He was Orpheus and down he went not walking or swimming
spinning out of control. And in the dream he saw Maureen
but she was not his sister she was his wife. He was going
down to find her and then she was going to find him. Don't
look back he reminded her and she put him back together one
piece at a time. He saw that he was naked he was ashamed. He
put a hand down to cover himself find the missing piece. You
are my sister he said. Oh Cyrus she said. He loved her he
didn't love her he did.
Still I spend the whole day
The characters in the story tell each other
Time fascinated Cyrus. He knew from high-school physics that
time stretches and contracts, unlike light, the purest form
of information. In his computer programming he often sliced
it up, something much easier to do than isolate a single
piece ("moment") in time. He knew it ran crazily in dreams
and that dreams represent a higher level of perception than
waking thought and he derived from this that time's
uniformity is an illusion. So he asked himself, Where am I
going? And what's taking me there if not time?
Trying not to think about money
Maureen
turned the knob and entered Cyrus' apartment. She is
Cyrus' twin has his freckles and kinky dark red hair in long
braids but her brow is less prominent than his her nose
smaller. She is not gangly. She is slightly older than
Cyrus.
As usual the place was a mess. She ran a finger along
the molding and grew a dust bunny. The tiny living room was
matted with newspaper sections and strewn clothing. She
peeked into the kitchen and had to look away. The door to
his study was closed.
This is good, he thought. It's keeping me in
character.
Maureen
pushed the door open and peeked inside. Cyrus
was lying on his black leather couch. A helmet nestled over
his head and extended to gloves on each hand. It looked
monstrous covering his whole face. She heard him whispering.
I want to watch him return, he murmured. And then, Do
you love him? Maureen tapped his thigh. He twitched.
Of course, he continued, And he loves you. Maureen
looked over the bank of hardware and lights adjoining Cyrus'
workstation. She flicked a switch. Cyrus jerked on the
couch, then flailed his arms and legs as if having a seizure
but only for an instant. He lifted his gloved arms to his
head and unlatched the helmet. Then he eased it off. Looking
around and blinking he fixed on Maureen.
Never do that again, he said, it's psychically painful.
Maureen rolled her eyes. Cyrus trailed his equipment
over to a lab console and put on music loud. Maureen
shouted, What were you doing in there! Why don't you get a
real life! We were going to go for a walk today, or don't
you remember!
I remember, he mouthed quickly defensively. What time
is it?
It's ten.
The stereo said push me in the water.
He said I thought we were going this afternoon.
We were but you were supposed to call me. I got tired
of sitting around waiting for you to call.
The stereo said take me to the river.
You've flaked on me before and plus you still haven't
told me what you were doing in that reality thing of yours.
Hey why is it always so cold in here?
And what kind of love is it
They
sat in his kitchen where he had cleared some space on
the small table wedged in the corner. He poured three scoops
of ground coffee into a gold mesh filter with a bent plastic
rim. She said, Does your refrigerator always buzz like that.
And he said, Yes, except it stops every now and then. I
guess I don't notice it anymore. The water was boiling so he
poured some into the filter.
Some drops of grainy coffee water splattered onto the
stove top. Maureen said, You should just pour a little in at
first and let the coffee grounds settle.
Sometimes I hear the chugging of the refrigerator as it
shudders to a halt like it's exhausted and then silence. And
only then do I realize I've been hearing this droning buzz
we're hearing now although you're probably used to it
already like I am. But you can hear it if you pay attention.
Listen.
Sure, I still hear it.
After a while it starts again but I don't notice. Then
it stops again. It's one of those things I only notice when
it's not there.
I'm like that with people, said Maureen. I take my
friends for granted till they're gone. They were quiet for a
while until Cyrus said, Cream?
And if you were always in the now
She came out squinting
I
feel numb, said Cyrus, as he walked alongside Maureen. The
hill was getting steeper.
What do you mean numb? You mean your feet.
Don't joke. This isn't easy for me to discuss. I mean
numb like a zombie, like am I even alive?
I wasn't joking. You're breathing hard too. You should
get out more. You're so pale.
I'm just like you, if I'm not in the dark I burn.
