entropy of erro, part 2, on a sunday morning…

I woke up when it was still dark, the other was asleep dreaming of Feramontov’s brown eyes, holding his hand, feeling his weak pulse. <” Don’t.”” What?” “Hold my hand, it’s nice to talk with a fellow professional… I wish we had met someplace else, “ he said in his dream. She, we holding his hand as he died. She watched him for a moment or two before leaving.> The dream repeating. repeating with variations. One of the stranger things about us is that our sleeping patterns are asynchronous. Sometimes we can be awake and listen to the others dreams, I think we suffer from insomnia because their are two of us. I sat up, and being careful not to wake her got out of bed and looked at his perfect face asleep in the light of the LEDs. I would be saying goodbye later. We would be saying goodbye later… When one of us is asleep is the only time when the noise of the other in our head fades. I went to the kitchen and drank water, listened to the silence and had a couple of shots of the damson vodka Jean had given me… As I drank the second shot she said < your awake> <yes> <let’s go to bed…> Writing this in the first person singular is for us a unique experience, even trying to present this moment when one of us was asleep is nearly impossible, when we are always multiple. Though you are a split subject, you can still say I, as in “would you like a bottle of the Damson Vodka I’ve made?” But we are are always multiple, both of us split. I turned off the lights and went back to bed <nice vodka Jean gave us…> she said and we slept…

11 in the morning… .

London Sundays, dreary like some London Sundays can be when beneath a blanket of low cloud, the drizzle falls and makes the city almost uninhabitable. In the morning what do you do ? He left early for his meeting. In our case we travel across the city in the car, I drove whilst the other listened to Angela Hewitt playing the Goldberg variations, and park it in the late morning outside the office on the yellow restricted parking line. Reluctantly we would enter the building and change everything again. So we sat in the drivers seat and looked at the front of the building, reluctant to step out of the car, pausing, hesitating. On this side of the building sheets of glass in a style that suits immaterial factories like this. Blinds hanging down on the inside of the glass to shade the office areas. After a few minutes, a few intense sighs, We got out of the car, took our bag and locking it behind me walked across King Canute place to the building entrance. I (the one writing this) stopped and looked through the glass wall, looking at the security guards, above them the video screens were showing pictures of the desert. <We’ll never see the desert.> <Unless it comes here> I replied. It was Sunday, at this time the city was more less deserted. The trees looked lonely. All we needed to do was pull ourselves together, hold our nerves and go inside. We breathed deeply, <let’s go.> The receptionist and security man waved me through… On the floor, mostly empty on the weekend, operations staff, on the phone, monitoring, watching, writing notes. It’s nearly midday they have been on shift for three or four hours. We had last worked a weekend shift a month or so ago before his mother had found us

My about to be ex and Nomiko were in her office, talking about D and B. I walked into her office and said as I was sitting down. Good Morning, Nomiko, Franz. They looked at me, studied me, what is it? A friend is always a friend, Nomiko said philosophically. There were papers, some of which I’d written for her on the low table. What do you want? she asked me. They weren’t sure what I was doing there. You might not know me after this, you can both choose as I have to decide what to do… it doesn’t matter in the scheme of things, that’s how life will go now. You will have to decide now or over the rest pf the weekend. Nomiko had inconceivable resources as for that matter did Franz. <He also, I thought, loved me. People like them must be able to recognize the types of people they have to deal with… > Between them was a bowl of mixed nuts, i took a few and happily started eating them. <Before, when I lived in Japan and Korea, I was allergic to nuts. Since I’ve been here I’m allergic to nothing. > <we were borderline celiac before…> I looked at him, I’m sorry you know, I said. And leaned back into the chair stretching my legs beneath the table. I looked at my left arm, holding it up between us. When I climbed up the building I overstretched my muscle, hence the support. It’s almost repaired, still warmer than usual hence the support. Have you finished discussing D & B ? Yes Nomiko said, the police went in, some bodies was found. We were wondering if there was anything we needed to do. If we might be exposed… You won’t be, Franz might be. I said. Do you remember people well Franz? The memory of an Elephant, he replied, a requirement for anyone in our business. And you, what is it you want to remember? Nothing at all, I said. I’ll never know what I have forgotten from before, better we don’t know. In a while I have to decide whether to leave you and run to Timor or Lisbon, to drink creme de menthe in a bar on the hill overlooking the sea. Either that or somebody might send me to the hospital… I marvelled at my incoherence.

