her hand. Sorrow drowned her usual softness. She never saw her mother so helplessly broken.
This moment imprinted in the most personal archives of her memory. Time paused, sounds disappeared. Crooked old lady with sleeping pills is waking as fast as she can, leaving an eternally cold trace of despair, with her eyes forever dull. What? She stopped. Why? Sophie couldn’t move, the end was now, marriage of hell and heaven. She throws pills to the side and runs, helplessly runs, trying to brake iron gates of adversity with every new step. Hair from sides got out of the ponytail, jumping on a move like death in waving her colorless hand.
- No one knows or even feels, that anything is a limit, or a defect… until…
VIII
“Milk.”
Harry was standing near the window smoking. Looking at clouds, he examined his imagination. Near him was half full, half empty glass of milk.
- You know why this glass is half empty for you? Don’t hear you? Because you’re pathetic. Is, was and always will be! You should learn my pure logic. I think there is half glass of milk. I’m a realist, and that’s my benefit over you.
He finished smoking, throwing cigarette end out of the window not looking on Elvis. Harry made a big gulp of milk breaking the uncertainty.
They were sitting in silence. Elvis looking through the album of Rafael’s paintings, Harry was looking in the window.
Elvis stopped on Sistine Madonna.
“Mother… Don’t you want to say that your mother is like st. Maria? No, she mother for me, more important then Jesus. Ha. I’m laughing, Elvis. If he is not even a semi-god then is a great historical person. Standard of humanity and kindness, though he’s a myth, probably. Bu still. People need to believe in unbelievable, so they could jumps higher their heads. You fake, too much pathos. It not real. I more valuable then Jesus - no me, no reality. People need to suffer and when you started to argue with me, Elvis? You want me to destroy you? I can, you know I can! Sorry… I not. But we nothing except our life. True. You’re becoming smarter… leave that album.”
- No.
- What? No?!!
Harry rapidly took the album and them threw it in the same direction the cigarette end went.
- Understood! Don’t argue with me, Elvis, - he felt that he started to lose control a bit and slapped him in the face. Elvis felled on the floor, afraid to lift his eyes.
He sat back on his chair, immovably looking straight at one point. Harry got back to the window, lit a new cigarette.
793rd entered the room.
- Elvis, are you all right? We need to go. Father is getting worse.
- Harry slapped me…
- Ok, let’s go.
Elvis and 793rd got to the hospital only an hour later.
No one cried. Plato was sitting and drinking his coffee looking at passing people. Aurora made the whole impression look too cruel for the clean hospital. Sophie tightly locked her in an embrace, trying to come her down with standard phrases, which she heard from the movies, but Aurora wasn’t there. She slowly nodded her head looking on the floor with tears running down her face, getting through barricades of wrinkles and finding their final destination at Sophie’s arm. Spreading around smell of fate.
- I can stay silent here. Everything is evident, - said Harry.
- Yes, it evident…
Plato stood up, came closer to Elvis. Gave him a hug. Pronouncing every word very calm, he said:
- Are you all right? Does fathers’ death bother you a lot?
- Fine. Harry said there nothing after death. It calm there. I glad father found a calm place. Harry thinks we glad for him.
- And do you think?
- I think he right.
- That’s good. I think You are right.
IX
- Sorry, there’s nothing we could do.
- But, but…
- We did our best.
- Thank you, doctor. God gives, God takes, - said Sophie.
- You should be there with him, - she was hardly talking though tears. He, he cried because you weren’t there. I just talked to him… And… now he is done. Doctor… Why you weren’t there…
- Sorry, we did everything possible. Surgery went almost without problems. He had a bad heart. No one is saved from it. There is nothing that we could do. God called him and he couldn’t refuse.
- There is no God! You…
Suddenly she stopped.
- Sorry. It is hard. Sorry…
“As I said, will blame everything on me. I need to see Joseph.”
Doctor Campbell once more said to Plato, that there was nothing they could do and that he is very sorry.
- What ever, it won’t change it. You can go.
And he left for his money, passing through the counter he wrote a fast report for statistics.
X
O yes, he cried. Cried loud, not afraid of compassionfull skeptic eyes of people at the hospital. He knew that the God had his plan and he, as a good Christian he was, should take it, but closeness to death gave food for forbidden for him fear. Fear in front of faith, inevitable, Gods trial. Death of a close relative, all the things that he did combined in a possible derivative of what he could do, faced him to slight memory of Occam, the only thing that he could content with. He juggled with facts, leaving in hands only good memories, as it always happens when the weight inclines at least a bit to a desirable side. He left in the air all that didn’t suit completely forgetting objectivism. God gave us serenity to forget and forgive, providing with selective memory. You never know, it’s always other people who die. Can you come out with a good place where the end begins? Endless field of gold, endless field of darkness. Twilight is as close as one can get. Don’t be afraid make a step deeper. Could he be sure? No. Should he?
When 793rd came home he saw eyes of his girl. Still young, she didn’t know cruelty of the world. Forgive me, I’ll steal you’re grief.
- He got in the better place… his memory will forever live in us. God took his hand and followed to Heavens. There everything is unattainably perfect…
He clasped daughter and wife with his weak arms. Trying to save them from the unjust, he fought his battle. They had everything, but all the life is still a miserable suffering. Tears falling on the floor, giving mental relief don’t change a thing, it is still what it is. Words trying to embrace essence, leaving not seen for an eye shades. What is death? It is a word. What is death? It is a bridge between now and after. A word that classifies, measures unmeasured. It is in the beginning, already sizing the end. Makes a word, separate for everyone and same in all dictionaries.
Elvis went to his room.
- Let’s pray, - three of them went to the bedroom, kneeling in front of the symbol above 793rd’s bed.
- O Almighty God and Your son Jesus… We pray for your slave Occam, for he was a good father and a loving grandfather. He gave life to four wonderful children, all his life being Your good servant. He loved and was loved, was created to create, helped to help many others. His trace won’t be forgotten, his memory won’t be forsaken until his blood runs in our veins, Your servants. We will continue all the good traditions he established serving You, oh All Powerful. Take his soul and take care of it, as he was looking after all of us. He died and for this Your Will. Let him find place in Your eternal Kingdom, as he was worthy… Amen.
