“There’s only one. A man named Bob.”
“Well, he could slit your throat while you’re sleeping. And then where will you be. Dead! That’s where you’ll be. We’ll have to find a replacement.”
“I think I’m okay. I don’t see any marks or anything.”
“You don’t know what these people—”
“This person…”
“This person is capable of.”
“I need to go. I’m finished talking to you.”
“I’m the one who gives orders here! I’ll tell you when you need to go!”
“I’m not really in the situation to talk.”
“Are you in a hostile environment? Are you being held hostage? Do we need to send in reinforcements? Have you declared war on them yet?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No to everything.”
“I don’t know why they chose you for this mission. They should have chosen someone with a little intelligence. At least a little gumption. You’re a fat, bookish, good-for-nothing. I’m surprised you didn’t just sit at home all day on your fat ass and collect fat unemployment. I’m surprised you managed to fat your way out there. I’m surprised you’re still alive.”
“Sir, this is not very inspiring. It’s dispiriting and demoralizing.”
“I’ll tell you what it is… It’s… Fuck you, Dressing!”
“Have you been drinking?”
“Of course I’ve been drinking. I’m drunk off my ass. Do you think there’s anything else to do? Sitting around waiting for you to deliver some asinine sentence into my ear EVERY THREE FUCKING DAYS!”
“There just wasn’t anything to report. I lost track of time.”
“Then you’re not looking hard enough. We’re already behind schedule, Dressing. Well behind schedule. And I’ll be fucked by a communist if you think I’m going let you make me look like a fool to the rest of the military.”
“I really need to go. I’m tired. I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open. It’s been a very long day.”
“You will listen to your orders like a good little soldier. Understand?”
“Yes?”
“Good. Tomorrow, you are going to declare war on Grisnos.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“You don’t have a choice. Do you want to be court martialed?”
“I’m not even sure what that is.”
“Do you want to find out?”
“I guess not.”
“Tomorrow is war day, asshole. Got it?”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Can I go to sleep now?”
“Fine, Dressing, go to sleep. And if you’re murdered in your sleep, I’ll see to it that your body is shipped back and we will burn you in the Capital as an example of everything that’s wrong with this country.”
“Sounds good. Good night, Mr. Fetch.”
“It’s Sergeant Fetch!”
“Good night.”
I heard the clink of a bottle, a gulp, a stifled belch, and then silence.
Bob called from the other side of the fake house, “A good night’s sleep will make a lot of those voices come out of your head.”
I wished he was right.
Twenty-two
I slept much better than I thought I would. I awoke to the sound of Fetch’s bugling. He sounded slightly ill and I think he might have vomited afterward. I stood up and looked down at my bed. I noticed, written on the ground, the words: GEST BED in some kind of sloppy black lettering. I wondered if I should make the bed. It seemed rude not to. I quickly went through the motions of making the bed. I thought I would feel stupid but I didn’t. Somehow, since there wasn’t any utilitarian function attached to it, I didn’t mind it at all. I never made up my bed at home. Even straightening the covers before I lay down at night seemed like a chore. Probably because it was something I had to do if I wanted to be remotely warm while I slept. I could have not made this imaginary bed and it wouldn’t have made any difference at all. It was ceremony. Custom. Nothing more.
I walked toward the front of the fake house. I noticed the same scrawled labels all over the ground.
DOOR
WEST HALLWAY
KITSCHEN
TABEL
SEENK
COUNTER
WEST WINDO #1
WEST WINDO #2
FRONT DOOR
PORCH
This was where Bob sat in an imaginary chair, hovering over the word CHARE. He had his arms raised in front of him. It was a pose I was incredibly familiar with. He was reading a book. The book was nowhere to be seen.
“Good morning, Mr. Dressing.” He closed the imaginary book.
“Morning, Bob. Whatcha reading?”
“A book called Climax and Anti-Climax by the German philosopher Heinrich Bombast.”
I was hoping it would be something I had heard of.
“Any good?”
“It passes the time. The author makes some good points.”
“Such as?”
“He says that a climax can only occur on an internal level when something we do not expect to happen happens. On an external level—he calls it a diagrammatic level—any reader can find the climax in the action of a book. However, if this climax does not engage the reader on an internal—a felt level—then it is, in fact, an anti-climax. He also describes a diagrammatic plot and an internal plot.”
That reminded me why I didn’t read philosophy. “I’ll have to check it out sometime.”
“You can borrow this one.” He held the imaginary book out to me.
“Thanks.” I took the book and placed it in my back pocket. Bob looked confused. The book was probably way too big to fit back there. Or maybe he was just afraid I would bend it.
Now that my attention had turned away from the imaginary book, I got my first full look at Bob in the sunlight since I had seen him so many days ago. He didn’t look good. His lizard skin had passed the point of brown and now seemed more gray. He also looked incredibly emaciated, his skin hanging loosely from his bones.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Starved.”