I’m sorry, Nomiko said, so sorry. Understanding what was happening at last. Only Franz, lovely Franz didn’t understand. Or perhaps he was simply avoiding the existential crisis I was delivering. I’m practicing translating poetry I said to him, perhaps it will come to that. Delivering new things to small presses, that will be all that is left for us. “<I am so tired, I will miss you, as the morning passes, we wake up in the same bed, the picture of Marx on the wall smiles at us, we’ve composed songs and children, it’s raining, we will never make it to the promised land…”> I looked at his uncomprehending face. I took the surveillance photographs out of bag and laid them out on the table. All taken over the past ten days. Who took them? He asked. Looking at the pictures of me alone, with him, with Jean walking back from the market, me holding Jeans arm <he looks happy> <we didn’t notice at the time>, with ley and park, entering the office… This man, putting the photo of the dead man on the table, worked for your mother. I cannot ask you to betray your mother, sister, niece, brother. I don’t think you can. The council. He said. He was sent by your mother. <There is no need to say why his mother wants to kidnap me to carry out medical experiments on my inhuman body, nor do I need to say that Nomiko’s friend, was shot simply to obscure the kidnapping attempt. Nomiko already knows this.> I am sorry love, I said to him. I wanted to stay by your side, but I cannot because I might hesitate if it was you who came through the door. We need to break up. I’m sure she’ll send another set of people. When they fail, she will ask you. If I am here. We stopped. I wonder if my sadness showed on my face? Which is why you are here, nomiko said. Yes, I am here, breaking up is easier with you here, so that if it comes to that, if I survive that, then if you are alive Franz. Your mother has ruined everything. She really does hate you Nomiko, it could have been Sam, having Jess shot to obscure that I am the target …

My mother, she decided to kill you. He was looking at the picture. Feramontov, Ferumontov Ferumuntov. I never quite knew what his name was. Because my mother sent him, there will be others. We smiled at him, wanly I think, I remember him as being better than this, I don’t want to kill anyone over my body, so we have to break up. Now today. Whilst its raining. Whilst the sun is shining. Whilst the rainforest still exists, before the desert arrives in southern France. Tell your mother not to send anyone else. Forget who I was before. I climbed up the side of a building, dealt with this man and his partner, held his hand as he died. He didn’t die alone, we talked about Tokyo. He loved Tokyo. I don’t want to go the Japan to kill your mother, so i will vanish.

Nomiko looked at me/us a little sadly. Erro, you should go. Take a guitar, some books, what clothes you have to hand, a bottle of Johnnie Walker and go to Zanzibar. Come back next year when the dust has settled. Did you think of doing that when you arrived? We asked. I couldn’t, and then I didn’t need to when I had a baby, I became protected. Suki’s aunts, a few uncles, institutions of the repressive state apparatus, the scary state apparatus. Zanzibar would be good, you two will (probably) never be able to have a relationship, your mother and your family. You can’t give them up Franz, don’t pretend. As for you Erro, you are a schizophrenic madwoman and Franz can’t deal with that when things are this broken. She smiles and continues. I will try sort out his mother and ensure she never comes here again. Put measures in place. My family are terrible, he said, I am terrible for not being able to give them up, but they are all I’ve got… Thankyou Nomiko, we said. O.K then Zanzibar it is. I touched and stroked his face. I’ll see you next year Nomiko, I’ll bring snaps, goodbye I said touching his beautiful face. We probably shouldn’t meet love, ex-love. True, he said.

There is a glory to goodbyes made in an office you may never see again, they are best not drawn out. Brevity is best. All too quickly they would degenerate into little more than self-conscious standing around.