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The tryside. Flowers. Creeping snowberry. The road with dust. The sopping from little sweat glands. The line of the cable.Beautiful try around here, said Julie.
Geous, said Thomas.
Great to be alive, said the Dead Father. To breathe in and out. To feel ones muscles bite and snap.
How is y? Thomas asked. The meical one.
It is inparable, said the Dead Father. Magnifit, that would be a word for it. I would I had two as good as the left. Old Plugalong.
How did you e by it? asked Thomas. Act or design?
The latter, said the Dead Father. In my vastness, there was room for, y of, every kind of experience. I therefore decided that meical experience art of experiehere was room for, in my vastness. I wao know what maes know.
What do maes know?
Maes are sober, unplaining, endlessly effit, and work ceaselessly through all the hours for the good of all, said the Dead Father. They dream, when they dream, of stopping. Of last things. They --
Whats that? Thomas interrupted. He ointing to the side of the road.
Two children. One male. One female. Not too big. Not too small. Holding hands.
Children in love, said Julie.
In love? How do you know?
I have an eye for love, she said, and there it is. A clear instance.
Children, said the Dead Father. Whippersnappers.
What is that? the children asked, pointing to the Dead Father.
That is a Dead Father, Thomas told them.
The children hugged each htly.
He doesnt look dead to us, said the girl.
He is walking, said the boy. Or standing up, anyhow.
He is dead only in a sehomas said.
The children kissed each other, on thbbr>..</abbr>e lips.
They dont seem very impressed, said the Dead Father. Where is the awe?
They are lost in each other, said Julie. Soaks up all available awe.
Dont seem old enough, Thomas said. How old are you? he asked.
We are twenty, said the girl. I am ten and he is ten. Old enough. We are going to live together all our lives and love each other all our lives until we die. We know it. But dont tell anyone because well be beaten, if the knowledge bees general.
Arent they supposed to be throwing rocks at each other at this age? Thomas asked.
Always magnifit exceptions, Julie said.
We have cut our fingers with an X-Acto knife and mingled our bloods, the boy said.
Two tiny forefingers with short crusty cuts exhibited.
Did you sterilize the knife? I hope? Julie asked.
We da in the vodka bottle, said the girl. I judged that suffit.
That would do it, Thomas said.
We will never be parted. I am Hilda and he is Lars. When he is eighteen he is going to refuse to do his military servid I am going to do something so I be put in the same jail with him, I havent thought it up yet.
Admirable, Julie said.
We are together, said Hilda, and will always be. You are too old to know how it is.
I am?
You must be about twenty-six.
Exactly.
And he is even older, she said, indig Thomas.
siderably, Thomas admitted.
And he, she poio the Dead Father, must be, I t imagine. Maybe a hundred.
Wrong, the Dead Father said gaily. Wrong, but close. Even older than that, but also younger. Having it both ways is a thing I like.
All this age fills up your heads, Hilda said. So you ot remember what it was like, being a child. Probably you dont even remember the fear. So much of the it. So little of you. The lunge uhe bla.
There is still more of the it than there is of me, said Thomas. But os along reasonably well.
Reasonably, said the girl, what a word.
The children began caressing each other, with hands and cheeks and hair.
Do we have to withis? asked the Dead Father. This gross physicality?
You are in a new world, Thomas said. Nine-year-olds are arrested for rape. This is not that. Be grateful.
Dyscrasia, the Dead Father said, that is what I think of it. Pathological. I shall issue a ukase against it.
Are you in school? Julie asked the children.
Of course we are in school, Hilda said. Why does everyone always ask a child if he or she is in school? We are all in school. There is no way to excape.
Do you want to excape?
Didnt you?
What do you study in school?
We are invigorated with the sweet sensuality of language. We learn to make sentences. e to me. May I e to your house? Christmas es but once a year. Ill e to your question. The light es and goes. Success es to those who strive. Tuesday es after Monday. Her aria es ihird act. Toothpaste es in a tube. Peaches e from trees and good results do not e from careless work. This es of thoughtlessness. The baby came at dawn. She es from Warsaw. He es from a good family. It will e easy with a little practice. Ill e to thee by moonlight, though --
I think this child is a bit of a smart-ass, said the Dead Father. I shall cause her to be sent to a Special School and her rusty-mouthed panion there also.
