Haggopian and Other Stories

He speaks of a (Shining Txxxxxxxxxxxx): an odd geometrical figure, and of a “prehistoric city, Mnar”—not the ruins in the Deer Park at Benares. He spouts of “the outer spheres” and “star-spawn”, and “the lenses of light”, before his subconscious ramblings become unintelligible gibberings—a mush and a mumble, defying reproduction by normal human vocal chords, and proving equally difficult to represent, even as writing. Then, after a period of lying perfectly still in an attitude of rapt attention, as if he were listening to something or someone, he states quite clearly, “I shall be your vessel, your gate, your embodiment. And through you I shall visit the farthest places: that roiling lake where the puffed (Sxxxxxxxx) spawn, the spiralling Towers of (Txxxxxxx), the dark light-years twirling like leaves blown in a storm. But…this ‘great

harvest’ of which you speak. Pray tell me, what shall we harvest?”

And then a gasp, a cry choked off, his body snapping into a weird rigidity and only very slowly relaxing, and his breathing steadying as his face slackens and he falls more deeply asleep, as if soothed by some unseen

hypnotist’s persuasions…

• • •

The night passes. The pair sleep late, and when they rise they avoid each other…James very deliberately, Jason because he can’t be bothered with the surliness of the other’s moods.

Jason cooks breakfast for himself; James doesn’t eat until well into the afternoon when he makes a small cheese sandwich, then sits eating it, scowling at the artefact. And finally:

James: “I believe I heard you call out in the night?”

Jason: “Unlike the outer shell of this place, the partitions between our rooms are thin as cardboard! You could hear a mouse fart on the other side. As for my outcry: well, my dream was a particularly bad one.”

James: “Which doubtless accounts for your mood.”

Jason: “Oh?”

James: “Your silence.”

Jason: “Listen who’s talking! We were here for forty-eight hours before you so much as grunted!”

James: “As I recall, you complained to me about the lack of a TV. You asked why not. I did not grunt. I pointed out that as well as the absence of a TV there was no radio and indeed nothing that might interfere with our seclusion, concentration, the immanence of ulterior forces. And incidentally, I don’t dislike you. You accused me of disliking you, but that is not so. It is simply that I am remote from you…my thoughts are rarely mundane. And when I am disturbed—when my thoughts are interrupted—then naturally it becomes an inconvenience, an annoyance. So you see it isn’t the case that I dislike you, rather that I despise idle prattle. Not dislike but disinclination, disinterest.”

Jason, sighing, shaking his head: “You don’t seem to realise just how insulting such remarks are. Now I’m not normally a surly fellow, but I can certainly feel myself sliding that way. Today you were the one who commenced ‘prattling’, and I suspect you’re not yet done!”

James: “Because while you fail to excite my interest, your dreams are quite another matter. On several occasions I am sure I heard you cry out. This was before I myself fell asleep. Were you dreaming of your brother? Or perhaps your mother? I believe I heard you call a name. But I was only half awake and so can’t be sure.”

Jason: “Is this important to you? I can’t see why. And what with your lack of interest in me—the fact that my presence is ‘an inconvenience’ and even ‘an annoyance’—I don’t see why I should trouble myself to talk to you at all, not a single word! And certainly not about my poor dead mother or brother.”

James: “But the fact is you were prescient in the matter of their deaths. Could it be that your dreams represent guilt? You foresaw their deaths and could do nothing about it…que sera, sera. And now they come back to haunt you. As to why this is of interest to me: I see the NOW while failing to understand where it is going, while you see what is to be without knowing how to avoid it. I seek to probe deeper, while you turn away from your talent.”

Jason, shrugging: “So? Is there a lesson to be learned from these supposed facts? What is your conclusion?”

James, a trifle reluctantly: “That…perhaps we ought to work together? After all, that presumably is why they saw fit to lodge us as a pair.”

Jason: “Possibly, but it’s a shame they couldn’t have found me a female guinea pig partner. That way I wouldn’t be spending quite so much time dreaming.”

James, raising an eyebrow: “Sex? I have no time for it and never will have. It is an animal activity. Out beyond the stars…their procreation is different. More a melding, a substitution, a flowing together, and an explosive multiplication.”

Jason, singing: “…It’s the name of the game, and each generation…”

James, apparently aghast: “You would do well not to mock!”

Jason: “Oh, really? I shouldn’t mock? When what you’ve just said sounded like you were describing a clan of alien amoebas?”

James, apparently in disgust: “Pshaw!”

• • •

Later: