by Lee Kerr
I realised some time ago, on one of our many trips here, that I don’t think of him as just a creation, delicately forged from solid marble with the most basic of tools. I’m amazed by what Michelangelo created but I’m also in awe of David and all of his perfection. I don’t stare at him in some perverted way, although I like what I see more than I care to admit. I wonder if he was actually real, and if so, if he really looked like the god towering above me, or if he was simply a creation of the mind? The detail is captured so perfectly that I can’t imagine him not existing, not being a real, flawless specimen of a man. I wonder if he realised that he was not just being copied and carved, but also immortalised, and that his image would live for far longer than his physical being, that he would be appreciated by many millions for hundreds, or possibly thousands, of years.
The odd person moves past me as I sit and reflect, but I’m too busy tracing every curve on his body to notice anyone. I’m not really here anymore; I’m in Michelangelo’s workshop, observing his absolute dedication, watching hammer and chisel in the hands of an expert, carefully bringing this marvel to life. We will never know how much his work was truly understood or appreciated in his time, but the one thing I do know is that he had a sense of purpose, even if only for a short while. I feel entirely confident that he created more in a year than I have created in my lifetime, and he had so many things to call his own.
By contrast, I have nothing. I have no skill, no purpose and no right to be here. I have wasted my life until it has become truly pointless. I don’t want to fill it with endless distractions. I know enough to realise that this kind of existence isn’t enough for me, but I don’t know how to change it. I have these thoughts often, and with more intensity over the past few years, to the point where escape has become the only option; the unthinkable gradually becoming the answer.
I feel the presence of someone else near to me. It’s enough to break me out of my thoughts but not enough to make me look. I know it’s not Mike and I know they will go away soon. People never stay in this bit for long; it’s almost as though they feel it’s wrong to linger here. I have more time and I know that I can have this small bench to myself for as long as I want it. I soon sense the person moving, but they don’t seem to be leaving, as they shuffle closer towards me instead. I take a deep breath and sigh, wanting them to know what I’m thinking: my irritation that they have chosen to sit so near, even though there are so few people in here. They keep coming closer until they are next to me and I’m about to turn so that I can tell the beggar, the ticket tout or whoever they are that there is plenty of room for both of us.
‘This is a funny place to visit when you should be dead,’ this voice says. I don’t recognise it but I know that this question can only refer to one thing, and I feel a horror building in the depths of my stomach. I turn to see who is sitting next to me, to confirm that it cannot possibly be who I think it is, not here and not now. I look at his head, the rest of him unknown to me, but the moment I see his face I know it’s him. I take him all in, desperately trying to prove that I’m wrong, but everything I see confirms the unthinkable. I see his balding head, his beady eyes and his thick beard with the grey patch just above his chin. I shake my head, not knowing how this is possible and not wanting it to be happening. I have never met him but have seen him online, so real but still far away, and now he is sitting next to me. I only know that his name is Vance, if he was honest about that.
I stare at him and he stares back at me, as I try to remember when we last chatted. I think it was no more than a week ago but I’m not sure any amount of time will make a difference. Despite my intentions, he was always genuine about himself and the others. It put me at ease, made me feel like it was right, but now I don’t want any part of it. I made agreements that cannot easily be broken, and now he has found me; he knew where I was and now he has tracked me down.
‘I have changed my mind,’ I say, flatly, as if it’s as easy as that. It’s like when you get to a checkout and decide you don’t something that’s in your basket – you put it down; maybe the boldest of us hand it back and make it someone else’s problem.
He smiles back at me, his head tilted as he examines my face. He suddenly stands up and I flinch, wondering if this is the moment when I’ll have to fight to survive. It wouldn’t be the first time, except this time I do want to survive.
‘Okay, I hear you,’ he says, still standing in front of me. ‘We would never have expected you to back out and let us down, but there is your answer.’
I stare back at him. He is standing in front of David, barely reaching the height of his buttocks. ‘That’s it?’ I say, somehow relieved, still very cautious.
‘Of course that’s not it!’ he shouts, standing over me with his eyes burning into mine, like I have stolen everything from him.
Someone else steps behind David and into our space. He’s a young guy but still tall, still a third bigger than Vance, but that doesn’t stop my worst nightmare from pushing him away. ‘Go look somewhere else,’ he says, his gaze following the guy until he disappears behind the other side of the statue, making only a hushed and insignificant protest.
I know that this confrontation isn’t something I can win and so I get up, heading to the other side of David, knowing that I will have to be quick. I need to find Mike and get the both of us out of here before Vance tells him what we planned to do and what I failed to carry out.
He must see this coming as no sooner have I stood up and starting moving than he appears in front of me, having rounded the giant marble sculpture to head me off. He has to look up at my face but I know that my extra height will be of no help to me – my skinny frame stands no chance against his solid bulk. He takes a deep breath, clenching both of his fists. ‘Agreements have been made which cannot simply be amended or ignored.’
