The Moondust Sonatas

by Alan Osi

  An elder, by the big fire, studied the sky and said we had no hope of rain tomorrow, either. We lamented: It had been so dry recently everyone began to wonder whether the Gods were mad at us. But, we’d done the sacrifices and lived in accord to what the medicine man told us and what the stories said. It was difficult to understand.

  We had water from the river. But, the land and the game suffered. The deer were beginning to get thin. Even the one Poppa and Mauy killed didn’t have much meat on it, just enough to feed us all, mixed with the roots and fruit we women and the little ones had collected.

  The roots and fruit were scarce these days, though. They were also bitter—too dry.

  After I finished eating, I sat on the tree-stump near Enku’s hut, and she sat on the stump next to me. She braided my hair, and when she finished, I braided hers. We gossiped a bit about the latest news in the village: Kei and Greia drank too much again last night and fought late at night, causing little Yu in the next hut to scream and cry, which woke others. I slept heavy through the whole affair, of course, only the Gods could wake me when I sleep. But, many were bothered by it and demanded that the elders speak to the couple. It would either happen tonight or tomorrow, whichever the elders decided, and you could see Kei was embarrassed. He would often go up to the other men and make silly, obvious jokes, in order to ingratiate himself, even though no one laughed nearly as hard as he did. Enku and I both agreed he acted like a fool, as usual. You could just tell all the men felt the same.

  The elders said that after every meal, we had to sing and pray and dance for rain. I was happy to do so, everyone was. But, it wasn’t quite time yet. So, for a little while, the adults sat and drank their fermented root water while the children played. But, we were all just waiting—even Enku, who kept gossiping about silly old Kei.

  And when the elders all stood up and circled the great fire, we knew it was time. And as we began to sing our songs, we prayed our ancestors would hear us. We prayed for rain.

  Then I was William again, crying the moondust out as usual. I swear I could hear the buzz of the electronics all around me. And everything glowed weird, not like starlight. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like feeling as if my whole life was wrong, as if humans were better off in forests than in cities. But, after that trip, I did. I decided to get high and not think about it.

  So I did, and then I didn’t.

  Later, Clyde came by, pissed off. He called from down at the door, and I buzzed to let him in.

  “Yo. You are supposed to be on watch,” he said. “You were supposed to relieve me, asshole. Our guy could be home right now for all we know.”

  Not only had I forgotten, I really didn’t care. Watch meant standing outside the dude’s house who’d given Clyde the moondust, one by one, taking turns not seeing him come home and being incredibly bored in the process. And you did it for hours on end, because the three of us had to cover every hour. My boy Clyde, who sells cocaine and stuff, and Rob, who was more Clyde’s friend than mine.

  “Relax.” I said. “He’s going to lay low for a while, and then he’s going to go home when he’s sure we’re gone. He’s going to send somebody else first. So it’s cool, we have time.”

  Clyde’s nostrils flared. Like a dragon, I swear. “Even if you’re right, what if he waits until we’re gone and grabs some shit and leaves forever before we come back?”

  “Then we go apartment hunting; we have his last known address.”

  “Bullshit. Then we never see him again. And you forgot something. I’m running out of this shit, and as of this moment, you are now cut off from moondust. We need to find this fucker, and it does not help if you’re sitting here in your boxer shorts smoking weed, you degenerate.”

  And with that, the whole thing changed. We didn’t have time to wait, running out of product like we were. Still, it was unnecessary to call me names.

  And, I really didn’t want to bother with the remains of that little girl all through me. And the worst part was—and I realized this was a first with moondust—I wanted to be her. I couldn’t tell you why.

  But anyway, Clyde had a point, and so I sighed and called him a cocksucker—”You’re a cocksucker, you know that Clyde?” I said—and went into my room, to put some pants on. “And I’ll tell you something else,” I said, “All of Rob’s bullshit has really ruined this whole thing for me. I want you to know that.”

  “Hey,” Clyde said from the next room, muffled. “You wanted him here, too.”

