He had a life of happy memories. Where were they now? He would be more than content to be stuck in any one of those thousand realities; reliving his highlights like the music countdowns the kids listened to: A top forty of my life, he thought.
Why not? Saul was not sure why it had not occurred to him before; he conceived that this was down to the doctors. Being told something from such a credible source could do that to someone: make them believe in the conclusion without researching the method and finding their own results. Perhaps it could be controlled in the same way he had controlled his nightmares and memories? Had he not trained his mind before? Had he not forced his will upon his very being? If he concentrated hard enough he was sure he could substitute one memory for another. He just needed to know the trigger. The problem so far had been that the hallucinations had snuck up on him and he was not even conscience of their existence until they had passed. Every process has a beginning, he thought and if he could train himself to recongnise it then it could be controlled just like the nightmares. He just needed to pay attention to the signs; direct his innate skills of observation towards himself. He knew from experience that this would be no easy task. It may take months, as it had done before but he was prepared for the fight. He could beat this yet.
I did it before and I can do it again!
It was with this sense of triumph that he turned to face the funeral only to see that it was over and the mourners were already making their way towards the parked cars. He noticed the two police officers among them and ignoring the strange look on their faces he made to cut off Edna before she got to her car. They were probably just surprised to see him there. He had told them that a Cohen does not go to a funeral, which was true, but Isaac was as good as family.
Edna spotted him and diverted her course to meet him. Her waddle almost had him smiling but he caught himself in time. They stopped short of handshaking distance abruptly aware that they had never liked each other. Isaac was all they had in common and now he was dead Saul felt strange meeting her alone. In actuality Saul did not know if she reciprocated his feelings towards her, but he had always assumed that people could tell – like he could- when they were disliked. Looking at her now he felt that such subtlety of awareness might be beyond her: she had always been so garish and forthright in attitude. He decided not to credit her with the same level of intelligence as himself and proceed along that basis until she proved him wrong. He needed to know what she knew so it was up to him to break the silence. For a beat he did not know how. He wanted to be direct and spare himself any prolonged dealings with the woman but with the police around he felt self-conscious. What if they knew more than they let on? In the end he opted for the line he had heard so often on television funerals and was instantly disgusted with himself for opting for the meaningless fill phrase.
‘I’m sorry, Edna.’
‘Thank you. He always talked fondly of you.’ She had retorted with her own platitude and Saul wondered if he had underestimated her. The police officers kept a discrete distance but it was obvious they were watching. For the life of him Saul could not remember their names.
‘I’d like to come by if I may. Are you having a Shiva?’
‘Yes, but only three days.’ She looked like she wanted to say something, but then half turned to look to see if the police officers were still there and then thought better of it.
‘In three days then,’ said Saul following her gaze. The chimney really start to spout a thin trail of smoke at this point, unsettling Saul who had to force himself to look away and engage Edna once more.
‘Good bye,’ was all he could manage. He turned and left hurriedly without shaking her hand or kissing her cheek and not trusting himself to look at the smoking chimney.
In the background Steffan and Torsten watched with bemusement as Saul sped away.
THIRSTY.
CHAPTER 10
Thirsty.
Why don’t they give us water? What kinds of workers don’t need water?
Or toilets?
Rattle, rattle.
Thirsty.
Ice. Snow. Winter.
Milk.
Or seats?
Where are the cows?
Rattle, rattle.
Maybe I could lick his sweat?
Salty.
What?
We are the cows.
At least I can’t fall.
Stop crying. Dead is dead.
Don’t fall. A breeze.
Don’t smell like them.
Drink.
That’s the shit.
Rain. We need it to rain. Maybe the roof leaks.
Scream. Don’t scream.
Not the dead. It’s the shit and the dead.
The wind. Water.
Scream.
Rattle stop.
Breeze.
Squeeze.
Go, go!
Drink.
Legs move.
Run.
CHAPTER 11
RUN.
Saul ran out of the crowded U-Bahn carriage just as the doors shut behind him. He watched as the train disappeared down the tunnel; waited for him to return properly, feeling the gravity welling up inside him and remaining absolutely still. An old man cogitating.
This time he had brought something back with him. He could still smell the excrement and death of the transportation carriage. He could still feel the warmth of his fellow passengers against his body and even though he was alone on the platform Saul felt hemmed in. He even felt the thirst that had killed so many of them, he tongue swollen and fat in his mouth.
By the time the next train had come and gone and the disembarking passengers had shuffled around the catatonic old man he was back and realised he was still short of his home stop of Charlottenburg: four more stops. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t trust himself and with every step he took towards the exit his anger grew. He had not seen it coming. There had been no sign and no warning that he could discern. The elation that he felt at the cemetery deserted him. What if there was no control? He would be at the mercy of his past.
