He closed his eyes to shut out the bright blinding white light but it was no use. The light was not in his eyes, it was in his mind and the walls of the tunnel still turned like some mixing machine and he ran as if some magnificent amount of slurry were being toppled and turned and should he slow for second, it might catch up on him and swallow him whole and so he ran and he tried to ignore the channel of laughter and repeated taunting that echoed about him and he ran, trying to keep with the small animal that was always just ahead of his crying voice and he ran.
He ran towards what he could not keep up with and he ran from, what he could not escape and then he heard the sounds of flights being called, numbers being read and then the sound of footsteps and marching that now paraded about his senses seemed all the more desperate and lated and they rushed about faster and with less restraint and less concern for whom they left behind and he felt as if they could crush him at any second but his heart kept beating and his tiny lungs pulled enough air to keep his engines turning and he ran, he ran so fast, but not fast enough.
“Live for today.”
“Gone tomorrow.”
“Hahahahaha.”
“Shut up” screamed Theodore.
“Live for tomorrow.”
“Gone today.”
“Hahahahaha.”
“Breathe Theodore.”
“Yes breathe.”
“Breathe in the air.”
“Live for today.”
“Gone is the air.”
“That’s me.”
“Hahahahaha.”
“Wait for me, please. Please don’t leave me” yelled Theodore.
“Live for today, gone tomorrow, that’s me, hahahahaha.”
“Breathe, breathe in the air.”
“Forget the sun.”
“Hahahahaha.”
“Live for today.”
“Forget the sun.”
“Gone for today, hahahahaha, that’s me.”
“I’m not here tomorrow.”
“Live for the sun, breathe tomorrow.”
“That’s me, hahahahaha.”
“Forget the sun”
“Dig that hole.”
“Live for today, gone tomorrow, that’s me, hahahahaha.”
“Get the sun.”
“Wait for me please” yelled Theodore.
“Run rabbit, run.”
“Forget the sun”
“Live for today, gone tomorrow, that’s me, hahahahaha.”
“Please” yelled Theodore.
“Run rabbit, run.”
“Hahahahaha.”
“Stop” Theodore screamed.
He stopped.
His paws were cut and bleeding.
His will was spent; defeating.
He lay his little bunny head down on the grey sand and the lights they all turned about him but they slowed and they slowed and the sounds of marching feet; late and delayed and rushing marching feet, they all slowed too and his heart, it, pounding so hard in his chest but it too slowed and the blinding bright white lights, they shunned away and his eyes could see the small animal just ahead of his fleeting voice and he had no shout left, he had no yell, he had no scream and he had no whisper, he had barely a look in his eye.
And the animal was he and it looked at him and it was he, looking at himself and he had no idea what he had wanted, why he had wanted himself to run and he had never any idea, in the entirety of his life, what he had ever wanted of himself.
Theodore had not a word to say, not to himself anyway. He just stared as his eyes heavied and his breath slowed and his consciousness waned. The animal he was chasing, the one staring at him, the rabbit, himself, scratched at an itch behind his ear.
Theodore closed his eyes.
His breath stopped.
Darkness became everything.
The rabbit, the other he, prepared to speak.
Theodore listened.
“It’s time” said he, unto himself.
TIME
“Wake up Theodore.”
“He’s a heavy sleeper.”
“Is he unconscious or sleeping?”
“Dip his paw in water.”
“Use a chime.”
“Yes, set the alarm, let’s have some fun.”
“Wake up hunny bunny, it’s me, Florence. Hunny?”
“Is he alive?”
“Well he is breathing.”
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
“Shake him.”
“Theodore, wake up, it’s time Theodore.”
“It’s not working; he’s in some kind of a trance or something.”
Theodore was slouched against the back of the door in which he had entered. His friends circled about him slapping his face and trying to return some colour to his pale expression. He was breathing and his eyes were ajar but his eyes looked like two dark spheres, staring off into nowhere and obvious of nothing happening around him.
“Should we call someone?”
“No. Just wait. I’ve seen him like this before. Just give it a minute or so. If need be we’ll sneak him back to quarters. Just give him some air.”
The rabbits all leaned in and started blowing air on his face while beside them; Florence fanned their efforts with a small piece of folded paper.
“I think it’s working, look his face is wrinkling. More, give him some more air.”
The rabbits all huffed and puffed and blew the warm musky tunnel air into Theodore’s face and with it carried the particles of dust swept up by their shuffling feet and the tiny bits of dust and moon granite; directed by the rabbits’ blowing breaths, filled the cracks in Theodore’s eyes, itching him into conscious frustration.
He scratched at his eye and he winced and he cursed, pushing his friends out of his way as he jumped back onto his hind legs and fought to free his sight from the swirling dust about his face.
“We have to go” shouted Theodore.
The other rabbits all looked at each other strangely.
“What are you talking about man?”
“Yeah, relax dude, chill ok? You’re freaking out is all.”
“You scared me Theodore. But you’re ok now. Must have been a stroke or something. Do you feel ok hunny bunny?”
