In/Half

by Jasmin B. Frelih

  At the entrance to a tower block of fired brick he found what he was looking for. The right number with a sign that more or less matched the one on the card. First he knocked boldly, but the sound did not spread. He took a step back and looked around. Aluminium plates were welded over all of the windows. There was no bell, just a square grille over the speaker by the door. He noticed a sort of rope hanging from the ceiling. He looked at it up close and realised it was sewn together out of cat tails. He pulled the sleeve of his anorak over his hand and tugged it. Nothing.

  The speaker coughed.

  ‘Who is it?’ asked a computerized voice.

  Evan went closer so he could be heard through the mask.

  ‘Evan Z—here, I’m here for Mr Saito,’ he looked at the card. ‘For Lefkas Saito.’

  The speaker went silent. Evan’s shoulders tensed up as he waited. It was so close again, suddenly, that evasive feeling, that indescribable feeling. It can’t bear angles and edges, it hates language, and images as well… You’re either present within it, or

  ‘Password?’

  Astonished, he downplayed the alarm he felt and pulled himself together. Password? He closed his eyes and tried to repeat that conversation with Lefkas. mAk? What had he said? That he could, what, roll, drown, bathe in it? He looked at the business card again. Through the fog of glass it was hard to make out what was written there.

  ‘Habeas cor?’

  A hoarse laugh. The electric flap kicked free. Evan hurried inside. He found himself in a small room and felt anxious when the doors locked behind him. Utter darkness. The sound of sipping and the entry of light through a slot. It blinded him.

  ‘You can take it off,’ a man’s voice said.

  ‘That buzzer hasn’t rung in years,’ said Lefkas, as they climbed the stairs. ‘At first I didn’t even realize what it was. Were you waiting long?’ Evan inhaled the dry air and looked over the railing into the depths below. The staircase didn’t start at the ground floor, it went deeper. Flies were buzzing all around him.

  Lefkas was dressed in a dirty pink bathrobe, his hair was dishevelled and he was wearing slippers. Each step he took rattled the keys in his pocket. ‘Not at all,’ replied Evan. ‘It didn’t take long for me to find you.’

  ‘And what came over you? What made you come through the air?’ asked Lefkas.

  ‘Through the air?’

  ‘From outside.’

  ‘Is there some other way?’

  Lefkas smirked. ‘Perhaps.’

  Evan didn’t get the joke.

  ‘I’ve come for some mAk.’

  Lefkas stopped for a moment, but then moved on again with a quiet ‘aha’.

  ‘What is this place?’ asked Evan.

  ‘It’s my home.’

  ‘Home?’

  ‘Everyone has one.’

  Silence. Evan could hear a low roaring coming from the depths below that wrapped everything in a gentle vibration. When he grasped the railing, the vibration entered his bones. Evan exhaled loudly to shoo away a fly from his forehead. Lefkas looked at him and mumbled something indecipherable, something like ‘insects, yes’. When they were in front of the door to the flat, he turned to Evan.

  ‘Where’s your sponsor?’

  ‘Crashed.’

  ‘The replacement?’

  Evan nodded.

  ‘But do you know what happens when you go too long without?’ asked Lefkas.

  Evan looked up in surprise.

  ‘What do you mean, what happens? What’s supposed to happen?’

  Lefkas shook his head, gave a commiserating smile and turned the handle. They entered, but Evan didn’t stop.

  ‘Wait a sec. What did you mean by that, by if I go too long without? She crashed this morning…’

  Now it was Lefkas’s turn to be amazed. ‘A woman?’

  ‘A woman, yes. Koito something, a few hours ago, I don’t know. What time is it anyway? What happens if you go without?’

  The flat had seen better days. It looked uninhabited, except for a corner at the far end of a room where a lamp was shining over a stack of books. Orange foam was poking out of the innumerable holes in an armchair by a table. A carpet, grey and threadbare, showed the way through the hall. The eyes of strangers stared out at Evan from the photos hanging in cheap frames on the walls. None of them looked like Lefkas.

  ‘Shut the door, please. Quick. The flies.’

  Evan shut the door.

  ‘Tell me what happens.’

  ‘Nothing,’ replied Lefkas, to keep him quiet. ‘Forget I even mentioned it. It doesn’t concern you.’

