The Divers' Game

by Jesse Ball

  She had walked along the edge of a lake a great distance, where it curved and curved, and turned into a kind of bogland, forcing her back to a path that went over a raised wooden walkway. There wasn’t anyone in miles it seemed, until a voice spoke up. Dead ahead of her in the middle of the walkway two boys stood. Were they younger than she? Perhaps a little. But much larger. The face of one was turned, looking past her, but the face of the one before her was clear, and he had a brand across his cheek. Neither one had a mask, and she felt the shock of recognition. Had she come suddenly to a place where there was no resistance? No path back? What was in her then?

  DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOU’RE GOING? HE ASKED.

  How hard it is to understand the first thing that’s said to us. So full of expectation—we think one thing is said when in fact something entirely different has appeared in the air.

  Lethe thought it would be a threat. She felt she would be threatened, and so she almost flinched, perhaps she flinched within. She stood and stared dumbly, forcing the boy to repeat his question.

  Do you know where you’re going?

  I don’t, she said. I was looking for the train station, and then I just kept walking even though I knew I was going the wrong way.

  The boys laughed.

  The train station.

  It was a ridiculous idea to them. In the first place, no one ever goes to the train station. In the second place, if you were to go, you would know how to get there. It would be completely obvious. You couldn’t foul it up. And here she was, this girl, in the middle of the park nowhere near the train station.

  I know, she said. It’s stupid.

  The first boy reached out and felt the material of her shirt between his fingers. She stayed still.

  I don’t know about stupid, but it is funny. You see, you see, we can’t even tell . . .

  The other boy finished for him.

  We can’t even tell which train station you would be talking about. That’s how lost you are.

  They laughed some more, and she laughed too. It felt good. The three of them laughed about it, there on the wooden slats above the bog. Maybe she wasn’t in trouble. The air was clear and clean, and the light was changing. The sun was starting to go down, and the slanting rays made the world wondrous, varied, like nothing one had seen. However many times you see this last hour of day, it is never the same.

  If you tell us where you want to go, we will help you get there, said one of the boys. We’ll show you the way.

  At least part of the way, said the other.

  At least part of the way. We have things to do too.

  The trouble is, she said, I don’t even know where to go. I just want to get to any train station really.

  If you don’t want to go anywhere in particular, then you aren’t really lost, are you? said the second boy. Stupid pat. I thought you all were supposed to be so smart.

  I guess not.

  But you are definitely lost. So I guess that proves you do want to be somewhere, doesn’t it? If you keep going the way you are, you can eventually get to a stop, stop L3. That’s out the other side of the park.

  It’s L4.

  Yeah, L4. You can get to L4. We can take you part of the way in that direction.

  If you go back the way you were, then you have to get back out of the park, and through a bunch of streets. Then you can come to L5. Isn’t that right?

  That’s right.

  Maybe we can go on to L4. Would you help me? If you’ll help me. I appreciate it.

  The two boys drew a breath and looked at her. She looked at them.

  No problem, come on. It’ll get dark soon, and you should be out of the park by then. I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing here.

  She laughed nervously.

  Anyway, I’m Lethe, she said, and without thinking extended her hand.

  The boys took her hand and shook it, and what happened was different from what she thought would. She hadn’t thought, she had just reached out with a customary gesture, an unthinking gesture, but once she’d done it, a feeling came over her: she was surprised by her sudden revulsion, for in taking their hands she came close to touching the stumps of their lack-thumbs. She almost twitched to avoid it. Did they notice? At what age did their thumbs get cut off? What about the brand? Did they have to be branded again and again as they got older?

  They said their names. She said hers again for no reason, and they went on.

  LET’S PLAY A GAME AS WE GO, SAID THE FIRST BOY. IF you can pick the path without our help, then you don’t owe us anything.

  The other boy laughed.

  And if I can’t?

  If you can’t, then you do owe us something.

  How do I know you won’t just lie to me? You could always say I picked the wrong way.

  Well, we could always do that.

  The second boy spoke up.

  Look, you’re scaring her. Don’t do that. It’s rough enough as it is.

  I’m not scared, said Lethe.

  In that case, let’s make it a game. Here’s a crossing. Which way do you think we should go?

  THEY WOUND ON THROUGH THE PARK. IT DIDN’T SEEM to her that they were making much progress in any particular way, but the boys seemed confident. They kept teasing her when she made wrong choices. Every choice she made seemed to be a wrong choice.

  What are we going to do with you? You have to pick right sometime.

  She brought up Ogias’ Day, but they seemed not to have heard of it. She tried to explain, but it puzzled them. It didn’t have to do with them, and so the idea didn’t matter.

  All at once as they came down a hill, there was a shout.

  Three girls were sitting on the edge of a wall. They jumped down and came over. From their expressions they all knew one another. The girls were bluff and confident. The way they all wore the uniclothes made them seem like an army.

  Who is this whore?

  You brought a pat down here to the park? What are you two going to do to her? I didn’t think you were that way.

  Lethe tried to laugh and introduce herself, but she found she couldn’t laugh, she was too afraid, and she couldn’t introduce herself; the girls looked right through her.