Well, it's shady here, at least till we get to the
corner. You need the fresh air at least.
You're changing the subject.
Well, what am I supposed to say? What do you mean
"numb"?
I mean I don't know if I have any feelings. I don't
feel anything. I don't feel my feelings. This isn't making
any sense. It's like I've become totally unemotional.
You're probably the most emotional person I know. Look,
let's stop here for a while. They sat on a bus stop bench.
Well it's obvious to you that I'm emotional. And other
people have told me I'm moody. But I'm telling you I don't
feel it. It's like I'm a spectator.
Maybe you're afraid of your feelings.
Obviously. But why?
It's not so obvious. Don't be dismissive. Why do you
think you're afraid?
I don't know. I don't know. I guess. . . I just. . .
don't. . . it's like I've kept my feelings under some kind
of control so long that I've become a stranger to my own
emotional life. I don't know where to begin.
And when you do begin, it's too scary?
Too intense. I run away.
Well I'd say you withdraw. You know, into books
computers games distractions. Anything you can control.
Anything that happens on a thinking level.
I think too much.
It's like you're never alone.
But I'm always alone. I don't have anyone besides you.
Let's start walking again.
You know Cyrus I've gone through periods of feeling
like I needed a savior, someone to pull me out of whatever
rut I was in and show me my true self make me feel alive.
But it's never worked. I mean, no one else has ever been
able to do that for me. I have to look in the mirror for
that.
Cyrus started chuckling.
What's so funny?
When I look in the mirror I see you!
Maureen laughed. No way, you're much uglier than me!
Remember when we used to play the mirror game?
You could always beat me. You always knew what I was
going to do.
I just psyched you out.
But I could never anticipate your movements.
I'm telling you I can read you like a book.
Cyrus though about them playing that game like Harpo
Marx (or was it Lucille Ball?) Their matching bowl haircuts
their matching bell bottoms. So much corduroy and velour.
Back then they were equally adorable he'd been told.
Look! said Maureen. They were just passing out of the
shade of the building on the corner the air was lit with a
mediterranean radiance clarity.
Finally it came to me what they saw.
Look at what?
There on the ground, I mean on the street.
Where?
Between those two cars. She kept pointing. She held her
breath.
And what was she pointing at between two parked cars?
Two bird's wings dirtier than a pigeon's but that same gray
city color gray white black and different kinds of gray
dirty raggamuffin like the frayed ear of a stuffed animal or
the stump rather after the ear itself has been pulled off
still sort of fuzzy woolly but soft.
Two wings laid next to each other but where's the bird,
no bird.
Like two little angel wings, she said.
Almost, yet sort of horrible, said he. They headed back
to his house without talking.
Let me tell you how she saved my hand:
Maureen
found Cyrus's digital recording device, pressed
Play. Cyrus's voice began:
. . . being at the beach with my mom and dad. Well
that's actually not true. I have a memory but I suspect it
of being recycled. I was two at the time and I have no other
memories from that far back and besides which I seem to
remember too many of the details. It's a patchwork memory
but still it's the one I've got. I was playing down in the
sand down by the water's edge playing oblivious completely
lost in my own world when a huge wave swept over me and
carried me out. Maureen had been sitting on the blanket and
saw the whole thing. Daddy, she said, Cyrus is gone. They
looked around and said, What do you mean? (Now, I know I
can't really remember this part, it must have been told to
me but I've known it so long, it's a memory of someone
else's memory. In fact, I've reremembered it myself. It's a
third- or fourth-generation analog memory with tape hiss and
drop outs.) A wave a wave, she screamed, a wave took him
away! Then Dad understood and he got up and went into hero
mode, racing down the beach and diving into the shallow
surf. He came up with me almost immediately. I'd been
tossing and tumbling toddling and floating underwater still
oblivious. I didn't even know to be scared until my father a
big bear of the man at the time though he grew eventually
rather normal sized and average looking, until my father
seized me out of the waves and held me aloft. That's when I
started crying and became afraid. My mom was crying too when
he carried me back. Only Maureen was calm--
The voice cut off. The recorder stopped and turned off
in her hand.
END