I shake my head, not wanting to deal with this, not knowing what I can say to explain my actions or make him go away. I can’t believe he has followed me here, from the depths of my nightmares to this place, which I consider to be my absolute sanctuary. ‘You need to leave me alone!’ I say, somehow hoping it will be enough to actually make him leave, but deep down knowing this is only the beginning of the end, an end I no longer want.
‘Do you think it’s that simple?’
I stare back at him, both of us waiting for an answer. I was so sure before, so entirely confident that I was making the right decision, and he made it easy to face up to these darkest of thoughts. He freely accepted my request to join them, to find a way out together, and in return for his confidence I told him things that I never wanted Mike or anyone else to hear. I push myself forward, determined that the new me will not be bullied, as I manage to get past him and into the small trickle of people.
He follows me, as I figured he would. His movements are still civilised. I wish this place was more crowded; then there would be more people to lose myself among. I feel his eyes burning into me as he stays by my side, mirroring my movements as I weave through the few tourists.
‘I have already told you that I have changed my mind, but it doesn’t mean I didn’t try to go through with it,’ I say, explaining myself in a rush, speaking not much above a whisper, not wanting anyone else to hear my excuses, which I know should not even exist.
He nods in answer and we continue to walk, as if we’re friends and he has an obligation to listen. Anyone looking at us would think we know each other – the only other option would be that I’m being pursued, stalked, possibly about to be attacked, and that would lead to a very different reaction from the passers-by. I’m not shouting or screaming; I know that I cannot risk drawing attention to myself or risk bringing Mike running into this room.
I speed up, trying to test his resolve, but he continues to mirror everything that I do. I think about my limited options, knowing that I will need to do something soon. My only obvious advantage over him is that I know my way around here; I’ve been so many times that I know every corridor like the back of my hand.
I can think of many exits and I know where Mike will be. We are both creatures of habit, and since this is our favourite museum, I know the route he will probably take.
Vance must sense that I’m about to run because he grabs my arm, sealing his vice-like grip around it as he pulls me closer to him. ‘You made an agreement that cannot be undone. I wish we had more time to debate this but things have already been set in motion.’
I stop and look down at him. My heart is thumping wildly in my chest but my breathing remains mysteriously slow and firm. The fear is starting to leave me, replaced with anger at the fact he has found me and is making demands that no human should ever make on another. ‘I have paid you the money, and I don’t want it back. So you can leave. If you go now I won’t call the police.’
‘The police?’ he says, as he stares back at me, his body anchored to a spot next to me. ‘You seem to have changed your views somewhat in the last few days, which is very disappointing, as you were one of the keenest to move things along. You should know that the group wanted to wait for you, but as you can imagine, time is precious these days.’
I gasp involuntarily, remembering what was agreed, sad images of nice people flooding into my mind. ‘They’re all dead?’
He nods. ‘We did our job and they did theirs. I have to say I was very pleased because there wasn’t a peep out of any of them. It was one of my best yet.’
I feel my legs shaking, and I try to deny what I’m hearing. ‘You can’t talk about them like that, like they were animals for slaughter.’
‘I can and I will because you made a pact, which is something that mattered to all of you, meaning that I’m pleased to say you will finally have your wish. I believe in many things and I’m entirely convinced that they will be waiting for you in whatever place is next.’
I push his arm off me, refusing to listen or give in to his demands, refusing to give up the life I now want to claim back. ‘They can wait because I went through with it four days ago, in my bathroom. It clearly didn’t work and now I have changed my mind.’
He stands still whilst staring at me; it seems that nothing I am saying is registering with him, as he slowly shakes his head. ‘You poor thing, I can’t imagine how awful it must have been to do that on your own. I can only promise you that it will not happen like that again. I always use the correct dose and you won’t feel a thing. Like I said before, it will be like falling asleep, except that you won’t ever have to wake up.’ He gently but firmly grips my arm, pulling me along with him. ‘You have hired the professionals and we will now finish our contractual obligations. Shall we go now?’
‘No! I’m not going anywhere with you!’ I shout, brushing him off me and then pushing him backwards. I push him again, still shouting, thrusting my hands into his chest repeatedly. With every step I take towards him, he takes a step backwards. I can only hope that he realises how serious I am. ‘I chose to stay alive, so leave me alone and go home.’
He shakes his head again, proving that he really isn’t interested in listening to me. ‘You have entered into a contract and what you paid for will happen tonight, I can assure you of that. Your life will end and your possessions, as per your recently updated will, are to be transferred to our trust, as detailed in the agreement.’
I’m getting dizzy from constantly shaking my head but I don’t know what else I can do. ‘That’s not going to happen. Don’t you get it? I have changed my mind.’
He rubs his temples, the frustration he feels with me is very obvious now. ‘I don’t think you quite understand the gravity of this situation, or your place in the bigger picture. You were asked to sign and to verbally agree to this on several occasions. This gave you a total of three days to think about it and to make sure you made the right decision. You have signed the agreement and now I’m afraid that you are just a number, and that number has to pay certain fees.’
