War & War

by Krasznahorkai, László

  6.

  Oh yes, they knew Gyuri Szabó, the proprietor of the Mocca remarked as she was chatting with her friend on the phone that night, having got home, showered, turned on the TV and pulled the phone over, and he had taken the opportunity of bringing over some lunatic, giving him a table to sit at, yes, they let Gyuri in, he is no problem, he just sits himself down at the table and shifts about in his chair a bit, he’s been there a week now among the customers, a quiet well-behaved decent enough kind of guy, with, yes, some strange ideas, but he was welcome to sit there, the problem was the other one, the one with a face like a bat, they never had this screwball before, the woman exclaimed, and he did all the talking, producing such a torrent of nonsense, she cried, well, you have no idea, and they drank Unicum with beer, the Hungarian way, eleven shots each, from four in the afternoon to two in the morning, so you may imagine, she said, the bat-faced one talking and talking and Gyuri Szabó listening, though he was drunk too just like the other guy, nor was there any point in telling him to behave himself when he came out of the john, they just went on as before though she should have closed up hours ago, the cash long having been dealt with, and still they didn’t want to go, so in the end she had to say something, to turn off the light, which was something she hated doing as it reminded her of being back in Hungary where they do this lights-off-all-out business all the time, but there was nothing else she could do, she had to turn the lights off a couple of times until, thank heaven, they finally noticed, got to their feet and went out, though it was Gyuri Szabó she was sorry for, him being the son of old Béla Szabó from his second marriage, she told her friend, the one who was in charge of a department at Lloyds, yes, old man Béla’s boy, yes and we always thought he was the artistic type, in other words a real decent guy, all heart, but the other man she knew absolutely nothing about, and to be honest, she was genuinely frightened of him, because you never knew what that kind of person was thinking or what he’d do next, though, truth to tell, he can’t have been thinking much in particular and in any case, he paid, thank God, and, true, he upset a couple of chairs on his way out, but at least he was leaving and hadn’t done anything to upset anyone, but as he left he complained of feeling sick saying he had to throw up, and the other guy said, go ahead, throw up, so Korin went a little way down into the doorway by the entrance and vomited and vomited until he felt better, then feeling fine, he went straight over to the cart to help push it even though his friend told him not to bother as he was used to doing it himself and he’d do it by himself this time too, but Korin paid no attention to him since that was what the man had told him the first time that afternoon when he had stopped a block away, down 81st Street, and Korin had asked whether he could help, at which point his accent gave him away, and they both immediately realized that the other was Hungarian, this being pretty simple with Korin’s can I help you, and not much more difficult with the other’s no thanks, Korin having spent several hours summoning up the courage to talk to someone without succeeding in finding either the courage or indeed anybody who looked Hungarian until suddenly he noticed a strange figure and was astonished to see that this figure was in the process of leaning a full-size store dummy against a bus stop on 81 st Street, arranging it so it looked as though the dummy were waiting for a bus, having done which he chained the dummy’s hands and feet to the bus stop and turned its head to face the oncoming traffic, raising its left arm a little so it would seem that the dummy was hailing a bus, after which he returned to his cart, ready to pull it further up the street, which was the point at which Korin first approached him and asked him if he needed a push for if he did he would be glad to help.

  7.

