Sergio De La Pava - A Naked Singularity

“Said the cop on the drug dealer’s payroll, who I’m sure would’ve rushed right over to said drug dealer with the money instead of taking it for himself and never being heard from again.”

“See that’s what I mean about you not comprehending fully, how you fail to understand the severity of the situation you’re in. What you’re about to learn is there are certain things in life that cannot be controlled or even contained. A certain violence gets unbound and there’s nothing in our godless universe to slow it. All the world’s malevolence and evil concentrated into one creature. That’s the thought occurred to me when I first saw Ballena and since 410 he’s grown worse, everyone sees it. So when you say I would keep the money I laugh because I would no sooner make an enemy of that than I would try to obliterate the Sun. You simply don’t defy Ballena in that way, no sane person would. So I’m giving you one last chance. You know me now and I surely know you. Tell me what I want to hear and you’ll never see me again. More importantly, you won’t see that thing I hesitate to even call a man. You get to choose, speak to end this or suffer greatly for your silence. Live, or die the kind of protracted death you least want, which is it?”

He stared and I looked down at my drink.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said with barely sufficient air.

“I tried to be your friend.”

“You threatened my life, stop patting yourself on the back.”

“Tell me who the other guy is, we’ll deal with him and I’ll put in a good word for you. Nobody has to know.”

“I can’t.”

“Then you’ll get what you deserve.”

“We all will.”

He said something else then left. I was shaking and looking around. The nearby woman raised her face to reveal a coaster stuck to her check. I downed a copper-colored shot and left. I felt not entirely sure what had just happened but confident I was finally rid of Assado who had bleakened my every move for days. As I saw it there wasn’t prison to worry about anymore, I was maybe even happy.

Though not as happy as Toomberg was the day the Supreme Court heard argument in Atkins v. Virginia because that day, late in the afternoon, Toomberg walked into my office with a silly smile plastered on his lumpy face and optimistic hope for mankind in his heart.

“Well I’m back,” he said. “Don’t you want to know how it went?”

“Back from where?” I said.

“I told you, D.C., the Supreme Court, remember? To watch the oral argument on Atkins versus Virginia?”

“Oh right, sorry. So what happened?”

“What happened, I’m happy to report, is that all indications are that we are finally prepared to declare unequivocally that a certain state-sponsored activity, namely the execution of mentally-retarded individuals, is unconscionable and cannot continue. We have evolved to that point and that makes me happy.”

“Who’s we?”

“Society, more specifically this country, and even more specifically the Supreme Court of this country as one of the bodies we’ve entrusted with making these determinations.”

“Good grief.”

“Surely you grasp the significance don’t you? Jalen Kingg’s going to be all right.”

“Hold on will you? Start at the beginning. First, what makes you so sure they’re going to rule in our favor?”

“Well I observed the argument and the questioning was definitely in our favor.”

“Okay, that’s the first bad sign. What else?”

“Also I have a good friend from law school.”

“Harvard.”

“Yes.”

“Wow, that was just a stab in the dark. Aren’t you impressed?”

“And he clerks for one of the justices.”

“Souter.”

“No.”

“Scalia.”

“No. Anyway I spoke to him after the argument.”

“Ginsberg.”

“I’m really not at liberty to say.”

“So it’s Ginsberg, what’s she like?”

“It’s not Ginsberg and I’d rather not say.”

“There’s only nine, give me a second.”

“I spoke to him and he said that his justice, who represents a critical vote, is leaning in our favor, strongly leaning.”

“Ah-hah.”

“What?”

“So it’s one of the swing guys, you just all but revealed your source my friend.”

“Really? Who are the swing justices?”

“No idea.”

“More importantly, he said he has it on good authority that another critical vote will go our way. There you have it, actual progress”

“So we just wait then?”

“Correct, once the decision comes down we’ll have some legal maneuvering to do but I feel very confident that victory will be ours. What are those?”

“Letters.”

“What kind?”

“To and from Jalen.”

“Might I see?”

“If you must.”

He grabbed them and his smile grew, which growth I had not thought possible.

“You know, you like to pretend you’re this off-the-cuff guy who couldn’t be bothered with procedure and rules but look at you you’re meticulous!” he said. “Every letter you’ve ever sent him or received from him copied and filed in chronological order, and nothing is even slightly out of place on your desk, ha ha!”

“Look at me? Look at you, you’re positively giddy.”

“I am indeed.”

“That’s kind of rude Toom, don’t you think, to act all happy like that when the rest of us are miserable?”

“Who’s happy?” asked Conley walking in.

“Toom here,” I said. “He’s all happy because the Supreme Court will allegedly soon rule it unconstitutional to execute the mentally retarded.”

“Says who?”

“Says he and he’s never wrong.”

“But how do you know?”

“Just leave it at that please I don’t want to hear the whole account again.”

“So why does it make you happy? How does it affect you? Is he allowed to answer those Casi?”

“He may.”

“I’m happy because of the progress it represents or will represent.”

“How do you mean that?”

“Simply this, I believe it is wrong to kill a person as punishment for their actions when that person is mentally challenged. I believe all sorts of similar things and often find that society at large disagrees with me. Consequently on those rare occasions where society comes into agreement with me on an ethical issue such as this one I become hopeful and happy in a sense and consider it progress.”

“You call that progress? Progress will be when there are no more retards. Then we won’t have to worry about whether or not they’re getting fried.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Besides you’re describing progress as society agreeing with you on a position you hold but what if you’re wrong in holding that position? In that case you wouldn’t be looking at societal progress but rather more like a regression.”

“But if I thought that adopting the position would constitute a societal regression then I wouldn’t personally hold the position either.”

“But you could be mistaken.”

“In which case I wouldn’t know I was mistaken since part of being mistaken is believing you’re right so I would still be justified in being happy. And what did you mean no more re—, no more mentally challenged individuals.”

“Oh boy,” I said.

“There’s a project,” Conley said.

“No please no,” I said.

“Look there’s no such thing as human progress Melvyn. At least not of the kind you’re describing. What I’m saying is don’t celebrate when people are nicer to retards, instead be impatient for the time when endeavors like the Human Genome Project make retards a thing of the past. Because the great injustice is not that these people are occasionally being executed. The inexcusable injustice is that they exist at all. Why should someone be born with a brain that doesn’t function properly. Is the ability of your brain an important thing? Do you want to be one of those people? Of course not. So why do we stand for other people having that misfortune? Because it’s not us and we’re selfish and that’s unacceptable.”