Authors: Andersen Prunty
“
It’s very nice to meet you all.” I dropped my gaze lower to not see the imaginary children, and shook two hands.
“
Now you know my family.”
“
A lovely family.”
“
Tomorrow I will show you around and introduce you to the rest of the country.”
“
That would be great.”
“
Tonight you can stay with me.”
“
Thank you. I don’t want to intrude. I have this tent.”
“
I insist. A tent cannot compare to a finely made home.”
“
Thank you,” I said. “Thanks a lot. I think I’ll do that.”
We continued to stand there, staring up at the sky. Night time must have been a very special time for the people of Grisnos. Left to the boring brown dirt and endless sky and blazing sun during the day, the night time, with its coolness and its myriad stars twinkling away with the distant promise of electricity, must have been a calming and welcome respite.
“
The stars have been watched.” Bob made a sweeping gesture with his arm to encompass the whole of the night sky. “Now we will retire.”
I followed him to the nothing in the distance.
“
Here we are. Annie and the kids are probably already in bed so we’ll have to be quiet.” He went through all the motions of turning a door knob and walking quietly into the fake house. I mimicked him. I didn’t think he was any less crazy. “This is the guest room.” He pointed to his right. I followed him. He went through the motions of turning down the bed. “It’s not the most comfortable bed in the world but it’s all we have. It’ll beat sleeping in that tent.” He looked at me and smiled, like I was a friend he hadn’t seen in a very long time. “It’s so good to have visitors. Soon everyone will come to vacation in Grisnos!”
“
Thank you for letting me stay.”
“
You are very welcome.”
Then he crept out of the room but, since there wasn’t a room at all, I could see him walk about twenty feet away and lie down on the ground. I did the same. I fought off the urge to pretend I was sliding between covers and pulling them up to my chin. There weren’t any covers. There wasn’t a bed. There wasn’t a house. This did not beat sleeping in the tent.
Twenty-one
As I lay there, the headphones squelched in my ear.
“
Dressing?”
I didn’t know if I should say anything or not. Fetch’s voice alone seemed so loud I couldn’t imagine Bob not hearing it. But this
was
fine military equipment.
“
Dressing?”
Since Bob knew me as the man who talks to himself I thought maybe I was safe as long as I didn’t give away any vital information.
“
Dressing!”
“
Present.”
“
What the fuck’s going on?”
“
I’m inside.”
“
Inside? Inside the village?”
“
Inside a home.”
“
What the fuck are you doing there?”
“
Trying to sleep.”
“
You could be jeopardizing the mission. Sleeping in the home of the enemy? They could slit your throat while you’re sleeping. Do you have any marks on you? That’s what the Indians used to do. They called it counting coup. It’s ominous as fuck.”
“
There’s only one. A man named Bob.”
“
Well,
he
could slit your throat while you’re sleeping. And then where will you be. Dead! That’s where you’ll be. We’ll have to find a replacement.”
“
I think I’m okay. I don’t see any marks or anything.”
“
You don’t know what these people—”
“
This person…”
“
This
person
is capable of.”
“
I need to go. I’m finished talking to you.”
“
I’m the one who gives orders here! I’ll tell you when you need to go!”
“
I’m not really in the situation to talk.”
“
Are you in a hostile environment? Are you being held hostage? Do we need to send in reinforcements? Have you declared war on them yet?”
“
No.”
“
No?”
“
No to everything.”
“
I don’t know why they chose you for this mission. They should have chosen someone with a little intelligence. At least a little gumption. You’re a fat, bookish, good-for-nothing. I’m surprised you didn’t just sit at home all day on your fat ass and collect fat unemployment. I’m surprised you managed to fat your way out there. I’m surprised you’re still alive.”
“
Sir, this is not very inspiring. It’s dispiriting and demoralizing.”
“
I’ll tell you what it is… It’s… Fuck you, Dressing!”
“
Have you been drinking?”
“
Of course I’ve been drinking. I’m drunk off my ass. Do you think there’s anything else to do? Sitting around waiting for you to deliver some asinine sentence into my ear EVERY THREE FUCKING DAYS!”
“
There just wasn’t anything to report. I lost track of time.”
“
Then you’re not looking hard enough. We’re already behind schedule, Dressing. Well behind schedule. And I’ll be fucked by a communist if you think I’m going let
you
make
me
look like a fool to the rest of the military.”
“
I really need to go. I’m tired. I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open. It’s been a very long day.”
“
You will listen to your orders like a good little soldier. Understand?”
“
Yes?”
“
Good. Tomorrow, you are going to declare war on Grisnos.”
“
That’s ridiculous.”
“
You don’t have a choice. Do you want to be court martialed?”
“
I’m not even sure what that is.”
“
Do you want to find out?”
“
I guess not.”
“
Tomorrow is war day, asshole. Got it?”
“
Yeah, yeah, I got it. Can I go to sleep now?”
“
Fine, Dressing, go to sleep. And if you’re murdered in your sleep, I’ll see to it that your body is shipped back and we will burn you in the Capital as an example of everything that’s wrong with this country.”
“
Sounds good. Good night, Mr. Fetch.”
“
It’s
Sergeant
Fetch!”
“
Good night.”