  ‘How doesn’t it concern me? Didn’t you just say—’

  Lefkas interrupted him with a raised hand.

  ‘Believe me. You came here for a reason, so I’m not going to talk about time. We’re here. That’s everything.’

  Evan’s mouth still hung open but no more sound came out. Lefkas picked up what looked like a board, folded it into a chair and offered him a seat. When Evan sat down, Lefkas, quick as a cobra, jumped up, in one motion removed a slipper from a foot and used it to whack at the wall. A black smudge was all that remained. Evan was impressed. He praised Lefkas.

  ‘Ah, flies. Can’t live with them, it’s even worse without,’ said Lefkas darkly, his eyes on the quickly drying smudge.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Lefkas turned his gaze from the wall and looked a little dumbly at Evan, as if he wanted to apologize in advance for the stupidity of what he was about to tell him.

  ‘I bred them myself, up top, in the attic.’ Evan focused on the slipper Lefkas was still holding in his hand. ‘It was so quiet, and empty, and hollow.’ The smudge was crusty, dried, hard. ‘But I said to myself, I said, hey, at least there’ll be someone here, at least I’ll have somebody, no? Do you follow?’ Evan nodded. Thousands of stuck wings, feelers, octagons of eyes… ‘Now I get mad every day when they get on my nerves. But I can’t take the silence either. I get scared.’ Evan blanched.

  ‘Then what, what do you do here?’

  Lefkas dropped the slipper and put it on.

  ‘I proclaim the faith,’ said Lefkas.

  ‘That’s what you call it?’

  Lefkas slumped into the armchair and spread his arms.

  ‘It might seem funny to you. For you, mAk is a bit of a diversion, a joke, a thrill. Some little mind game, yes? You don’t have to defend yourself, I know how it is,’ he said as Evan hastened to object. ‘Just so you don’t think I’m judging you or anything. It’s completely legitimate, this. But do you know how many people out there are dead? Ever think about that? Masses of consciousness that suck the days through straws, or the days suck them. Loners. Good-for-nothings. Fools. Millions of them… With broken mirrors for company. Every minute they trip about in the shoals, every moment they want out, they want in, they want…’

  Evan felt his lungs constricting. He bent over to catch his breath.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked Lefkas.

  Evan had tears in his eyes. He nodded. He swallowed back a lump.

  ‘How should I know what they want?’ continued Lefkas. ‘For the world to have mercy on them? For them to have mercy on the world? I’ve been watching them all my life. I know them well. And mAk is a simple combination. It smears a little electricity over the brain and releases a few hormones: neurotrophins, oxytocin, vasopressin and so on. Like I said, nothing special. If you’re in love, the brain does it all by itself. But some people have never been in love. If you asked me, honestly, I’d have to say I’m doing charity work. I’m waking the dead, so to speak. Are you all right?’

  Evan’s throat was parched. He was desperately fighting back a tickle that would lead to a ceaseless coughing fit.

  ‘I’d like a glass of water,’ he croaked.

  Lefkas sprang up. ‘Where are my manners! Don’t be offended,’ he said on the way to the kitchen. ‘You can see I don’t get a lot of guests.’ He disappeared through the door. Evan was beginning to sweat. He th
rew the gas mask on the table and skimmed the spines of the books. They were unfamiliar to him.

  ‘Would you like some tea?’ he heard from among clanging pots. ‘No, water. Please, just water,’ replied Evan. He ran a hand over his stomach. He hadn’t eaten yet. ‘Do you have something I can munch on?’ he asked, and winced at his words.

  ‘To munch on?’

  ‘Do you happen to have some food? Sorry, but I haven’t eaten anything today…’

  Kitchen sounds. The sigh of the refrigerator opening. Tick-tock, tick-tock. Evan rubbed his fingers over his temples. He relaxed in expectation. He would once again feel. Again

  Lefkas tottered in with a glass in one hand and a plate of pancakes in the other.

  ‘I apologize. I hope they’re still ok. They’re left over from yesterday. Unfortunately I used up all the jam, and I’ve got nothing else to put in them.’

  Evan shrugged. He drained the glass in one go. He rolled a pancake. As he bit into it, he fell into a fountain.

