by Zac Funstein
“It is,” said Basilio Leiva Figueroa bringing himself to what should have been his interest, absently watching the procession weave down the road.
“Upon my arrival in London, I was somewhat puzzled to see written over many undertakers premises, ‘Funerals performed', plus as strange as it may sound I quickly began to accept that it promised no more than what the tearless mourner is in the daily habit of doing. Do you like London?”
“I have always loved cities-always do. Of them all-Paris, Rome, New York I love sweet London by the Thames the most. Dear Londinium is the city of cities-the one most resilient to history. For the past are its foundations! In neither Zurich nor Buenos Aires do notoriety or success seem more easily in reach-nowhere are they more like quarks.”
“A quark-my god those again!”
“A fleeting random particle that neither exists nor does not exist; nowhere else can the spontaneous, the miraculous truly occur, not in Toronto or Ontario or anywhere here! But I digress-they are literally actors, who go through the motions with as much tact/gravity, as the one who form the procession at Juliet's funeral on the stage.”
“The procession at Juliet's funeral!”
“Shakespeare dear boy! The selfish citizens are too busy to pay the last mournful rites to their deceased; so, accordingly, pay others to impersonate them in following the remains of a father, mother, wife, or husband, to the grave. Every hour one of these mock funerals are to be seen proceeding along the streets of the Strand or Mayfair-go round the monopoly board at your leisure. Male/ female actors in this drama of mortality, follow in all the 'mimicry of grief’, enveloped in mourning cloaks, with handkerchiefs no doubt for the purpose of hiding 'the tears they do not shed’.”
“You are talking rubbish Jessen-it must be the grief that has got to you. We must apply ourselves even harder to finding the Schreiber attacker. It is what Nebay would have wanted.”
“When it comes down to threats of physical violence against people who are doing their jobs, that is something we can roundly condemn, but how can we find an invisible enemy like this?”
“I don’t know it concerns us too-we must be extra vigilant as if we are not enough Dennis.”
It was anticipated that Iñaqui Arroyo Garrido was hardly likely to be controversial since his work was little known-indeed considered if not controversial then certainly ‘out there’ as far as any relevance was concerned. Through his radical isolation, Garrido avoided the positioning in any mainstream discourse, however the criticism was that going off at an obtuse angle was a negative result. Indeed his premises were somewhat off the beaten track as if in acknowledgement of this.
A desolate barren neighborhood- an old automobile tire hung as a plaything outside the main entrance but it was surely a while since it was ever used for the elements had sought to perish it as much as possible so that now the rubber was old/ crumbling almost beyond recognition.
There had been a Garrido (a different one) at Jessen’s school who seemed to get on well until a student newspaper accused of him of ‘pyromaniac tendencies’. It had been in a school newsletter about graduating seniors ‘the ones most likely to succeed’. His personal-tutor had found it witty even incisive but the student had tried to sue the student-publishers for defamation.
“You must excuse the relative isolation Jessen but such for us is a luxury coming as I do from Swedish ‘service housing’.”
“I have never heard of these phenomena.”
“In Stockholm people have their own apartments, pleasant lounges balcony terraces but they have a common child-care center, baby nursery plus after school program. There was a shared laundry cleaning facility that my mother often gave thanks for. In Sweden there are great waiting lists for such.”
“You don’t miss such domestic support?”
“There was an incident I had to get away-that’s why I came to Canada. My mother was attacked by Germans in the utility-quadrant. ”
Trying not to sound like a counsellor Jessen enquired:
“Can you tell us a little more about this incident please-I sense it might be relevant without realizing why.”
“I saw some of my research published in a trade-magazine-work that I believed not only was sacrosanct but not to be used-stupidly I did not copyright the work. I went immediately to those concerned.”
“What reaction did you receive?”
“I shall never allow it to pass mention without a certain wry smirk. The secretary was mid phone conversation.”
‘What can I do for you Mr….?’ the official asked.
‘It’s Garrido if you must know. Iñaqui Arroyo Garrido’, I replied curtly, then gave over a copy of the scientific journal in which my research was openly flouted. ‘This article of mine has been openly plagiarized.’
‘I wouldn’t take it seriously if I was you,’ was her reply having lowered her glasses which hung on a decorative eyeglass chain with crystal beads strung on a super strong flexible steel cable.
‘Not seriously,’ I almost screamed.
I believe that as my insistence grew rigid-the secretary began to show a dread that was difficult to quantify-it was an expression I have not seen before or since.”
“Your ire was beginning to be realised by now I’m sure Iñaqui.”
“True-the phone was picked up-someone was engaged I could just detect their name-it was Knud Kristensen-who must have been this overt copier.’I need you here this minute now,’ was her conversations gist. ‘This is an emergency Mr.Kristensen -this individual is on the verge of becoming hostile’. Soon Knud came blustering in wearing a tie with stains on that hid his ugly obesity. God knows how many must have starved just so this slob could have these extra notches on his belt!”
“What happened then Iñaqui?”
