JOHNNY GONE DOWN

by Bajaj, Karan

  She didn’t respond. Anyone could pose as me and say those words, I thought. That she didn’t respond was itself a sign of her typical calm and repose. I would have to be more specific to convince her that it really was me. My icon was almost touching hers now, as I manipulated it closer using the keyboard. I pointed to the building and the car and the trees.

  ‘Don’t you see the signs, Lara? Who else could have made this? Everything is in the past now - La Madrina, prison, the drug trade, Rio - nothing can touch us here. You and me, here and now, that’s all that matters.’

  Again she didn’t speak, but she didn’t walk away.

  ‘I missed you, Lara. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I missed you. I am sorry for everything. I am so…’

  She cut off my message as I was typing.

  ‘I missed you too, Nikhil,’ she typed back.

  I felt a crushing wave of joy envelop me. Was this really her? How had this happened? Why had she come here? Was this just a coincidence or had she known? But how would she have known? No one knew that I had created this website, except Philip. But why was the icon wearing the same black dress that Lara knew I loved? I bombarded her with messages. Her response was stoically simple.

  ‘Remember what you said? You and me, here and now; that’s all there is. I don’t want to talk about the past.’

  I was puzzled. We had shared the most beautiful moments of our lives together. Did she really want to forget them? But I had also hurt her deeply. I could understand why she wanted to start afresh.

  ‘Did you name our baby?’ I asked. ‘Our baby,’ I repeated, liking the way the words appeared on screen.

  She kept quiet.

  ‘What happened?’ I asked, terrified.

  ‘Let’s not go there,’ she said.

  What had happened to our son? I was petrified, but what right did I have to ask? I had deserted them in their greatest need. Something must have transpired in my absence, perhaps she didn’t want me to be crippled by guilt.

  ‘I’m sorry, honey,’ I said. ‘I am so terribly sorry for everything.’

  She replied, ‘Love means never having to say you are sorry.’

  I was surprised. Wasn’t that a cheesy line from a pulp novel she didn’t care for? Almost two years, I reminded myself, two long, miserable years. She had gone through so much in that time; she must have sought solace in familiarity.

  After that, I spent every moment I could glued to my chair; only my fingers on the mouse moved, edging my icon closer to Lara’s so we could always be together - although it gnawed at me that we didn’t share the same chemistry any more. Her silences were longer, our conversations seemed stilted, and she studiously avoided all mention of our past, our son, and the future. I blamed it on the conditions in which we parted and the trauma of our separation. With time, I was sure we would rekindle what we had shared, for I felt a joy that I could feel only in Lara’s presence. If it felt right, it was right, I thought. It had to be right.

  Day and night lost all meaning for me in that small dark storeroom. When she signed out in the evening (to take care of our son, I thought hopefully) I would start working on the virtual environment, adding tools and options that I thought would please her. I knew she loved going to local hole-in-the-wall bars, so I built a slew of virtual bars that played the quaint thirties music she loved. Only, her tastes seemed to have changed and she now preferred raucous nightclubs - perhaps a reflection of the turmoil I had caused in her life - so I scattered the streets with discotheques and pubs instead. She used to love running on the beach, so I created a turquoise blue ocean with gleaming, animated sand alongside. But it seemed that she now preferred hiking in the mountains, so I created several virtual snow-capped mountains. Once, she had read books voraciously, now she preferred movies, so I created both libraries and movie theatres. I created schools for children to hint at our future plans and she did take the bait - but not in the shy, touchingly beautiful way I remembered.

  ‘Why are you being so nice to me?’ she asked.

  ‘Do I need to tell you that I love you?’ I said.

  ‘But where is this going? Where will it go?’

  ‘I want us to plan our future now that things have settled down.’

  I guided my image closer to hers. Finally, it seemed like we were getting back to the way things had been.

  Purposefully, we walked to a small cove in the virtual ocean where no one seemed to be present. I moved my virtual icon next to hers and kissed her. She didn’t resist and kissed me back. I silently made a note to add more hidden enclosures in Another Life. As a result of all the changes I had made to please Lara, our virtual community was now ten thousand people strong; everywhere you went, you ran into happy, laughing figures.