They stayed on kneels for some more time with their eyes closed and hearts open. For each he was different, in this moment calling for different images. Merry childhood for 793rd, numbers of presents for little Julia, making her smile for both of them, as he never afforded such a luxury, chance for illusory independence for 793rd’s wife, for which she’ll be grateful till memory will dissolve his kindness.
Occam truly never smiled. He knew the exact price for happiness and it made him sick. He never believed in their God and they knew it, still asking for mercy. Occam perfectly knew how long one can stay happy with only a gram of stated chemical bonds. He also saw too clearly how people suffer from two lines of stated words. He found bliss in controlling reasons indifferently contemplating on effects, being an effect himself. He preferred not to believe in anything, rolling the world around and being rolled by inertia. He got to the heights, never forgetting that he was a regular man like you, or like Alexander the Great, or like Gandhi, or like a carpenter from the next street… It’s always the same, through seems different. Common spectrum where light takes various colors refracting differently, being the same “tabula rasa” light.
So many things rolled through their heads at that moment, but it passed, as everything does. New problems were resolved, more battles were to win, more matchsticks to burn. 793rd’s family got to the table for breakfast, discussing what suit 793rd needs to wear to show the society that he is in mourning. Elvis came down, took his breakfast and went back to his room.
It was Friday. Julie was permitted to miss school.
- Honey, I think this tie won’t work. Should I change it for this one? I think it looks more… to the place.
- Yes, you’re right. Probably this one will work better.
- Honey, what do you think, maybe we shouldn’t be so upset? God took him to a better place, anyhow…
- What are you saying? Of course, we should be upset. God knows what he does, still we should miss him. He left this world and we’ll never see him, so we, as relatives, need to suffer. It is obvious. Everybody does so.
- Yes… I guess, we should refuse from a dinner at Davidson’s today?
- Of course, we should. I also think Julie shouldn’t play video games. They are too… too…
- Funny?
- Yes, funny. She also should feel the tragedy.
- But mom…
- No. We already decided.
- You should sit and suffer for your relative, as all well brought children do.
- But I’ll get bored in no time…
- Hey, leave that tone. You should then sit and get bored, then God will reward you.
- Ok…
Julie sat silent for a while, then with a curiosity of a seventh year child asked a question ready to believe:
- Why are we wearing all black, dad?
- Because it is said in the Bible.
- Why then uncle 793rd is not wearing black? Doesn’t he follow the Bible?
He was wearing red tennis-shirt and blue jeans.
- He is different. He doesn’t believe in Bible. And… you know.
- Does all “special” people don’t believe in Bible?
- No, Julie. We already discussed atheists.
- Ok, daddy.
793rd called to Jack Davidson.
Said that they won’t come and told all the situation without details. Condolence:
- You’re, probably, too suppressed to talk. I’m sorry… Remember God won’t leave you.
- Thank you.
- Bye.
- Bye.
All the conventions were kept. They suffered in front of the face of society, watching TV and being “suppressed”, fighting with their boredom.
Hour changed hour, one show - another. Slowly the rain started, brining… nothing. It didn’t bring a thing to them, but bore thought that they are doing the right thing. Digging, digging, digging… And they believed. Minds are unarmed against Placebos effect.
Elvis spend the day in his room.
XI
- Ok…
- Ok…
- As you say…
- Ok…
- It doesn’t matter…
- Ok…
XII
“Milk.”
- Julie are you ready? 3rdy? Elvis we’re leaving in a minute, so hurry up.
Before leaving the house he turned around at the door. Harry was standing still. Mockery on the middle-day-country cruel face, eyes half closed, half opened underground dark radiance, making his black skin glean on background. Expression of merciless victory, shivering of left hand fingers pierced inside out, put mumbling of haughty “Good luck” in Elvis’s head.
“I see you.”
Elvis hurried to turn around, still feeling his look, walked fast towards the car.
From time to time Elvis gave a slight look to Sophie, watching that she’s, as all the others, except the little Julie, not listening to the priest.
“She is smiling. No, she not. Look… Now! Did you see? Yes, really. “Why” would be the right question. Everything is so strange, but I’m sure he didn’t think he’ll do it on Monday.”
Young protestant priest read regular stuff. He had blond hair, blue eyes and color King Jones Bible. With mystery mournful voice he read, excluding cense from his routine job. He did it good. It was sad, absurd and teaching.
“It wrong, this time too much. Where a party? Should everybody happy? But in the end, in both ways, in their and your, there should be a party.”
This time he buried two atheists. Ground will separate their erections. Only an instant in a 4,5 billion years, that is sure of its importance… that goes under ground. Two separate collar systems, two separate realities go back to common. They both shined, once. They were chosen, chosen to shine, once. And once they chose not to shine, going back to common. Trapping at words, never finding the right on, THEY presented them the right one, calling the uncalled. Death. Did they… know it? Who cares, it’s always other people who die.
“I not stay. I go. Where? There, but not here, that the main. I want to enjoy their silence. What they know about silence? They called this priest and all this. They never heard it, because they not know how to listen without listening. Absurd born in struggle between the world and the mind. Separate they are meaningful, they are silent.
Elvis examined the crowd once more, getting confidence in his decision. Harry was already waiting for him in some distance, looking little less tense as he left him.
He made first step still doubling. Affliction reincarnate. Second step. Grey indifference found colors in him. Step by step, he is far from it now. Never getting too close to get infected.
“I knew you’ll come. I not care now. Did you before? No, but I afraid then. And now? Now I not afraid. I not care about fear. I don’t need you any more. What? I said, I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t care.”
XIII
- Did we agree?
- Affirmative, dude.
- I need a ring the same day. It’s important.
- Man, everything is smooth. Chill out, we are not stupid…
- See you as agreed.
XIV
- I’ll take mother to my place. I’ll look after her.
- You sure, you’ll handle this?
- Shit, yes! She needs to stay away from you… you all.
- How can you talk like this, you’re senseless. You’re indifferent. You never cared about a thing.