Saul glanced down the empty platform and noticed the man who was staring at him; as soon as their eyes met the man looked away and a few moments later, surreptitiously looked back in Saul’s direction only to find Saul still staring at him. He wore a dark suit and glasses. The suit looked new and so did his black shoes. This was too smart for Berlin – an inherently casual city - and by his sallow skin Saul took him for a foreigner. There was hunger in his eyes that wanted to absorb his environment, far too mature and experienced for his thirty odd years. Another police officer?
Not dressed like that.
He was at the funeral! One of the mourners: Saul could distinctly place him now. He was following me and that’s why I ran, thought Saul. But what was he waiting for? His question was answered when the man started towards him and Saul realised they were the only people on the platform.
Saul moved. Not fast, but not slow either. He had to find a crowd; he could be safe in a crowd. He knew from films that murderers often returned to the scene of the crime or went to the funeral of their victims but faced with the reality he could hardly believe it. Wasn’t that something that cheap filmmakers did to save money? A quick glance behind him confirmed the man was still following.
Saul reached the stairs and made his way up. Hearing a train approaching from the opposite platform he rapidly changed his mind and decided to make for the train and seek the safety of other commuters. Backtracking down the steps brought him closer to the stranger but Saul calculated he could make it in time.
The train pulled into the station just as Saul stepped onto the platform. The sharp gust of wind taking his breath away for a second. He relaxed slightly when he noticed there were plenty of passengers waiting to get on the train. The first part of the job had been completed. Now for phase two.
Saul increased his pace and could feel that his pursuer had done likewise. The train doors opened and peop
le started to disembark and embark. Waiting for a gap and until he was surrounded by his fellow commuters Saul darted onto a carriage, hoping that the man had not seen him. He looked and waited, in a few seconds the doors would close and he would be safe. Saul caught a glimpse of the smart suit out on the platform and watched in horror as the man joined him on the train.
Both slightly out of breath they observed each other brazenly for there was no need to disguise anything anymore. The man fixed Saul with determination and anger; however, Saul was surprised to find that he himself was calm. Out of breath and excited to be sure but during the whole process there had been purpose to his every action and a clarity of thought he had not experienced before; it was almost as if he had been trained for this and knew what to expect and how to counter: the fallback plan came easily to him. As the doors closed Saul ran back out onto the platform and turned sharply one hundred and eighty degrees to face the man and the closing doors. As he expected the man was also trying to follow and was at the moment prising the doors open. Saul punched the man hard in the face. The man let out a scream, fell backwards and grabbed his nose. As the doors closed and the train pulled away Saul could see blood seeping from between the mans hands. He turned to see the other passengers looking at him in a state of shock.
Walking to the exit, the adrenalin was replaced by fatigue and he could feel the shakes would not be far behind. Saul headed straight to the waiting taxis and got into the first one, asking the driver to take him to the pharmacy. Sitting in the cab he felt the pain in his fist that would trouble him for days to come.
His time traveling had almost cost him his life. He wanted the pills more than ever now: a panacea providing him the necessary tools of awareness, allowing him to buffer the experience – not hallucination- control it, predict it and give him time to complete his mission.
Having abandoned God forty years ago (or was it the other way round?). Saul presently wondered if it was too late to embrace Him again. This was not just. He had suffered then and God let it happen – to them all - and God was letting it happen to him once more. Why should he have to go through it all again as a weak old man? Was there something he had missed, something he had not understood from before? The Rabbi had said that no man could understand God’s plan, but there was a plan and Saul should take comfort in that. Suffering was central to faith but why not paradise here and now? Saul felt that men needed that suffering, it confirmed something deep and primordial in them. They needed to know that there was something better, something more powerful that could explain their toils and provide a reason for the struggle. Man opened up to God, bore his soul and prayed for a better hereafter; but God showed nothing, holding his cards tight to his chest and maintaining the ultimate poker face. If it were true that God was some omnipresent being able to create and destroy at will, how would this all powerful being know right from wrong, fair from unfair? Surely any action He took was simply that. To a Stoic it did not matter if there were Gods or not and this appealed to Saul. In that moment he decided and refused to be one of those weak old men who found religion in their old age in a desperate attempt to get into heaven at the last moment. Perhaps that is what God wanted: to see us crumble and claim the victory.
Not me. I got this far without you and I will manage the rest.
#
A gaunt pharmacist with sharp nose took his prescription and stepped into the back room returning a few moments later with the box of drugs the generic name of which is Piracetam. This box had a friendly purple stripe down the side and the name: COTROPIC printed down the side. Saul opened the box and looked at the large pale green pills.
‘One pill three times a day,’ said the sharp-nosed man pushing his glasses up.
‘I know.’ Saul still felt belligerent.