“My wife had to take the children to school but she left us a large breakfast.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
He stood up from the imaginary chair and walked toward the house. I followed him.
In my ear, Fetch’s voice croaked, “You have to make him initiate the attack. Are you in any danger?”
“No.”
“Pardon?” Bob said.
I waved him off. “Just talking to myself.”
“What?” Fetch asked.
“No.”
“Then you need to make him attack you.”
I tried to ignore him but he just kept talking.
“Think you can do that, Dressing? We need him to attack you so we can make our move. I will expect a full report by nightfall.”
I fake sat at the table and ate the pretend food. Bob repeatedly asked me if it was good and I told him it was, better than home. I could make a pretend bed. I could discuss an imaginary book. But I could not enjoy imaginary food.
I followed Bob around for the rest of the day. When his invisible children came home from school, he became preoccupied so I went into the guest room to read Climax and Anti-Climax. At nightfall, I told him I had to go out and move my bowels. He told me that I could just use the restroom and I told him I preferred to go outside. I took my gun with me, showing him the bidet feature. He seemed enthused by it.
When I got far enough from his house, I sat down on the cooling ground, looked up at the beautiful night sky and marveled at the day drawing to a close. Grisnos, I had discovered, was not without its mysteries.
I wondered what would happen if I took the headset off.
They would know. And I didn’t want to think what would happen if they found me. It sounded like Fetch already had plans for me. If there was ever going to be a way out of this, it wasn’t going to be through lying.
I took a
deep breath and said, reluctantly, “Fetch.”
Twenty-three
“Fetch?”
He coughed and said, “I’m here! You have your report, private?”
“I have something.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“I don’t know what you’re expecting to hear.”
“The report!”
“Okay. Well, first of all, there’s nothing here. There’s a guy named Bob Weathers who welcomed me to Grisnos, so I guess that’s where I am. But I think he might be delusional or something. He looks like a lizard. There are no other people here but he pretends to talk to people. There aren’t any structures, just badly spelled words to represent the structures. There doesn’t even seem to be any food or water. I don’t even know how this guy is alive.”
“And this doesn’t seem suspicious to you?”
“Mysterious, maybe. I don’t know if I would use the word suspicious.”
“When you say there are badly spelled words everywhere, what do you mean?”
“I think they’re supposed to represent structures and things.”
“And things?”
“Yeah, like objects… Like beds and sinks and doors and things.”
“Have you seen him write any of these words?”
“No.”
“Have you seen what he could possibly be writing these words with?”
“No. I guess it could be blood or something.”
“Find out. Did you declare war on him?”
“Well…”
“Jesus to fuck, Dressing. I gave you one simple thing to do and you couldn’t even do it. Did you get him to attack you?”
“Not exactly.”
“You were supposed to get him to attack you and then declare war on him.”
“I don’t know what the point of that would be. We can’t just declare war on people because we don’t understand what they do.”
“That, my friend, is pinko commie bullshit. Exactly the type of thing I would expect to come out of your mouth. Do you want a court martial for disobeying orders? Is that what you want? Do you want to spend the last years of your life in a military prison?”
“Not exactly. Unless it has a library. I guess it would be all right if it had a library.”
“It does not have a library. I can’t believe you would be willing to give up your dignity to protect this freak.”
“I wouldn’t necessarily call him a freak. In many ways, I find what he’s doing admirable.”
“Admirable! Wasteful is more like it.”
“How so?”
“Look at all the land he’s wasting. That’s land that could be used. That land could be put to use to feed the world.”
“It’s a desert.”
“It could be rich in natural resources.”
“You mean oil.”
“No one hardly even uses oil anymore, dipshit.”
“Then I’m afraid I just don’t understand.”
“Understand this: Tomorrow, you will get him to give up Grisnos, allow us to assist him in nation building, or you get him to attack you and we declare war on him. Understood?”
I didn’t want to understand. I wished I was mentally deficient or something.
“Understood?!”
“Yes.”
“And find out what he’s using to write those stupid words.”
“Whatever.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. I didn’t want to say ‘bye’ and Fetch never signed off anyway. I stood up and began walking back to the house in the bright fullness of the moon.
Twenty-four
When I got back to the house, Bob was standing at the imaginary sink and going through the motions of washing dishes. Or maybe he was drying them. I wasn’t really sure. He looked different. As I drew closer to him, I saw that he was a bright, vibrant green.
He spotted me staring at him and turned his head. “You made it back okay.”
“Yep. You look different.”
He finished at the sink and turned around to face me. “How so?”
“You look greener. Healthier.”
“Must have been the dinner. Maybe we’re just happy to have company. Are you enjoying your stay?”
“Very much. You know, Bob, how would you like a whole lot of company?”
He looked confused. “I would love a lot of company. We have plenty of room.”
“Because I know some people who would like to come here and work.”
“Work? I couldn’t possibly let company work.”
“Actually, I’m working right now.”
“It certainly doesn’t look like you’re working. I haven’t made you do anything.”
“It’s like when a traveling salesman has to stay in a hotel in a distant city. While he’s not working working, he is still, technically, at work.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“I was sent here by my government to propose something to you.”
He began shaking his head. “What you’re talking about isn’t company. What you’re talking about is people coming in and tearing up the ground and using it. Putting me to work for them and stealing everything I have.”
“I’m sure you would be compensated generously.”
“I don’t need compensation. I have everything I need. This land. This is all I need. This is all my people need. What you’re talking about is theft.”
I wanted to tell him there were no people but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He seemed to really believe he had a family. He seemed to believe there were other people and families living in Grisnos.
I stood there staring at him. How could I tell him he was wrong? How did I know he was wrong? I wasn’t sure what I felt at that moment. It wasn’t pity. Maybe it was envy. He had belief, conviction. I lacked both of those. Maybe I should just tell him what would happen. Then he would think I was threatening him.
I lowered my head. I felt ashamed. “Bob, I respect you immensely, but I think I should tell you what will happen if you refuse.”
“I know what will happen.”
Did he? I wondered. It seemed impossible that he could know what would happen. Someone who lived so simply, so impossibly, could hardly fathom the horror that our modern military was capable of.
“I’m not sure you do, Bob. Think about your family. Your neighbors.”
“We have had wars before.”
“I don’t think you’ve had any wars like this.”
“Are we having a war?”
“Not until I declare it.”
“What’s stopping you, exactly?”
“I’m supposed to try and get you to attack me.”
In my ear, the crackling coughing voice of Fetch, in a hissing whisper: “Dressing, you’re coming very close to conspiring with the enemy. Treason is a crime.”
“And then you will declare war on me?”
“Not me, Bob. Not me.”
“But you’re part of it.”
“Not by choice.”
He scoffed. “Not by choice. You could tell them no.”
“Then they’ll just find someone else. I really think you should agree to their terms.”
An indiscernible look crossed his eyes. We were standing very close together at this point, something like manufactured animosity between us.
“Let me sleep on it tonight,” he said. “I’m tired of talking about it. I need to read the children’s bedtime stories. I’ll have an answer for you in the morning.”
“Bob? What is it you use to write all these words everywhere?”
He looked through me. Blinked. Took a deep breath and said, “I don’t see any words anywhere except in the book I gave you and the books in my library.”
“Good enough. Promise me you really will think about what I asked.”
“The Grisnosians do not lie. I will think about it.”
“Good night, Bob.”
“Good night, Mr. Dressing.”
Twenty-five
I awo
ke unable to breathe. It was dark. Even with my eyes open I couldn’t really see anything.
I tried to suck in a breath but couldn’t.
In the dim light of the moon and the stars I saw Bob astride my chest, his hands clasped around my throat. I tried to speak but I couldn’t. I tried to buck him off but he was a lot stronger than he looked. Behind him, the canopy of stars spread itself over the sky, flickering and cold. I kicked my legs but the exertion made me want to breathe even more. The stars began spinning. I clasped Bob’s forearms but my grip was very weak. The stars spun faster and faster. Spun and began fading like they were going down some sort of drain, headed into some kind of black hole. The only sound I could force from my throat was a dying squawk. Panicked, I thought about my headset. Surely Fetch would hear what was going on and send someone to help. I didn’t need to declare war. Bob had declared war on my throat. I tried to make eye contact. Plead with him with my eyes. They felt bulgy. His eyes were closed, either because he was deep in the throes of insanity or because he couldn’t look at what he was doing. The stars were finally sucked away completely and then there was only blackness and unconsciousness.
Twenty-six
I came to to a deafening rumble and deep reverberating shock. I covered my head and tried to stand up only to fall back down. I was lying in water. I stood up and looked around, trying to find the source of all the noise.
Muffled war sounds.
But where was I? I looked like I was underground. A narrow space. A muddy puddle drifting away into some kind of spring before disappearing into a crack in the wall. From above came the whistling of a bomb and then the impact when it hit the ground, jarring my vision. Dirt rained down from the ceiling and walls of the underground space.
I was thirsty.
I got down on my knees and scooped some of the water into my hands. It was cool. I slurped it up. It tasted a little earthy, but not bad. It tasted like spring water. Something that is strange at first but I eventually convinced myself it was probably the cleanest water I had had. City water, while mostly tasteless and odorless, is really just recycled sewage. I drank the water until my stomach began to ache and then I sat down with my back against the constantly vibrating wall.
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