Santiago Gamboa - Necropolis

I thanked her for her honesty and asked her about Amos, did he know she was planning to stay? what did he think about that? When she heard his name the blue fishbowls of her eyes shone.

He loves his wife and children and that’s something to be proud of. I came later and I have to respect that, but I’ve seen his eyes looking at me and heard his voice and seen how his skin quivers and his penis rises like a sunflower toward me, I can’t live as if I didn’t know that, as if I hadn’t seen it; to be honest, I don’t know how important I am to him, but that doesn’t really matter. You can love someone who doesn’t love you, can’t you? Literature is full of cases. It’s the beautiful and terrifying thing about love, a prison of pleasure with bars that vibrate and punishments that give us spasms and fluids, addictions, anyway, love doesn’t always expect anything in return; in this city people love gods they’ve never seen, gods who don’t love them and of course don’t repay them, but they still love them, and have done over the centuries, isn’t that the supreme proof of love? I’ll love Amos and I’ll be his secret lover or his whore or whatever he wants; I told him that yesterday: wouldn’t you like to gather every whore together in one single whore? He didn’t answer, there are questions that don’t require an answer. Amos looked at me in silence and smiled, then turned me over on a cushion and entered me from behind, and we both enjoyed it a lot, I swear to you, I saw stars, not only the star of David, but the western star and the star that lit the wise Kings and the fleeting stars of this war, this war that will do away with all of us, even with this passion I feel for him, a passion that expects nothing but to be lived to the full, and that’s what I think and want, to take command of my own ship and steer it as I wish, and if it sinks to sink with it, as captains used to do in the old days, those who had a high sense of honor, and what about you? are you leaving already?

The building shook again, and I realized that a lot of time had passed. Yes, I said, the conference is over, the sessions are indefinitely suspended, so I’m going. Marta gave me a big hug and said: thank you, take care, think of me, and now go, I hate long farewells, the kind of farewell you see in movies is for movies, I’ll look for you in a chat room or on Facebook, and remember this, joonsdottir73@livadia.com. .

When I got back to the lobby, I saw that Jessica and Egiswanda were standing side by side. I felt relieved. Momo signaled to me from the car and I said to the women: come with me, please, I’ll introduce you on the way, hurry now.

As I got in the car I saw the female employee I had caught him with. I know how you can get out of here, said Momo, they’ve organized a shuttle from an airfield near Rehavia. All entrances to the city are closed because of the continued attacks, the only way to get out is by air.

Thank you, I said, but as you can see I’m not alone, there are three of us, do you think it’ll be possible? He looked and seemed to make a calculation, that doesn’t matter, if there’s enough space in my car then there’ll be enough space in the plane, now let’s go. It’s better if we don’t talk on the journey, I have to concentrate.

A cluster of grenades fell near us, setting off a chain explosion. The ground shook. According to Momo, an international intervention force was forming, but the people from the conference needed escorts to get out of the city, which was not easy. The wall around the city, which had once protected it, was now strangling it.

The residents could only go in and out through the check-point on Jaffa Road, which was the target of fierce attacks. The enemy armies had advanced as far as the walls, and from there they could easily control the siege.

We went out through the back gate of the parking lot and on reaching the street we were overwhelmed by the smell of smoke and gasoline. Sirens could be heard, and simultaneous detonations in places now distant; there were people seeking shelter, dragging cases and plastic bags. Momo accelerated along the street, dodging fallen trees, charred automobiles, and craters in the middle of the asphalt. A little farther on, we came across the body of an old man hugging a shopping cart; two young Orthodox men were reciting Kaddish and trying to separate him from the cart in order to put him in a van where other bodies were piled up. It reminded me of the plague.

Suddenly there was a blinding purple light and Momo had to brake abruptly.

The explosion shattered our eardrums.

What was around us disappeared for a moment and there was an infinite emptiness, a terrifying silence. .

There came another explosion, and a third.

Everything disappeared from our sight, everything was illumined by that strange light. .