- You think so? Let me tell you something about feelings… None of you ever truly loved mother. I’m not talking to you Elvis, you know that. You say you’re attached to her, she plays a big part in our life, you need her and stuff… O yes, you do. This your, so called, feeling is always for… for something that she has and you don’t. You never loved her for what she is, love for the sake of love, unselfish attachment. The same with friendship. You need some one to be with you, to go somewhere with you, to listen to you, to drink with you, to talk, help, watch. You call someone to go to the movies with you, not caring about a person. It doesn’t matter his inside world, his or her tastes, preferences, maybe, interests. It always you, who’s important. I’m not saying that person can be somehow different then selfish, but he should be fair with everybody that they are only companions. “Friendship is unselfish attachment without sexual lust. With sexual lust it is love,” Richard fucking Oldington said. That’s why I hate big groups of people. As she would, around you, if she was lil bit more attentive. You call her and tell what bs happened to you today, but do you know what’s her favorite band is? And more important question “Why?” So I thought…
- Do you?
- “The Doors,” because it reminds her about the times when she thought that she could accomplish anything, when she didn’t need a thing… Is there something else you want to know about YOUR MOThEr?
Plato took her by the arm. One Drop felt on his finger. He put it in the mouth testing the bitter taste of reality.
“Is it bitter or I taste it as bitter?”
- Do you mind staying with me for a while?
- Ok…
the texp is divided into tree parts.
IV
He opened his eyes, saw a woman sitting by his side and some man reading. He knew exactly that he wasn’t at home, but he couldn’t understand where he was. His thoughts all the time were interrupted by something that he couldn’t manage, that confused him even more. The thing that bothered him the most was that he saw everything in double. His head ached and worked with difficulty.
- Why there are four lamps.
He wanted to know what was happening to him, but this was the best he could come out with. Some why he was sure that people, though he didn’t know them, would understand and help. Head was that he was most anxious about, he wanted to feel normal.
- Occam, Occam… What lamps? I’m here with you. Look I’m here and got rid of that bad cereal.
“Why does she know my name? I see you and that don’t make me happier. Is she crazy? I asked her what’s with lamps.”
- Cereal…? I hate cereal. Why there are four lamps?
He was surprised by his answer, because he liked cereal. He ate corn flakes that morning.
- Oh… I knew that…
- Who are you? And what’s happening with lamps?
- I’m Aurora, your wife. Honey, there are only two lamps. Look here is Plato.
“…But there are four lamps?”
- I don’t know you people. I don’t have a wife and not going at least till I’ll be 27… What in a hell is with lamps? Plato? He died before there were any lamps.
He felt that all his body was becoming heavier and heavier. It become harder to talk. Pleasant relaxation seemed to flow from some outside source into his body. It seemed more like a rage then reality.
- Honey, don’t you recognize us?
- What… what shoulddd I?…
- We got mar…
It took over him. Next thing that he remembered was the night.
Slight light in the room, it is dark outside the window. The same woman, different another person. Or there were two of them, sitting one next to another? Did Plato exist? Was he there the previous time when he woke up? Still four lamps? But two of them wasn’t as clear as the two other ones.
Occam heard a beeping sound and suddenly he felt he was saying something without his control over it. His consciousness was only watching happening from the side, commenting only what he said.
- Unexamined life is not worth living…
“Socrates.”
- …dare tot be what you are…
“Freidrich Nietzsche.”
- …all the world is a stage, and all the men and women are merely players: they have their exits and entrances and one man in his life plays many parts…
“Shakespeare.”
He lost his consciousness again.
Like in an odd dream he was waking up in a queer world that he didn’t know and falling back to his wild sleep. Everything was so fast that he wasn’t sure where reality ended. Borders of two worlds were erased making it more difficult for not clear head to respond to them. Sparse thoughts that came to him were all aimed at his present state. He wanted it to be gone, to feel as usual. But each time he came back to his confused, similar to that he had after opium feeling. He was scared that it won’t go away. He was afraid to get stuck in “the sky” without the control over his body. Thought sometimes he didn’t feel anything. He didn’t even hear his thoughts that made him feel that he was dead. Sometimes this scared, but sometimes he liked it, trying to stick to it. It always vanished, leaving him with his thoughts, which he was afraid even more.
Then there was a dream. He saw Moses coming from Egypt. He saw him coming to Jews and claiming them “the chosen nation”. And they were chosen. Then he saw Moses on the throne above everyone, he was sitting and looking. When he said that he created the world everything, even Jews, were in it, it was so. When he said that he will destroy the world and everything that he wants will go to the eternal kingdom, it happened so. When he said that the God was in everyone, it was so. Occam was watching from the side like he was there and saw how the map was created in his image. Occam identified himself with Moses and saw himself sitting on the throne above everyone, he was sitting and looking with a mockery. Then he saw Moses childhood, as it was his and saw Amenophis IV. He felt some power over him. He felt that there was something that even a God obeys. He started to learn about this power, as if he was a Zen Buddhist. He saw a twilight of all idols, while exploring the feeling. Then at the bottom he saw a “Black Square” and a name of the last idol, Malevich. Then he tried to go under and he understood that this wasn’t an idol and it disappeared. He felt life and death as it was the whole. Then he saw the end and fulfillment of the prophecy. He died with an Apocalypse.
When he woke up there were the same old lady and some strange woman. He noticed that the old lady was holding his arm. That scared him a little, so he quickly drew his arm from her embrace. She woke up too, raising her red eyes on him.
First that came to his mind was to ask where was he. And more from scare than from curiosity, he asked who she was.
- I’m Aurora, you wife… Do you remember?
He shook his head.
- You had been shot and hit in the head. You are in St. Patriks Hospital. Don’t you remember?
The last thing that he remembered was that a car had hit him. He didn’t have a wife and was only sixteen.
He pointed at Sophie.
“My arm, my hand. It… it… it is wrong. What is it? It’s… no! It’s all this state. Head is a circus… Why there are so many wrinkles. It’s wrong, it’s wrong. I… I… I’m 16, it can’t be true.”