  What doesn’t break. What doesn’t erase itself. What doesn’t end

  You’re moving through tough places. Sowing shadows. Counting letters. You’re hoping. You drop to your knees. Grass drenches. The bird is cleaning its wings with its beak. The cliff is screaming. You hammer a wedge into your back. You’re not blown away. You remain.

  you remain

  Lefkas’s face seemed very close. He held Evan in his lap like a helpless man. A tiny ad-hoc pietà. He was pouring black liquid into his mouth and Evan was drinking it. The cramp eased off. His limbs had spread out over the carpet.

  ‘I didn’t know, I didn’t know,’ repeated Lefkas between the pauses.

  ‘What didn’t you know?’ asked Evan. He sent encouraging signals to the muscles. Let’s go, guys, off to work. Chin up. Their male bodies grew aware of the delicacy of the situation and sought the most appropriate way of turning this into something ordinary. Evan picked himself up, shook out his trousers and smiled.

  ‘What didn’t you know?’ he repeated to Lefkas, who, pale, could finally breathe normally.

  ‘That bloody come-here-Mojca, you almost gave me a heart attack.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  Lefkas was kneeling down and catching his breath.

  ‘Nothing. As long as you’re ok. I didn’t know things were so critical. How long have you been without?’

  Evan couldn’t remember.

  ‘A day, two. Yesterday I had to drink something else.’

  Lefkas stood up, took a bag of powder from his pocket and offered it.

  ‘That will do you for a few days. Just keep it hidden from the sponsor. Let him go on taking care of you, and keep it for yourself.’

  Evan nodded.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Lefkas found himself in a predicament. He pulled his hair over his shoulder and quickly braided and unbraided it down around his stomach.

  ‘Well, I like to help, as I said, I raise the dead, as it were, but, in any case, you probably won’t be upset…’ Evan stared at him, while Lefkas was fidgeting. Finally he gathered his courage. ‘It’s not for free.’

  Evan trembled.

  ‘Of course not! Of course not! It’s never for free, and it shouldn’t be!’ he rifled furiously through his pockets, pulled out his wallet, grabbed a wad of banknotes and pressed them into Lefkas’s hand.

  Lefkas responded with a quiet that’s too much, but Evan wasn’t listening.

  Soon he was being carried around the room, looking at photographs and leafing through books, leisurely browsing through piles of paper that were lying on the floor, scrupulously ignoring the pancakes. Lefkas shook off his shame, stuffed the money into his pockets and, relaxed, monitored him, when Evan suddenly cried out, ‘Do we have a rehearsal?’

  He stroked his chin, shuddered at the pain, scratched between his legs, again staving off the pain, and leapt up.

  ‘I think I have a rehearsal, today. We open next week.’

  Lefkas whistled in admiration.

  ‘What time is it?’ asked Evan.

  ‘I’ve given up on time. There’s no clock in here. Going by feel, I’d say a little after noon.’

  ‘By feel…’ Evan tried out the phrase in his mouth. It felt a little short. He looked at Lefkas again.

  ‘I have to go back.’

  Lefkas smiled, ‘Of course, of course. I’ll show you a shortcut so you won’t go wandering off again. And you won’t need a mask.’

  Evan grabbed the mask and marvelled at it. He’d hung it up and forgotten about it.

  ‘Are we done here?’ he asked.

  He followed Lefkas and slid over the edges of the steps, down, down, down. Lower than the ground floor. The sound was growing louder. Evan could feel his teeth jumping in his mouth.

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘No one knows,’ replied Lefkas.

  ‘How’s that, no one knows?’

  ‘If you had the time, I’d show you.’

  ‘What? Why don’t you just tell me?’

  Before going on, Lefkas stopped for a second, as if he were pondering very weighty matters.

  ‘Down there, way down there, is a door of sorts without a handle and without hinges.’

  ‘Then how can it be a door?’

  ‘Well, I said it would be tough to explain.’

  Evan apologized and asked him to continue.

  ‘The door won’t open, ever. People have tried and tried. It’s impossible to open it. I have no idea how the door got there and since when it’s been there. Behind it there must be some who-knows-what making that endless racket. Some sort of a machine or a reactor, what do I know. If you put your hand on the door, it rattles every fibre in your body. But I wouldn’t exactly say it’s a bad feeling, it’s just so, you know, strong, you know, something you should experience just once in your life, but beware the second time. I don’t know if you’re following.’

  ‘I’m following.’