  He was used to doing this alone and would like to continue alone, the man told him, but having said it allowed Korin to help even though it was clear he had no need of it, for the plastic hands and feet protruding from under the loose tarpaulin cover of the cart showed that the whole thing was full of store dummies and would therefore weigh very little; but Korin did not let that discourage him and began pushing the back of the cart while the man got hold of the pole at the front and pulled it, the whole lot rattling and giving a considerable jolt each time there was a bump in the icy snow beneath, so that dummies began to slide off right and left and Korin or the man had to thrust them back among the rest; and so they pushed and pulled and pushed and pulled and within a few minutes had gotten pretty well used to it, arriving in the busy traffic of Second Avenue where Korin finally dared to ask whether the other, by any chance, could tell him where the Hungarian quarter was because he was looking for it, to which he received the answer that they were in the Hungarian quarter right now; in which case, Korin continued, perhaps the other might help him with some business, the business, Korin cleared his throat, that is, of buying a gun; an inquiry greeted by the other with a solemn echo—ah, gun—his face suddenly serious, telling him a gun could be bought almost anywhere, and this seemed for a while to conclude the conversation, neither of them saying a word until the man applied the brakes, dropped the pole on the stones, turned round and asked Korin directly to tell him what it was he was actually after, in response to which Korin repeated, a gun, a gun of any kind, no matter if it be big, small or of middling size, just a gun, and that he had five hundred dollars to spend on it, that sum comprising all his money, and that he was prepared to spend it all on a gun, just a gun; not that he wanted to frighten the other man with all this, he hastily added, for he meant absolutely no harm and would be quite happy to tell the whole story but wasn’t there somewhere they could sit down and eat and drink something while he told it, he asked, and looked around for some such place because he had, after all, been out on the street since dawn and was chilled through to the bone, so a little warmth would be most welcome, and some food and drink too, and yes he’d love to drink something; but the other man would not let the matter rest and examined him further and at some length on the subject of the gun, Korin responding with further invitations to go and eat, pressing the man to be his guest and telling him that all would be revealed once they were sitting down together, so the man hemmed and hawed and said there were plenty of restaurants nearby and within a few minutes they were sitting in the Mocca, its walls lined with mirrors and decorative crockery, its ceiling papered in relief using some synthetic material, with just three melancholy looking guests at the tables and the crow-faced proprietress wearing oval glasses, her hair cut froufrou fashion, who suggested they eat something as well as drink, and though she did this in the most friendly manner only Korin took her advice and drank a goulash soup with pinched noodles, the other man refusing anything, merely taking one of the sugar packets provided on the table, tearing the end off and pouring it down his throat, flicking at the packet with his index finger to get all the sugar out, repeating this a few times in the course of their conversation; all he wanted, he said, being something to drink, which indeed they both did, downing one Unicum with beer, followed by another Unicum with beer, and another and so on while Korin talked and the man listened.

  8.

  The dummy sat by itself at a table near the counter and looked so convincing one might have thought it was a real person sitting there though it was of the same plastic material as the other dummies in the cart and as life-sized as those outside, and yet, in the light of the diner, its pink skin seemed more transparent and its gaze more meditative than theirs as it sat with its legs tucked under the table with perfect propriety, a propriety it was forced to exercise in order that it should be able to sit at all, with one hand in its lap and the other on the table, its head turned away a fraction, tipping slightly, so as to make it seem the face was gazing into the distance somewhat lost in thought—and as soon as the man saw it he immediately went to sit beside it, so that by the time Korin had removed his coat he too had to sit with the dummy and clearly found it difficult not to query its presence at first, though once he got used to it being there he accepted it and no longer felt any need to ask any questions, just gl
anced at it every so often, and after the fifth or sixth round of drinks, once the Unicum had well and truly gone to his head, he accepted the dummy to the extent that he even started including it in his conversation, a conversation that consisted primarily of his monologue of course, whose intention was to enlighten the other by telling him about the headaches, about his own revelation concerning Babel and to continue with his account of the time in the records office, the weeks at Sárváry’s, the journey to America passing on to the manuscript, eternity, the gun, then, eventually, Kasser, Bengazza, Falke and Toót, and the way out, how they couldn’t find it and how he carried them about inside him but felt extremely worried now even though earlier he thought he’d be perfectly calm, because they somehow stayed with him, were clinging to him, and he felt he couldn’t get rid of them just like that, but what could he do, where and how could he solve the problem, he sighed, then went to the toilet on returning from which he was confronted in the corridor by the proprietress with the froufrou hairdo who begged his pardon but asked him, a little awkwardly, not to ply his companion with drink, because they knew him very well in the restaurant, and he was neither used to it, nor able to cope with it, to which Korin answered that neither could he himself, though the woman, rather impatiently, cut him short, saying it would do his companion no good at all, and adjusted her froufrou hair as she did so, because he was a very sensitive, good-hearted boy and he has this obsession with store dummies, populating the whole district with them, and it wasn’t just in her restaurant he planted one but wherever they would let him, and they let him because he is such a quiet, gentle, decent sort of man, and he had left three dummies in Grand Central Station, as well as others in the public library, one at McDonald’s, another at the cinema at 11 th Street, and one at a nearby newsstand in front of the magazine shelves, but people said he had more at home, one sitting in the armchair in his room watching the TV, one at the kitchen table and one at the window supposedly looking out, in other words, said the proprietress, she couldn’t deny that he was somewhat cranky but he was not mad, and he was only doing all this on account of some woman because, they say, he very much loved her, and she was simply asking Korin to understand, and more than understand, to look after him if he could, because you couldn’t fill him with drink, it was just asking for trouble, to which Korin readily agreed, saying yes, he understood now, and that he would certainly look after him most carefully as he too thought he was a really nice man, confessing that as soon as he set eyes on him he really liked him, so, yes, he would look after him, he promised, but then immediately broke his word for as soon as he sat back down with the man at the restaurant he immediately ordered another round, nor could he be dissuaded from more on top of that, so he was truly asking for trouble, and this eventually did lead to trouble, though not in the form the proprietress had anticipated, for it was Korin who felt ill, extremely ill in fact once they had finished and while vomiting helped, it only relieved him for a few minutes, then he was ill again, and worse, no longer pushing the cart but clinging onto it, constantly telling the other man, whom he now referred to as his friend, that death meant nothing to him, while clinging on, almost allowing himself to be drawn, his feet repeatedly slipping on the snow, which by this time, that is to say about four or half past four, had frozen solid.