  Where’d you find her?

  Oh, leave her alone, said the first boy. She’s just lost. We’re helping her out.

  For what? What are you getting?

  The girl turned to Lethe.

  What are you giving them? Some of that?

  Lethe shook her head.

  They’re just helping me.

  You two are stupid, real stupid. You’re doing it for nothing? Make her give you something.

  One of the other girls came up behind Lethe and shoved her a little. Another one came from the other side and shoved her.

  Leave off, said the second boy. Let her be.

  One of the girls stuck her face right in Lethe’s.

  Make her give you the mask. She’ll give you her mask. Make her give it to you.

  They all laughed at Lethe’s discomfort. Were they laughing in delight, or just because that’s what you do? In such a situation you laugh and laugh, and wait to see what happens.

  One of the boys spoke then. He spoke to Lethe.

  That sounds even. We help you out, you give us your mask. Anyway, you don’t need it. What would you need it for?

  I don’t need it, said Lethe. I just, my parents can’t afford another one. I’m supposed to have it.

  We don’t have them. None of us has a mask. We’ve never had one. We just want to try it. Give us yours, and the canister. Come on.

  One of the girls spat on the ground.

  She’s not going to give it to you. She’s a pat. She hates you. She’s just afraid right now, or she’d say so. Fuck her. Let’s go. Let her find her own way, the little whore.

  The first girl nodded.

  Fine, but you two are not helping her anymore. You’re coming with us. Come on, let’s go.

  The boys met Lethe’s eyes apologeticall
y, but they followed the girls. The five went off up the hill, and Lethe was alone again.

  She breathed. She didn’t even realize she’d been holding her breath. Why?

  I have to go on.

  There was a shout behind her, and she turned around. One of the boys had run back. He ran all the way down the hill to her and stopped short, catching his breath, hands on his knees.

  If you keep going that way, he said, there is a perimeter the helmets use. There are some heated boxes they stand in and such. Should be someone there to help you.

  Helmets?

  He laughed. The guards. What do you pats call them?

  We don’t call them anything. They’re just guards.

  Well, to us, you know . . . I mean, I can’t go near them. It’d be stupid. When I go in and out of the quad, I see them, but out here . . . no. You got to keep your distance. But that’s me. You they’d love, I guess.

  He looked at her and waited.

  She didn’t know what for.

  Which way did you say?

  He pointed away through the trees, some direction through the trees.

  Okay. Well, thanks.

  Piece of advice: you make it out, don’t come back.

  He ran off, and she wanted to shout after him, but there was nothing to say.

  IT WAS NOW BECOMING PROPERLY DARK. SHE COULD make out the path, but up ahead it seemed darker still. A fear rose in her, and as it rose, she felt if she gave herself up to it, she would have no chance at all. She swallowed it.

  Be sensible, she thought. You are safe. Just keep walking in one direction and you will get somewhere and then somewhere else and there will be a bus or train. Just keep going. Even if you have to sleep in the park, how bad is that?

  Anyway, I must be able to find one of those guard stations.

  She thought of her parents in the front room of their house. Her father would be getting up occasionally, going to the window and looking out, or opening the front door and going out on the steps, anticipating her, wondering where she was. Her mother would tell him to stop, but eventually they would both be worried. They would call Lois’s house. Lois would say where she was last seen. Would people come to look for her? Even if they did, she was nowhere near where she had been. She would never be found.

  SHE STUMBLED ON THROUGH THE DARK, UP AN INCLINE now. At the top there was a faint light. Lethe emerged onto a long open field, a rectangular basin. It was ringed by trees, were they maples? The leaves shook in the night air, and there was light away there in the distance. As she came, she heard the sound of singing, and of music. There was a fire and people around the fire. The music was unlike anything she had heard. It made her feel sad, an intense sadness, but the sadness was for herself; she felt she was at the end of her life, and this was the music of that moment.

  All at once she stopped. She stood there in the grip of a terrible certainty. If she went any closer, she would be seen. She must continue, she must go closer, and then she would be seen, and when she was seen she would be taken, someone would take her, and even if she resisted, even if she gassed the first ones, even if she could gas and kill five or six of them, how many would there be? If she put on the mask, she knew she would make them angry. They would all turn against her. She felt that in putting on the mask, she would be noticed. She felt she couldn’t move at all, and stood there absolutely still at the field’s edge. She could never get away, no matter what she did.

  But another voice came, and that voice said, put on your mask. Go along the edges, go past this fire, and keep on. Don’t think of them as people. Don’t speak to them. Just keep on and you will make it out of the park. Be ready to use your canister, but do it only when you have to, and keep going, keep going.

  At such times she knew she was supposed to say the gas creed, to just repeat it and repeat it. That was its purpose. That was why it was hers. For a time like this.

  She pictured in her mind the hate that the girls had for her. She turned it in her hands and tried it on like a garment. We are separated for a reason. I have to keep going.

  But she stood still, still there, staring at the faint shapes moving like people in the distance. How many of them were there? And what did they see when they looked into this blackness? Her hand moved along her belt, and she caressed the canister that hung there.

