Leopoldo Marechal - Adam Buenosayres

But the Adonis made a face showing his displeasure:

— My satisfaction would have been complete, he grumbled, if you hadn’t put that untimely stick in front of me. In fact, before I fell, I was trying to work out the symbolism of a dream I had last night. I was lost in a forest, searching in anguish for a way through hostile trees and creeping vines. All of sudden, an Australian kangaroo appeared before me; sitting on its lower legs, he stared at me long and hard out of its profound melancholy. I briefly closed my eyes. When I looked again, the kangaroo was gone, and in its stead was a triple armoire. I went to search for an intimate garment inside it, but as I drew near it vanished into thin air, and the Australian kangaroo came back in its place. Then I took off running. The kangaroo followed hard on my heels. Finally, no longer hearing its leaps and bounds behind me, I turned around and again found myself before the armoire.

— Curious, admitted Samuel. Have you found any hidden meaning in that dream of yours?

— Not yet, answered the Adonis, but the kangaroo’s got me worried.

Samuel Tesler showed a glimmer of human sympathy.

— Don’t be alarmed, he said in a confidential tone. Last night I had a worse dream, and yet here I am.

— What did you dream? the Adonis asked him.

— I dreamed my arse was a rose and you were sniffing it.

The Adonis became pensive, as if speculating or reviewing texts.

— Hmm! he said at last. The rose is worrisome, and that arse smells a bit fishy to me. If I were you, I’d have myself psychoanalyzed.

These words, in Samuel Tesler’s opinion, conveyed an insult to his investiture. He lifted his pole with the obvious intention of bringing it down on the Adonis’s head. But the Adonis, tipped off perhaps by one of his many complexes, escaped to the track and rejoined the circle of joggers. 159

The astrologer and I left the area; in vain did Samuel invite us to witness the fall of a few more mulattos, who in his opinion were the best of the lot. We adamantly refused, especially Schultz, who declared his boredom and went on to censure Samuel Tesler for his loose language when talking with the Adonis, a slight against both the majesty of the place and the dignity of his visitors. Hanging his head, Samuel took the lead again, though grumbling inwardly, and led us to the portico of a monumental building situated among the gardens. The road leading up to it was flanked by numerous statues of salt: figures dressed in tuxedos, pot-bellied and rigid, proudly erect on pedestals of saltpetre, they ceremoniously doffed their felt hats as we passed by.

— Who are those pompous personages? I asked Samuel.

— The Grey Presidents, answered the philosopher sporting an enigmatic expression.

We arrived at the portico of the building, where three black porters in uniforms luxuriously festooned with buttons were each sucking on a gigantic mate , completely oblivious to our presence. Samuel opened the door; behind it I saw neither hall nor vestibule nor corridor but rather a space of grand proportions evoking the exact notion of a parliamentary chamber, complete with benches arranged in a semi-circle, presidential rostrum, press gallery, and a railing in the upper reaches. As soon as we entered, I noticed everyone was in place: Members of Parliament on their benches, House Speaker at his rostrum, reporters at their desks. Appearances notwithstanding, as I realized moments later, the Parliament was actually in session, though soundessly, enacting a series of dehumanized gestures that put me in mind of a well-oiled machine. What first caught my attention was a character perched on a pedestal facing the chamber — a rustic man with weathered features and a stunned expression, clad in baggy, country-style trousers and a very threadbare vicuña-wool poncho. At the base of the pedestal were baskets of roses and marble plaques that read: “In homage to Juan Demos, 160from his passionate admirers.” When I tried to get closer to the man on the pedestal, Samuel Tesler stopped me:

— Stay put! he ordered me. And open your ears. The session is in full swing.

— But I can’t hear a thing! I rejoined.

Nevertheless, by paying close attention to the assembly’s whispering, I managed to hear a few fragments of the debate which I now transcribe with the help of the typescript Samuel gave me when we left the chamber:

MR UNGULA: 161How many members of parliament are present?

MR SPEAKER: Right now there are seventy-eight members present.

MR OLFADEMOS: 162I observe, Mr Speaker, that this way of counting quorum is anarchic. I call for the roll be called aloud. The count must include only those indicating their presence.

MR LUNCH: 163I second the request of the honourable member Mr Olfademos.

MR PLUTOPHILE: With the three members who have just left there was quorum.

MR OLFADEMOS: Which means the Ministry is not doing its duty.

MR ASINUS: At this moment I think there are seventy-nine members present.

MR PLUTOPHILE: Let the three members who just left be asked to return to the chamber.

MR OLFADEMOS: Speaking from a minority position, I hereby note that the House Speaker made a faulty count.

MR SPEAKER: I’m going to propose that we wait another fifteen minutes, inasmuch as the member who presented the motion to close the session has left the room and cannot vote.

MR UNGULA: I’m in favour of closing the session.

MR SPEAKER: The roll will be called again. To that end, will the members without a key please stand up.

MR ASINUS: I move that the roll be called.

MR SPEAKER: The rule will be adhered to.

At this point, the Honourable Member Olfademos spoke up to address the man on the pedestal who, all wrapped up in his poncho, was following the debate without understanding a word:

— What do you say, Mr Demos? asked Olfademos. Did you see how I’ve gone all-out on your behalf?

— Nice! answered the man on the pedestal. Although, to be honest with you, I didn’t understand a whole lot of what the honourable members were saying. One thing’s for sure, though, I’m real cold: this old poncho’s about as good as an onion skin.

At those words, the legislators shook off their lethargy and got to their feet.

— For shame! thundered the Honourable Member Ungula. Mr Demos is cold? Then I move that a window be closed in the chamber.

— What do you mean, a window? cried the Honourable Member Aristophile. Are we in the Middle Ages? I move that two windows be closed.

— Let all the windows in the chamber be closed! vociferated the Honourable Member Lunch. It’s no time to be scrimping on resources when Mr Demos’s health is at risk!

The Honourable Member Lunch’s motion was put to a vote and adopted by a crushing majority. Lunch then turned to the man in baggy trousers and shouted:

— What d’you say, Mr Demos? Are we on or aren’t we?

— That’s sheer demagoguery! grumbled the Honourable Member Aristophile. Two windows were enough!

The debate then continued, muffled and cold.

MR SPEAKER: We shall deal with items of business on the agenda.

MR UNGULA: Let them be referred directly to the committees.

MR SPEAKER: If there is consensus, so it will be done. (Agreement). Now the Honourable Member for Santa Fe has the floor, for a few words of homage.

MR VULPES: We ought to vote on Mr Aristophile’s motion.

MR ARISTOPHILE: I had made a motion to deal in session with the projects of declaration that are on the table.

MR PSITTACUS: 164Mr Speaker, I have applied at the Ministry for intervenor status on a point of privilege.

MR PLUTOPHILE: The Honourable Member has not asked for the floor, because he was out of the room when the session opened.