“What do you mean?” I asked, suddenly noticing that his clear blue eyes had grown glassy.
“May I boil that innocent child in the hominy pot if…”
“Stop it!” I exclaimed.
“Boil her in the hominy pot,” he continued pitilessly, “and tear her limbs apart with my own two hands, if you don’t tell me what they want with the goatibex — though actually I’ve already figured it out!” he exclaimed with all the passion of the truth seeker who has kept silent too long.
“What do you mean, want with him? Why, meat and wool, of course,” I stammered.
“Don’t you believe it! They’re extracting the atom from his horns,” Valiko declared confidently.
“The atom?!”
“I know for a fact that they’re extracting the atom, but just how — I haven’t figured out,” he said with conviction. And once again a mysterious smile hovered about his lips — the smile of a man who knows more than he’s willing to let on.
I looked into his good-natured, but now utterly uncomprehending eyes and realized that there was nothing I could do to alter his conviction.
“I swear by my grandfather’s ashes that I know nothing of the sort,” I exclaimed.
“So they haven’t told you people either,” exclaimed Valiko in amazement. But what seemed to amaze him was not the fact that people like myself hadn’t been informed, but rather that the riddle of the goatibex was proving even more unfathomable than he had imagined.
As we left the restaurant, a warm, starry sky rose darkly above us. The sky was swaying — first coming closer, then retreating. But even as it retreated, it seemed a lot closer than usual. Large, unfamiliar stars blazed in the heavens; strange, unfamiliar thoughts flashed through my mind. It occurred to me that perhaps our friendly drinking bout had brought us closer to the heavens. Some constellation or other stubbornly kept twinkling above my head, and its contours seemed strangely familiar. The goatibex’s head! — I suddenly realized to my delight — only one of his eyes was excessively small and myopic looking, while the other was large and kept winking.
“The Goatibex Constellation,” I said.
“Where?” asked Valiko.
“Up there,” I said, and embracing him with one arm, I pointed to the constellation.
“So they’ve already renamed it,” said Valiko, looking up at the sky.
“Yes,” I confirmed, continuing to gaze at the sky. It was a real goatibex’s head except that one of his eyes kept winking — but just why it kept winking, I couldn’t figure out for the life of me.
“If I’ve done anything wrong, please forgive me,” said Valiko.
“I’m the one who should ask your forgiveness,” I said.
“If you want to make sure the goatibex is resting comfortably, we can go back and have a look,” said Valiko.
“No,” I said, “I don’t have time for that.”
“Well then, if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way,” he said. “I can still make the movie.”
We embraced like brothers, united by our common bond with the goatibex. Then Valiko got into the car.
“Don’t wander off anywhere and be sure to get on the Zugdidi bus,” he said.
For some reason I almost hoped that he’d have trouble starting the car. But it started up right away, and now he shouted once again:
“Don’t take any other bus, wait for the one from Zugdidi!”
For a few minutes I heard the roar of his motor receding into the darkness. Then it died away, and I was left alone in the warm, starlit summer night.
On the other side of the highway there was a park, and beyond the park I could hear the muffled sound of waves breaking against the shore.
Feeling a sudden urge to be close to the sea, I got up and walked across the highway. I remembered that I was supposed to be waiting for the bus, but at that moment it seemed just as logical to wait for it on the seashore.
I entered the park and made my way along one of its tree-lined paths. Silhouetted against the black shadows of the cypress trees were pale phantoms of eucalypti — their broad leaves stirring gently in the cool breeze which blew in from the sea. Every now and then I glanced up at the sky, but there was no cause for alarm. The Goatibex Constellation remained firmly in place.
I was not so drunk as to be oblivious of everything, but just drunk enough to imagine that I was oblivious of nothing.
A couple was sitting on a bench right by the shore. As I started to approach them, they turned their bluish faces in my direction and immediately stopped talking.
“Move over a bit,” I said to the boy, and not waiting for an invitation, I sat down between them. The girl gave a timid laugh.
“Don’t be afraid,” I said peaceably. “I want to show you something.”
“Who’s afraid?” said the boy, not too confidently as it seemed to me. I ignored his words and turned to the girclass="underline"
“Look up at the sky,” I said to her in a normal voice, “and what do you see?”
The girl looked at the sky and then at me, trying to make up her mind whether I was drunk or crazy.
“Stars,” she said in an overly natural voice.
“No, look up here, right here,” I patiently objected, now taking her gently by the shoulder and trying to direct her glance toward the Goatibex Constellation.
“Let’s go, they’ll soon be locking up,” the boy said gloomily. He was obviously trying his best to get out of a bad situation.
“Locking up where?” I asked, politely turning in his direction. It pleased me to know that he was afraid of me — all the more so since in this case my manners had been impeccable.
“At the tourist camp,” he replied.
It suddenly occurred to me that there might be some mysterious and perhaps even dangerous connection between the Goatibex Constellation and the tourist camp.[5]
“Strange that you should mention the tourist camp,” I said, apparently more sternly than necessary. The boy did not reply, and I looked at the girl. She had wrapped her woolen sweater snugly around her shoulders as if to escape some cosmic chill emanating from my person.
I looked up at the sky. The bright dotted outline of the goatibex’s face was swaying — sometimes coming closer, at other times moving farther away. Every now and then his big eye would wink. I was sure that this winking had some special significance, but exactly what it was, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out.
“Goatibex watching is a favorite pastime for tourists,” I said.
“Perhaps we should be on our way,” said the girl quietly.
“Well, go ahead,” I said calmly, at the same time letting them know that I was disappointed in them.
Seconds later they had disappeared from sight. I closed my eyes and began to ponder the significance of the goatibex’s winking. The sea’s refreshing coolness and the steady pounding of the waves lulled my senses and from time to time I would sink into oblivion, only to emerge seconds later like a piece of rock rising from the foam of an outgoing wave.
Suddenly I opened my eyes and saw two policemen standing before me.
“Let’s see your papers,” said one of them.
I mechanically reached into my pocket for my passport[6] and handed it to him. Then I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, it seemed as if a considerable amount of time had passed and I was surprised to see the two policemen still standing there.
“You’re not allowed to sleep here,” said one of them, returning my passport.
“I’m waiting for the Zugdidi bus,” I said, closing my eyes once again or, rather, easing up on my efforts to keep them open.
The policemen chuckled.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” one of them asked.
5
In his drunken haze the narrator makes a false association between the Russian word for “ibex”
6
Most Soviet citizens are required to carry internal passports which contain their name, address, age, nationality, marital and civil status as well as their complete employment record. (Trans.)