- Give me a mirror…
“It can’t be. Get out from me! It’s fake, wrong… It’s all messed up. My head is lying to me. I’m 16, I remember school. Yes. I was at school today. You’re lying to me!!”
With an enormous strength he threw a mirror.
- Wife…
“ I need to think.”
- Bring me some sleeping pills. And you both, leave me. I need to sleep. I’ll try to gather my thoughts…
- Wait… What year is now?
- 2004
- Fifty eight years…
They left the room.
Occam fought. Inside against outside.
He rose his weak hands. Battle with uneven forces stirred the fire beyond boiling borders. His head went from side to side, slightly shaking. Doesn’t matter if you fight, objectivity always has more beneficial position.
- No, no… My universe can’t collapse. No, I’m the God… My mind is… hanging loose…
Heart beats faster, fast in a train to inevitable. Tun-tun, tun-tun, tun-tun…
- No… Uaaa…
Flash. All memories in a second, gone in a second, though all in a second, madness in a second… Just a second.
- No one knows or even feels, that anything is a limit, or a defect, until he is at the same time above and beyond it… O, Hegel… God is dead!!! Ha-ha!! God is dead. I’m dead.
V
“Milk.”
She drank her milk from the bottle finishing breakfast. Made herself comfortable in the dark-red good-old armchair and turned some black-n’-white movie.
“Another day, another morning.”
It was an old western. Fairytale where everything was simple. Rest for mind and id. Good guys kill bad guys, find love and merry. Everything is black-n’-white, overcrowded by nobility, dignity, universal duty and good-always-wins. She saw it number of times, repeating every part word after word. They were deep in her, deeply closed eyes in front of the color television.
Jack, Kathy, Bill, middle-aged bastard - barman John, were part of her good-old routine. With only rare thoughts to brake the silence.
Movies, reading conservative magazine after noon, two-tree hours of easygoing work, diner on Friday in an expensive restaurant, cleaning on Saturdays, sleeping, waking up, milk. Nothing in plenty, lightly sliding on the surface under a constant wind. O, she knew how to live, she had an instruction with strict tags to trifles.
Ring-ring.
- Here.
- Should be here 10 minutes ago. St. Patriks Hospital. Dad, got shot. Waiting, emergency. 8th floor.
Hang up.
“Dad got shot? It’s bad, very bad. Ok, I’ll watch it later.”
Sophie put an everyday dress, quick make up, grabbed a Tetris from a night table while wearing a tiny Channel hat with another hand. Ten minutes driving, four more to get to the seventh floor.
- Twenty two minutes, Elvis.
G-shock watch was the only thing in her that showed what she was from the XXth century. It was one of those elegant retro models, she got it for Christmas.
- Nice.
- 3rd, what’s happened?
Everybody spoke in low tones, making their gathering look like a squad of conspirators, as if to speak truth loud was a big crime.
- Doctor said he got shot in the lift leg and in the region of the heart. Also he was hit in the head. He may have ecmnesia, as…
- Ecm… what?
- - It’s a form of a partial amnesia. He may remember some events, while other will abolish. Thanks to the All Mighty ambulance was passing by and saw him.
- How’s mother?
- Difficult to say. There she sits infront of the operation room. She doesn’t answer questions. She stopped to cry and just waits. Let the Lord help her to overcome this…
- Ha, yes, right. Let the Lord help her, as he did to Jews in Germany.
- Not here Plato. People need hope…
- People need reality, not a hypocritical chimera.
- God helped me and millions other people. I’ll pray that you’ll understand. You’re too young and no one wants to hear it, right 3rd?
He nodded.
- Question is closed. Better bring us coffee.
- Hell no!
Sophie stepped closer to her mother. Gently took her wet hand and with to extremes hypocritically soft voice tried to come Aurora down. There was no respond. Sophie impatiently turned her head to a side.
- Ok. Anyway, we are here with you. No matter what’ll happen, we’ll always be near. Dad will be fine and in a week you’ll continue your usual cereal battles.
She once more looked into her eyes, there were two little blue islands in a yellow-red ponds of unbreakable despair.
- Let the God be with you.
She kissed her in the forehead, took “lucky” Tetris and sat near.
More people came. Couple people from board of directors, friend Robert with wife, Plato’s girlfriend, 793rd’s wife with children. Some were watching the TV, Robert and 793rd said that the God won’t let such a person to die like this. Elvis is in the side, turned to the wall, saving himself from the social resonance. Also separate stands Plato and another new girlfriend. Sparkle of desire in his eyes, made his whole body burn unconsciously unveiling his essence. Sophie from to time for a moment tears away her avid glance from Tetris to examine the crowd and sinks back in virtual reality of abstractions.
Door opened. Aurora jumped from her seat. She made the wave of turning heads spread over the surrounded the center of the source samples, making censors oversensitive to happening.
- How is he?
- Situation is very unstable. Right now he is under narcosis.
No one dared to speak. Plato was absent.
- We will be able to give more correct diagnosis in couple hours. For now we’re keeping him alive. Without the equipment… he is unstable.
- O, doctor… Please, do everything possible… He… and kids are the only things I have left. What will I do without him? O, doctor… Please… he is very healthy, strong man… Please… I know you’re a good doctor, you can help him… right? Why not me? He should give them that they wanted… He is so stubborn… I’ll pray for him and for you, doctor… Please… We can pay… any price… I’ll find any money, but please… It’s because of those cereals… He is the only thing I have… and kids…
- We did our best, madam. I promise you that we won’t stop trying everything that’s in our powers till he will feel good. Sorry, but I need to rest and check other patients too. I’ll come by later.
- Please…
VI
- Please…
Aurora stretched out her right hand, leaning a bit forward. Doctor didn’t see it already.
- Harry, your suit not matching with the surrounding.
- Who knew that I’ll be here. Better look at her… Her sufferings make me want to cry.
- What you think about it?
His voice was hardly heard.
- Going from the experience that I had, I should say that chances are not as hoping as they may seam. As far as I can remember, she doesn’t believe in God. Though after such a … situation, I can say, she may start to believe, but chances are miserable. So I’m not considering that she’ll devote her life to God or some Christian ideas, because she never did. Without going in circles, I must say that Occam will die. He was the point in life for her, I mean the very point in her life. We, as she does, considering life as an absurd and don’t believe in life other then this, right Elvis?