‘Will there be anything else, sir?’
Saul would have shouted his reply had a new thought not occurred to him.
‘I’d like a tin of mints.’
The pharmacist picked up a packet of mints and was about to pop them into the paper bag when-
‘I said I want a tin of mints. That’s not a tin of mints.’
‘Excuse me, sir,’ said the pharmacist giving him a fake apologetic smile. He made a show of having to take two steps to find a tin of mints and then holding them up for Saul to inspect. ‘Will these do?’
‘It’s what I asked for, isn’t it?’
Saul took possession of the bag and paid the man in silence and left.
‘Have a good day,’ said the pharmacist to Saul’s back.
The guilt hit Saul thick and fast. Why was he being mean to this man? Saul took a breath and turned back.
‘You too. Thank you.’
He found what he was looking for almost directly outside the shop. Taking the tin and medication in one hand he binned the paper bag, then opening the tin of mints he binned them too and put the tin in his jacket pocket. He then opened the Cotropic, ejected a pill through its foil compartment and dry swallowed it. The pill went down smoothly and left a bitter taste in his mouth. He made a mental note to take it with juice or milk next time and then smiled to himself as he realised the ridiculousness of the act of him making mental notes.
He needed to make a list of vital things: telephone numbers, addresses, names of people and who they were to him.
Have I thought this already?
Maybe the list is already written and is in my pocket? Of course, if he had written such a list he would need to remember where it was and what it meant when he read it. He once watched a television show on the problem of nuclear waste disposal. The scientists were explaining the problems they faced when it came to ensuring that people thousands of years from now would not accidentally open a canister of hazardous material. How do you label a container that would be easily understood by cultures that did not yet exist, that may not speak or understand the languages prevalent today? The design of such containers was indeed something that had never occurred to him before but standing there in the street he pondered the same problem. In the end the scientists had decided in favour of symbols that all intelligent people of the future would understand - they thought/they hoped - as danger. Saul had seen the folly in this too as plenty of cultures had worshiped death and skulls in the past and might interpret the designs as simply a pretty picture or a message from a future God. It dawned on him that in his case the cheat sheet would be more useful to others:
My name is:
I live at:
My telephone number is:
My wife is called:
If found please take me home or call the police. A reward will be paid.
He would be like a lost child. Nevertheless, he resolved to write such a list, if indeed it did not already exist. He should probably make copies so that he could put it in all of his jacket and trouser pockets. He refused point blank to search his pockets immediately as he did not want to find any physical evidence of his deterioration. He would let the drug build up in his system first.
Saul removed the empty tin from his pocket and ejected the rest of the pills into the container.
Dink, dink, dink, dink…and then discarded the Cotropic box too.
Rattle, rattle.
There was something there. Something in that rattle that disturbed Saul. He shook the tin again. It rattled but it was not the rattle of pills in a tin: the sound was more earthy than that, heavier and duller.
The Earth.
The tin, now warm to the touch felt familiar too. As he looked at it the tin seemed to age. He could feel the dents and see the faded letters and the scratched colours. It had been well loved and obviously filled and refilled many times over the years and in it lay the molecules of everything it had ever carried and the particles of everyone who had ever carried it. Saul could smell it all: a history of mints, snuff, toys, olives, pencils, coins, scraps of old paper and something else. He knew that smell too, but could not name it.
Before he closed the tin he decided
to dry swallow a pill to start the process off: Bitter. He would take it with milk or juice next time.
#
By the time Saul arrived home his mood had failed to dissipate and he was glad to have the place to himself. He would have time to compose himself before the circus arrived. Hence, he decided to try the only thing that seemed to elevate him lately: music. It would also give him a chance to play with his new gadget.
Entering the living room Saul was irritated to find that he was in fact not alone: Aaron was lounging on the sofa with his shoes on, deeply engrossed in a copy of Mad. When would he grow up? Saul made his way to the CD player and picked up a Nina Simone disk.
‘You mind if I listen?’ said Saul.
Saul took Aaron’s silence for a ‘yes’. He turned the player on and opened the disk compartment. The problem was he could not open the CD case: try as he might he seemed unable to find an opening and his thoughts turned to smashing the damn thing open.
‘How do you open this thing?’
Nothing from his attentive son.
‘Aaron!’
Aaron lowered his magazine and Saul saw that he was simultaneously listening to his Walkman. Naturally. Aaron removed his headphones and Saul made out the faint tinny sounds of electronic music.
‘Hi, Papa.’
‘You’ll go deaf.’ He tossed the CD case to his son. ‘I can’t open this.’
Aaron caught the case, opened it and offered it back to his father; the whole process took about two seconds and Saul tried to tame the aggression that pumped through him by moderating his reply.
The White House Page 8
