Colum McCann - Let the Great World Spin

It was Compton who got the message on the ARPANET this morning — it came over the AP service on the twenty-four-hour message board. We didn’t believe it at first, some guy walking the wires high above New York, but then Compton got on the line with an operator, pretended he was a switchman, testing out some verification trunks on the pay phones, said he needed some numbers down close to the World Trade buildings, part of an emergency line analysis, he said, and then we programmed the numbers in, skipped them through the system, and we each took bets on whether he’d fall or not. Simple as that.

The signals bounce through the computer, multifrequency bips, like something on a flute, and we catch the guy on the ninth ring.

— Uh. Hello.

— Are you near the World Trade Center, sir?

— Hello? ’Scuse me?

— This is not a joke. Are you near the World Trades?

— This phone was just ringing out here, man. I just… I just picked it up.

He’s got one of those New York accents, young but grouchy, like he’s smoked too many cigarettes.

— I know, says Compton, but can you see the buildings? From where you’re standing? Is there someone up there?

— Who is this?

— Is there someone up there?

— I’m watching him right now.

— You what?

— I’m watching him.

— Far out! You can see him?

— I been watching him twenty minutes, more, man. Are you…? This phone just rang and I—

— He can see him!

Compton slaps his hands against the desk, takes out his pocket protector, and flings it across the room. His long hair goes flying around his face. Gareth dances a little jig over by the printout table and Dennis walks by and takes me in a light headlock and knuckles my scalp, like he doesn’t really care, but he likes to see us get our kicks, like he’s still the army sergeant or something.

— I told you, shouts Compton.

— Who’s this? says the voice.

— Far out!

— Who the hell is this?!

— Is he still on the tightrope?

— What’s going on? Are you messing with me, man?

— Is he still there?

— He’s been up there twenty, twenty-five minutes!

— All right! Is he walking?

— He’s going to kill himself.

— Is he walking?

— No, he’s stopped right now!

— Standing there?

— Yeah!

— He’s just standing there? Midair?

— Yeah, he’s got the bar going. Up and down in his hands.

— In the middle of the wire?

— Near the edge.

— How near?

— Not too near. Near enough.

— Like what? Five yards? Ten yards? Is he steady?

— Steady as shit! Who wants to know? What’s your name?

— Compton. Yours?

— José.

— José? Cool. José. ¿Qué onda, amigo?

— Huh?

—¿Qué onda, carnal?

— I don’t speak Spanish, man.

Compton hits the mute button and punches Gareth’s shoulder.

— Can you believe this guy?

— Just don’t lose him.

— I’ve seen SAT questions with more brains than this one.

— Just keep him on the line, man!

Compton leans into the console and takes the mike again.

— Can you tell us what’s happening, José?

— Tell you what, man?

— Like, describe it.

— Oh. Well, he’s up there …

— And?

— He’s just standing.

— And …?

— Where’re you calling from, anyway?

— California.

— Seriously.

— I am serious.

— You’re fucking with me, right?

— No.

— This a hoax, man?

— No hoax, José.

— Are we on TV? We’re on TV, ain’t we?

— We haven’t got TV. We’ve got a computer.

— A what?

— It’s complicated, José.

— You telling me I’m talking to a computer?

— Don’t worry about it, man.

— What is this? Is this Candid Camera? Are you looking at me right now? Am I on?

— On what, José?

— I’m on the show? Ah, come on, you’ve got a camera here somewhere. Come clean, man. For real. I love that show, man! Love it!

— This is not a show.

— Are you Allen Funt, man?

— What?

— Where’re your cameras? I don’t see no cameras. Hey, man, are you in the Woolworth Building? Is that you up there? Hey!

— I’m telling you, José, we’re in California.

— You’re trying to tell me I’m talking to a computer?

— Sort of.

— You’re in California …? People! Hey, people!

He says it real loud, holding the receiver out, and we can hear voices chattering, and the wind, and I guess it’s one of those pay phones in the middle of the street, covered in stickers with sexy girls and all, and we can hear some sirens going in the background, big high whoops, and a woman laughing, and a few muffled shouts, a car horn, a vendor roaring about peanuts, some guy saying he’s got the wrong lens, he needs a better angle, and some other guy shouting: Don’t fall!

— People! he says again. I got this nutjob here. Guy from California. Go figure. Hey. You there?

— I’m here, José. Is he up there still?

— You’re a friend of his?

— No.

— How did you know, then? If you’re calling in?

— It’s complicated. We’re phreaking. We hack the system … Man, is he still up there? That’s all I want to know.

He pulls the phone away again and his voice sways.

— Where you from again? he shouts.

— Palo Alto.

— No kidding?

— Honestly, José.

— He says the guy’s from Palo Alto! What’s his name?

— Compton.

— The guy’s name is Compton! Yeah, Comp-ton! Yeah. Yeah. Just a minute. Hey, man, there’s a guy here wants to know, Compton what? What’s his last name?

— No, no, my name is Compton.

— What’s his name, man, his name?

— José, can you just tell me what’s happening?

— Can I have some of what you’re on? You’re tripping, aren’t you? You really a friend of his? Hey! Listen up! I got some whackjob on the phone from California. He says the guy’s from Palo Alto. The tightrope walker’s from Palo Alto.

— José, José. Listen to me a moment, please, okay?

— We got a bad line. What’s his name?

— I don’t know!

— I think we got a bad connection. We got some nutjob. I don’t know, he’s jabbering, man. Computers and shit. Oh, holy shit! Holy shit!

— What, what?

— Holy freakin’ shit.

— What? Hello?

— No!

— José? You there?

— Jes-us.

— Hello, you there?

— Jesus H.

— Hello?

— I can’t believe it.

— José!

— Yeah, I’m here! He just hopped. Did you see that?

— He what?

— He, like, hopped. Holy freakin’ shit!

— He jumped?

— No!

— He fell?

— No, man.

— He’s dead?

— No, man!

— What?

— He hopped from foot to foot! He’s wearing black, man. You can see it. He’s still up there! This guy’s awesome! Holy shit! I thought he was a goner. He just went up on one foot and the other, oh, man!

— He hopped?

—’Zactly

— Like a bunny hop?

— More like a scissors thing. He just… Man! Fuck me. Oh, man. Fuck me running backwards. He just like did a little scissors thing. On the wire, man!

— Far out.

— Can you freakin’ believe that? He a gymnast or something? He looks like he’s dancing. Is he a dancer? Hey, man, is your friend a dancer?

— He’s not really my friend, José.

— I swear to Christ he must be tied to something, or something. Tied to the wire. I bet he’s tied. He’s up there and he just did the scissors thing! Far freakin’ out.

— José. Listen up. We’ve got a bet going here. What’s he look like?