- Yes, you right.
- If life is only that you make of it, then if meaning is lost, I would make a suicide. There is no point to bear everyday sufferings if everything is absurd. And I feel very solid saying that all, I want to underline, all existence is suffering.
Pathos straightened Harries back, his finger, as a torch, shined above heads.
- Pure logic calls upon death. We, as thinking beings, shouldn’t stand on her way and we should assist her in this not easy step. Words are unnecessary. I strongly recommend to leave her and she will make everything right.
- Harry, no, no. I don’t want her leave. I want her with me. Harry, not talk, please, not talk… I love her. She my mother. You stop… I’m asking you to stop…
- I’m only a messenger. It is an absurd world, you should face it!
- But… but I not want her leave…
They noticed Occam’s body was carried to a regular room.
- Can I visit him?
- Yes, you may. He is still under narcosis now. You can sit with him, but sorry, you can’t bring all those people in.
- Ok, ok…
Everybody followed Aurora.
Almost near the door Elvis stopped her by a shoulder. He bent his head down seeing Auroras face inevitably wet with tears.
“It shame. No, that is insipid reality.”
- Harry said that you die. I not want it. I love you.
VII
Almost near the door Elvis stopped Aurora by a shoulder. He bent his head down, looking ashamed and confused.
He mumbled something to Aurora, it seemed that she didn’t notice.
Only family members entered the room. Plato was still absent.
“All this machinery… He is a nice father. I realize his chances and doesn’t leave much space for hope.
He was always missing. In his 71st year I understand that I don’t actually know him. It seemed to me that he cared only about Plato. No, he also spent some time with us, but that is probably the problem, only some time. He used to speak for hours with Plato during childhood, when we were kind of disappointment. He never told us, but we always felt it.
He is my father, he gave me life, so I love him at least for that.
Love, love, love, hate and hate… People get to extremes in front of the thread. Where is it in everyday life? Why couldn’t we show it then, before? Hmm, pathetic…
I’m worried about mom. If he was all the time at work, she stayed near. Now this merciless kick, it got cruel on her. And her late time illness. If we had less money, she would probably get to asylum… And now this… There is nothing to worry about, God knows what he does.”
It was a neat little room. Only what was necessary: bed, couple of chairs, wardrobe, night table, TV, that was somewhy on, showing soap opera. Aurora was mumbling something about cereal.
- Ok, there is no point for all of us to stay here. I suggest to agree on a schedule. Is that fine with you? 3rd?
- Yes, sure.
- Gee, where in the world is Plato? Will make a schedule without him.
- Works perfect for me. You go first, I need to bring Elvis home. What’ll we do with mom? Mom, do you want to go home or stay here?
Pause.
- Ok, if she will want one of us calls another and picks her up. Everybody stays for 6, no 5 hours. I’ll go first, then around 6 PM you change me, then at 11 starts Plato’s shift, then I’m here at… at… 4 AM, you at 9. Clear? Where a hell is Plato?
- Fine. I shall go then. You want me to wait for Plato with you?
Door opened. Plato with tired walk entered the room, carefully closing the door behind. Satisfied eyes examined everybody present, stopped with a tragic mockery on Sophie:
“Where have you been?”
- Giving pledge to conventions with your fake compassion. Fucking hypocrites, - he said it almost with love.
- Shut up. I hate you.
- People, come on. Afraid of God, at such a time…
- “You hate me and I hate you. You know what, you know what? It’s all in the family…”
- You’re impossible… How can such a dick be my brother, you’re probably adopted.
793rd felt very uncomfortable.
- The only my problem is that I call things with their real names. You all are hypocrites. Not you Elvis, you’re different. When was the last time when you came by to him? Hum? Or called to ask how he feels? Or her? Never! You both are playing that you care, obey your God’s commandments and don’t even care about them. Some stupid conventions that you follow, faking your altruism. And under surface you always selfish up to the bottom. I’m impressed how lying to yourself doesn’t cause you nausea. Got something to say on this, or I’m too right to argue?
- Plato, it’s not the place and not the time for this. There is no point for all of us to stay here, so we agreed on a schedule. Your shift starts at 11 PM. Everybody stays for 5 hours. Will you handle this or you’ll run to get high somewhere?
- I’m not breaking agreements, like you do.
- So I guess we’re fine. 3rd, Elvis see you in 5 hours. And I hope I won’t see you today anymore.
- We’ll see.
- Aurora was still mumbling something once in a while. Sophie made herself comfortable, took out Tetris, once more gave a look to her parents:
“I want that in my old age, there was someone to hold my hand.
Plato is an asshole. I shouldn’t consider his junky-brained thoughts.”
Still his speech couldn’t leave mind without a trace. Sword got stuck deep into the stone, disturbing basis. Looking for rationalization she put Tetris to the side.
Rationalization. What a person can’t rationalize? Person gets to a war, sees thousands of dead, he rationalizes it and continuos. 16 years old girl takes money for a blowjob, she rationalizes it and continuos. Official is open to bribes, he rationalizes it and continuos. Young man loses house and job, gets to the street, he rationalizes it and continuos. Continuous to live. They continue to live, making their nightmares routine, finding pleasure in their sufferings. Status Quo becomes firm and unmovable and world gets another slave. None of “the Greats” staid silent. It’s not the fire that is in them, but a jug of water. Drop after drop rock is defeated, constant flow cracks the mountain, when fires stops in ten minutes. “Dare to be what you are” cried Nietzsche and they made crazy out of him, still rereading his books. They say they’re not strong enough. Lie, they just don’t Will enough, getting down to rationalization.
“Blind atheist. Meekness to God’s Will that is the road to Heavens. He’ll probably never get there. Sometimes I feel pity for him. He used to play so peacefully when he was seven, and now look at him…
Don’t judge, Plato, don’t judge, it’s God’s privilege. Maybe sometimes I don’t show my love, but it is always inside of me. Not as deep, as you may think. God told as to love each other and forgive…
I forgive you and your ignorance. God will punish you for vices.”
