‘What’s that out there,
son? Can I ask you that for something?’
‘What’s what,’ the
young man replied, running his hands over his stubbled chin, ‘old man?’
‘What’s outside these
here bars?’ said the old man, springing to his feet and moving with jumpy
insecurity across the cell. He grabbed two of the many lines of blackened metal
that separated the two men, framing his face in between. ‘That’s all I’m
asking? Do you know much?’
‘I know some,’ grumbled
the young man as he picked dirt from his fingernails. ‘I know what I want to
know. The rest of it is left out on purpose.’ He took off the shoe and sock of
his left foot. The slap of the hard sole and wet cotton reverberated throughout
the whole of Block D. ‘But I’m sure you’re gonna tell me some anyway.’
‘I’ll tell you what it
is. What I been telling myself for years. What I been unfortunate enough to see on two
too many occasions.’ He showed his teeth as he laughed and spittle shot out
through the large gaps. He caught most of it in his hands, wiped his mouth on
his arm, and ran his hands back and forth against his jeans. ‘Ain’t that the
truth? Uh-huh. Yep. You bet. That’s the world out there. You know that? The
whole goddamn world!’
‘You’re kidding.’ In a
style akin to that of a cartoon cat, the young man rubbed his eyes and
slackened his jaw. ‘Serious? No foolin’?’
‘Uh-huh. You bet. The
whole world.’ The old man nodded and folded his arms. ‘Trees and birds. And the
sky. The real sky. The one straight above. And air that ain’t mixed with nothing.
And fish to catch. And water that you can drink right outta the stream.’ He
noticed he was smiling. Grinning from ear to ear. A cat that had just come
across a bucket full of lovely white mice. He stopped smiling and walked away
from the young man.
‘Something wrong there,
friend?’ The young man chirped in, nose peaking through the bars. ‘I was
enjoying hearing about all those fantastical things ever so much. Tell me
again.’ He rested his head playfully on his hands. ‘I wanna hear all about this
“real sky”’
‘That’s not the point!’
Interjected the old man whose voice had turned to that of a teacher scolding an
irksome pupil. ‘The point is that we’re not out there because it’s wrong. We’re
not there because it’s all too real. So they built us our own little pocket and
shoved us in like stray hands. But this is the best place to be. Don’t you get
it? They have a corrupt government, so we make one that is safe and secure,
hidden from the public. They have their mindless soul-sucking little boxes,
while we keep our minds occupied with poker and chess. They lie, cheat and
steal for a wage, whereas we get slop and a dirty rag for nothing. Don’t you
see? They can have their trees if they’re gonna cut them down. And they can
have their fish if they’re gonna kill them with chemicals. And they can have
their real sky if they’re gonna fill it with smoke. We’ll take that slither of
sky between the smog and the rooftops, and love it all the more for the little
we get. They can celebrate their Christmas with presents; we’ll make do with a
lump of coal if that’s what it takes to be happy.’He pushed his cold hand onto his forehead and ran it down his face before settling it on his chin. ‘And do you know
what the funniest thing about it all is? The gristle on the char grilled steak?
None of it’s even going to matter anyway. And why’s that, Foxy m’lad?’
‘Because we are all
going to die in the end.’
‘Because we are all
going to die in the end.’
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