“Think about this: alright, so after everything that’s happened, like, we’re left with this tableau out there.” Tim gestured at the window, and William saw dusk settling over the plain. “That’s just a god damn symbol, man. A badge. ‘This is the horror of ignorance.’ And all that ignorance, believe me, it all fed on bullshit. Truth don’t matter when happiness is at stake.
“So all those flies. I did my research, man. You gotta hear this. All those flies, what’re they all about, you ask? Well, god damn, man, let me tell you. Took me a long time to figure this out, where they go during the day. That’s prime bullshit-eating time, man, turds steaming in the Sun. I know if I was a fly I’d be out during the day. More to see, y’know, more to do.
“But the thing is, these flies, I was down there on the plain for a month, tryin’ to learn ’em. Don’t remember when but I’d chase those swarms at dawn, find out where they go. They’ve got these tunnels they crawl into, small holes but there’s a whole warren underground. All these interlocking tunnels, man, and they’re digging more, deeper and deeper.
“That’s where it all connects! I figured all the bullshit of the world absorbed into the ground, down to the bedrock, man. That’s what drives the flies, you see? You gotta keep an eye on them, they’re tricky. Can come at you from anywhere. Nasty little fuckers. And they’ll bite. Eating bullshit all day and coming out at night to shit it all back up. Man, it’s the cycle of the Life in action. And you only need one god damn species to keep it going!
“But man, that tiger scared the shit out of me. You shoulda been there. I can’t remember ever moving faster than that. In a way it was fun. Something new, y’know. Hid out in this cellar for a while, but the liquor was gone when I left. So don’t you god damn spill your drink, man!”
William held his glass up to see the whiskey sparkle in the firelight. He had been taking sips throughout Tim’s rant to mask his discomfort, but when he had stopped trying to understand Tim, cheer had bubbled up within his breast. “You do not have to worry about the tiger anymore. I had to kill it. I hate how animals are designed to eat each other.”
Tim smacked his thigh. “Oh, man! I had already named it. ‘Herb,’ I named it. Big ol’ tiger named Herb. That made me laugh. Imagine if that fucker had heard what I named it. God damn tiger, man! At least I can go on another reclamation run, now. Find some more—”
“Other beasts roam the maze too.”
“A maze! That’s fuckin’ brilliant, man. Cities, fly warrens, they’re all just mazes! The pattern of their soul laid out to keep all foreigners lost. Doomed to wander through hostile territory…”
Tim lulled off for a moment. “Deep shit, man. You shoulda met this guy I was, I mean, y’know. Always saying words, but at the right place and the right time. That’s the trick. Words don’t mean shit without context. Anyone can say words, but they gotta fit into the setting to ring true. And when they ring, you just listen to them chime. And you sure struck a chime there, buddy.”
“I do not understand.”
Tim downed the rest of his glass and poured himself more whiskey. “Let’s start with the basics, man. Listen to yourself. What’s with these words? It’s the context, man. It’s you. You came up out of this god damn world. You seen things. Where you come from don’t matter, it’s where you been. Trace the shifting contexts, man. Things get better, things get worse. You learn new things. You might not like a lot of it, but it shaped you.
“What you gotta do, man, you gotta make yourself clay. That’s just the essence. Because you can shape yourself. Stay true to yourself, whatever that is. Don’t ask me, man, I dunno. Hard to judge.”
“I am my thoughts,” William said. “I sort through the information available to me to construct my path. I see two worlds, one outside and one in my mind.”
“Hold on, man, hold on. You think you ‘construct’ your path?”
“It’s a breadcrumb trail.”
“You’re on the right track. But who dropped the breadcrumbs?”
“My Father?”
“Your father, man, are you kidding me? What’s his name?”
“Do you know who I am?”
Tim leaned forward, a wild grin on his face. “You gonna tell me you’re someone famous? Really, after all this time, man, I can’t escape the drama. I guess you have a rich daddy, right?”
“He provides for my needs.”
“Hey, man, you didn’t happen to come here from another dimension? God damn, we were working on that. You know, before we were invaded. Shit. Knocked all the way down. I inherited this third dimension, piece of shit. So, you’re telling me Life still exists up there?”
“I don’t know. I think my Father is alone.”
Tim sighed. “I tried to do my duty. Guess this is my punishment for failing. The fly herder, who’d a thunk? Remember what I said: it’s all bullshit, man!”
Tim lapsed off into silence. William felt like his mind had been put through a grinder; he tried to straighten it out but it kept swirling with all these words that never seemed to connect with each other. Retreating from his mind, he sank into his sensorium and the world straightened out around him. He heard the creaking of the shack, felt the warmth of the fire and a breeze from the window. He twisted around in the chair to look out into the reddish darkness of night, feeling like Tim’s house was the only place in the whole Universe. “Won’t the flies come through the window?”
“Man, I told you,” Tim said. “They don’t come up the mountain. Know what that means? The mountain ain’t bullshit! The flies don’t lie, man. They don’t tell the truth either, but they don’t god damn lie! You take what you can get.”
William’s head went fuzzy, like his mind wanted to fly out of his body. The liquor went right through me… He stood up and took a step towards the door, stumbling on a bottle that rolled under the couch.