  “You swayed me. There’s a difference.”

  He didn’t respond. I guess there wasn’t any point to responding, though, and when I came out, I was almost apologetic for having made him come here. He looked beat.

  “Hey,” I said, suddenly meaning it, “We’re going to find this sucker, don’t worry. It’ll happen soon, it’s got to.”

  “Right,” he said. But, kind of limply. “Get moving, I’m going home.” He stood up and left. I grabbed keys, wallet, cellphone, cigarettes, knife, and a little weed, and followed him out the door.

  Only carrying a knife was starting to feel kind of weird, which I didn’t like at all. I’d always kept things low risk by design, so I’d never needed more. But, things were different now.

  I was trapped in some sort of fucked up pact that was very risky. It could make me rich, but it felt like quicksand.

  There was nothing to do, but go forward, because I’d known Clyde for years, tumbling around bad neighborhoods, living in broken houses, dreaming of life.

  Because I didn’t want to disconnect from moondust.

  Because because, I strolled onto the subway and flew underground until I reached Williamsburg.

  Fall was just beginning to turn, so it was as good weather as any for waiting outside an apartment building for some dude to get home. I picked out a fairly good spot—a shadowy loading dock, covered in graffiti, where I would be dry, and neither too noticeable nor too suspicious.

  And I just sat there.

  I had an iPod in my pocket, so that helped. As I sat I meshed the music that came through and the vibes of people passing by, making up lives for them or scenes from moondust trips. It was the only way to pass the time

  I saw no sign of the guy Clyde described, the guy I’d seen briefly on the day we first came here and he ran down the fire escape.

  What could I do, but wait? I sat there, making up lives for people, thinking about the whole history of the world. As in, I was living the history of the world or getting closer to doing so than anyone could ever expect to do.

  So far, under moondust, I had seen Medieval Europe, the ancient kingdom of Mali, feudal Japan, hunter-gathers, primitive farmers, a conquistador, and the Incan empire. And the list went on and on. It was amazing. Utterly.

  Everything I knew. Everything I ever took as fact was chipping away from me.

  Here’s how it went: Imagine at will you could be somebody else. No, not just be in their body, know their thoughts, feelings, and overall state of being. Imagine that. Now imagine seeing the world as they see it in through their eyes. But, imagine that world telling them everything they believe is true. None of the people I’d been believed the same things. But, all the things they believed were true for them.

  So what was true? Was anything true? I used to know. But, I didn’t anymore.

  It was like a chasm opening up in me. It wasn’t even cool. But, the only way to fill it was to go deeper.

  Which was why I was out here, crushing my bony ass against some rough metal. This loading dock was clearly not meant to be sat on. Still, remains of meals and an old blanket rotted in the corner. Some poor bastard had slept rough here, maybe for months.

  I shuddered. I knew what that felt like, too.

  I spent an hour or two on that loading dock. And then, when in between songs, the sounds of the street reached me. I heard the word moondust from some girl’s mouth, the way you’d hear your name across the room at a party. And I turned and saw two semi-hot hipster boot-wearing types walking
past, one blond and the other brunette with feathered hair.

  I walked up, and said, “Excuse me. You were talking about a drug back there. Moondust. Right?”

  I turned on my mind-trick machine. Just a gaze I used, a way of commanding a situation. It made people understand. I needed it now, and the thing it required more than anything else was total commitment. See, some rube could put on all my clothes, ape my stance, and even talk the way I talked—but that guy, unless he understood the game like I did, would miss the only thing that really mattered in a con, big or small. Commitment. You had to go past one hundred percent, you had to give it everything. If you didn’t just know it was going to work, if you let yourself doubt for even a second, it’d show, on your face, and you’d be fucked. The best, they were one with the con.

  And so I knew this girl would answer, and I knew it with every fiber in me, and she said, “Uh… who are you?”

  “I love that shit. How many times you take it?” I said, sunnily. It was time to be casually non-threatening, interested in having found a compatriot. Hell, I was damn near excited.