‘You can’t do this! You can’t just make me do it!’
He leans closer, a frown spreading across his face. ‘Did you not say that you wanted to die? Were you not telling the truth?’
I walk towards a bench and he follows, allowing me to sit down without any attempt to stop me. ‘I was telling the truth at the time but now I don’t want to do it,’ I say, putting my head in my hands, trying to make sense of all of this, of a decision I made in a different time, when I felt a very different way. ‘I can’t believe this is happening and that you are real.’
He sits next to me, taking his time to look around. I’m not sure if he has been here before; either way, he doesn’t look at all interested in renaissance art, history or culture. ‘You meant it at the time and I remember how certain you were, so what was that truth if not real? You had tried to do it yourself before and failed, so when I talked about a collective of like-minded individuals all ending their lives at the same time you were very keen. I really do suggest you find that person again because one way or the other this is real and it is happening.’
I look at him, at the mass of blind determination that is sitting next to me. ‘Why can’t you just leave me alone? You can take all my things, all of them, and I won’t say anything.’
He shakes his head. ‘I wish that was possible but it isn’t, because there are things you cannot give to me whilst you’re still alive.’
‘I will give you all my money, my flat, everything. We can check online right now so you can see how much money I have. I will transfer it all to you if you just leave me alone.’
He takes a look around this place, as if he finally cares about where we are and who could overhear our conversation, let alone understand it. ‘I don’t think you are listening. The fact is that you are now worth significantly more to us as a dead person. Your possessions might pay the bills but your identity will bring us much more.’
‘You’re talking about murder!’
He shakes his head and I wonder if he has ever heard this before, or if I’m the first person to back out and throw in that card. ‘You agreed to this, as I have already said. It’s too late to change your mind because you have already been allocated to someone else and considering everything that is now happening, we need to speed things along. They are already in the air and will take up your life as of first thing tomorrow morning. The truth is that you have to die, at least your physical being. Someone else will take your life from here – the life you didn’t want – and hopefully they will make better use of it.’
I stare open-mouthed at him as the truth unfolds. When I made the decision that I didn’t want to live anymore, I hadn’t thought about what I would be leaving behind, and when I found Vance in a chatroom and learnt of his organisation’s professional services, I hadn’t thought about what would happen when I was gone. He answered all of my questions about my things and the need for my will to be accurate, in order to ensure fair payment for the services his secret organisation offered. He never told me what would happen after, once my body was laid in the cold ground, and I never thought to ask.
He moves closer to me, looking me up and down, like he’s sizing me up for a coffin, or perhaps I’ll just end up in a body bag. ‘Your replacer would like to see your body before you are laid in your final resting place, which isn’t very helpful that we’re already in Florence. Unfortunately you already paid for your transfer and even though you have got yourself here there are no refunds, as per our contractual agreement.’
‘I don’t care about the money, you must realise that by now,’ I say, shaking my head. I don’t want to hear any of this. I hadn’t thought beyond the arrangements that had been made for my body. An exact plan had been made, which would have resulted in it resting in a small cemetery just outside the city. It is a perfect place, in the hills, looking down towards the city that I have always loved. I didn’t think further than that, beyond these material arrangements. I never believed that after my passing anything would happen. For me, the end of my world was the end of everything and now that I know otherwise, that my death will not be the end of it, I fe
el angry and strangely jealous, desperate to hold on to what I have been given.
This is perhaps my final chance to declare to the universe that I want this life, that my previous feelings of despair and desperation are gone, or have at least subsided. I will take what I have now in lieu of whatever is waiting for me in the afterlife. ‘I’m staying alive,’ I say, staring at him, waiting for a reaction.
He immediately shakes his head, as I knew he would. His determination is predictable. He then reaches into his pocket, and shows me a piece of paper that I quickly realise is a copy of my contract. ‘You have made your choice and what will follow for you and the rest of us are the consequences of your actions. We have to do this tonight because there is so much to do afterwards.’ He starts tapping on his fingers, mentally calculating things. I’m sure that this is just one job in many for him. ‘We have to get you viewed and then buried – the tombstone will be under a different name, of course. And then I really do need to get your replacer back to London and settled into his new life. They always have so many questions. The last one even asked how the boiler worked – as if I’m ever going to know that.’
I lean forward, still not believing what I’m hearing, desperately trying to spot flaws in his plan, trying to think of any reason why he should just forget me. ‘Why don’t you just leave me out of this? It will save you time if you just take this person to my place in London tomorrow. I’ll build a new life here and you will never see me again. Let this new person take whatever they want from me; I promise I will not contact the police or interfere in any way.’
He shakes his head, as I wonder if he has heard this story before, or if I am the first to ask all these questions of my after-life, and to ever back out from this kind of decision, the one that felt so right just a few days ago. ‘We have a contract with your replacer, which guarantees that you will be dead and buried. That’s why so many people ask to see the body. I think they want to be sure but they are also always curious to see if you look like them, which invariably you don’t.’