“I got lead to a cinderbox cell almost-at least this is what it seemed like- which was painted with latex that had a window with the obligatory desk. Andy Warhol once said-you wouldn't believe the number of people who hang the electric chair painting in their offices, especially if the colour of the canvas matches the curtains well. Well here the drapes must have been the same because ‘Old Sparky’ was up there large as life.
Then Kristensen exclaimed apologetically in a timbre deep, loud, his manner displaying a kind of self-assertion which had nothing aggressive in it not even remotely. It seemed a necessity, it was directed apparently as much at himself as at anybody else I was sure.
‘Try to ignore the claustraphobia if you would. The windows of the Victorian room used before was large, plain as well as being disproportionate to the original (whose size they extended) but it was very cold-this is much warmer’.”
“There was something peculiar about this Iñaqui I can tell.”
“That peculiar heat like a bomber pilot O.D. uniform- the heated flying suit they called a IMH or ‘Iron-Maiden-Heater’. It was like a thin electric blanket, and kept a guy warm without the electricity turned on. There were even gloves that you could plug in at each duty station. They had a canvas cover with steel plates in to hold the warmth in. But I digress as always a fault of mine.
‘Now what’s this all about Iñaqui-you’ve got Mrs. Berthelsen in a tizzy,’ said Kristensen.
‘My research into left twisting thread-you’ve robbed it completely’, was my heated response.”
Jessen tried to bring matters to an entirely Schreiber culmination.
“Is that why you’ve invited us today-this LTT you mentioned in your e-mail?”
“Naturally but why mull over this when I can give you a practical demonstration.”
Directly in front of them was what appeared to be a long hallway leading off into the darkness. Jessen again guessed, from the orientation of the house as seen from the outside, that the opening to the left had to lead off into another room-just where was never ascertained-perhaps it was better not to know.
A countertop, sink, plus a refrigerator made up the majority of items it would seem, that is if one entered from the entrance
way from the left. There was another entranceway at the other end of this small enclosure, from behind the front steel shutters that led into an unspecified somewhere or other. Where this went was better left undetermined it was believed sure.
The mood was not a happy one-as if here might have been a hospice or somewhere they performed terrible operations on humans without anaesthetic. Indeed what Iñaqui came out with soon after seemed to support this assumption.
“This used to be one of the worst lead factories anywhere-there is a ghost here I am certain of a caster-who died of paralysis/colic we find powder everywhere sometimes-with no discernable source. Even before that this was a monastery-the abbot however was of lowly birth whilst the monks were noble-a fact for which they constantly reproached him-living in constant conflict until eventually they blinded him in the monastic dormitory with the consent of their kinsmen.”
“I have heard of lead factories around here it is true-using ‘Dutch’ or ‘stack’ lead to make buckles; Manitou custom forbade female employment in such activity so they moved. But we digress please continue.”
“This might seem irrelevant but be patient-I got into bullets when I was a child after finding one not realizing what it was in our old shed in a screw-top jar. Are they all totally imaginary, inspired by real people, or just an amalgam of the make-believe/ real I enquired of myself? The connection was made but I didn’t go deeper until older. I didn’t give it much concern until I saw a neighbour who belonged to a historical society firing into an iron pot with a musket. It spun round/round making a tinny sound until it stopped silent. This went on several times each time the ball went into the Phling into the giant pot-even when they used different muskets Phling-the same sound-that curiosity forced itself to be given vent to-I had to find out what they were.”
Stand tall someone once advised, breathe deeply, examine people squarely when you relate to them. Listen actively to the other party, try putting yourself in their position so that you have a better chance of seeking the solution.
“What has this got to do with the fabric data Garrido?”
“It's possible to tell something about the make of a gun from the type of cartridge case or bullet found. The direction of twist refers to the way the rifling gives a non-left or left-handed spin to the bullet when fired. Smith & Wesson guns have a finite number of lands that twist to the non-left, for example, a Colt revolver has almost the same that twist to the left. To get this determination, the analysts pull the casing away and examine how the lines of striation angle from base to tip, then they add up the number of marks around it. To say that any bullets are from the same gun, the land impressions must match both in number plus the angle of twist.”
“But there was no weaponry at the BC site.”
“True-but struck by the bullet twists I decided to investigate other phenomena. I had almost given up but then when a piece of clothing accidentally dropped into the view-finder I found.
the fabric follows the same rule of non-left twist or left deviation. Please allow us if you would.”
Words were the offspring of his deeds as always thus Garrido went over to a computer then pressed some keys-a slideshow began one slide after another so that eventually each slide filled the entire screen.
Garrido worked the remote control again all screens filled with a picture of a lavish Spanish-style home set amid beautiful, sprawling grounds.
“This is my holiday home in Cabo del Sol, Mr. Jessen.”
He pressed another key, the exterior shot switched to interior, rotating every second or so to a different room like a slide show.
“I like the decor. I admire your taste.”
“But that is not why we are here-are here we are.”
The slides change-it is a blown up piece of fabric enlarged several times there is a visible striation like a helter-skelter running around the outside “I just pray lawyers like Edvard Tobiassen make sure they hear the word pronounced before attempting to use it in court. This is what I call a gauche striation.” The slide-show clicks forward. “This is what I term a non-gauche striation. Editors develop an internal sense of how things will play on a larger scale I believe you will agree.”