If you do that we shall leap into the reservoir, Lars said, together. And drown. I am going to tell you something utterly astounding, surprising, marvelous, miraculous, triumphant, astonishing, unheard of, singular, extraordinary, incredible, unforeseen, vast, tiny, rare, on, glaring, secret until today, brilliant and enviable; in short some<var>..</var>thing unexampled in previous ages except for one single instance which is not really parable; something we find impossible to believe in Paris (so how could anyone in Lyons believe it?), something which makes everyone exclaim aloud in amazement, something which causes the greatest joy to those who know of it, something, in short, which will make you doubt the evidence of your senses: We dont care what you think.
I am offended, said the Dead Father.
I was quoting Mme de Sévigné, said the boy, except for the last part, which was mine.
These childreuned a little fihe Dead Father said, a Special School is the answer.
Is that the kind that looks like a zoo?
There are cages, yes. But we have been experimenting with moats.
No way, the children said.
The children standing and washing each other with their active hands.
I ot bear to look longer, said Julie, let us proceed.
These are odd children, Thomas said, but all children are odd children, rightly regarded.
Shout of Thomas to the men: Resume, resume!
Tightening of the cable.
Small gifts to the children: a power mower, a Blendor.
They will hem in their long lives together, Thomas explained.
Goodb９９ｌｉｂ.ye! Goodbye! the children shouted. Dont tell, please dont tell, ell, ell, please!
We wont we wont we wont! they shouted back. The Dead Father did not shout.
Children, he said. Without children I would not be the Father. No<var></var> Fatherhood without childhood. I never wa, it was thrust uporibute of a sort but I could have dohout, fathering then raising eae of the thousands and thousands and tens of thousands, the inflation of the little buo big bundle, period of years, and then making sure the big bundles if male wore their cap-and-bells, and if not observed the principle of jus primae noctis, the embarrassment of sending away those I didnt want, the pain of sending away those I did want, out into the lifestream of the city, nevermore to warm my cold couch, and the ma of the hussars, maintenance of public order, keeping the zip codes straight, keeping the fug out of the gutters, would have preferred remaining in my study pariions of Klihe first state, the sed state, the third state, and so on, was there parting along the fold? and so on, water stain and so on, but this was not possible, all went forth and multiplied, and multiplied, and multiplied, and I had to Father, it was the natural order, thousands, tens of thousands, but I wao wonder if if if I put a wood pulp mat o a 100 pert rag print would there be foxing and whether the rumblings of the underground would shake the chalk dust from my pastels or not. I never wa, it was thrust upon me. I wao worry about the a of the sun fading what I valued most, strong browns turning to pale browns if not vat yellows, how to protect against, that sort of thing, but no, I had to devour them, hundreds, thousands, feefifofum, sometimes their shoes too, get a good mouthfu<cite></cite>l of childleg and you find, between your teeth, the poisoned sneaker. Hair as well, millions of pounds of hair scarifying the gut over the years, why couldnt they have just been thrown down wells, exposed on hillsides, actally electrocuted by model railroads? And the worst was their blue jeans, my meals course after course of improperly laundered blue jeans, T-shirts, saris, Thom Ms. I suppose I could have hired someoo peel them for me first.
Believe me, the Dead Father said, I never wa, I wanted only the fort of my armchair, the feel of a fine Fabriano paper, the cool ay about whether I had been cogged if if if with a restrike or not, whether some ing fellow had steelfaced an old copperplate and run off the odd thousara impressions, whether a thing was by Master HL or Master HB or if if if if --
He does go on, said Julie.
And on and on and on, said Thomas. However he is bearing up remarkably well.
He is bearing up remarkably well.
I am bearing up remarkably well, said the Dead Father, because I have hope.
Tell me, said Julie, did you ever want to paint or draw or etch? Yourself?
It was not necessary, said the Dead Father, because I am the Father. All lines my lines. All figure and all groundmine, out of my head. All ine. You take my meaning.
We had no choice, said Julie.
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