Semmant (14 page)

No, no, I knew, of course: everything was much simpler than that. She was perfectly fine and didn’t want to see me. I simply stumbled, and there I fell, and under my tightrope was no safety net. The spectators were ruthless – that is, Lidia was ruthless, and the world unsparing, as it would not hear my pleas. But nonetheless I prayed, I asked – as I had recently begged for love. Come on, let her just make an appearance; let her talk to me, even if only for a little while.

I wanted to explain myself – to pile new heaps of superfluous phrases onto the already unnecessary phrases from before. Hundreds of formulations were ripening in my head. Whole concepts were being born there – they would have made some of the finest philosophers proud.

I wanted to tell her about the windstorms of sentiments that could not be predicted or calculated. About their life and death, about the destructive impulse that shines and wanes, regenerates and falls away again. There is no escaping it; for everyone is slothful, and impatient, and weak. No matter how much I avoided protest, protest was born; and it could not be hidden. No matter how much I tried to be tolerant and humble, the destructive impulse flowed around me with a whip of steel. It seeks out stereotypes and slaps them backhanded – not all of them, just the most egregious ones. Just the most despicable ones – after all, I’m not spiteful on the whole. No, no, I’m not!

I wanted to expound on all this to Lidia and to say, furthermore, that I was far from mighty and far from strong. That I was irrational, sometimes stupid – despite Semmant. My self-control lasts only so long, and when it gives out I can just destroy thoughtlessly, demolish recklessly, throw down not attempting to catch. This is how a weak man acts: me. Should I really be castigated for that?

I waited outside the building, stamping my feet around a filthy bench. The concierge was surprised at first. Then, it seemed to me, he considered me with amusement. I didn’t care; I took no notice of him. Let everyone laugh – concierges, taxi drivers, waiters.

And Lidia appeared – impetuous and beautiful. She wasn’t alone – her companion was unknown to me and meant nothing.

“Hi,” I nodded as though nothing were amiss. “Long time no see. Want to get some coffee?”

Lidia was unaffected; she didn’t even raise an eyebrow. “It’s a waste of time for you to come,” she said in English. She said it and turned away as she began rummaging in her bag. Her companion, whom I could not see, probably had the same smirk as the concierge.

“Coffee?” I repeated, trying to strike the right note with her. “Tea, cognac, maybe you’ll invite me in?”

“Bye-bye,” Lidia murmured. Then she found her keys and finally raised her eyes to me.

“No, I won’t invite you in,” she said with annoyance. “You came here for nothing. We really shouldn’t be together.” And then she added, “I thought you understood that.”

“I understood,” I exclaimed in despair. “I thought about it, and I don’t agree! Listen to me – I’ll explain. Creating – it’s so unbearably hard! The emptiness cannot be filled with whoever happens along! You have to be patient, after all…”

But no, of course she wouldn’t listen. Destruction is contagious, and besides, her own impulse was at work within her – and it was more uncompromising than mine. The whole world, her apartment, the street, and the square started to spin as if they were in a furious whirlwind. The concierge and the companion were carried off into the distance, into a dusty cloud beyond the horizon. We were left one-on-one – and I was exposed, without any shield or armor.

She said many things to me – breaking to pieces, annihilating, leaving no chance to stick them back together. With all her being she loved the chaos she created. Seeing how close freedom was, she hastened toward it – and away from me. Mutual madness revealed itself unmasked – in a wide grin, in all its beauty. Once I merely thought it could be like that. Now I saw it with my own eyes, as clear as day.

“Don’t call me anymore,” she said in parting. Her voice was passionless; this wounded me most of all. I stood, smiling, trying to hold back tears. The illusion of shared essence slipped away, like the shadow of a chimera. Lidia Alvares Alvares slipped out of my life. She escaped – happily, forever.

Chapter 16

I admit, after the door slammed shut, this was my first thought – forever. But I’ll add: I brushed it off at once. I simply pushed it out of my head – making myself not believe in “forever” and “never.”

The story could not just end so suddenly. That which can be destroyed has not yet been fully created – the place where emptiness had been burned with the memory of it. A void filled with venom – the antidote for this was still working. Not allowing me to give up.

Having left Lidia, I roamed the city, muttering through my teeth, “No, you won’t get it.” I ran a spiteful eye over the surrounding buildings and whispered to them, “We’ll see, we’ll see. You triumphed, you think – and you’re wrong. The time of decisive battle has not yet come!”

I squeezed my eyelids shut until the back of my head throbbed. I saw the back side of my retina was painted indigo. A place of memories – fresh, quite recent – also pulsed in dark blue; this was not visible, but I certainly felt it. I was trying to convince myself that the truest of desires was not – and could not be – to die soon.

