Jonathan Lethem - The Wall of the Sky, the Wall of the Eye

“Yeah.”

“It’s like it’s all a game, like Monopoly money, you and Kaz can just fuckin’ play with it.”

“Kaz didn’t do anything wrong,” said Don.

“Kaz a sucker get taken by a chump like you.” He raised his hand and Kaz flinched. Leaving his hand in the air, he turned to me. “Who’s your man here?”

“Paul.”

“He your brother?”

“Nah.”

Randall looked at Kaz and Drey. “This the dude?”

Kaz nodded.

Randall stared at me, but he was still talking to Don. “You tell him Randall got some easy money, some play money, just laying around? You tell him I’m a fuckin’ chump?”

“Randall, we didn’t even take your money. Just some dope, man. We only took money off Kaz and Drey.”

“My dope is money, stupid. My dope is product. Not for you to fuckin’ smoke. Why you so stupid, crackhead?”

At that moment a shadow slipped in through the moonlit garage entrance, then almost disappeared into the darkness. The Sufferer. I felt relieved, like it was the cavalry. But when it came into the circle it stepped up beside Randall, and then I saw that it wasn’t the same. It was bigger than ours, its eyes were longer, slits instead of ovals, and the strangely human nose was pushed to one side. A scarred Sufferer, for Randall.

“Here’s my thing,” said Randall. “I heard you got a thing, yourself. You been seen around town together.”

“Uh, yeah. So what?”

“So what? That the only reason I came up here to talk to you myself, you think I bother with a fuckin’ chump like you? Only reason my man didn’t do you in a drive-by on Broadway.”

“What, you like them? You can have mine.”

“Naw, why you have to get fresh, Light?” He leaned over and slapped Don again, but lightly. It was the same slap Don had used on Douglas, exactly the same. Don was a reflexive mimic. “You disappoint me.”

Don didn’t speak.

“What does it want?” said Randall.

“I don’t know.”

Randall made a face. “I can’t get rid of the sucker. It wants me to stop — stop livin’ the life?”

“I said I don’t know.”

“Because I’m not a user , Light, I’m not like you. What’s it trying to say to me?” Randall lurched forward and Don flinched. Intimidation, I sensed, was a way of life for Randall. It even leaked into interactions where he wanted to propagate trust. He couldn’t help it.

“Nothing,” said Don.

Randall turned and paced in a tight, impatient circle. “I wanna know, Light. Why this thing in my life, what the meaning is. Tell me.”

It occurred to me that Randall thought Don knew because he was white.

“Nothing.”

“Must want something, everybody wants something, Light. It stop you from using?”

“It doesn’t give a shit, Randall. It smokes rock. It’s a party animal, man.”

“Gonna turn me in? Working for the Narcotics?”

“Sure, I don’t know. This is fuckin’ stupid, Randall.”

Randall wheeled. “What you sayin’? It’s gathering evidence , man? Tell me what you know!”

Kaz and Drey shifted nervously. The gun man cleared his throat.

“Nothing, Randall, man. It can’t fuckin’ talk, it’s from another planet , man. Can’t turn you in. Relax. It’s really got you rattled, man.”

“So tell me what it wants.”

“Nothing. It’s just… trying to, you know, get along.” Don sighed. “Really, Randall. Everybody wants it to be about something, or up to something, but it’s just, like… attracted. All the explanations are bullshit.”

“That’s not right,” I blurted. “It’s like a guardian angel. It’s drawn to you because it senses something—”

I hesitated, and saw that I had everyone’s undivided attention.

“—because it feels this sense that you’re, uh, important , your life is important, and so it’s drawn to you.” I was going in circles. “It’s not judging you, it’s not moralistic. That’s why it doesn’t try to stop you, try to change your behavior, why it’ll even share the pipe. Drugs aren’t the point, it’s not some simplistic thing like they make it out to be, it’s more subtle than that. It wants to be around you and protect you because — your life is important. And it’s afraid that you don’t — care enough. So it’s trying to do that, to care —”

I wanted to convince them, somehow, because I wanted to convince myself.

While I was talking, Don’s Sufferer had crept in, like some kind of affirmation of my words. It padded past Don and Randall, stopping a foot or so away from Randall’s Sufferer, I stopped talking. The two aliens stared at each other, and the distance between them suddenly seemed very small.

I thought of the aliens’ incredible strength. I wished Don’s was bigger than Randall’s, instead of the reverse.

“Guardian angel,” mused Randall. “That your guardian angel, Light?” The sneer in his voice made me sorry I’d spoken at all.

“Yeah,” said Don. “It’ll always be with you now, Randall. Gonna live your life with you, see everything you do.”

“Fuck you trying to say?”

“Nothing. Just that you gotta live right, now, Randall. You’re being watched.” Don wasn’t saying it because it meant anything to him. He was just yanking Randall’s chain.

“Huh.” Randall thought this over. “Light, you don’t know shit about shit. You don’t know what I do, how I live.”

“Maybe not, Randall.”

“I gotta get my money back, Light. Drey, take the money off Light.”

Don handed it over, preemptively. I thought of the gun.

“I gotta put a hurt on you, Light, like you put on me. How’m I gonna do that?”

“I dunno.”

“What you got that I can take? You ain’t got nothing.”

The Sufferers suddenly both stood, and I braced for some kind of violence between them. Instead they turned and walked out of the garage together, into the frame of moonlight, and then disappeared around the corner, heading towards the water. To settle their differences?

With them gone I felt naked, doomed.

“Kaz,” said Randall, “you gotta do my hurtin’ for me, my man. For what Light did to you.”

“Naw, Randall,” whined Kaz. “Naw, man.”

“Hit him.”

“Naw. He still got a gun, Randall, anyway. You didn’t take it off him.”

“So take it off him.” Randall pointed at me. “You go, chump. You got lucky. Don’t fuck with me no more. Don’t go around with this dude Light, he’s bad news. Go.”

“What?” I said.

“Get lost. I ain’t gonna fuck with you. You didn’t know what you was doing.”

“We’ll go together,” I said. “He’s, uh, my brother.”

“Go.” Randall pointed, and the driver raised the gun at me.

“Go ahead, Paul,” said Don.

“No, I’m his brother,” I said, getting hysterical. “No.”

Randall shoved me towards the door, and the driver followed. I took a few steps.

“Take him, Kaz,” commanded Randall, done with me. “Take his gun.”

“Naw, don’t make me, Randall.”

“Do it!”

“I’m his brother —”

The driver kicked me, and aimed the gun at my stomach. Inside, Kaz was advancing sheepishly on Don.

I ran, into the glare of moonlight.

Where was the Sufferer? I ran towards the water. Behind me, the clatter of voices: Don, Randall, Kaz. I ran, gasping.

When I found the Sufferers I thought they were killing each other. They were half hidden behind a pile of shredded, stinking tires, in a puddle of stagnant water streaked with oil rainbows. They lay entwined, limbs twisted together, both moaning like echoing wells, their bodies twitching, paws treading air, ears wrinkled back.