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once, you hand him a ransom note cut out of wittgenstein—
lying is a language-game that needs to be learned like any other[ ]why can't a dog simulate pain?[ ]could one teach a dog to simulate pain?[ ]but surely another[ ]can't have THIS pain![ ]i turn to stone and my pain goes on[ ]a machine-drawing, a cross-section[ ]in a smiling tone of voice[ ]i must tell you: i am frightened[ ]i must tell you: it makes me shiver[ ]the box has no place in the language-game[ ]not even as a something: for the box might[ ]be empty[ ]for a second he felt violent pain[ ]for a second he felt deep grief[ ](a dog cannot be a hypocrite, but neither can he be sincere.)
he stares at you a long moment, and then pinches the bridge of his nose real hard, and asks you:
“621, what the fuck? ”
you laugh so hard you start sobbing. short, ugly noises. he startles. you’ve laughed for him dozens of times by now, but for him, this time ‘round, this is the first and only. does that mean there’s more of him than of you? you are singular, continuous, weary, stained. washing blood with blood. bitrot of the soul. your arrow of time tamponades the hole it pierces in you. but there is a hole. maybe this is what mercy is: he is more immortal than you. infinite guests cannot fill an infinite hotel. there will always be another room. there will always be another walter in the days ahead, somewhere you haven’t killed him yet, and so he lives forever unbetrayed.
“your ac,” he rambles on one day, “humility—”
heartbalm. deadringer. dayglow. cadaverine. scorch altar. frostbite. andronicus. impartial witness. gorehound. as above. reticence. xeres. beetle box. elegia. kilter. troutsilver. but always humility, isn’t it? always humility. your girl, humility.
(hound-buddy-raven-tourist-freelancer-g13, links in an endless chain, but the and always c4-621. beloved object. irreplaceable specimen.
(each man holds a box. each says there is a beetle in his box. each cannot see inside the other boxes.
(jehanne jean john jeanneton jeannette joan. la pucelle, de vouthon, romée, ioanna arcensis, maid of orléans. d’arc darc dark dars day darx dare tarc tart dart.)))
once, you hand him a ransom note carved from a software user’s manual—
the[ ]STRESS is[ ]considerable. the principal virtue of[ ]STRESS[ ]we hope[ ]is the ease with which the engineer may obtain additional solutions for modifications of the original structure[ ]particularly important in design that involves the evolution of a satisfactory structure by a trial process. the STRESS[ ]presented here is not considered to be a final or complete product. work is currently under way to improve, refine, and add capabilities to the system[ ]this will continue indefinitely.[ ]the STRESS[ ]should enable the engineer to fully utilize the present system[ ]to modify the system to suit best their own purposes.
“are you… good?” he asks you with a grimace.
you’re great, actually. fantastic. very pleased with yourself. but your enthusiastic nodding does nothing to dampen his concern. probably makes it worse, if you’re being honest. he looks awkward to the degree of misery.
yes, yes, very pleased with yourself.
once, you hand him a ransom note sliced from the corpse of an old decrepit play, which he takes with a sigh, because he did not appreciate the abridged cadaver dog training handbook you made for him a few days before and does not seem to understand that these gluegun-smeared atrocities are basically as close to sexting as you’re ever gonna get.
o[ ]PARDON ME[ ]thou bleeding piece of[ ]meek and gentle[ ]BUTCHER[ ]the ruins of the noblest man[ ]that ever lived in the tide of[ ]costly blood[ ]thy wounds[ ]dumb mouths[ ]ruby lips[ ]my tongue[ ]the limbs of men; domestic[ ]so in use[ ]dreadful objects so familiar[ ]pity choked[ ]by his side come hot from hell[ ]cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war
he keeps this one, actually. first time for everything. sticks it in his desk drawer, folded up all neat and hidden under a stack of papers like you won’t notice. you do notice.
and then it’s gone along with him. maybe if you remade it, he’d keep it again. but where’s the fun in only playing the greatest hits?