  Lara seemed to have lost her earlier inhibitions about public displays of affection. Her image undressed itself and her warm, supple body, looking every bit like it did in the physical world, came into view.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ she said.

  A rush of desire overcame me. I had missed her touch, her feel, her soft, suggestive voice. I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. Our figures moved rhythmically on the screen.

  ‘Harder, harder,’ she cried. ‘Make me come, you bastard. Fuck me hard. There, yes, faster, faster.’

  This didn’t sound like Lara. Unlike some of the other girls I had been with before I had met her, Lara never talked dirty when we made love. She would sigh deeply and bite me hard when she was reaching an orgasm, but she never shrieked in ecstasy.

  ‘Now take me from behind. Do it now.’

  Lara had never liked it from behind. She had probably been with another man, since - which was fine with me. I was the one who had wanted her to move on.

  ‘Take me like a bitch. Make me scream, you bastard. Faster, faster, move your package.’

  Her body writhed under mine, and though it was hard to reconcile her newfound passion for rough sex with the gentle, loving memory of our past, her obvious pleasure excited me into an…

  ‘Computer porn, eh?’

  The beam from a flashlight blinded me.

  ‘Turn that off,’ I said.

  The words rolled out of my mouth with great difficulty. I tried to stand up, feeling light-headed and disoriented. I fell back but missed the chair and crashed to the floor instead. Where was I?

  ‘You look like hell. Are you high?’

  I shook my head. A thin young man with acne on his face stood before me holding the flashlight. With his crew cut hair, he looked like alfred62, one of the first members of the Another Life community.

  ‘Alfred,’ I said.

  Every time I opened my mouth to speak, my head began to pound.

  ‘Is your name Alfred?’ he asked. I shook my head. It hurt.

  ‘I am Jason, one of the volunteers at the shelter,’ he said. ‘You look very weak. Have you eaten anything?’

  Hunger was an old friend, I thought vaguely. I didn’t need food. I had no time for food. I slowly dragged myself up and managed to sit on the chair. Lara seemed to have vanished from the screen. I moved the cursor frantically but I couldn’t see her anywhere. Where was she? I couldn’t lose her again. Every minute spent without her was futile.

  ‘Lara, Lara,’ I whispered and began to search desperately for her once again.

  It felt as if a hand was touching my forehead. But I couldn’t see anybody on the screen.

  ‘You have high fever. It looks like you haven’t slept in a while.’

  Who was speaking? I looked around wildly. I couldn’t see anybody on the screen.

  Someone shook me. ‘Are you there?’

  I still couldn’t see anyone.

  Someone shook me violently. I turned around. It was Alfred but I couldn’t see him on the screen. My mind was playing tricks on me, I thought. I needed a break, but there was still one thing I needed to do before tomorrow when Lara came back again.

  ‘Listen, brother…’

  ‘Get out,’ I snarled.


  ‘You should eat something, brother. You look like you are about to die.’

  ‘Please leave me alone,’ I shouted. ‘Please, please,’ I begged as I typed.

  ‘Okay, man. Relax, will you?’

  My head hurt and my eyes began to water as I returned to the computer. I still couldn’t see Lara anywhere despite searching frantically through the entire span of Another Life. She would be angry at the interruption, I thought, and I cursed alfred82 for being so insensitive. How could he say I looked unwell? Just look at me standing tall, well-built and healthy, not an ounce of excess fat on my body.

  I would make it up to Lara when she came back tomorrow. I spent the next few hours working on a surprise for her.

  ‘It wasn’t my fault. I’m sorry,’ I pleaded as soon as I spotted her on the screen the next day.

  ‘When is it ever your fault?’ said Lara.

  ‘A guy nearly tore my only arm apart,’ I tried to joke.

  ‘Which guy? There was no one around.’

  ‘Let’s not talk about it, please.’

