Fury, Michael

​

"And how do you feel, Franz?"
         He looked at her and considered, this.
         There were so many answers, yet he found...but one. Which he couldn't say. Not here. Her eyes rested peacefully upon him and continued to do so. Their concern moved him to conscience because he knew she deserved to know. But not, this. (She deserved, certainly, a lot more. But for the life of him he could think of nothing else to say.)
         "Maybe you feel you don't trust us yet?" she said.
         He looked down, not seeing: the floor, his shoes, the rug. He feared her look. She might discover.
         "It's not...that," he said. "It's just that...hem..." There was power. In his chest; stomach; the skull. The need to talk wrestled with the resolve to say nothing. He was a man now, and he would do it: nothing, nothing at all.
         He saw her eyes--and she saw.
         She looked, away, but he knew....
         "Maybe," she whispered, "later." "Maybe," he thought. But probably not. He was no fool, not anymore. Now was the time to learn. He'd be ready.
         On the way back (using the device), he recorded his love talk, with her: Scenarios. Some failures, mostly small. Boons. Blessings.
         He talked. The "record" light on. He did this now, on the subway, but in this city no one (ever) looked. It wasn't obvious, a mere stir of the (his) lips, like the Ashkenazi he saw, often, on the train, in black and white, whispering the Torah: in eternal worship of the (Unspoken) One...and on, and on, and, well...He understood now. Because now he felt, again.
         But was he grateful? (No.)
         He would listen to his recording of the love talk with her, hear it out, so that he would make no mistake when he at last spoke up, to her. He would not be a fool. Not--again. (Not anymore.) (He knew (now) when not to speak. Jesus knew when not to speak. (So much more in the silence, which He'd kept--knowing it would kill Him. And with her...he would do the same. You got killed anyway. Why not now? Why not?))
         He pocketed his tool away and walked home--talking (he noticed), so he unpocketed the tool again--in his hand-now-at-the-mouth, on-the-dark-street, jawing-in-apartment--mawing until his eyes drooped--and closed.
         He gropes his arm in the sun-shadow--and clutches: it (the device); he speaks: Speaking--.
         More...material. When would it end? Probably only when.... What a cliché. The very notion. The very word!
         He had to do phoning, which he did, while shoveling-it-in (to his mouth). Chewing. Chewing, he wrote
         long enough to reach Dover (by plane) (the proof. They'd see (one day, barring a probably precocious death)).
         (They'd see it.)
         Yes he wanted to live. (Didn't everyone--?) But there were reasons, now: Like her. Perhaps she knew
         it. But perhaps
         not.
         (He) took care of things; left and walked under gray-clouds-splashing intermittently, steaming the hot sidewalks all up.
         He liked this kind of gray day--a prologue (as it were) to the sun, the story--he almost said "of us all," but he knew that nate wuh'nt true. (He'd seen a lot. Could a man see too much? ("Note.") Perhaps. But, innocence was overrated, also.)
         To-do things back home (ho-hum) (call agéd old father, eat, find pecuniary locale, by computer).
         coffee--to key with, that is/of-course. Sit.
         type and fill the screen with...some implication indisputable, incontrovertible (with luck? perhaps). Playing, On. Rock n' Roll. bands, groups he should have heard 20 years ago. Wish(ed) he had been there then.
         Time was...not relative (for mortals), so, when not writing, (he) felt hyper-aware of moments gone by. (I.e., yesterday's gone.)
         How much time had been unused up, used up at the same time by him but not himself? He wasn't a believer, but this...waste must be some kind of, any kind of,
         desecration?
         So much checking he had seen little of anything, not even that which he had--checked.
         (Elephants remembered. He'd seen it on TV. He saw them revenge against violating people. (An elephant's justice. The poor big thing's last resort, probably).)
         He would always remember, too; he would never forget, the lost and the wasted time--it would hang, about, the nothing, for years, in his mind long into the likely fewer days ahead, less long than the wasted years passed unknown behind. (Who should he blame? (Maybe he would ask the elephant. S/he probably knew.).)
         Checking; checking; checking the stove handles are, and would be:—Off... (decidedly). 20 minutes a day, he spent, now: But that wain't nothin' compared to the way he done did it (check check) for nearly twenty-years until the last goddamned month, ago; before it it was: --check check check check: Verifications; Examinations; Confirmations and Corroborations and/or proof(s) sought out; and preferably-irrefutable evidences...then: All, all over again, again, up to, as much as, a half-day en toto, when combined--(all that time lost!). (He figured that came to.... Should he button-press the calculator?) On his own, arguably, he'd managed to sap it into acquiescence, like ignoring a wailing child to get it and entirely force it to stop. But he remained, and would continue to remain, on guard.
         Wouldn't you?


Forgetting as he plumed through the space between, nevertheless, remembering, (not-acquiescently) recalling...more than ever before...before the now, before he was as he was now
         (No matter: He would Keep On--until...well--whatever happened next.)
         After forty years a man awakens for a day and then goes back away, that night. If he was told, what would he do with those earliest hours, the dawn(ing) that had finally arrived at the end of it all at last? (Question.)
         Satire? Irony? Farce--. You tell me.
         Oh!--He'd hang be with "a hotty," give a hearted farewell to his family, and clean up his apartment, at last--to die in an orderly abode, a recompense of sorts for the disorder of it all, the days, the nights, the disheveled dreams--the disastrous, ruthless nights.
         Done. Close document. Must get some air.
         Where was she, right now (a lot of men were certainly dogs--though still within law for a woman to do it with one--not yet bestiality--should be though, he thought--Except for him...).
         ---
He had done what he could, had chosen his words cautiously, carefully--so, effectively, he believed. Required, he learned then and there, restraint. Almost always. 'Cause they were bein' surveilled, by, refined...machinery. Roaming the small, white, hospital room, scanning all of us. But this, yes--camera, was a friend, not an enemy--It kept the humans in check, on their guard. For how would people behave if they weren't being watched all the time by each other? (and by themselves)
It'd end.
         (Felt possible to be perfect now, more perfect, even, than finality, because he had the advantage of still being--alive. Alive! What do you think about/of that?)
         (He felt he knew a lot. Wasn't allowed to. But God knew a lot too and whole bunches/oodles and oodles/gobs and gobs (billions) of people still liked Him, didn't they?)
         Jesus was a man. We're all men. Even you (darling).

dig audio-recorder, folder A, file #. 5 1
would you like to help me--
what kind of help [what kind of help do you think you need?]
would you like to find out--
In group--          
whose group, yours?
not mine, yours also
that's what I'm afraid of
what. What are you afraid of?
that it will become mine. I wouldn't want to do that
to who...(?)
to the group. or to you. mostly to you.
I think I can handle myself
like you have so far?
I think i've handled myself okay/fine
well, considering the way you were feeling, you managed to sit down...for example, and look at me. you managed to do that
boy have you got an ego
I've also got eyes
---
Like Blaine, right? (Ha.) Didn't end as well as this, though. Hollywood--go figure--

Wonder if she knew, if she'd heard the mistake. Guess he'd never know, although he was certain she did, hear, that is.