  “Uh, I haven’t yet. Why? What’s it like?”

  “Oh, man. Well, the first trip and the later trips are totally different, you know? You better be ready to let go of a lot of things you believed, if you want to dance this dance, though. If you like your life the way it is…” I calculated, “I’ll buy that from you for twenty bucks. It’s fifty if you get me in touch with your dealer. And you know, I’m not a cop. I’m just… hooked, that’s all.” I filled my eyes with a slightly weird twitch to convince them it was a killer drug, too much for them.

  She didn’t even hesitate. “Done! Fifty bucks,” she said, so I pulled out a bill, and she snapped it and put it in her stocking. “I got it from this guy who called himself the messenger or some nonsense. I was in the Upper East Side and he just showed up, asking if like I wanted to see ‘the most glorious God?’ Then he told me to put this in my eye and never contact him, walked away. Kinda like we’re about to do!” she said, laughing. “See ya, pal.”

  I watched her back as the two walked away, calculating. We now had another road to take. Another name, someone to find, shake down. I took out my cell phone and started texting.

  59. SALLY

  So we were up on the Upper East Side, me and Violet, my raven-haired muse. I preferred Brooklyn, and we were hanging out with these Manhattanites, which proved to be a total drag. One was even a law student, for God’s sake.

  They were her friends, obviously. But, it was cool, because I got to bask in her glow. Even the way she breathed made me smile.

  The food was alright, the drinks were better, and so on. Violet was in rare form, telling stories even I’d never heard before. Getting all her glorious laughs.

  Well, when we were leaving, something weird happened. The two of us are standing on the street, trying to remember in which direction the subway was, and this guy walks up to us. He was wearing this dirty, ratty suit, and his eyes. They were the most intense eyes, almost insane. At first, you know, we thought he was approaching us to hit on us, and there’s nothing more annoying, let me tell you. Kind of like a vegetarian being hounded by sausage hawkers.

  I thought that was true and funny enough to try to use it on him. Perhaps it was the wine, too. But, I said to him before he could speak, “Hey, Willie Lowman, we don’t want any cheap meat. So go away, okay?”

  He frowned and looked confused, while Violet laughed her ass off.

  “I am unsure what you mean by that,” the man said, “But I assure you, I have no meat to sell, and for what I am giving you, I require no payment. I am the messenger. Tell me, did you ever wish you could prove the existence of most glorious God, if only to yourself?”

  That stopped our giggling.

  “What, dude?” Violet said. So perfectly pitched, every syllable.

  “I am going to reach into my pocket,” he said, with a plastered smile, “and I am going to pull out a bag of white powder for each of you.”

  He did and held them out, discreetly. I didn’t even hesitate. I could always throw it away, after all. I took both, knowing it didn’t make sense for Violet to have to reach over, too.

  “That powder,” he continued, “is called moondust. In order to take it, you must place a small quantity in your eyeball. You will cry it out, and then your trip to see God will end. Never attempt to contact me in any way. What I tell you is true.” And with that, he turned around and walked away.

  “What the hell?” I shouted after him. “Who are you? Why the hell?” But, he didn’t turn back.

  That definitely sobered us a bit. We barely spoke all the way to the metro station, waiting for the train, on the train. Back in Brooklyn, it seemed suddenly we could begin to make sense of it.

  “So,” I said, to start a conversation, “moondust, huh?”

  She laughed. “I know. What do you think?”

  I laughed. “You know me. Always up for something new.”

  She hit me on the arm, playfully. “What if it’s dangerous? It could be airplane glue or something… could be heroin. You’re just going to take drugs some stranger on the street gave you?”

  “Honey, this is New York. What isn’t dangerous?” I said. And she laughed, it was true. “Besides, that guy didn’t seem like a terrorist, and he definitely wasn’t your normal dealer. I’m curious.”

  “Yeah. But, all the same… we shouldn’t take it until we know it’s for real, not some kind of poison. Maybe we should Google it. And then give it to a pigeon or something to make sure the bird doesn’t die.”