“How he could have sex in such a situation? In the hospital, when his father is dying? I’m sorry, but you’ll be punished. Not now, but later.”
Now, when the offender was doomed to burn in Hell, Sophie with her wisdom got back to Tetris.
Her shift was almost over, she decided to get something to drink. But what was her astonishment when she saw Plato reading right behind the door:
- What are you doing here, - it seemed to irritate her.
- I’m doing what a child should do - staying with my mother.
- Didn’t you leave?
- No, and I ain’t going nowhere!
- Fine… I need to go. 3rd’ll be here any minute.
- See ya…
Sophie though that she’ll wait for 793rd, but after seeing Plato, she decided that she needs to rest and left.
Plato came in.
She came home and without thinking long took four sleeping pills. Set an alarm and woke up an hour before 4 AM.
Slept perfectly fine, without even a slight dream, as all people as she do. Something to eat and the same again.
Sophie put everyday dress, quick make up, grabbed Tetris from a night table, while wearing a Channel hat, with another hand. Ten minutes driving, four more to get to the seventh floor.
“Twenty five minutes.”
- How is he?
- Nothing changed much. Woke up in a rage ones. Talked some bs about lamps. Didn’t recognize me.
- How’s mom?
- Same. Oppressed and ignorant to surrounding.
- Did you get a sleep?
- No, and ain’t going to. Take your shift, sis. I’ll be on my spot outside.
He took his coffee, thick book under the arm and left Sophie in dark room with samialive couple. She was like a tank, even closeness to unavoidable didn’t brake the armor.
“Wise man walks with his eyes in his head, but fool walks in darkness; yet I perceive fate comes to all of them. Ecclesiastes 2:14. I guess he was a Wiseman, still… He’ll get in heaven.”
In spite of her resolution to stay up and absorb every moment of a disaster with unseen sharpness, she felt asleep.
Sophie turned 10. Morning before school. She is coming to dining room and see a happy family. She stops on the stairs and vividly looks on them trying not to brake fragile peace. Aurora, young, feeds newly born Elvis with her breast. Elvis is still fine now. 793rd runs around the table, pretends that he is an airplane. Occam, already with his half head bold intensively reads stock exchange charts. Aurora is trying to say something to him, but he is busy, he doesn’t hear. Still half asleep and with a merry smile Sophie, quietly gets back to her little bed, just closes her eyes and… Occam is looking over the newspaper on the empty chair, like he’s waiting for something. Aurora stops too, 793rd turns around, with a little fright looks at the empty spot, screws his eyes. Everything turns black and white. And from underneath the table crawls up Plato with a cigarette in his mouth and a crystal pigeon in his hands. She sees him with unwanted sharpness, everything around seems to fade. He takes his hands up, from a cigarette goes smoke that irritates her, but she can’t do a thing about it. Frighten Sophie looks at Occam for help and on her eyes he turns into Plato, the same Plato which stands near the table holding a fragile expensive pigeon above his head. Plato looks right in her eyes and smashes the pigeon. That noise was too real to be a dream:
- No, no… Why… No…
She woke up and saw that it was not Plato. Occam smashed a mirror to the wall.
- Wife… - said Occam, spiting fire of inside battle with a word.
- Bring me some sleeping pills. And you, both, leave me. I need to sleep. I’ll try to gather with my thoughts.
Sophie obeyed without a slightest back thought.
- Wait… What year is now?
- 2004.
- Fifty eight years.
Plato was already standing near the door, waiting for details:
- He’s being weird… I’ll go get a doctor. Don’t bother him for now. He doesn’t want to see any of us.
- Like he ever did, - he wasn’t fair enough.
At the counter there was standing some old lady, wearing unnaturally blond wig.
- Can you call a doctor to 709? My father getting bad. As fast as possible, please.
- He’ll be there in a minute. I’ll call him, - answered with common indifference of a stranger.
With fast walk she came back. Only now she remembered about “The offender of their father” and decided to ask Plato if he talked with cops. He did. They said that he didn’t have any documents and didn’t come to consciousness yet. Nothing new, case was pretty complicated. Maybe in couple of days there will be some news.
They stopped talking when saw doctor entering the room. They followed him with their heads. When he came in they continued to talk.
- I think it was a regular robbery and the case won’t get clear. Where’s mother, - asked Plato.
- She went to get sleeping pills for father.
- And you could let her go by herself? Stupid bitch! In her state, you should be near her!! I thought she stayed in the room!
Hate sized him in a second. He pushed Sophie to the side and ran away.
“She is a grown up. Nothing would happen to her, simpleton!”
Aurora stepped out of the elevator holding something in her hand. Sorrow drowned her usual softness. She never saw her mother so helplessly broken.
This moment imprinted in the most personal archives of her memory. Time paused, sounds disappeared. Crooked old lady with sleeping pills is waking as fast as she can, leaving an eternally cold trace of despair, with her eyes forever dull. What? She stopped. Why? Sophie couldn’t move, the end was now, marriage of hell and heaven. She throws pills to the side and runs, helplessly runs, trying to brake iron gates of adversity with every new step. Hair from sides got out of the ponytail, jumping on a move like death in waving her colorless hand.
- No one knows or even feels, that anything is a limit, or a defect… until…
VIII
“Milk.”
Harry was standing near the window smoking. Looking at clouds, he examined his imagination. Near him was half full, half empty glass of milk.
- You know why this glass is half empty for you? Don’t hear you? Because you’re pathetic. Is, was and always will be! You should learn my pure logic. I think there is half glass of milk. I’m a realist, and that’s my benefit over you.
He finished smoking, throwing cigarette end out of the window not looking on Elvis. Harry made a big gulp of milk breaking the uncertainty.
They were sitting in silence. Elvis looking through the album of Rafael’s paintings, Harry was looking in the window.
Elvis stopped on Sistine Madonna.