“This phenomena exists on denim?”
Another enlarged image appears.
“There are variations naturally but yes depending upon the weave there are a clutch of these which can be determined all essentially based on these polarities-it’s like morse you can compose a language just with these.”
“Is there a registry of denim with these various corkscrew fabric?”
“That’s where Davorin Jurišić comes in. As an OAP I found him working the grounds on a chainsaw team-incredible! Davorin liked hanging out with younger men-his real talent was gone to waste. Are you familiar with group dynamics Jessen? Usually without fail, roles such as ‘the shy one’ or ‘the monopolizer’ emerge as you get to know the members of your group.”
“Silly power ‘-ism’ dynamics that play out I presume you’re implying.”
It is sensed there is more that an entire Pandoras-box might have been set in motion.
“It always seems to us at times as if there are moments of chaos! There is pandemonium then order is restored.”
“That’s it- you’ve done one I can tell-that’s enough. Originally from New Brunswick I noticed that Davorin was the official ‘fixer’ for the group. I liked his wit-his ability to see the ‘far-side’. When younger some computing had occupied him it was casually dropped into the fray-it seemed a unique combination of his talents to put him to recording the various deviations.”
“What was Jurišićh’s reaction to your request?”
“Positive I found! ‘Certainly many of the characteristics I'm struggling with now have been with us from a very young age – lack of confidence, low self-esteem. So here I am dealing with it, learning to live with it, confronting insecurities on a regular basis thanks to you Garrido,’ was his response.”
Suddenly it was as if everything was galvanized to a single purpose.
“Well not time like the present as they say-we should begin I suppose.”
Jessen expected Davorin to emerge unbidden from the nether-regions, as if the act of gazing into them brought him to the surface. The old man did not appear however.
“Yes somewhere here-found it!”
A briefcase once again clicks open. The sample is given over then (still in its wrapping) is put into position.
This image is juxtaposed with a deliberately mock grainy voice-over by Iñaqui commenting:
“The rendition of your computer screen will not be replicated when the image is blown up to many multiples of this size then projected on a screen, but if we reduce the enlargement slightly.”
When Iñaqui had set the image object on screen as desired, the print-key was pressed a pause occurred-eventually a satisfying whirring sound told a hard copy was being made. The photo is examined appreciatively from several angles.
“Shoot us down in flames but I believe what we have is called a ‘Kovačić Deviation’. Kovačić was an assistant that hung out with Davorin when we were doing the denim stuff-it’s quite rare. Here give this the once over Jessen!”
Lloyd Mahoney was from the Narragansett Indian Reservation originally but had relocated. It wasn’t so far down the coast from Rhode Island after all. A close friend of the sachem or sagamos (chief) Lloyd had been invited into The class to give the lowdown on his culture after the class showed interest in terminology like ‘papoose’ or ‘powow’ that had passed into general parlance. What was of significance was this was almost the last school session that Our concern spent before her terrible excursion.
Meeting in the local Indian Church that had kindly leant its facilities for the encounter, Lloyd cut a striking figure dressed as the educator was for another class where knowledge about his tribe was to be disseminated. If it seemed odd to be engaging with someone in full regalia although no mention was made. It was natural for Mahoney-this was
comfortable for him like for some wearing a suit/tie.
“I was very sad to hear about what happened-especially since we related briefly. Our lives touched now the student is dead-it’s terrible! Thats why I phoned you Mr. Jessen.”
“Someone did say that you seemed to get on. Can you re-run just what happened.”
“You mean from leaving base-’Avalon’ is our favourite nickname-we draw many comparisons between the Algonquian Native American vis-a-vis Arthurian legend-or just what happened in class?”
“From leaving Avalon-everything-sometimes the seeming extraneous can be important-as much as you can cram in.”
“We have a new outbuilding-but many of the elders aren’t happy with this there is a humming from the servers stored there. It used to be dead silent now there is this incessant buzz. We have an aphorism-warmth promotes vitality whilst cold/dryness are conducive to decay. The noise isn’t cacophonous but dry it is not a happy sound at all.”
“Skip the buzzing-move on.”
“I jumped into my Renault Grand Scenic-its ancient rusting but I can’t let the piece of scrap go. The rest you know from experience-throw safety-belt on, stomp on accelerator-dump clutch. Spinning wheels with vulcanized burning-I’ll jump the road-test. Then this guy drives past in a restricted zone-must be doing double the speed limit-must have watched too much of this stuff on TV. I would have liked to have followed him but had an appointment at the school. Is that okay Mr. Jessen so far?”
“Yeh you got to the school take it from there.”
“I met the caretaker-we had a bit of a chat and as usual Eric had us laughing like a helium cylinder left on with his dry observations on life. His heritage is Upper Chehalis-our tribes have always been close- so we have a lot in common-it was my great sadness we couldn’t continue. I went to the class-the rest as they say is history.”
“You were dressed as you are now in full regalia-where was our subject of interest?”
“Where-in the middle somewhere I guess? The class tutor gave a summary to the class in question of the presentation; they were called away however. I believe it was in this hiatus that we spoke but...”