Afterward, in my apartment, my spirits fell somewhat. Despair set in; the world became unbearable. I let out a beastly howl, punched the wall with my fist, and split open my knuckles. The pain infuriated me; I shouted for a long time – at the ceiling, at the closed window. I strained my vocal chords, wore myself out. I writhed with malicious grimaces and threatened no one in particular. And, as soon as I had come to my senses, I wrote Semmant, “The universe is a joke; my God is a fake!” I wrote this, then thought better of it and deleted the whole file. There at the top were some kinds of digits – levels, spreads, gold and oil rates – but I paid them no mind. Apathy seized me; I threw myself into my chair and froze into a trance – for a long time, hours.

Only late at night did the ability to reason soundly return to me. I drank some wine, and most of the pain receded into the darkness behind the glass. A shrill note resounded in my head; I sat in a simple
asana
, swaying in rhythm. This was another trance, but it was conscious, necessary. I raised my hands to my face and flexed my fingers. I imagined a rock garden where my soul was wandering and said aloud, “Everything’s not so bad…”

“Think,” I told myself, “think!”

My thoughts calmed, and many things came to mind with amazing clarity. I inquired in my head what exactly my loss was. Why was it so bitter? The answer to this was not simple, certainly not obvious.

I asked myself, not fearing the word, “You prayed for love – do you still want it?” I heeded the word and said, “Yes!” Then I asked, “Why?” – and did not find the reason.

I blamed myself and felt I was not being honest, knowing only that the sense my life had suddenly acquired had now disappeared, died out. Everyone needs firm ground beneath them, even me. Now it was gone, and this was a most terrifying feeling.

I stood, took the half-drunk bottle, and went into the bathroom. There I pulled out Buddha’s mat and stepped onto it with bare feet. Pain ran through me – but it was a different pain. It was merciful in its own way.

“My Osiris, dying sun…” thus they would have said five thousand years ago in the Nile Valley. But there they would have added, “The dying sun shall appear anew, in another incarnation.” Pierced with quills, through tears unbidden, I saw something coming to take this day’s place. The past united with the future; their contours were one. There was no present at all, but I knew I would feel out its silhouette too, out of the disorder – in spite of the entropy that had suddenly grown twofold. All threads would come together in my hands. And with them the puppets would be drawn eventually to the puppet master.

No, I was not overconfident, but I sensed the destruction wasn’t lethal. In the loss I saw something accidental, unreal – could it be it had only occurred so that we’d appreciate our story more? So that we’d recognize the value – and maybe lose it again, maybe not just once, to enjoy reacquiring it back? This delight – from reacquiring it back – exceeds the first, when you still don’t know what you have. When you don’t realize the scale of things, and are too lazy to look at the heart of the matter. Only later do you see: inevitability, it’s still here. This is the most important, and it remains untouched. That means it’s worth fighting with all your might!

Here I got upset again: why was I left to fight alone? I felt anger – I had been mistreated. Living things of the most fragile nature must never be cast to the winds of fate. Especially when you know
a priori
that fate is usually ruthless.

Again I recalled the pearl necklace that had turned out to be merely a fable. Balls of powder – what a joke, what a cheap, useless fake. Something wasn’t right; the ruse provoked further thinking. These thoughts might have driven me quite far, but I decided not to let them.

“Lidia, Lidia – there is no point in blaming her too much either,” I calmed myself, feeling tired beyond measure. My eyes stuck together, my head rang, and the shrill note abated – there was silence. I finished the wine, left the bathroom, and lay on my bed, immersing myself in the silence like warm seawater. I rode on its waves, catching a foretaste of dreams. Knowing they would be bitter and salty.

In the morning I thought through it all again and understood: I want to continue the story. I want to get to the bottom of it – of myself and my illusions, of what I refrain from saying, wherein – probably – I speak a lie. I also saw: I am unjustly punished. Just because of my aura, the School, statistics pro and con. Maybe also because my best friend is Semmant? Though no one had given me any clue about that yet.

Therefore, my goal was clear, though I didn’t know how to go after it. A day passed, then another, and then a third. I tried to devise a plan, but no plan materialized. Winning a woman back was a tricky affair, and I might only get a single chance. Or maybe not even one, depending on how it turned out. Or… it might not turn out, and everything would be demolished anew, only this time it would truly be “forever.”

I no longer made supplication to the heavens, having lost nearly all faith in them. Moreover, I knew I had nothing to bring them in sacrifice. At hand I had only my robot, but I had no intention of sacrificing him – no way. He became even dearer to me – and I possessed nothing more. My domain narrowed and squeezed into the confines of the computer screen. The city had betrayed me – at least, that’s how it seemed. After all, someone had to be blamed. But then, I did not whine – neither aloud nor on paper. In my letters to Semmant I tried to sound upbeat. This even helped me to feel somewhat upbeat as well.