  Evan was following.

  ‘That’s more or less it, actually. I’m used to it now, just like I’m used to the flies. I’m not saying I’m not interested in what’s up with it, but we can’t know everything, right?’

  Evan was staring dreamily over the railing. The vibration felt good. He left his body and imagined he was there when Lefkas stopped.

  ‘Is that the door?’ Evan asked timidly. It looked perfectly normal.

  A doory door.

  ‘No, no,’ replied Lefkas, ‘this one takes you to the station. Just straight ahead, to the sign. You can’t miss it. There’s one every half hour.’

  ‘Just straight ahead and every half hour,’ repeated Evan.

  ‘Yes.’

  Lefkas grabbed the handle and opened the door. Evan saw something horrifying in a circle of light, he yelled, grabbed the handle and slammed the door shut.

  ‘What the hell was that?’

  Lefkas smiled.

  ‘Don’t be afraid, it’s just our birdman.’

  ‘Bird?’

  ‘Oh my, no, no. A man. His mother was employed in Okuma. Close to Fukushima. You know it?’

  Evan was horrified.

  ‘Oh Jesus.’

  ‘Yes. He spends entire days down here. Completely harmless, nothing to be afraid of. He says he only wants peace. And if anyone deserves it…’

  ‘What did you say? Birdman? Why do you call him that?’

  ‘Oh, sorry,’ Lefkas turned red. ‘It slipped out. I shouldn’t have said that. His name is Toto.’

  Evan hugged Lefkas. An astonished gasp. A squeeze. They parted. Looked at each other fondly. Threw a bowline across the rift and went their separate ways.

  Before his eyes adjusted to the darkness – it was hard to say where the blue light that cast twelve shadows on everything was coming from – he stood utterly still. The steam hissing from the pipes and the constant rhythm of the drops gave the place a stamp of heavy industry. A deserted mine shaft or just an abandoned underground line? Off in the distance, Toto’s grotesque form swayed. Evan coul
dn’t shake off his discomfort. He felt naked. Aside from his body he had nothing. He saw a metal rod on the floor between some flakes of steel and a pile of boards and snatched it up. Holding it in his fist, he marvelled at its coolness, at its vague intarsia, and felt much better. The tip was sharpened like a harpoon or a pike. He held it in front of him and let his shifted centre of gravity move him forward.

  It seemed that Toto hadn’t heard him approaching from behind.

  Evan’s stomach stirred. Pressure in the ears. He went right up to him.

  A round lump of naked flesh on two legs, with stunted growths in place of hands, like chicken wings. That’s probably why they called him birdman. He looked like those butchered, plucked and scrubbed chickens wrapped in plastic and sold in supermarkets. Wrinkled, slippery, hairless flesh. Evan couldn’t believe such a being could exist. A mino-gallus, a poultry-geist, a cockatoo-asterion! So many forms of this world… In spite of himself, he felt loathing. For that gloomy creature, for its mother, for its father, for the world that allowed such splitting of chromosomes, for the origin of all things. What a gaudy, paltry beast! Who let him in here? How did he get here? Why had he been born? He couldn’t fathom answers to the questions this unfortunate image stoked. His blood boiled. Commiserate, if you can. Commiserate? How? Who chooses between things that are and things that shouldn’t be? Each moment, penal sentences are carried out, in menstrual cramps and on the gallows, in orgasms and car crashes, in dreams, memories, on the plateaus of oblivion, through the word, through silence, through action, things are sparked into existence and things vanish, they manifest themselves, they glow, they disappear without a trace, and some things shriek in the quiet eternity of nothingness, far beyond our gazes… Who chooses? Who decides about all things? Evan raised the metal rod to finish him off.

  Toto turned around slowly and aimed his single eye at him. It wasn’t clear whether he had gauged Evan’s intentions. Between his legs a slit opened, emitting transparent slime that shone blue in the light.

  ‘What?’ he asked in a completely ordinary voice.

  The rage departed from Evan. He threw down the stick and put his hands on his hips. ‘Nothing,’ he wanted to say, but the word didn’t want to come out. They stood observing each other. Neither of them would ever know what it was like to be on the other side. They were fated to wonder, to stare, to remain silent. Fellow travellers of the image. Every what will be left hanging in the air. Evan put his hand on his chest and felt something quiet there.