  “That’s horrible!” I said. But, I was laughing, ‘cause she wasn’t serious about the pigeon… and because she was probably right. With no way to verify what moondust was, it might not have been the best decision.

  We walked a while more, arm in arm, in silence, for maybe fifteen minutes. When we neared our building, a flock of pigeons erupted from the street, and Violet said, “To the moon, pigeons!”

  I laughed as I said, “To the moondust!” Okay, it wasn’t as funny as we thought it was. But, we were drunk. Sue us.

  We stopped for a second to compose ourselves, and this slightly sketchy looking dude in a red sweatshirt walked up to us. I guess today was our day to be accosted by strangers?

  “Excuse me,” he said, scratching his chin, “I heard you mention a drug back there, moondust. You did, didn’t you?”

  Confirmation! Violet and I looked at each other, wide-eyed.

  The guy was giving us the creepiest stare. It was like either he thought he had X-ray vision or he was practicing for a role in one of those Nyletol migraine commercials. I said, “And I know you… how?”

  But he only kept talking about moondust. “I love that shit. How many times you take it?”

  “Uh, haven’t.” I sighed, hoping he’d just get to the point or whatever. We had already started walking again; he was following us.

  He just kept talking. But, all I heard was blah, blah, blah, and then, clearly, the part where he said he’d give me fifty bucks for a bag of the stuff and the name of the dude I got it from. Easiest dough I ever made. Once we got rid of him, I turned to Violet and said, “I’ll give you twenty-five bucks for half of that bag,” and we both started laughing, again. Sometimes, New York was a beautiful place. It was amazing how moments came together here; you could have never heard of a thing and suddenly your whole night revolved around it. Just par for the course.

  So we didn’t sweat it, we just hopped back to her apartment and sat down on the couch. I kissed her then, I couldn’t have stopped, if I’d tried. We made out by the sweet low light of her lamp and the moon.

  “So,” I said, “what do you think?” I knew she’d know what I was talking about.

  “I guess the stuff’s for real. But, we still don’t know that guy.”

  “Yeah… But, what do we have to lose?”

  “Our lives?”

  “Let’s drop some in your fish tank. If Chauncey lives, w
e can trust it, right?”

  She was shocked. “You want to use Chauncey for animal testing?”

  “Why not? All he does is swim in tiny circles. He won’t miss life anyway.”

  Violet laughed, “You bitch!”

  So we dropped a bit in Chauncey’s water. It didn’t seem to have much effect. After a few minutes, Violet sighed.

  “Okay. Are you ready?” she said.

  I grinned, bit my lip, and nodded. “Don’t you want to go first?” I said.

  “No,” she said. “You first.”

  And so I nodded, and she took the bag out, and I said, “You drop it in for me,” and I found I had to hold my eye open, and when the powder hit my eye the sting was bitter, and that was the last thing I really felt.

  60. VIOLET

  When I dropped the powder in, her body went limp. I crumbled with indecision. Sally’s beautiful lover face filled with cold smile. Surprised eyes shut tight behind eyelids. I knew there was surprise because I could feel it. Unknown pulses on invisible pipelines.

  She was moaning like crazy. I held her head in my lap, blond diamond hair soft under my hand when I stroked her forehead. Hoping she’d be okay.

  I thought about calling the police, I thought of calling an ambulance. I thought of calling anyone.

  I was terrified.

  Sally came back to me, crying and laughing.

  And then she was scared, I could just see the change in her eyes, and she curled up and only stared at the ceiling.

  “Baby,” I said, “what’s wrong? What’s it like?”

  But she wouldn’t speak. She only stood up, and went to the window to look out at our view of the river and Manhattan.

  Sally had always talked to me. Me and Sally shared almost everything, it was just how we were.

  “Sally,” I said, “Come on? What’s the matter? You can tell me?”

  It took her forever to speak her squeak.

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  What was this division between us? Moondust—hammer and chisel, splitting us apart. Well, there was only one thing to do. I would cross the line as well.