And thus it so happened that two men crossed paths in a neighborhood not too far away, walking in opposite directions; and their speed was suddenly curtailed. The two men stopped and looked; one is the boss of the other.
“Fluzst?”
“Foreman Klober.”
“Fluzst, in this part of town? Who would’ve guessed it? Did you hear the explosion? Have you heard what happened? Just look how you’re shaking, Fluzst, and look at your face! Are you scared? And that smell. How very interesting to find you here!”
CHAPTER X
1
A few hours had passed since the uproar. Sounds had returned back to normal, as well as movements. Apparently whatever had happened was no longer happening. The effects of whatever had happened had receded far away, to some other part of the hospital. As if they’d been forgotten about, thinks Walser.
And it was clear, at that moment, that memory must be intimately connected to space. Memory is a characteristic of space, not of people. A simple characteristic, like height, length, and width. “Memory is the fourth immediate characteristic of space,” says Walser to himself, as if about to make some important discovery. But sounds are also a characteristic of space, and there in the hospital room, still the most significant.
Walser is sitting with his legs stretched out along the length of the bed and his torso upright. He is trying to spot a nurse, but he can’t see anyone. He calls out for one in a loud voice.
The incidental background noises are still present. The situation is calm, but Walser wants to get out of there. He again calls out for a nurse or a doctor. No one comes. The murmuring sound of a quiet conversation can be heard somewhere in the hallway. They’re close by, it isn’t possible that nobody can hear Walser’s calls.
Joseph Walser is starting to get nervous: he’d had an accident, a significant accident, they have to pay attention to him, but the sounds of the nurses aren’t close enough for the attention he requires. He, Joseph Walser, had a serious accident, at work, with his machine; they should respect that.
“They don’t hear anybody,” says his roommate.
“I’ve spent hours calling out to them,” the roommate says later, and then abruptly bursts into laughter.
“Hours!” he repeats.
Walser screamed as loud as he could. Then stopped. He remembered the scream he let out at the moment the accident occurred. This more recent scream was similar, with just one difference: it was planned, thought out in advance, a strategic scream, as opposed to the other one; it was a false scream, he realized. I’m not in any pain: that was a false scream.
But Walser didn’t feel uneasy about this momentary falsehood; the fact that he realized what he was doing didn’t stop him from repeating the action. He screamed again, as loud as he could, as if he were in need of urgent care.
He grew more annoyed by the minute. His roommate’s outburst of laughter had stopped, but, despite Walser’s clamoring, there was no change in the background noise out in the hallways.
He stood up, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and, with his left hand on the bed for support, stepped down onto the floor. He was barefoot and was hiding his right hand behind his back. The feeling of the cold floor under his feet hit him with a concrete, sensual violence, which he was almost relieved to feeclass="underline" he was tired of feeling the world through sound alone.
The shiver that shot up from his feet soon subsided. The human organism is an absolutely flawless machine that reacts immediately: intelligent enough to sense changes in temperature.
He took a cautious step first, then another one, and his feet heated up the cold floor beneath them, or vice versa. At least I’m not wearing irresponsible shoes, thought Walser, almost cracking a smile.
He was now at the doorway to the room. He walked forward a little bit more and saw, about thirty feet away, two nurses and a doctor. This time he called out to them with much more self-control, almost embarrassed: “Nurse!”
But it was the doctor who walked over to him.
2
Klober the foreman looked Fluzst over from head to toe, and a wide grin appeared on his face, which was soon cut short by a return to seriousness.
“Looks like the city was entitled to one more attack,” said Klober.
Fluzst nodded in assent, and Klober went on in the same ironic tone with which he had begun:
“This only proves that we are an important city. A city! No one would ever think about planting a bomb in the countryside, in the middle of a bunch of pigs,” he said laughing.
“This is proof of the advent of civilization: we have libraries and bomb attacks. But our bombs aren’t arriving as neat packages delivered by the army; disorder has affected even our weapons and has spread to the crudest and least intellectually capable segment of the population; and thus the danger grows. Disorder and weaponry aren’t compatible, in my humble opinion, and killing isn’t purely an action, it also requires some intellectual ability. But what have you got to say about all this, Fluzst, you’ve got a frightened look on your face, you’ve just come from the area where the bomb went off …
“You probably didn’t see anything, is that right? That’s what I thought. We’re all blind. A city full of blind people. But we’ve still got good ears, perfectly effective auricular devices. In other words, some parts of the city are still functioning. My dear Fluzst, I must bid you good-bye. I want to see what happened up close. I, too, have the right to be frightened. It’s odd seeing you like this, on such an important day. You are one of our liveliest workers, don’t go losing all that energy now, we’re counting on you. All right, I’ll see you tomorrow, won’t I?
“Oh, I forgot to tell you something. An important piece of information: your coworker Joseph Walser had an accident with his machine. He’s in the hospital. I know you two are good friends. He would certainly appreciate a visit from you. Have a good one, Fluzst — and pull yourself together. We’re counting on you.”
3
“Doctor,” said Walser, still hiding his right arm against the side of his body, “I’m sorry, but I’ve been calling for a nurse for quite some time.”
The doctor didn’t respond. He looked steadily at Walser.
“What’s your name?”
“Joseph Walser.”
“Joseph Walser,” repeated the doctor. “Well then, Mr. Walser, please behave yourself. You’re in a hospital!” said the doctor, turning his back on him.
A nurse came over to him.
“This isn’t a time for weakness, my dear sir. What happened to you is child’s play. You’d be doing a big favor to all of us if you would just behave like a man.”
Joseph muttered something and felt his face turn ruby-red.