  9.

  They were going somewhere in the snow and it didn’t matter to Korin where it was, nor did it seem to matter much to the other man, who occasionally adjusted the tarpaulin covering the dummies, then bent forward and blindly dragged the cart behind him in the sharp wind blowing down the avenues oriented north to south so that every time they passed one of these, which they did frequently, they tried to escape from it as soon as they could, fleeing from it, saying nothing at all for a long time, until the man suddenly said something over his shoulder, something he must have been thinking for a while, but Korin didn’t hear him so the man had to drop the pole, go over to Korin so he could get his message through to him, which was that it was all very nice what he had told him about the manuscript in the Mocca restaurant, very nice indeed, he nodded, but of course he had invented the lot, admit it, for beautiful as the Cretan, the Venetian and Roman episodes were, he should calmly own up to the fact that they existed only in his imagination, to which Korin naturally responded with a firm no, that no, he had not made it up, the manuscript existed and what was more was there on his bed on 159 th Street if he wanted to see it, he said, quickly grabbing the back of the cart because he had let go of it for a moment, and yes, said the other man very slowly, because if it was true—he raised his head—it must be beautiful and it would really be very nice to see it, and surely there was something one could do about that road, that way out, and you know what? he asked, we should meet tomorrow night about six o’clock at my place, and Korin should bring that manuscript with him, that’s if it existed, for if it did exist it would be very beautiful and he would like to show a page or two to the woman he loved, he said gazing at the dummies under the tarpaulin, then produced a business card from his pocket, pointed to the address on it, saying, here, and gave it to Korin who put it away, and the place would be easy enough to find, so let us say six o’clock, he added before falling flat on his face and remaining motionless on the snow while Korin stared at him for a moment before letting go of the cart and taking a step toward the man to help him, but he lost his balance in trying to do so and fell beside him where he lay until the man, who might have been brought to his senses, or if not precisely to his senses at least to consciousness by the cold before Korin was, extended his arms, pulled Korin to his feet, and they stood there, with feet planted apart, facing each other, both of them swaying for a whole minute or more, until the man suddenly said that Korin was a likable guy but somehow lacked a center, and with that he took up his place at the front of the cart, raised the pole and set off along the snow once more, only this time Korin did not follow him, for he hadn’t the strength to do so, not even by clinging onto the cart, but gazed at the man with his dummies getting ever further and further away, reeled over to the nearest doorway, pushed at the outer door and lay down by the wall at the foot of the stairs.