“Where you goin’, party boy?” Tim asked.
“I have to relieve myself.”
Tim hopped to his feet. “Hey, I got one better. Follow me.”
Tim led William to a door beside the oaken table and opened it on a darkened room, singing “Savages come in from the fray / wash the blood and dirt away” as he led the way through the gloom. Tim opened another door and flicked a switch to illuminate a totally white room with porcelain tiles and a claw-footed bathtub as the focal point. A toilet squatted in the corner and a sink was built into the wall beneath an oval mirror. Tim ushered William inside. I’m in an alien world. He felt like he was floating in the white glare, and a spark from his pseudomemories flashed through his mind with a feeling of nostalgia, of home. The best of humanity!
“Here you are!” Tim said. “You know how to use this stuff?”
William shook his head.
Tim pointed out the different objects. “You can piss in the toilet. And you should take a bath. No offense, man, but you stink. I’ve been suffocating this whole time, thought I was gonna asphyxiate. Imagine that. If you’re not here to kill me, then, well, you know how the faucet works? Two knobs: one hot, the other cold. Got some soap out, and there’s some towels under the sink. I hope you can figure the rest out. I gotta get some fresh air.”
Tim backed out of the bathroom, bumping into the doorframe as he went, and William closed the door. He stepped towards the toilet, trying to figure out how it worked; its seat was up, dried urine was splattered along its rim, and the bowl was stained brown up to the waterline. I’m supposed to urinate into water? That’s ridiculous! He shrugged and parted his cloak to relieve himself, shivering with greater pleasure than he had ever known.
William turned his attention to the bathtub next, pleased to find it in better condition than the toilet. Perching on its rim, he fiddled with the faucet and held his hand under the cold flow of water. The water swirled down the drain, so he cut off the flow, not wanting to waste any of it. How does Tim have so much water at his disposa
l? He saw a chain trailing out of the drain with a cork plug tethered to its end, so he sealed the drained and turned the water back on, twisting the knobs until the water temperature suited him.
While the bathtub filled up, William pulled off his cloak and tossed it into the corner. The bandage around his chest had turned brown with dried blood, but he decided to leave it on so he would not have to see the wounds, be reminded of his travails. He knelt down to take off his boots, setting them beside his cloak, then he climbed into the bathtub. The water clouded with dirt as he sat down, leaning back with a sigh. So many experiences! As water lapped over his chest, he fancied it was the first time he had been embraced. He leaned forward to turn off the faucet and eyed a dish perched at the edge of the tub, holding a bar of soap which was plastered with hair. How would that help me?
William lay back, closing his eyes as he submerged himself beneath the water, feeling like he was floating in the Void. If this bathroom represents a home, I suppose it should remind me of my home. In the absence of Light he had been fully Mind, having no grounds of reference for a physical world; but, in this bathroom, he floated in Light, losing himself in his body’s sensorium. This pleasure… the pain I endured to get here was worth it.
After a while, William opened his eyes and saw the skin of his fingertips had started contorting. Standing up, he splashed water across the floor as he stepped out of the bathtub. He glanced around the room a moment, feeling disoriented, but he remembered the towels were under the sink and sorted through them to find the one that was the least dirty. As he dried himself off, he scanned the room for any clean clothing and spotted a white robe hanging on the door.
When William finished toweling off, the mirror above the sink caught his attention. He saw a man looking back at him, his eyes widening as his grin turned slack-jawed. He glanced behind himself to make sure he was alone and he laughed. So that’s what I look like. This was a moment William would never forget—the first time he came to think of his body as something more than a vessel. His reflection defined him in another way. He saw the weight of his journey in his tanned face: a firm jawline sprouting a beard over his rounded chin and above his full lips, his gaunt cheeks framing a narrow nose, and a distance behind his brown eyes. As he stared into the mirror, he felt himself sliding into his own eyes; he forced himself to look away.
William pulled on the robe and tied its sash around his waist. I am a different person. Opening the bathroom door, he walked out through a cloud of steam and followed the firelight into the living room. He heard Tim snoring and found him stretched out on the couch, his face glowing with a sense of peace. William tip-toed past the dreamer and slouched down into his chair, leaning his head back against the cushion. Do I snore when I’m asleep?
NINETEEN
Disjointed images flashed through William’s dreams, showing a world concealed in Darkness; cracks opened in the firmament, Light flowing from them and spilling upon the land. He saw a factory with twin smokestacks perched on a distant ridge, puffing into the sky. A glowing wolf ran past him, its light trailing through the shadows, and he followed after it. He came upon a massive iron door, and its hinges squealed as it swung open to reveal a vast space. Within the factory, electricity flickered through the shadows, casting a glow that defined a mass of machinery spread across the floor. He heard a click and the machinery started rumbling. A conveyor belt started moving and a mouth-watering aroma filled the air as a battalion of pastries paraded across it. The muffins, doughnuts, croissants and sweet rolls started spilling over the end of the belt into a growing pile. He ran across the factory floor to snatch a pastry before it fell, but his hand grasped thin air.