  The numbness seemed to spread from the tips of my fingers to my right shoulder. The phantom pain in my left arm had returned, strong and crippling, as it had been when it was first amputated. I felt dizzy and faint - hardly in the best condition to take this significant step. But it couldn’t wait. Over the last few hours, I had felt as though Lara was slowly drifting away. She was colder and more reserved than usual, she remained tight-lipped about our past and showed even less interest in talking about the future. All she seemed to enjoy was sex. I didn’t want to lose her again. I wanted to see our son -hold him, touch him, feel him, play with him; I wanted to know how Marco was; I wanted my old life back. Given time, I knew I would thaw her. All I needed was time - and commitment.

  ‘I have a surprise for you,’ I said.

  ‘I hate surprises.’

  I took it out.

  ‘What is this? A cock ring?’ she asked.

  ‘No, silly,’ I said affectionately. ‘It’s a ring alright, but a more special kind. Can’t you guess what it is?’

  ‘What special kind? Come on, I told you I hate surprises.’

  Although I looked sturdy, I felt a sudden wave of nausea. It wasn’t hard to go down on my knees.

  ‘Lara, will you marry me - again? This time I won’t let you down.’

  There was so much more I had to say. I wanted to tell her how much I loved her, how I hadn’t known or believed in love until she entered my life, and how empty every moment was that I spent apart from her. I wanted her to know that I would be a better father to our son than I had been a husband to her.

  She didn’t respond for what seemed like an eternity.

  ‘Everything will be just like it used to be,’ I managed to say.

  I moved closer to her, feeling fainter and dizzier.

  ‘Get away from me, you freak,’ she said. ‘Oh heck, it’s my fault. What am I doing playing this silly game anyway?’

  It didn’t sound like Lara at all.

  ‘Lara, please…’

  ‘Enough already with this Lara nonsense, psycho,’ she said. ‘Who is she anyway?’

  What was happening? I began to shiver uncontrollably. The nausea came to the fore and I vomited all over the floor, clutching my stomach in pain. Strangely though, I didn’t move and remained standing right next to her, looking fit and healthy as ever.

  ‘I am not feeling well, Lara,’ I said. ‘I don’t know what’s happening.’

  ‘I am not Lara,’ she said.

  ‘But you are. Why are you saying that? You…’

  ‘Jesus, why am I even typing this nonsense? Listen, creep. I put together my image from the menu of skin tones, elements and clothes available on this website because the combination resembled a supermodel in a fancy Brazilian clothes catalogue I had recently seen. If I looked like her in real life, do you think I’d be wasting my time on this stupid online game?’

  ‘But…’ I suddenly felt exhausted and my eyes began to close of their own will.

  ‘I thought you were like a cute puppy dog initially. But I should have known you would turn all psycho on me,’ she said.

  Had it all been a lie then? But I had felt her presence. Could I have imagined it?

  ‘Did you really create this? Some job you’ve done here,’ she said. ‘It’s the greatest collection of nuts in the world.’

  The image on the screen wasn’t me, I thought suddenly. I was me, here in this… where was I?

  ‘It’s twisted in a cool way, though. But tell me, why would a brilliant guy like you behave like such a jerk?’

  Why indeed, I thought, as I regained consciousness and stared at the white ceiling of the bare, neat hospital room that I shared with four others. A plethora of tubes were connected to my body, and I felt heavy. But my head felt clear - or about as clear as could be expected after coming out of a major psychotic episode. I could recall every detail of the madness that had seized me over the past few weeks - but I had no idea why it had happened.

  ‘The nurse told me you are awake now.’ Someone had entered the room. I recognized him at once as the kind, acne-scarred volunteer who had interrupted me once during my psychosis.

  ‘How long…’ I began, and started coughing incessantly. I felt my torso under the covers - skin and bones, but nowhere as bad as it had been in Cambodia. The one benefit of screwing up so many times, I thought detachedly, was that no matter what you did, you’d probably done worse before.

  ‘Take it easy, man,’ said the volunteer who I had mistaken for alfred82. ‘You are suffering from severe starvation, fatigue and pneumonia. I checked your in date. You hadn’t left that room in four weeks.’