Theodore stared into the eyes he had known for a decade and yet, it seemed like it was the first time he had ever seen himself looking back, in her reflection. And the look on his face was of pure suspension, of haggard disbelief and he wondered if this was how he had always seemed when he was adrift in the current of her attention; bedding in her affectionate detention.
“What happened man?” asked Rex.
Theodore looked at his friend Rex, a rabbit he had known since he was just a child. And he saw no youth in him whatsoever. And his other friends too, all of them looking over in strange wonder, they too looked so very old and so different to the sound of their voices.
“Did you take some bad acid man?”
Theodore looked at Rex with a riotous stare.
“How did you even get in here? Look at this place. What is it?” said Rex.
“It’s like a storage room or something” said another rabbit.
“There’s a tunnel” said Theodore.
“What tunnel?” asked Rex.
“There up ahead. I was just running through it.”
“I think you got some dust in your eye man, there aint no tunnel here. Look around.”
Theodore wiped his eyes and his eyes atoned with the darkness and he could see that the room was no bigger than his closet, just a square meter or two with four enclosing walls, a low roof, not a blinding bright white light in sight, no tunnel for him to have found himself sprinting, nothing, except for a few scratches in the grey moon granite where he sat.
“What were you doing here?”
“I just felt like it, I guess. Did you see anyone in here with me? Another rabbit? It looked like me? Did you see it?”
“It’s just you hunny bunny. I think we should get you home
.”
“I must not let them know I’m crazy” he thought.
He shook his back thoroughly sending more dust into the air and clearing his thoughts of the sound of chiming that was still ringing in his ears.
“What time is it?” he said.
“It’s the end of the day, come on, we’ll get you home” said Rex.
The rabbits opened the door and looked quickly down the hall to make sure there were no authorities patrolling to counter their sneaking about. As his friends walked up the hallway, Theodore looked back through the left door and into the room where he had been.
It was nothing like he had imagined it and everything like his friends told him that it was. The walls were close and claustrophobic and the room itself was darker than his own perceived imagination.
Where were the lights?
Where were the stampeding lated feet?
Where were the death machines and the sirens of their imminence?
Where was the small animal?
Where was he?
He closed the door and followed his friends along the hallway and out onto the train platforms. The terminal was abuzz with energy and zest and expectation and all of it hinged on so very little; a book to read, a movie to watch or somewhere to sit and drink away their idealistic wishing into a common slur of drunken accusation and unforeseen apology.
“Tonight is gonna be fantastic. Have you heard of these guys?” asked Rex.
“What are you talking about?”
“The Band. Man, what a name, what a band. You’re gonna love em. That’s what everyone is saying.”
“Listen I might give it a miss. I’m really tired. I think I’ll just kick around at home. Maybe I’ll write something.”
“A new song?” asked Rex enthusiastic.
“My book” said Theodore.
“Hey, good for you man. That’s great. I can’t wait to read your book man. How much have you got written so far?”
Theodore looked pestered by his care.
“It’s difficult. I start and then I start again and you know, I just want it to be perfect. I’m a perfectionist.”
“What’s it about?”
“I don’t know really. It’s hard to explain.”
“Wow, sounds great. Listen if you change your mind, we’ll be at the bar until around midnight. We can come and pick you up if you like.”
“What are you doing?” Theodore asked to Florence.
“I might go with them.”
“Ok.”
“Well, I’ll sit with you on until you get off, ok hunny bunny?”
“Fine” said Theodore.
The train pulled up and hundreds of rabbit all scampered aboard and they all climbed and scuttled over one another, some looking for someplace comfortable to curl up for a brief nap while others indulged in just another frisky encounter.
Theodore watched as Florence did just that, hopping away from him as he sat by the shaking door and joining a group of rabbits she knew from school that she hadn’t had sex with in years and she called out to Theodore inviting him to be a little more sociable but when he shrugged her off, she went back to catching up with her old friends.
“This is not what I imagined.”
Theodore was staring into the horned rabbits watching blandly as his lover sexed with an awesome sum of strangers and he felt both no desire to join her, no will to have it stopped or no irking for him to turn away. He felt like an incomplete sentence, without adjective, and of no admiring or telling context whatsoever and so he stared at rabbits doing what rabbits did and he thought nothing of it.
“What did you imagine?” asked Rex.
“I always thought something was gonna happen, something grand, something different. I’ve been waiting; my whole life, for something to happen. Haven’t you? I mean, do you feel grown up? Do you feel responsible? And what the hell is that supposed to feel like?”
“I dunno. I never really thought about it I guess.”
“Seriously. I’ve been waiting to feel different, not the way I‘ve always felt. I thought that when we finished school we would think different, that knowledge was something we could wear, like when you put on a jumper and you feel warm, you take it off and you feel cold so you know when you have it on and you feel good for having it on and you use it specifically in places where it pays to have it on, so you’re thankful that you have it and that too feels good. A warm jumper or a cozy blanket on freezing night are bliss. You can’t deny that you are wearing either of them but everything else, I mean, being a responsible rabbit, having a career, being successful, they don’t feel like anything. Do you remember when we started out?”