Egiswanda and Jessica, who had been talking in whispers, hugged each other. The wave passed over our heads, stretching the tops of the trees, as in a painting by Munch, bringing down roofs and antennae. The rubble fell in front of us, but the mortar exploded in the street parallel to ours; the force of the blast reached us through courtyards and houses whose windows had been blown out.

Once the conflagration had passed, Momo accelerated up a slope and we reached one of the highest points. From there, between the columns of smoke and the thick air, we saw the gleaming silhouette of the Old City, a heart of jade in the middle of the night, a jewel in the black earth of a cemetery, a beacon amid the chaos. Nobody dared to say anything, such was the impact of the vision.

A second later, Momo and I got out on the opposite side of the hill, just as the sky again became an electric cloud and a new explosion could be heard.

I was starting to get nervous and I asked Momo, are you sure of the route? Very sure, sir, in a few minutes we’ll be at the airfield; if we aren’t hit by one of these bombs, of course, but don’t worry, I’m taking the long way around to avoid the most dangerous areas. It won’t be long now, relax. He accelerated again, zigzagging between fallen walls, charred skeletons of buses, trees turned into columns of charcoal.

Suddenly Momo cried: We’re there!

In front of us, we saw a huge hangar that had so far escaped the grenades. There was a helicopter parked next to it; on the sides of the building were antimissile protection systems and nests of cannons pointing at the sky.

Entering the improvised air field, we saw a group waiting with cases to be taken on board and recognized some of the delegates to the conference. There were also wounded people on stretchers and a half-erased inscription saying Alqudsville, that word that had so intrigued me when I arrived. A hand waved at me, it was Edgar Miret Supervielle, who said, my friend, this has ended badly but at least I had the opportunity to present my story before they chased us away with cannon fire, that was my victory against barbarism! I’m sorry you weren’t able to present your main speech, because I greatly appreciated your words at the round table, a good story, very human. I’ll read your speech at the next conference of the ICBM, if they manage to repeat it.

I told him I would keep my story, and added: I’ll take away with me many of the things you said in your lecture, which were enlightening and profound. Supervielle smiled and said: there’s no need for you to say that, my friend, although I appreciate it, my story had a good reception because, basically, if we analyze it in detail, we find a novel philosophical aspect that perfectly fits the present moment, in spite of coming from another time; although sometimes one feels as if one is plowing in the desert, my friend, because, as you have indicated, many people aren’t capable of seeing such a clear message, or what is worse: they refuse to see it, and I say this because most of my colleagues, among whom I do not include you, seeing as, strictly speaking, we aren’t colleagues, anyway, most of my colleagues refuse or simply pretend not to see that importance and enjoy maintaining their silence and ignoring me, condemning my work to ostracism out of envy or even, in some cases, because I’m Jewish, you know the attitude in certain intellectual sectors on that subject, it’s a never-ending story, but anyway, why do I need to say that to you, you were present at the tasteless spectacle provided by that former pastor who bamboozled everyone and who, along with Sabina Vedovelli, gained the greatest honors at the conference, the greatest applause, although I’m referring to easy applause, that programmed applause that does not celebrate a strong idea or an accurate touch, but the amusing and empty phrase, the boutade, an ingenious remark that means nothing beyond itself; that kind of demagoguery gets good results, what can we do, verbal pyrotechnics like that seduce isocephalic minds with a flat neuronal spectrum, and that’s why nothing remains afterwards but a huge ontological lagoon, and that’s even without mentioning the suicide, although this has to remain between you and me, I know it’s politically incorrect to say so, all that pseudo-humanist verbiage, that crude style of his, was carefully calculated, I’m not deceived by these miracle workers; what I can’t understand is how he ended up at a conference as serious as ours, he should have been giving advice in women’s magazines or attending minor events, not the most distinguished assembly of analysts of the past, as was the case; if I were a little sharper in my conjectures I might even think that some rival had slipped him into the program before me in order to put a spoke in my wheels, do you understand me? you know that once one has reached a point of international recognition playing tricks or tripping one up is the order of the day, and the saddest thing is that it sometimes happens between close colleagues, those who through that closeness are more exposed to your lucidity and therefore more confronted with their own contradictions, and what immediately happens? resentment, the desire to restrain and outshine, to bring down.