Astonishing the Gods by Ben Okri Page B

the soft moonlight.
    For a long moment he watched the dove with a mixture of horror – and fascination. For a long moment he didn’t see it as a bird, but as a monster. The bird was crawling towards the House of Justice, crawling there to die an honourable death.
    But the moment he saw it as a bird struggling to get to the edge of the square, where there was a border of flowers, he also became aware of something else, something quite ominous.

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    He sensed that he was being watched. It seemed absurd to him, but it suddenly appeared that the square was crowded with people – people milling about, sitting at tables, under the moonlight, doing their normal everyday things, while being at the same time perfectly aware of him. He felt the square to be crowded, and yet he saw no one around. He also felt that he was being tested, and that whatever he did would determine his life on the new day.
    He looked around again, and saw nothing, except the looming palace, the silent square, and the empty ancient spaces.
    The bird had crawled past him, uttering its low pathetic noises, pushing on with its broken wings. He felt great pity for the bird and wondered why no one helped it, or cared for it, or took it home to heal, even when he knew perfectly well that there was no one around except him.
    He felt great pity for the bird, but for a while he didn’t move. He didn’t do anything. Moments passed. Suddenly, he couldn’t bear it any longer, and went towards the dove.
    Just as he was about to crouch and investigate the nature of its wound, he became aware of someone standing beside him. Standing silently, not breathing.

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    He let out a gasp of shock, and jumped backwards, the world reeling in his eyes. When he recovered from his shock he saw the dark form of a tall lean youth standing there. The lean youth was also regarding the white dove.
    â€˜His companions did this to him,’ said the lean figure, in a dry sepulchral voice.
    â€˜What companions?’
    â€˜His companions. They did this. They fell on him and broke his wings. They tried to kill him. They knew he couldn’t make the journey.’
    There was silence. After a while, during which the breeze stirred in the square, ruffling the mane of the great rider’s horse, the lean figure said:
    â€˜Can you hear what the dove is crying?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Can’t you hear what he is crying?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Can’t you hear at all?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜You can’t hear anything?’
    â€˜Yes, of course. I can hear its noise of distress.’
    â€˜You mean pain?’
    â€˜Yes, pain.’
    â€˜And you can’t hear what the pain is saying?’
    â€˜No, of course not. Any why are you asking me all these questions anyway? Why don’t you do something about the poor bird, instead of just standing there and talking?’
    The figure, drily, replied:
    â€˜Well, I was about to. But you seemed concerned as well. What were you going to do?’
    â€˜I don’t know.’
    There was another silence. Then, leaning forward ever so slightly, the figure said:
    â€˜This is what the pain is saying: Either give me life, or kill me.’
    â€˜I don’t understand.’
    â€˜The bird is saying: Either heal me, or kill me.’
    â€˜Well, I can’t kill it.’
    â€˜Then you must give it life.’
    â€˜I don’t know how to give it life.’
    â€˜You don’t?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Then what are you doing here?’
    â€˜Where?’
    â€˜Here. On this island, in this square, at this moment.’
    â€˜I don’t know.’
    â€˜You don’t know?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜How odd.’
    â€˜There’s nothing odd about it. I am here. There’s a reason why, but I don’t know the reason.’
    â€˜So you can’t give life?’
    â€˜No. And what about you? What were you going to do? You clearly feel pity for the