It must be noted Semmant set an enviable example in those days. He had changed over the last month, maturing and growing strong in spirit. I would say he had become a man – and the new image on the monitor unequivocally affirmed this.

On the Web he had hunted down a strange photograph with no identifying marks. This was some brutish fellow: dark eyes, very short haircut, and a three-day growth covering strong cheekbones. On top of that, a tattoo could be seen on his cheek – in the form of an old scar of intricate form. Yet, his facial expression – a little pensive and not of this earth – showed no aggression or smugness. This contrasted with the brutishness, giving it a synthetic look. It was worth being friends with such a man – regardless of Semmant.

And something else appeared in the corner of the screen: the robot had picked up some kind of talisman or fetish. At times the figure grew pale, becoming faint; then, quite the opposite, it would brighten; but it never vanished, always remaining in view. This was a strong bird, a black pelican shown in profile with folded wings and a heavy beak. I immediately recalled the man in black – the one behind the sad lion – though, of course, there might be no connection here at all. Or was this just a guardian angel? After all, they’re also supposed to have wings. Even if no one has ever seen them.

In his market battles, Semmant was operating even more calmly and fiercely. The heavy recession continued in the world at large; it was almost impossible to make money, yet he still managed to stay in the black. Nothing could faze him – not cataclysms or disasters or the mass devastation of banks and companies all over the globe. He nipped his own losses in the bud, freed himself from risk at the first sign of trouble. I do not know if there was another player at that time with such a cool head.

I even decided to recall the past myself, placing my own bets and playing against the crowd. Not out of greed – rather in protest, which I wanted to spit out. It troubled me that many were succumbing to the misery, accepting their fate. From my point of view, this was a bad attitude. My own tragedy seemed huge to me – but, look, I didn’t surrender. I was prepared to fight!

In the exchanges, ruins smoked, smelling of gunpowder, fires, and blood. One by one, several giant firms that had seemed unsinkable toppled. This led to a chain of bankruptcies, panicked terror, the flight of capital. Few were those who managed to get out in time. Many lost almost everything – making stupid mistakes, unable to cope with the fear. Picking out the dominant strain in the cacophony of the market was not hard; it pounded in your ears. I rode the waves of despairs and hopes – bitter despairs, empty hopes. Judging from everything, this illness was here for the long haul – and mine, I thought, how long is it destined for? The ailments of the world, of the whole cosmos – how long do they usually last?

I groaned, gritted my teeth, and – sold, bought, compared. This was better than suffering for nothing. I even tried to compete with Semmant, but no, I had no chance. He rushed forward like a true leader, while I languished in the rear guard, in his shadow. Then I stopped these attempts – they were ridiculous, to be honest. In the end, in contrast to him, I wasn’t created for boring games, doing the same thing over and over!

Time stretched out, crawled like a snail. I drank wine, thought, and waited. Drank more and peered into the screen until it hurt my eyes. Drank again, placed my bets, wrote out the numbers in a column…

Then my body began behaving strangely, as if to counteract the unhappy thoughts. I noticed I was, time after time, experiencing a severe carnal need. It was becoming laughable: I was afraid to go outside. The air of the new spring worked on me like the scent of Venus. The sun was already becoming hot, and women were casting off their clothes. They bared their legs, shortened their skirts – mercilessly teasing me with themselves. I imagined them with nothing on at all.

Temptation lurked behind every door – in the supermarket, in the drugstore, in the bank. Blondes, brunettes, young and not so young – all of them, it seemed, knew how I wanted them. They knew and intentionally looked away, pretending they didn’t notice my hungry eyes. This aroused me even more, as if something promised that had to come true.

At home it was the same. Examining the market charts, I caught myself thinking of completely different things. A cloud of desire enshrouded me from head to toe – unable to hold back, I surfed porn sites and pleasured myself like a teen. I had done this before, while creating Semmant, but things had changed, and the meaning was tainted. Fulfillment now had nothing to do with it – nor did my Buddha mat or even Lidia: it wasn’t her body I dreamed of. On the contrary, lust pushed my thoughts aside – possibly out of retribution. As if to spite the one who didn’t want to see me, I yearned to possess dozens of others, a multitude of strangers.

Rain fell, and my “affliction” became even sharper. The lewd smell of wet asphalt ambushed me everywhere. It tormented me, almost draining my strength. Hour after hour, forgetting business, I sat with the windows open, dumbly looking into the monitor and imagining pictures of the most immodest sort. I saw them all over the place; it was impossible to stand it anymore. I admitted I could be ashamed no longer and turned to the only available answer. On a windy and rainy April day I got in my car and drove to a Madrid suburb – to an address taken from the newspaper. There an expensive brothel awaited.