William awoke, huddled in the armchair, and thought the aroma of baked goods had followed him from his dream. Sunlight streamed in through the window, suffusing the room with a warm glow, and he heard a bustle of activity in the kitchen. Artificial light spilled from its door and his mouth started watering as his nostrils traced the sumptuous aroma to its source. He stood up, stretching out cramped muscles before he shuffled across the living room and peaked into the kitchen. Tim had donned a red-and-white checkered apron this morning, and William watched as he withdrew a tray of muffins from the oven and carried it across the room.
Tim’s eyes lit up when he saw William standing in the doorway. “G’mornin’, old buddy. Don’t know why you slept in the chair. Personally, I would have chosen the bed.”
“What bed?” William asked.
“In the bedroom! Damn, man, do I have to spell everything out?”
“Then why did you sleep on the couch?”
“So you could have the bed!”
“You didn’t tell me that.”
Tim shrugged and muffins danced across the tray. When he got them under control, he set the tray on a plastic table that had been folded out under a window facing an unscarred sweep of the plains. “It’s all good. Who’m I to judge? But, man, do I have the worst hangover. Totally worth it! I don’t know who you are, but you don’t know how much I needed this. To show my thanks I decided to prepare a feast.” He returned to the stove, opposite the refrigerator, to stir a steaming skillet. “If you want fresh clothes, I’ve some lying around. You can hang the robe where you took it from.”
“Thank you.” William hesitated in the doorway. I need to use my words. “I slept very well. Thank you so much for everything.”
Tim looked over his shoulder at William. “Ain’t no problem. I’ve been waiting for a new player to wander by for so long, it’s the least I could do. By the by, I still haven’t heard your story. That can wait.” With a wave of his hand, he dismissed William from the kitchen and turned back to the bacon.
William paused in the living room. The daylight gave new definition to the mess in the living room: a broken door knob resting on a lump of dirty clothes, shards of ceramic and glass brushed against the wall, a heap of crumpled papers behind the chair, stained blankets and throw pillows strewn around the sitting area, and an overflowing garbage bag beneath the oaken table. Dirt speckled all of it, trailing from a pile of tools by door. He checked the clothing hanging over the furniture and found them as dirty as the rest of the room. The bedroom.
William stepped into the room he had passed through the previous night. A gloom hung in the air, pierced by slots of light filtered through blinds, which fell upon an oak-framed bed and a jumble of blankets. I wish Tim had told me last night. He rubbed his neck as he sorted through the clothing that littered the floor, finding them all stained with dirt and sweat.
William found a wardrobe hulking in the shadows, so he went to the blinds and found out how to let more sunlight in through trial and error. He found images of suns and moons engraved in the wardrobe’s doors, and when he pulled them open, he saw a rack stretched across a knotted backboard. Most of the clothes within were mounded on the floorboard, so he pulled the doors further open to see into the corners. An all-white outfit hung at the end of the rack, which he yanked off their hangers; he sniffed the fabric: dusty but relatively odorless and smooth to his touch. He disrobed and pulled on the loose shirt, finding a seven-star constellation imprinted across the chest in gold, and the trousers, pulling its strings to tighten the waist. Stepping in the bathroom to relieve himself, he paused before the mirror. No longer the garb of a traveler. Have I arrived at my destination?
William returned to the kitchen and the mouth-watering aroma, finding the table set and piled with platters of pastries, bacon, sausage and fruit. Tim laughed when he saw him. “That’s what you go with?”
“Everything else is dirty,” William returned.
“That’s just the world we live in, man. You need some perspective! But never mind that, what do you want to drink?” Tim cracked open the refrigerator and peered inside. “I’m having beer, but I also have some wine or I could crack the liquor.”
“A cup of water would be fine.”
“Suit yourself.
I always found beer to be the best cure for a hangover, though.”
“I’m just thirsty.”
Tim sighed and walked over to the sink, filling a glass with water, and he cracked open the refrigerator to grab a beer before returning to the table. He took a seat in a dinted, metal chair and picked up a fork, stabbing it into a sausage. “Let’s eat!”
William took the seat across from him as Tim loaded his plate with bacon, sausage and pastries. He set into his breakfast like a man starving and William started filling his plate. As he took a bite of a blueberry muffin, he nearly fell out of his chair from shock. He had never known such heavenly taste existed, each bite a new joy, a sugar rush. After he finished the muffin he mowed through the bacon and sausage, sating his thirst with a few strawberries before turning on a biscuit buttered with cream. His tastebuds somersaulted with enthusiasm and he was loath to take a sip of water, but such was necessity. The feast continued for half an hour: not a word wasted through full mouths.
When William felt his stomach start to bulge, he had to call it quits. He pushed his plate away and drained his cup as Tim finished a muffin in one bite, crumbs falling to his shirt. He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his beer. “Man, that really hit the spot. What you say, ready for story time? Sure you don’t want a beer?”
“Is it like rum?”
“Nah. It’s refreshing, man. C’mon, I’m expecting a good story!”
“Since you insist.”
Tim drained the rest of his beer and slammed the bottle down on the table, then he retrieved two more bottles from the refrigerator. He motioned for William to follow him into the living room. “Let’s get comfortable before you start.”
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