  An entire month, I thought with a sinking sensation; all the VC meetings must be long over. I hadn’t contacted Philip since the day I left. He had trusted me to the point of giving me his only computer and I had let him down. What would he be thinking? That I had run away and partnered with someone else so that I didn’t have to share the profits with him?

  ‘Jesus Christ! I don’t think I’ve seen a stranger thing,’ the volunteer said, shaking his head. ‘What was happening in that room? Were you working on that damn computer all the time? I’ve seen a crack addict saw off his little finger and a meth junkie give a blow job to sixteen men in a row for just one hit of a crack pipe, but I have never seen anything quite like this. What were you thinking?’

  I drew a blank myself. What had made me lose my sanity until I could no longer tell the difference between the virtual and the physical world? Everything had blurred together - real, virtual; fact, fiction; day, night - yet it had made sense. I had wanted it to make sense so badly that I had abandoned all rationality. Unconsciously, I had recreated Lara in minute detail from her skin tone to her wardrobe, and someone had combined these to create an image that I mistook for her. But I had wanted to make that mistake. I had become a pathetic addict of a game I had created myself. And what was worse, I had made Philip suffer - he must be shattered at the sabotage of his dream project. He would never trust anyone again.

  ‘The doctor says you are suffering from some kind of extreme post traumatic stress disorder because of severe psychological trauma in your past,’ said the volunteer. ‘But I don’t know all that fancy stuff. All I know is that you are lucky to be alive.’

  It would be so easy, I thought. Marco had once told me that it was easiest to kill someone in a hospital - all it required was an air bubble to enter the veins. I looked up at the catheter. Just a little pressure at the valve, and a bubble would enter my blood stream and choke me. But I knew I was too yellow to get even that right.

  ‘Are you okay, man?’ the volunteer asked. ‘Do you need something?’

  For what it was worth, Philip needed to know that despite my insanity, our idea had attracted hundreds of people. Maybe he could still do something with it.

  ‘Could you send this computer to an address, please?’ I managed to say between bouts of coughing that made
me double up in agony.

  ‘Gladly.’

  I wrote a brief note to Philip, explaining the additions I had made to the website since he had last seen it. I didn’t write an apology, nor mention my psychosis. Words weren’t sufficient to express how I felt, and I didn’t try.

  ‘I have no money to pay for the hospital,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ the volunteer said kindly. ‘It’s covered by the Goodwill Army and other charity donations to the shelter. As you can imagine, coming here is a regular occurrence for us - if not exactly in these circumstances.’

  What had I reduced myself to, I wondered. At forty, I was broke and homeless, addicted to a computer game like a five-year-old might be, feeding on the charity of good people born in far less privileged circumstances than I was. Would there be any end to my debasement? This time I couldn’t blame destiny, nor could I blame La Madrina or the Khmer Rouge. I had run out of people and situations to attribute my failures to.

  ‘Do you need anything else?’ he asked gently. ‘Otherwise I must hustle along. These days, I have to look out for guys with computers as much as guys with needles!’

  I looked at his smiling face. A life spent helping others, I thought. All I’d done was think of myself, and what a thorough job I had done of that! I looked at the catheter valve longingly. Just one turn, I thought. But no, I would try to die with courage -if not with dignity.

  ‘Would you please get me a phone?’ I managed to say.

  ‘At your service, Mr President.’ He laughed.

  He left the room while I stared blankly at the ceiling, and returned moments later with a phone.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I hope I get a chance to repay you in a different life.’

  He touched my hand. ‘Take care, brother,’ he said gently. He paused. ‘Shit happens. What looks like a series of unravelled threads from close is actually a pattern from a distance. Just give it time.’

  I had heard those words before but I was too distracted to remember where. All I could think about was the phone number Marco had forced me to commit to memory as a last resort. It was finally time to call him. I was left with nothing, and this time I had no desire to try and build anything. For everyone’s sake, I was better off dead than alive. I would gladly pay any price he demanded.