“I try not to, no. Man those days were tough. You shouldn’t think about that kind of stuff. Try to think positive. You’re a handsome rabbit; you’re dating a beautiful bunny, hell I can see you guys getting married one day you know, settling down, monogamous sex, children, secure investments, the works. You should be happy man, she’s a great catch. You think too much, that’s all. Have you seen The Guru lately? You should book an appointment, seriously. He has this great picture now of this sad bunny rabbit and she has all these real depressing words scribbled about her and it’s really thought provoking you know?”
Theodore looked right into his friend’s eyes and then through him. He wondered what words might be scrawled upon his belly should anyone dare to take a photo.
“We’re getting older and I’m still here, waiting. And the worst part is I have no idea what I’m waiting for. I felt like this when I was two and again when I was five and again when I was nine and still feel this way and I imagine that this is probably the type of thing you think about just before you die, that you’ve always felt like you were supposed to change, that something was supposed to happen and even though a lot of things happened, really, in the end, none of them actually did. I mean what do we do all day?”
“We burrow.”
“For what?”
“To get the sun.”
“How many years have we been burrowing? How many years have we been digging our paws into this blasted moon? What if there is no sun? What if we can’t dig through? Are you ok living your life in a tunnel, probably dying without knowing if the extent of your labour had worth or purpose? Doesn’t that concern you?”
“I don’t think about it Theodore. I burrow because that’s what I do. It’s what we do. We’re rabbits and rabbits burrow and we have a purpose. It’s enough to believe that there will be a sun on the other side. Do I think there is a sun? Of course there is, there has to be?”
“Why, Why does there have to be? Prove to me that there is.”
“Prove to me that there isn’t. This is hope, Theodore.”
“It sounds stupid to me.”
“Well if there’s no sun then why are you doing it? There has to be a light side of the moon. There has to be. I believe in it and I don’t care if you don’t. Look can we talk about something else?”
“The only thing that ever changes is the colour of my petals.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What were you doing in that room?”
Theodore’s desire to respond felt as small and empty as where he was found.
“Burrowing” he said.
“So you’re not coming to the show then?” asked Rex ending the debate.
Theodore looked at Rex with a tired expression.
“No” he said. “I won’t be going to the show.”
A small mangy rabbit hobbled up towards Theodore and Rex and stopped just shy of their kicking paws and he held out his own with his sad eyes sinking deeper than a pirate’s treasure, anchored towards his sad little paws that were all dirty and his claws, chipped and worn away.
“Please sirs, I am so hungry. I do not want your money, just a crumb or even; if you can spare it, the bits of food that catch in the corners of your mouths and in the joins of your teeth.”
It was amazing how a rabbit’s eyes could seem so la
rge and eclipsing when they were sad or feigning a great sadness and Theodore pushed his hands into his pockets and felt and heard the mashing of silver coins and there must have been some educated magnet inside his pants being controlled by his mind because as much as he felt some primal desire to help this starving rabbit, he couldn’t lift his hands from his pockets and he felt like he were dreaming as if he needed to scream but every time he opened his mouth, it would offer him no service.
And he felt exactly like this right now, having a burning desire to give and an educated recurrence to give not.
Theodore shook his head in some automated display as if he were shooing a fly or fending a wayward drunk; some vial pestilence or a physical and terminal threat. But this poor little rabbit was neither and the threat in itself was the feeling that he had deep down inside of him.
“We don’t have any money. Go away. Go on, get” shouted Rex.
Theodore’s hand clenched the coins and he imagined that he had the courage, should the small starving rabbit return, to pull the coins from his pocket and give them to the tiny beggar because that was what he wanted to do but it was not what he was capable of doing and so, as the small starving rabbit turned away and hobbled along the train looking for some congenial red eyes, Theodore followed him with his own sight and said nothing. He held onto the coins, promising to give them away should young and hungry rabbit simply turn in his direction. But he had no voice to call out to assist and so he imagined it had all been very different.
“You see, this is what I’ve been talking about all along. The government should be doing something about these poor rabbits. It’s not fair that they hobble around train by train with their big sad eyes and their grumbling bellies with their paws out begging for scraps and money. It’s not fair. I mean, I work hard for my money and they just have to sit around all day feeling sorry for themselves, blaming everyone else for their plight. And you know they’re just lazy. They don’t want responsibility. It’s easy to be poor. You just sit on your bum all day long with your hands in their air. Try working, doing something for a living, having something at stake. Everyone wants something for nothing. Don’t you think?”
Theodore said nothing.
He might have agreed on some learned principle but he couldn’t mouth a single word. He felt in every way, abstract. And so he clung to the coins in his pocket as if they were all that he had and all of the meaning he had every known were now scrunched in his little bunny hands and he wished he had the gall to just throw all of it away, but in no direction other than someone else’s face.
Dark Side of the Moon by C. Sean McGee Page 3