“Mother… Don’t you want to say that your mother is like st. Maria? No, she mother for me, more important then Jesus. Ha. I’m laughing, Elvis. If he is not even a semi-god then is a great historical person. Standard of humanity and kindness, though he’s a myth, probably. Bu still. People need to believe in unbelievable, so they could jumps higher their heads. You fake, too much pathos. It not real. I more valuable then Jesus - no me, no reality. People need to suffer and when you started to argue with me, Elvis? You want me to destroy you? I can, you know I can! Sorry… I not. But we nothing except our life. True. You’re becoming smarter… leave that album.”
- No.
- What? No?!!
Harry rapidly took the album and them threw it in the same direction the cigarette end went.
- Understood! Don’t argue with me, Elvis, - he felt that he started to lose control a bit and slapped him in the face. Elvis felled on the floor, afraid to lift his eyes.
He sat back on his chair, immovably looking straight at one point. Harry got back to the window, lit a new cigarette.
793rd entered the room.
- Elvis, are you all right? We need to go. Father is getting worse.
- Harry slapped me…
- Ok, let’s go.
Elvis and 793rd got to the hospital only an hour later.
No one cried. Plato was sitting and drinking his coffee looking at passing people. Aurora made the whole impression look too cruel for the clean hospital. Sophie tightly locked her in an embrace, trying to come her down with standard phrases, which she heard from the movies, but Aurora wasn’t there. She slowly nodded her head looking on the floor with tears running down her face, getting through barricades of wrinkles and finding their final destination at Sophie’s arm. Spreading around smell of fate.
- I can stay silent here. Everything is evident, - said Harry.
- Yes, it evident…
Plato stood up, came closer to Elvis. Gave him a hug. Pronouncing every word very calm, he said:
- Are you all right? Does fathers’ death bother you a lot?
- Fine. Harry said there nothing after death. It calm there. I glad father found a calm place. Harry thinks we glad for him.
- And do you think?
- I think he right.
- That’s good. I think You are right.
IX
- Sorry, there’s nothing we could do.
- But, but…
- We did our best.
- Thank you, doctor. God gives, God takes, - said Sophie.
- You should be there with him, - she was hardly talking though tears. He, he cried because you weren’t there. I just talked to him… And… now he is done. Doctor… Why you weren’t there…
- Sorry, we did everything possible. Surgery went almost without problems. He had a bad heart. No one is saved from it. There is nothing that we could do. God called him and he couldn’t refuse.
- There is no God! You…
Suddenly she stopped.
- Sorry. It is hard. Sorry…
“As I said, will blame everything on me. I need to see Joseph.”
Doctor Campbell once more said to Plato, that there was nothing they could do and that he is very sorry.
- What ever, it won’t change it. You can go.
And he left for his money, passing through the counter he wrote a fast report for statistics.
X
O yes, he cried. Cried loud, not afraid of compassionfull skeptic eyes of people at the hospital. He knew that the God had his plan and he, as a good Christian he was, should take it, but closeness to death gave food for forbidden for him fear. Fear in front of faith, inevitable, Gods trial. Death of a close relative, all the things that he did combined in a possible derivative of what he could do, faced him to slight memory of Occam, the only thing that he could content with. He juggled with facts, leaving in hands only good memories, as it always happens when the weight inclines at least a bit to a desirable side. He left in the air all that didn’t suit completely forgetting objectivism. God gave us serenity to forget and forgive, providing with selective memory. You never know, it’s always other people who die. Can you come out with a good place where the end begins? Endless field of gold, endless field of darkness. Twilight is as close as one can get. Don’t be afraid make a step deeper. Could he be sure? No. Should he?
When 793rd came home he saw eyes of his girl. Still young, she didn’t know cruelty of the world. Forgive me, I’ll steal you’re grief.
- He got in the better place… his memory will forever live in us. God took his hand and followed to Heavens. There everything is unattainably perfect…
He clasped daughter and wife with his weak arms. Trying to save them from the unjust, he fought his battle. They had everything, but all the life is still a miserable suffering. Tears falling on the floor, giving mental relief don’t change a thing, it is still what it is. Words trying to embrace essence, leaving not seen for an eye shades. What is death? It is a word. What is death? It is a bridge between now and after. A word that classifies, measures unmeasured. It is in the beginning, already sizing the end. Makes a word, separate for everyone and same in all dictionaries.
Elvis went to his room.
- Let’s pray, - three of them went to the bedroom, kneeling in front of the symbol above 793rd’s bed.
- O Almighty God and Your son Jesus… We pray for your slave Occam, for he was a good father and a loving grandfather. He gave life to four wonderful children, all his life being Your good servant. He loved and was loved, was created to create, helped to help many others. His trace won’t be forgotten, his memory won’t be forsaken until his blood runs in our veins, Your servants. We will continue all the good traditions he established serving You, oh All Powerful. Take his soul and take care of it, as he was looking after all of us. He died and for this Your Will. Let him find place in Your eternal Kingdom, as he was worthy… Amen.
They stayed on kneels for some more time with their eyes closed and hearts open. For each he was different, in this moment calling for different images. Merry childhood for 793rd, numbers of presents for little Julia, making her smile for both of them, as he never afforded such a luxury, chance for illusory independence for 793rd’s wife, for which she’ll be grateful till memory will dissolve his kindness.
Occam truly never smiled. He knew the exact price for happiness and it made him sick. He never believed in their God and they knew it, still asking for mercy. Occam perfectly knew how long one can stay happy with only a gram of stated chemical bonds. He also saw too clearly how people suffer from two lines of stated words. He found bliss in controlling reasons indifferently contemplating on effects, being an effect himself. He preferred not to believe in anything, rolling the world around and being rolled by inertia. He got to the heights, never forgetting that he was a regular man like you, or like Alexander the Great, or like Gandhi, or like a carpenter from the next street… It’s always the same, through seems different. Common spectrum where light takes various colors refracting differently, being the same “tabula rasa” light.
So many things rolled through their heads at that moment, but it passed, as everything does. New problems were resolved, more battles were to win, more matchsticks to burn. 793rd’s family got to the table for breakfast, discussing what suit 793rd needs to wear to show the society that he is in mourning. Elvis came down, took his breakfast and went back to his room.