  Lethe remembered something she had forgotten. Somehow she had forgotten it, and now here it was, rising in her mind. Years before, she had gone to a fair with her mother. Where her father was she didn’t know. But she and her mother had gone. Lethe had wanted to go on every ride. She had gone on every ride, and when her mother wanted to go home, Lethe wouldn’t have it. She wanted to see everything one more time. She didn’t want it to end. So her mother gave in, and they went back around the fair and visited every place they had gone to, and as they were coming around a tent, the way they had gone before, they came upon a body lying on the ground.

  It was the body of a man who had been gassed. His face was distorted and swollen, and his eyes were burst open. It was something you had never seen, eyes burst open in this way, and it changed what you thought to see it.

  His hands were choking his own throat, as if he had tried to kill himself while dying. His legs were in the midst of kicking. He had died while kicking with his feet.

  If we go there to that moment, we can see it from every angle. The girl and her mother there at the tent’s edge by the body. Behind them avenues and a crowd dispersing, a crowd dispersing in every various gaiety. The sound of machinery and the glow of lights. This mother and daughter stand, and before them a crippled, miserable form, motionless but indicating every possible motion. A person who was gassed, who died of the gas, is on the ground there, close enough to touch. Lethe’s mother is in such shock, she does nothing to keep her from the sight, and so the little girl kneels down right over the body. Lethe kneels over the body with its burst eyes and listens for a heartbeat.

  He’s dead, she tells her mother. But he’s still warm. Feel him, he’s still warm.

  Row House

  Of all the festivals there is none so old as the Festival of the Infanta; it might as well be a Dionysian rite—it is as horrific as it is wondrous; it is basic, basic at its core; and therefore those who conduct it are not revelers, they are human, with the longing of all humans, to consume, to destroy.

  TRADITION AND CULTURE OF ROW HOUSE

  1

  The Day of the Infanta

  Where is that girl? Lessen! Lessen—come out!

  It was all she could do not to burst out laughing. There in the dark, she was pent and wild and radiant. She might explode, she really might, and each time her name was called, it was worse. The little girl sat knees curled up to her chest inside a cabinet, trying as best she could not to make any sound. Oh but it was too much.

  Lessen! Lessen! Are you hiding?

  The footsteps came closer.

  Lessen!

  She burst, and in laughing was discovered, and so her laughing mother dragged her from the cabinet and laughing they went. She leapt with each step.

  Don’t you know we are late? The most important day of your life, and you are late? Do you know how many girls would give up anything for this? Anything at all? The hope of salvation? Anything? I would hit you, I would beat you with a spoon across your little face, but you must look perfect. You must look perfectly like yourself today. It is your sitting.

  The little girl giggled and tried to run away again. Her mother didn’t let her, but instead laid her in her little coat, and dragged her by the arm down three shabby flights of stairs piled high with garbage, adroitly managing the narrow space, sometimes enough only for a single foot! And out past the broken-down doors of the entrance they went into the street.

  ALONG THE STREET THEY WENT. HER MOTHER KNEW everyone, and so she was spoken to from windows, out the front of shop stalls, yelled to around corners.

  Lessen hurried along after her, keeping her head down. For the first time in her short life
she didn’t have any idea what to feel. She had been chosen to be the Infanta! She was the Infanta. What a word! She was an Infanta, the Infanta. Which was it? There was only one. The Infanta. People would know it now; her mother had said so, and at that moment Lessen the little girl had gone away, replaced by she, she alone in all of Row House. All the adults must know and should know and did know—the Infanta! But Lessen wasn’t sure what it meant for her, and not knowing what it meant, she didn’t know exactly how to feel.

  She caught a glimpse of herself in a window. She didn’t look very much different. At any rate it wasn’t how she looked to herself but what they saw. How could she know what they saw?

  Her mother was talking. She was saying: And when we get there, remember, you must pay complete attention; there are many things that you must remember, and if you make any mistakes, it would be terrible. It would be truly terrible.

  Lessen promised she would be careful. She was careful. She was quiet and everyone told her she was beautiful. You are a beautiful girl, a beautiful girl, people would say. They would call her beautiful and stroke her hair like she was a dog. She liked it, and raised up her neck against the hand when it came, if she didn’t mind the person doing it. But beautiful, well, she knew she looked like a horse. Her brother had told her many times, and she believed him. But horse-faced or not—she would be the center of the festival. Tomorrow was the Day of the Infanta! In her whole life this holiday hadn’t been, and now here it was.

  Her mother was rattling on. She had been saying the same things the whole evening and whole morning, and now she was saying them again. Something made Lessen listen this time. Was it the sudden force of the sunlight as they rounded a corner? The world arrives out of nowhere—and goes away as fast!

  Everything they say to you is part of the ceremony. That means they do a bunch of things one after the other, and everyone knows what is to come. That’s what a ceremony is—doing things in order. Since you are a part of it, they don’t want you to mess it up by guessing what you should do ahead of time. So when we leave and come home no one can speak to you until tomorrow.