  10.

  Four hundred and forty dollars, that was what most upset him when he found the money on him, for where does a dirty little nobody like this get four hundred and forty dollars from, while he, said the man in the yellow overalls pointing to himself, he clears the crap from the house, fixes the drains, takes out the garbage and sweeps the filthy ice in front of the house for a hundred and eighty a week working his guts out to earn a pittance, and this creature has four hundred and forty dollars right there in his coat pocket, just like that, as he guessed when he saw him at the bottom of the wet stairs, thinking there’s another filthy stinking bum lying in his own vomit, just as he suspected when he saw him at the bottom of the stairs, the sight of him making his blood boil, so he would happily have put a bullet in him, but contended himself instead with giving him a kick and was just starting to drag him outside when he found the four hundred and forty dollars in his pocket, counted the bills into his own wallet, and gave him such a kick his foot was still aching because he must have struck a bone his foot was hurting so badly; four hundred and forty, imagine it, his voice trembled with fury, well, he was so angry he booted him right out of that door and off the sidewalk too onto the street like the piece of shit he was, he was that disgusting, and boy was he disgusted, said the man in the yellow overalls grabbing the arm of the person living upstairs, and he was quite right to treat him the way he did, he thought, that’s the way to deal with them, let them freeze their asses off outside, he said, his face reddening, let him lie out there till a car runs over him, and he just lay there, unable even to open his eyes he was in so much pain, but eventually managed to do so, heard the terrible car horns, saw where he was and started dragging himself toward the sidewalk without quite realizing the gravity of his situation or understanding why his stomach, chest and face hurt so much, then lay for a while
on the edge of the sidewalk until it seemed someone was asking him if he was all right and he didn’t know what to answer so he said yes, all right, but even as he did so it flashed across his mind that he wouldn’t want a policeman to find him there and he grew agitated, thinking he had to move on as quickly as he could, so clambered to his feet seeing that it was light and that two school-age children were looking at him sympathetically, asking him again if he was all right and whether they should call an ambulance, an ambulance, Korin echoed, oh, an ambulance and tried to tell them that they were on no account to call an ambulance because there was nothing really wrong with him, it was just that something had happened, he didn’t know what, but that everything was all right now and that they should leave him alone now, he’d be all right, until he realized that he was speaking Hungarian and quickly tried to find a few English words but nothing came, so he stood up and started down the sidewalk, walking with enormous difficulty, making it to the corner of Lexington Avenue and 51 st Street, then stumbled down into the subway and felt better among the swirling crowds where a battered figure like him would not be so conspicuous, because he was truly battered and shattered, he told his friend later, so utterly shattered he couldn’t imagine how he could ever be reassembled, but he got onto a train though he had no idea where it was going, nor did he care as long as it was away from there, and once he thought he was far enough away he got off and wandered over to a map and found the name of the station, which was somewhere in Brooklyn, but what could he do, what was there to do, he wondered in desperation, as he said later, and then he remembered what they had agreed when they parted, strange as it was that he should have forgotten everything about the last few hours except the fact that he had promised to deliver the manuscript to his new friend by six o’clock that evening, so the task was to get the manuscript, he said to himself, and he eventually found himself on a 7 train going back toward 42nd Street, but was very frightened, he said, since he realized how beaten up he was, not to say how dirty and stinking, with vomit all over him, frightened also that someone would stop him before he got home, but it was the last thing on anyone’s mind to stop him, everyone steering clear of him rather than confronting him, and so he reached West 42nd, transferred to a 9 train to get home, home as he kept muttering, home, the word itself like a prayer, dragging his body homeward, his body feeling as if it had been broken into a thousand distinct pieces, finally reaching the house and climbing the stairs still feeling so terrible that it never occurred to him that he had left the apartment for the last time the night before, though he should have given that a thought, he told the man later, because then he might have understood more clearly why he felt so much like a corpse.