someone
very important.
Igor takes a fifty-euro note out of his pocket and gives it to the waiter who has just
started laying the table.
Whos the gentleman in the faded blue T-shirt? he asks, glancing in the direction of the
other table.
Javits Wild. Hes a very important man.
Excellent. After someone as insignificant as the girl at the beach, a figure like Javits
Wild would be idealnot famous, but important. One of the people who decides who should be
in the spotlight and who feels no need to take much care over his own appearance because
he knows exactly who he is. Hes in charge of pulling the strings, and the puppets feel
themselves to be the most privileged and envied people on the planet, until one day, for
whatever reason, the puppeteer decides to cut the strings, and the puppets fall down,
lifeless and powerless.
Hes clearly a member of the Superclass, which means that he has false friends and many
enemies.
One other question. Would it be acceptable to destroy a universe in the name of a greater
love?
The waiter laughs. Are you God or just gay? Neither, but thank you for your answer. He
realizes he should not have asked that question. Firstly, because he doesnt need anyones support to justify what hes doing; hes con- vinced that since
everyone will die one day, some must do so in the name of something greater. Thats how its
been since the beginning of time, when men sacrificed themselves in order to feed their
tribe, when virgins were handed over to the priests to placate the wrath of dragons and
gods. The second reason is because he has now drawn attention to himself and indicated an
interest in the man at the next table.
The waiters sure to forget, but theres no need to take unnecessary risks. He tells himself
that at a Festival such as this, its only normal that people should want to know about
other people, and even more normal that such information should be rewarded. He himself
has done the same thing hundreds of times in restaurants all over the world, and others had doubtless done the same with him. Waiters arent just ac- customed to being
given money to supply a name or a better table or to send a discreet message, they almost
expect it.
No, the waiter wouldnt remember anything. Igor knows that his next victim is there before
him. If he succeeds, and if the waiter is ques- tioned, hell say that the only odd thing
to happen that day was a man asking him if he thought it was acceptable to destroy a
universe in the name of a greater love. He might not even remember that much. The police
will ask: What did he look like? and the waiter will reply: I didnt pay much attention, to
be honest, but I know he said he wasnt gay. The policeaccustomed to the kind of French
intellectual who sits in bars and comes up with weird theories and complicated analyses
of, for example, the sociology of film festivalswould quietly let the matter drop.
Something else was bothering Igor though. The name or names. He had killed beforewith
weapons and the blessing of his coun-
try. He didnt know how many people he had killed, but he had rarely seen their faces and
certainly never asked their names. Knowing some- ones name meant knowing that the other
person was a human being and not the enemy. Knowing someones name transformed him into a
unique and special individual, with a past and a future, with ancestors and possibly
descendants, a person who has known triumphs and fail- ures. People are their names;
theyre proud of them; they repeat them thousands of times in their lifetime and identify
with them. Its the first word they learn after Daddy and Mummy.
Olivia. Javits. Igor. Ewa.
Someones spirit, however, has no name; it is pure truth and inhabits a particular body for
a certain period of time, and will, one day, leave it, and God wont bother asking, Whats
your name? when the soul arrives at the final judgment. God
very important.
Igor takes a fifty-euro note out of his pocket and gives it to the waiter who has just
started laying the table.
Whos the gentleman in the faded blue T-shirt? he asks, glancing in the direction of the
other table.
Javits Wild. Hes a very important man.
Excellent. After someone as insignificant as the girl at the beach, a figure like Javits
Wild would be idealnot famous, but important. One of the people who decides who should be
in the spotlight and who feels no need to take much care over his own appearance because
he knows exactly who he is. Hes in charge of pulling the strings, and the puppets feel
themselves to be the most privileged and envied people on the planet, until one day, for
whatever reason, the puppeteer decides to cut the strings, and the puppets fall down,
lifeless and powerless.
Hes clearly a member of the Superclass, which means that he has false friends and many
enemies.
One other question. Would it be acceptable to destroy a universe in the name of a greater
love?
The waiter laughs. Are you God or just gay? Neither, but thank you for your answer. He
realizes he should not have asked that question. Firstly, because he doesnt need anyones support to justify what hes doing; hes con- vinced that since
everyone will die one day, some must do so in the name of something greater. Thats how its
been since the beginning of time, when men sacrificed themselves in order to feed their
tribe, when virgins were handed over to the priests to placate the wrath of dragons and
gods. The second reason is because he has now drawn attention to himself and indicated an
interest in the man at the next table.
The waiters sure to forget, but theres no need to take unnecessary risks. He tells himself
that at a Festival such as this, its only normal that people should want to know about
other people, and even more normal that such information should be rewarded. He himself
has done the same thing hundreds of times in restaurants all over the world, and others had doubtless done the same with him. Waiters arent just ac- customed to being
given money to supply a name or a better table or to send a discreet message, they almost
expect it.
No, the waiter wouldnt remember anything. Igor knows that his next victim is there before
him. If he succeeds, and if the waiter is ques- tioned, hell say that the only odd thing
to happen that day was a man asking him if he thought it was acceptable to destroy a
universe in the name of a greater love. He might not even remember that much. The police
will ask: What did he look like? and the waiter will reply: I didnt pay much attention, to
be honest, but I know he said he wasnt gay. The policeaccustomed to the kind of French
intellectual who sits in bars and comes up with weird theories and complicated analyses
of, for example, the sociology of film festivalswould quietly let the matter drop.
Something else was bothering Igor though. The name or names. He had killed beforewith
weapons and the blessing of his coun-
try. He didnt know how many people he had killed, but he had rarely seen their faces and
certainly never asked their names. Knowing some- ones name meant knowing that the other
person was a human being and not the enemy. Knowing someones name transformed him into a
unique and special individual, with a past and a future, with ancestors and possibly
descendants, a person who has known triumphs and fail- ures. People are their names;
theyre proud of them; they repeat them thousands of times in their lifetime and identify
with them. Its the first word they learn after Daddy and Mummy.
Olivia. Javits. Igor. Ewa.
Someones spirit, however, has no name; it is pure truth and inhabits a particular body for
a certain period of time, and will, one day, leave it, and God wont bother asking, Whats
your name? when the soul arrives at the final judgment. God
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