got out at the age of fifty, and swore to do two things upon release: to surgically remove the cursed birthmark from his chest, and find Catherine in the old apartment. It’s inconceivable that no matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find her. It was like the earth had swallowed her whole. It’s inconceivable that on the day of the surgery, lying in a hospital bed, the upper half of my body revealed, glad to be almost rid of this badge of dishonor, a woman walks through the door, by mistake, apologizes, leaves the room, then comes back two seconds later, looks at my chest and back at me, pulls a gun out of her bag, and empties the whole clip into me. Yeah, Ben, it is inconceivable on the very day of the operation, the day I was to begin my life anew, after two months of tireless searching, Catherine finds me and kills me in cold blood. And the most inconceivable part, I suppose, is the coincidence. What the hell was she doing there, in the plastic surgery ward, on that particular day, and why in the world did she have a gun in her bag and why, why, did she not say a word?”
Ben scanned the cobalt sky in silence. “The most unthinkable part of the whole shocking story,” he ruled, “is the fact that you’ve been waiting here for that woman for ten years, and that you’ve forgiven her. Not that I’d want to advocate for revenge, but how, for fuck’s sake, can you possibly still be devoted to her?”
“It’s my last chance,” Robert said, spreading a bland smile, “I owe it to myself to ask her why. Why did she accuse me and, even more importantly, why did she kill me? But most of all, to ask her if after all we’ve been through, she’s willing to give our relationship another chance. If she refuses, I promise to relent. But till then, I won’t rest. The thought that I could spend my entire death wracked with regret is too much. You have to agree, the woman owes me an explanation. At the very least.”
“Of course,” Ben sighed. “You said she was in jail. Do you mean she’s still there?”
Robert nodded.
“How do you know?” Ben wondered. “You’ve been here for ten years. Maybe she got out early for good behavior. Maybe she was never arrested. Maybe…”
Robert shifted in his chair, pulled the cigar box out from under him, sifted through the contents, and removed a rectangular piece of white paper. Ben looked at the business card and read aloud, “The Mad Hop—Private Investigator. Unravels Mysteries, Finds the Missing, Solves All Crimes. Address: September 1986, Circle 4, Building S, Floor 18, Apartment 45.”
Ben smiled. “The Mad Hop? What kind of nickname is that?”
Robert shrugged. “Look, he’s the best investigator I’ve ever known. He’s got his share of eccentricities, but who doesn’t, eh? When I got here, I contacted him. I asked him to report back about Catherine, to relay any and all information that came his way. He told me about her arrest and trial. Twenty years for first degree murder. If anything changes, trust the Mad Hop—he’ll know.”
Ben gave back the card, pursing his lips. “There’s just one more thing I don’t get. Your chair, the wheelchair.”
Robert smiled. “I’ll explain. But if you don’t mind, accompany me to the tobacco shop. It’s on the way to the central bus station, so we’ll both get something out of the stroll. I imagine you’re already dying to see your new apartment.…”
“I’m dying to see my wife’s place.” Ben chuckled, happy to leave the white room behind him and explore the promising new world.
As they headed toward the spot where the multi-wheels had waited two hours before, Ben said, “At the orientation they explained to us that…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Robert said, cutting him off, “that there’s a substitute for every human organ and all that other bullshit. What are you, a gullible little kid who believes everything he hears? They want to present an idealized picture of the Other World, that’s
Ben scanned the cobalt sky in silence. “The most unthinkable part of the whole shocking story,” he ruled, “is the fact that you’ve been waiting here for that woman for ten years, and that you’ve forgiven her. Not that I’d want to advocate for revenge, but how, for fuck’s sake, can you possibly still be devoted to her?”
“It’s my last chance,” Robert said, spreading a bland smile, “I owe it to myself to ask her why. Why did she accuse me and, even more importantly, why did she kill me? But most of all, to ask her if after all we’ve been through, she’s willing to give our relationship another chance. If she refuses, I promise to relent. But till then, I won’t rest. The thought that I could spend my entire death wracked with regret is too much. You have to agree, the woman owes me an explanation. At the very least.”
“Of course,” Ben sighed. “You said she was in jail. Do you mean she’s still there?”
Robert nodded.
“How do you know?” Ben wondered. “You’ve been here for ten years. Maybe she got out early for good behavior. Maybe she was never arrested. Maybe…”
Robert shifted in his chair, pulled the cigar box out from under him, sifted through the contents, and removed a rectangular piece of white paper. Ben looked at the business card and read aloud, “The Mad Hop—Private Investigator. Unravels Mysteries, Finds the Missing, Solves All Crimes. Address: September 1986, Circle 4, Building S, Floor 18, Apartment 45.”
Ben smiled. “The Mad Hop? What kind of nickname is that?”
Robert shrugged. “Look, he’s the best investigator I’ve ever known. He’s got his share of eccentricities, but who doesn’t, eh? When I got here, I contacted him. I asked him to report back about Catherine, to relay any and all information that came his way. He told me about her arrest and trial. Twenty years for first degree murder. If anything changes, trust the Mad Hop—he’ll know.”
Ben gave back the card, pursing his lips. “There’s just one more thing I don’t get. Your chair, the wheelchair.”
Robert smiled. “I’ll explain. But if you don’t mind, accompany me to the tobacco shop. It’s on the way to the central bus station, so we’ll both get something out of the stroll. I imagine you’re already dying to see your new apartment.…”
“I’m dying to see my wife’s place.” Ben chuckled, happy to leave the white room behind him and explore the promising new world.
As they headed toward the spot where the multi-wheels had waited two hours before, Ben said, “At the orientation they explained to us that…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Robert said, cutting him off, “that there’s a substitute for every human organ and all that other bullshit. What are you, a gullible little kid who believes everything he hears? They want to present an idealized picture of the Other World, that’s
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