Sergio De La Pava - A Naked Singularity

“These observations might carry a scintilla of weight if you were proposing we rob an armored car, a bank, or a police evidence room. Instead you propose we rip off people who are themselves outlaws, maybe even subscribing to the same ethos you now extol.”

“The money we’re going to take is generated by the War On Drugs — that hypocritical, mass-produced mindfuck currently lining everybody’s pockets but ours. Besides this is just a first step. We didn’t choose this setup, it fell in our laps. Nonetheless, while planning this heist we’re going to be able to forget everything else through the thrill that comes from exhausting our abilities. When we do it, our bodies will be electrified by our naked displays of will. And when we’ve succeeded, you will not only know that you are one badass fuck, but you will finally and truly be free. The money will liberate you and give you power. Use that power however you wish. At the moment I’m weighing taking my share, going to Washington Heights, and using this tennis machine I have to shoot hundred dollar bills into the midday sky. The human roaches will have to flood the streets and scavenge for green paper, exposing the rotting foundation beneath society’s crumbling facade. How entertaining. Can you picture it, the beauty, the statement? What can you say about art where the medium is human bodies and their inanimate captors? But I do get your point. Armored cars and banks would be better. That can come later, after this first step. Meanwhile what do you plan to do afterwards? Because you said you were in.”

“And you said you were going to come back at lunchtime, yet here you are well before.”

“True.”

“I have work to do.”

“I’ll be back.”

“I’m sure.”

I didn’t say that just to get rid of Dane, although I did want to get rid of him. I wanted to do some work, didn’t want to fritter away the morning in chatter. I wanted to make lists. So I did. Lists like this one:

1. make list;

2. experience the reduction of stress that comes from the mere creation of a list;

3. come to the realization that this reduction in stress is illusory as it fails to be based on any tangible accomplishment;

4. armed with this realization, accomplish actual, necessary tasks, but first;

5. so as to avoid scattershot activity, and maximize productivity, think of what needs to be done and make a list.

I wrote furiously as lists spun off into sublists that were listed in various sensible orders. It worked, all this writing, and served to ebb my recent dark past. I couldn’t stop. I would finish a page only to push it off my desk and onto the waiting floor to begin a new one. My dwindling volition was in those pages. When I was done you couldn’t see carpet for the pages.

“What’s all this?” asked Conley.

“Lists.”

“Of what?”

“Of everything. For example, that’s a list of all the lists I was going to make. Here’s a list of my favorite all-time lists. There’s a list of all the trials I’ve done. A list of all the hearings. I made a list of everybody I knew who later died. Conversely, I listed everybody who started living within my awareness. I listed every single person I know. I listed all the people I don’t know in ascending order of knowledge and descending order of ignorance. A list of people I wish I knew and those I wish I didn’t. Things I wish had happened and those I wish hadn’t. The former list is divided into those things I could have made happen, and which therefore require self-flagellation, and those beyond my control. Some of the lists are rankings. Everything is ranked. Artists and works of art. Scientists and works of science. Pugilists and works of Pugilism. Theologians and works of Theology. All the ologies, for that matter, are ranked. The aforementioned Theology along with Biology, Geology, Endocrinology, it’s all there. The greatest of all-time are in those pages. And the worst.”

“Why?”

“Because everything is susceptible to discrete, unproblematic listing. Anything can be ranked. Subjectivity has nothing to do with it. If something is ranked higher it simply is higher. Better. Understand?”

“I do and I agree. In the future, we’ll rank all humans according to the quality of their particular genome. A numerical value will be assessed and tattooed between the individual’s right and left ass cheek. A job interview, for example, would simply consist of looking into someone’s ass.”

“I thought everyone was going to look and be substantially the same?”

“I’m describing an intervening step. Anyway I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t know enough about that stuff.”

“No this is a work-related conversation.”

“Really? We ever had one?”

“Doubt it. Anyway as I’m sure you know.”

“Don’t be so sure, this is me you’re talking to, and I can’t talk right now either.”

“Why not?”

“I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Working, what else?”

“Because it looks like you’re just writing reams of these lists.”

“That’s the thing about looks, they have the power to deceive and all that. Anyway I’m hard at work and as a supervisor in this place I believe your primary function is to maximize my productivity. In accordance with that, I shall now ask you to quit me to my work. In exchange for my promise to discuss the matter with you later of course.”

“Very well.”

“Thanks Con.”

Only I didn’t do any work after he left or at all before I met up with Dane for lunch.

We were back at Deleterie’s for like the third time in ten days even sitting at the same table. I decided I would eat like never before. Maybe not go back in the afternoon either.

It was called a mozzarella caprese salad. Perfect slices of fresh mozzarella, made on the premises, without even a hint of a salty presence, as it should be. The slices were arranged circularly and flanked by similar slices of fresh plum tomatoes, which although unmistakably red, veered towards the orange as I liked. Atop sat razor-thin slices of angelically lean and pink prosciutto ham. Completed by the occasional sprig of romaine lettuce and topped by extra virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar, and all in conjunction with fresh warm semolina bread. The blessed concoction was perfect and it was only the beginning.

“Have you thought about what I said Casi?”

“You said something?”

“Man you looked pissed Friday.”

“Friday?”

“When you got that verdict.”

“How do you know?”

“I was there.”

“Where?”

“In the courtroom.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What was there to say?”

“What were you doing there?”

“Did you know studies indicate that 94.3 percent of the time an individual changes his or her mind he or she later comes to regret that change. Did you know that figure jumps to 99.9 percent when the mind change involves participation in a heist or caper?”

“I’d need to see the underlying figures. When is this thing anyway? Ten days you said? Ten days from last Wednesday is this weekend and I’m going to be in Alabama anyway so I guess we can forget all this.”

“Here’s why what I’m proposing is just.”

“Will you forget all that, deal with my logistical objection first.”

“Okay when are you coming back? Who cares anyway, it’s simple, cancel the trip.”

“Can’t.”

“Why in the world are you going to Alabama?”

“To meet with my death penalty client.”

“Send the other guy.”

“He can’t, he’s getting married or something.”

“Easy then, just bail out. I see attorneys do it all the time when they realize the extent of the time commitment. I mean it’s not part of your employment here, you have no responsibility or debt to anyone.”