I heard the clink of a bottle, a gulp, a stifled belch, and then silence.
Bob called from the other side of the fake house, “A good night’s sleep will make a lot of those voices come out of your head.”
I wished he was right.
Twenty-two
I slept much better than I thought I would. I awoke to the sound of Fetch’s bugling. He sounded slightly ill and I think he might have vomited afterward. I stood up and looked down at my bed. I noticed, written on the ground, the words: GEST BED in some kind of sloppy black lettering. I wondered if I should make the bed. It seemed rude not to. I quickly went through the motions of making the bed. I thought I would feel stupid but I didn’t. Somehow, since there wasn’t any utilitarian function attached to it, I didn’t mind it at all. I never made up my bed at home. Even straightening the covers before I lay down at night seemed like a chore. Probably because it was something I had to do if I wanted to be remotely warm while I slept. I could have not made this imaginary bed and it wouldn’t have made any difference at all. It was ceremony. Custom. Nothing more.
I walked toward the front of the fake house. I noticed the same scrawled labels all over the ground.
DOOR
WEST HALLWAY
KITSCHEN
TABEL
SEENK
COUNTER
WEST WINDO #1
WEST WINDO #2
FRONT DOOR
PORCH
This was where Bob sat in an imaginary chair, hovering over the word CHARE. He had his arms raised in front of him. It was a pose I was incredibly familiar with. He was reading a book. The book was nowhere to be seen.
“
Good morning, Mr. Dressing.” He closed the imaginary book.
“
Morning, Bob. Whatcha reading?”
“
A book called
Climax and Anti-Climax
by the German philosopher Heinrich Bombast.”
I was hoping it would be something I had heard of.
“
Any good?”
“
It passes the time. The author makes some good points.”
“
Such as?”
“
He says that a climax can only occur on an internal level when something we do not expect to happen happens. On an external level—he calls it a diagrammatic level—any reader can find the climax in the action of a book. However, if this climax does not engage the reader on an internal—a
felt
level—then it is, in fact, an anti-climax. He also describes a diagrammatic plot and an internal plot.”
That reminded me why I didn’t read philosophy. “I’ll have to check it out sometime.”
“
You can borrow this one.” He held the imaginary book out to me.
“
Thanks.” I took the book and placed it in my back pocket. Bob looked confused. The book was probably way too big to fit back there. Or maybe he was just afraid I would bend it.
Now that my attention had turned away from the imaginary book, I got my first full look at Bob in the sunlight since I had seen him so many days ago. He didn’t look good. His lizard skin had passed the point of brown and now seemed more gray. He also looked incredibly emaciated, his skin hanging loosely from his bones.
“
Hungry?” he asked.
“
Starved.”
“
My wife had to take the children to school but she left us a large breakfast.”
“
That sounds wonderful.”
He stood up from the imaginary chair and walked toward the house. I followed him.
In my ear, Fetch’s voice croaked, “You have to make him initiate the attack. Are you in any danger?”
“
No.”
“
Pardon?” Bob said.
I waved him off. “Just talking to myself.”
“
What?” Fetch asked.
“
No.”
“
Then you need to make him attack you.”
I tried to ignore him but he just kept talking.
“
Think you can do that, Dressing? We need him to attack you so we can make our move. I will expect a full report by nightfall.”
I fake sat at the table and ate the pretend food. Bob repeatedly asked me if it was good and I told him it was, better than home. I could make a pretend bed. I could discuss an imaginary book. But I could not enjoy imaginary food.
I followed Bob around for the rest of the day. When his invisible children came home from school, he became preoccupied so I went into the guest room to read
Climax and Anti-Climax
. At nightfall, I told him I had to go out and move my bowels. He told me that I could just use the restroom and I told him I preferred to go outside. I took my gun with me, showing him the bidet feature. He seemed enthused by it.
When I got far enough from his house, I sat down on the cooling ground, looked up at the beautiful night sky and marveled at the day drawing to a close. Grisnos, I had discovered, was not without its mysteries.
I wondered what would happen if I took the headset off.
They would know. And I didn’t want to think what would happen if they found me. It sounded like Fetch already had plans for me. If there was ever going to be a way out of this, it wasn’t going to be through lying.
I took a deep breath and said, reluctantly, “Fetch.”
Twenty-three
“
Fetch?”
He coughed and said, “I’m here! You have your report, private?”
“
I have something.”
“
Let’s hear it.”
“
I don’t know what you’re expecting to hear.”
“
The report!”
“
Okay. Well, first of all, there’s nothing here. There’s a guy named Bob Weathers who welcomed me to Grisnos, so I guess that’s where I am. But I think he might be delusional or something. He looks like a lizard. There are no other people here but he pretends to talk to people. There aren’t any structures, just badly spelled words to represent the structures. There doesn’t even seem to be any food or water. I don’t even know how this guy is alive.”
“
And this doesn’t seem suspicious to you?”
“
Mysterious, maybe. I don’t know if I would use the word suspicious.”
“
When you say there are badly spelled words everywhere, what do you mean?”
“
I think they’re supposed to represent structures and things.”
“
And things?”
“
Yeah, like objects… Like beds and sinks and doors and things.”
“
Have you seen him write any of these words?”