It was Friday. Julie was permitted to miss school.
- Honey, I think this tie won’t work. Should I change it for this one? I think it looks more… to the place.
- Yes, you’re right. Probably this one will work better.
- Honey, what do you think, maybe we shouldn’t be so upset? God took him to a better place, anyhow…
- What are you saying? Of course, we should be upset. God knows what he does, still we should miss him. He left this world and we’ll never see him, so we, as relatives, need to suffer. It is obvious. Everybody does so.
- Yes… I guess, we should refuse from a dinner at Davidson’s today?
- Of course, we should. I also think Julie shouldn’t play video games. They are too… too…
- Funny?
- Yes, funny. She also should feel the tragedy.
- But mom…
- No. We already decided.
- You should sit and suffer for your relative, as all well brought children do.
- But I’ll get bored in no time…
- Hey, leave that tone. You should then sit and get bored, then God will reward you.
- Ok…
Julie sat silent for a while, then with a curiosity of a seventh year child asked a question ready to believe:
- Why are we wearing all black, dad?
- Because it is said in the Bible.
- Why then uncle 793rd is not wearing black? Doesn’t he follow the Bible?
He was wearing red tennis-shirt and blue jeans.
- He is different. He doesn’t believe in Bible. And… you know.
- Does all “special” people don’t believe in Bible?
- No, Julie. We already discussed atheists.
- Ok, daddy.
793rd called to Jack Davidson.
Said that they won’t come and told all the situation without details. Condolence:
- You’re, probably, too suppressed to talk. I’m sorry… Remember God won’t leave you.
- Thank you.
- Bye.
- Bye.
All the conventions were kept. They suffered in front of the face of society, watching TV and being “suppressed”, fighting with their boredom.
Hour changed hour, one show - another. Slowly the rain started, brining… nothing. It didn’t bring a thing to them, but bore thought that they are doing the right thing. Digging, digging, digging… And they believed. Minds are unarmed against Placebos effect.
Elvis spend the day in his room.
XI
- Ok…
- Ok…
- As you say…
- Ok…
- It doesn’t matter…
- Ok…
XII
“Milk.”
- Julie are you ready? 3rdy? Elvis we’re leaving in a minute, so hurry up.
Before leaving the house he turned around at the door. Harry was standing still. Mockery on the middle-day-country cruel face, eyes half closed, half opened underground dark radiance, making his black skin glean on background. Expression of merciless victory, shivering of left hand fingers pierced inside out, put mumbling of haughty “Good luck” in Elvis’s head.
“I see you.”
Elvis hurried to turn around, still feeling his look, walked fast towards the car.
From time to time Elvis gave a slight look to Sophie, watching that she’s, as all the others, except the little Julie, not listening to the priest.
“She is smiling. No, she not. Look… Now! Did you see? Yes, really. “Why” would be the right question. Everything is so strange, but I’m sure he didn’t think he’ll do it on Monday.”
Young protestant priest read regular stuff. He had blond hair, blue eyes and color King Jones Bible. With mystery mournful voice he read, excluding cense from his routine job. He did it good. It was sad, absurd and teaching.
“It wrong, this time too much. Where a party? Should everybody happy? But in the end, in both ways, in their and your, there should be a party.”
This time he buried two atheists. Ground will separate their erections. Only an instant in a 4,5 billion years, that is sure of its importance… that goes under ground. Two separate collar systems, two separate realities go back to common. They both shined, once. They were chosen, chosen to shine, once. And once they chose not to shine, going back to common. Trapping at words, never finding the right on, THEY presented them the right one, calling the uncalled. Death. Did they… know it? Who cares, it’s always other people who die.
“I not stay. I go. Where? There, but not here, that the main. I want to enjoy their silence. What they know about silence? They called this priest and all this. They never heard it, because they not know how to listen without listening. Absurd born in struggle between the world and the mind. Separate they are meaningful, they are silent.
Elvis examined the crowd once more, getting confidence in his decision. Harry was already waiting for him in some distance, looking little less tense as he left him.
He made first step still doubling. Affliction reincarnate. Second step. Grey indifference found colors in him. Step by step, he is far from it now. Never getting too close to get infected.
“I knew you’ll come. I not care now. Did you before? No, but I afraid then. And now? Now I not afraid. I not care about fear. I don’t need you any more. What? I said, I don’t want to be afraid. I don’t care.”
XIII
- Did we agree?
- Affirmative, dude.
- I need a ring the same day. It’s important.
- Man, everything is smooth. Chill out, we are not stupid…
- See you as agreed.
XIV
- I’ll take mother to my place. I’ll look after her.
- You sure, you’ll handle this?
- Shit, yes! She needs to stay away from you… you all.
- How can you talk like this, you’re senseless. You’re indifferent. You never cared about a thing.
- You think so? Let me tell you something about feelings… None of you ever truly loved mother. I’m not talking to you Elvis, you know that. You say you’re attached to her, she plays a big part in our life, you need her and stuff… O yes, you do. This your, so called, feeling is always for… for something that she has and you don’t. You never loved her for what she is, love for the sake of love, unselfish attachment. The same with friendship. You need some one to be with you, to go somewhere with you, to listen to you, to drink with you, to talk, help, watch. You call someone to go to the movies with you, not caring about a person. It doesn’t matter his inside world, his or her tastes, preferences, maybe, interests. It always you, who’s important. I’m not saying that person can be somehow different then selfish, but he should be fair with everybody that they are only companions. “Friendship is unselfish attachment without sexual lust. With sexual lust it is love,” Richard fucking Oldington said. That’s why I hate big groups of people. As she would, around you, if she was lil bit more attentive. You call her and tell what bs happened to you today, but do you know what’s her favorite band is? And more important question “Why?” So I thought…
- Do you?
- “The Doors,” because it reminds her about the times when she thought that she could accomplish anything, when she didn’t need a thing… Is there something else you want to know about YOUR MOThEr?
Plato took her by the arm. One Drop felt on his finger. He put it in the mouth testing the bitter taste of reality.
“Is it bitter or I taste it as bitter?”
- Do you mind staying with me for a while?
- Ok…