Laszlo Krasznahorkai - War & War

He was used to doing this alone and would like to continue alone, the man told him, but having said it allowed Korin to help even though it was clear he had no need of it, for the plastic hands and feet protruding from under the loose tarpaulin cover of the cart showed that the whole thing was full of store dummies and would therefore weigh very little; but Korin did not let that discourage him and began pushing the back of the cart while the man got hold of the pole at the front and pulled it, the whole lot rattling and giving a considerable jolt each time there was a bump in the icy snow beneath, so that dummies began to slide off right and left and Korin or the man had to thrust them back among the rest; and so they pushed and pulled and pushed and pulled and within a few minutes had gotten pretty well used to it, arriving in the busy traffic of Second Avenue where Korin finally dared to ask whether the other, by any chance, could tell him where the Hungarian quarter was because he was looking for it, to which he received the answer that they were in the Hungarian quarter right now; in which case, Korin continued, perhaps the other might help him with some business, the business, Korin cleared his throat, that is, of buying a gun; an inquiry greeted by the other with a solemn echo — ah, gun — his face suddenly serious, telling him a gun could be bought almost anywhere, and this seemed for a while to conclude the conversation, neither of them saying a word until the man applied the brakes, dropped the pole on the stones, turned round and asked Korin directly to tell him what it was he was actually after, in response to which Korin repeated, a gun, a gun of any kind, no matter if it be big, small or of middling size, just a gun, and that he had five hundred dollars to spend on it, that sum comprising all his money, and that he was prepared to spend it all on a gun, just a gun; not that he wanted to frighten the other man with all this, he hastily added, for he meant absolutely no harm and would be quite happy to tell the whole story but wasn’t there somewhere they could sit down and eat and drink something while he told it, he asked, and looked around for some such place because he had, after all, been out on the street since dawn and was chilled through to the bone, so a little warmth would be most welcome, and some food and drink too, and yes he’d love to drink something; but the other man would not let the matter rest and examined him further and at some length on the subject of the gun, Korin responding with further invitations to go and eat, pressing the man to be his guest and telling him that all would be revealed once they were sitting down together, so the man hemmed and hawed and said there were plenty of restaurants nearby and within a few minutes they were sitting in the Mocca, its walls lined with mirrors and decorative crockery, its ceiling papered in relief using some synthetic material, with just three melancholy looking guests at the tables and the crow-faced proprietress wearing oval glasses, her hair cut froufrou fashion, who suggested they eat something as well as drink, and though she did this in the most friendly manner only Korin took her advice and drank a goulash soup with pinched noodles, the other man refusing anything, merely taking one of the sugar packets provided on the table, tearing the end off and pouring it down his throat, flicking at the packet with his index finger to get all the sugar out, repeating this a few times in the course of their conversation; all he wanted, he said, being something to drink, which indeed they both did, downing one Unicum with beer, followed by another Unicum with beer, and another and so on while Korin talked and the man listened.

The dummy sat by itself at a table near the counter and looked so convincing one might have thought it was a real person sitting there though it was of the same plastic material as the other dummies in the cart and as life-sized as those outside, and yet, in the light of the diner, its pink skin seemed more transparent and its gaze more meditative than theirs as it sat with its legs tucked under the table with perfect propriety, a propriety it was forced to exercise in order that it should be able to sit at all, with one hand in its lap and the other on the table, its head turned away a fraction, tipping slightly, so as to make it seem the face was gazing into the distance somewhat lost in thought — and as soon as the man saw it he immediately went to sit beside it, so that by the time Korin had removed his coat he too had to sit with the dummy and clearly found it difficult not to query its presence at first, though once he got used to it being there he accepted it and no longer felt any need to ask any questions, just glanced at it every so often, and after the fifth or sixth round of drinks, once the Unicum had well and truly gone to his head, he accepted the dummy to the extent that he even started including it in his conversation, a conversation that consisted primarily of his monologue of course, whose intention was to enlighten the other by telling him about the headaches, about his own revelation concerning Babel and to continue with his account of the time in the records office, the weeks at Sárváry’s, the journey to America passing on to the manuscript, eternity, the gun, then, eventually, Kasser, Bengazza, Falke and Toót, and the way out, how they couldn’t find it and how he carried them about inside him but felt extremely worried now even though earlier he thought he’d be perfectly calm, because they somehow stayed with him, were clinging to him, and he felt he couldn’t get rid of them just like that, but what could he do, where and how could he solve the problem, he sighed, then went to the toilet on returning from which he was confronted in the corridor by the proprietress with the froufrou hairdo who begged his pardon but asked him, a little awkwardly, not to ply his companion with drink, because they knew him very well in the restaurant, and he was neither used to it, nor able to cope with it, to which Korin answered that neither could he himself, though the woman, rather impatiently, cut him short, saying it would do his companion no good at all, and adjusted her froufrou hair as she did so, because he was a very sensitive, good-hearted boy and he has this obsession with store dummies, populating the whole district with them, and it wasn’t just in her restaurant he planted one but wherever they would let him, and they let him because he is such a quiet, gentle, decent sort of man, and he had left three dummies in Grand Central Station, as well as others in the public library, one at McDonald’s, another at the cinema at 11 th Street, and one at a nearby newsstand in front of the magazine shelves, but people said he had more at home, one sitting in the armchair in his room watching the TV, one at the kitchen table and one at the window supposedly looking out, in other words, said the proprietress, she couldn’t deny that he was somewhat cranky but he was not mad, and he was only doing all this on account of some woman because, they say, he very much loved her, and she was simply asking Korin to understand, and more than understand, to look after him if he could, because you couldn’t fill him with drink, it was just asking for trouble, to which Korin readily agreed, saying yes, he understood now, and that he would certainly look after him most carefully as he too thought he was a really nice man, confessing that as soon as he set eyes on him he really liked him, so, yes, he would look after him, he promised, but then immediately broke his word for as soon as he sat back down with the man at the restaurant he immediately ordered another round, nor could he be dissuaded from more on top of that, so he was truly asking for trouble, and this eventually did lead to trouble, though not in the form the proprietress had anticipated, for it was Korin who felt ill, extremely ill in fact once they had finished and while vomiting helped, it only relieved him for a few minutes, then he was ill again, and worse, no longer pushing the cart but clinging onto it, constantly telling the other man, whom he now referred to as his friend, that death meant nothing to him, while clinging on, almost allowing himself to be drawn, his feet repeatedly slipping on the snow, which by this time, that is to say about four or half past four, had frozen solid.