Felipe Alfau: Locos: A Comedy of Gestures

And it was in this manner that the city of Toledo discarded this insignificant individual upon the bridge of Alcántara.

In the middle of the bridge, Fulano stripped himself of his coat and placed it on the ground, pinning the note on the outside.

Having done this and ascertained that no one saw him, he walked in his shirt sleeves toward the station.

Fulano did not see what happened after he left the bridge but I, of course, saw it, and if a writer had the privilege of interfering or preventing the incidents which he has the misfortune to witness, I would have prevented what took place, for the sake of my poor friend, Fulano. However, if a writer could do that, all stories would end happily and justice would prevail in all literature. As this would create a great monotony, such power has not been granted. Therefore, I had to stand by and see the happenings in a state of utter impotence and indignation.

A man of evil appearance walked along the bridge. By the moonlight he saw the coat on the ground and stooped and picked it up. He fumbled in the pockets and took out all the papers. He lighted a match and examined them rapidly. He then saw the note pinned to the coat and a devilish smile played over his face.

With haste he put all the papers back in the pockets, took off his own coat, pinned the note on it, and donned Fulano’s coat.

In the train to Madrid, Fulano did not notice a man with a cap pulled down over his eyes and a coat that matched Fulano’s trousers to perfection. Fulano sneezed furiously now and then, but his mind and heart were jumping with anticipation and happiness.

The next day a local paper of Toledo carried the following account:

Yesterday evening So-and-so who had escaped from prison and whom the authorities were prosecuting, committed suicide by jumping into the river Tajo from the bridge of Alcántara. This has been deduced from a note pinned to his coat which was found on the bridge. It seems that after the many crimes he had committed, remorse seized him at last and he decided to end his sinful existence. R.I.P.

One day, after returning to Madrid, I was walking through the street of Sevilla when I found myself seized by the shoulders and beheld a face pale with rage at two inches from my nose.

“Hello, Fulano! But what is the matter with you?”

‘‘What is the matter with me, you ask?”

“Yes. How did the suicide trick work?” (Of course, I had entirely forgotten what I saw at the bridge.)

“How did it work.? How did it work.? Infernally!!”

“What do you mean, infernally? What happened, then?”

Fulano took two steps back and stood there looking at me:

“Do you see me here?”

“A bit blurred, but I still see you.”

“Well, I do not exist.”

“What?”

“I do not exist.”

“You do not exist?”

“No.”

“But how is that possible?”

“Since I have had any use of reason, I have entertained strong doubts about my existence. No, don’t look at me as if I were going to enter into a metaphysical discussion. I am talking seriously now. Yes, I had always entertained strong doubts about my own existence, but since your idiotic suggestion about suicide those doubts have abandoned me completely. Now I am sure that I do not exist.”

“But explain yourself.” Fulano had already spent some of his initial steam and could speak more calmly.

“Well, someone is now here in Madrid, enjoying my personality, my name, my property, my home, my wife. everything that belonged to me. And he is enormously famous, mind you, one of the best known politicians and businessmen, and accumulating a tremendous fortune. And I am nothing, I am absolutely lost, looking for some loose identity in order to find myself. But every identity has its owner and I am nothing, nothing. I do not exist. “ Fulano broke down and put a handkerchief to his eyes.

“But do you mean to say that the people who knew you cannot tell the difference? Cannot realize that this other Fulano is an impostor?”

“How can they tell the difference if they never noticed me before? I was always so unimportant, so absolutely unimportant!”

For the first time I realized in all its magnitude the tragedy of this unimportant man’s life.

Fulano produced a newspaper and pointed silently but eloquently at the big headlines which said something very flattering about Fulano.

“See what they say about him. What they should be saying about me. He has taken my name, my identity, and with it all the fame and importance that should have been mine.”

“No, Fulano, do not deceive yourself. It is not the name that has made him precisely. You would have never attained that success if you had remained Fulano. The man must possess the personality which you lack and he has made the name famous. Really, in a way you should be grateful to him.”

“Be grateful to him.! That is what you say after you got me into this mess with your idiotic suggestion!”

“It was Dr. de los Rios and not I who made the suggestion.”

“Just the same, you sided with him and you are just as responsible, and now you advise me to remain nothing, while he enjoys all my possessions and glory and fame, and all that the world can offer a man. I must sit back patiently, glad to be no one and thank him to boot! Do you realize the inconvenience of being alive and not existing?”

I had to admit the inconvenience of such a strange situation:

“Yes, something must be done about it.”

“Of course, something must be done about it, and it is you who must do it, you who got me into it. But, my Lord! How did it happen that this man took my place in the world?”

I felt that I must confess to Fulano, that the situation compelled me to betray an author’s secret. After all, to lose one’s identity must be the weirdest sensation in this world. Therefore, I related all that I had seen at the bridge and mentioned the account that had been published in the paper the day after the incident.

When I finished, Fulano was foaming at the mouth and ready to spring upon me, but he was firmly seized by a hand. It was Dr. José de los Rios himself.

Fulano struggled to free himself and yelled at me:

“So you mean to say that you stood by and didn’t do anything to prevent it, to save me from this horrible tragedy?”

Dr. de los Rios tried to calm him. I lowered my head.

“Fulano, my friend. If I could have done anything, I would not have hesitated to do it, but it is not in my power to interfere with the destinies of men.”

“And I am supposed to be satisfied with that answer, to remain an empty body without a place in society, a supernumerary in this world. To hell with you writers who can place a fellow in a situation like this and then cannot get him out of it!”

I lowered my head further.

“Forgive me, Fulano, I will see what I can do for you. ”

“Well, go ahead and see. I suppose you cannot make things worse than you have. Nothing could be worse.”

Dr. de los Rios, who had been too busy holding Fulano, spoke now:

“Señor Fulano, I was the one who made the original suggestion about the suicide and I assume the whole responsibility.”

“But I don’t care who the devil is responsible. I am in trouble and want to be helped out of it.”

“Very well, Señor Fulano, I admit that you are right in your demands, but I can only see one way out of it. There are no loose identities in this world which you can seize in order to regain your footing in life. There is only one superfluous identity as superfluous as yourself, and that identity is under the river Tajo. Yes, Señor Fulano, officially that identity is under that river and lately you must have realized the importance of official things. That soul upon the bed of the Tajo is craving for a body as much as you crave a soul. Go join it and end your mutual absurdity. After that I am sure that my friend will try to revive you in a story and to make a character out of you.”