Jonah’s Memories on a Slippery Ground

by Antonino Fazio

Part 1 appears
in this issue.

conclusion

The starship seemed to be deserted. Jonah went in search for Mr. Yamaguchi, wondering whether to lodge a complaint of sorts. But the hibakusha was nowhere to be found. At last he ran into a man in the engine room. He was a young black man in red overalls.

“Where is Mr. Yamaguchi?” Jonah asked him.

The man touched his own chest with his hand. “It’s me. I’ve changed my looks.”

“What was your reason for doing that?”

“Mr. Yamaguchi is an engineer,” the black man smiled. “I’m just a mechanic.”

“Ah,” Jonah said. “It’s a joke. What do you want be called?”

“Call me Sam.”

The engine room curiously smelt of shoe polish. The heart of the hyperdrive was a platinized steel core hanging inside a magnetic field in the middle of the engine room. The magnetic field was isolated from its surrounding space by a Faraday shield in a glass cover. A panel with buttons, levers, and knobs on it was placed close to a bulkhead. The man was quickly moving his hands up the panel, as if he were playing a piano.

“My trip was a failure, old boy,” Jonah stated grimly.

“Didn’t you arrive where you wanted to?”

“Oh, yes, I did. Only... well, they were there, you know, and I just stayed on the sidelines. I was looking at them, as if I were a peeping Tom, a voyeur, a damned maniac!”

Sam gave him a pitying look, his eyes like those of the hibakusha. Then he nodded. “I see. Give me a hand, will you?”

“What can I do?”

Sam pressed a button. The Faraday shield and the glass cover slowly opened into two halves. The big steel spheroid sparkled in all its threatening beauty.

“You only need to touch that.”

“Touch that? You’re completely out of your mind, man! That’s a kind of Van de Graaff generator with a very high voltage skin. It would burn me up instantly.”

Sam’s eyes became two dark spots, black as the deep space night. “Don’t you trust me?”

“For crying out loud, you’re an alien, hibakusha! Why should I trust you?”

“Because I can take you home, terrestrial, that’s why.”

Jonah’s lips tightened. “Go to hell, Sam. What has come over you? I wouldn’t touch the hyperdrive core with a stick.”

Sam didn’t get upset. “Think it over. You’ve seen what I can do.”

Jonah nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes, I saw it. You took me there, sure enough. And I did see them. But I was alone, do you understand? I was not with her!”

“Be cool, man,” Sam said. “What do you want?”

“And you, Sam? What do you want?”

“I told you. I want your memories.”

“And I need to touch that big boob.”

“Exactly.”

“Oh what the hell, I’ll touch it. And you’ll take me home. But this time I want to be in him.”

“It shall be done,” Sam promised.

“Okay.” Jonah nodded. “I’ll do what you want, but I don’t see the point.”

“I’ll use it to redress the charge balance. Don’t worry. You won’t hurt. I’ll take care of it.”

Jonah went near the hyperdrive core. It was still hanging in its space, supported by a magnetic field as if it were held up by the powerful fingers of an invisible giant. The air smelt of ozone.

As Jonah stretched out his hand, the field stroked his skin hard and slid along his forearm. While he was gazing at the steel spheroid, a light flashed suddenly around him and drove him back as if he had been pushed.

He dazedly shook his head. “Wow! That’s better than a stimulant drug.”

When he was again able to do it, he saw Sam smiling at him. “Look at me, now. Are you ready?”

“Of course I am. You bet!” Jonah smiled in reply.

* * *

Piazza del Campo is a wide half-shell, lying at the foot of Mangia’s Tower. Connie’s hand touches his arm, drawing his attention to a man in period costume, a white and orange jacket, in the same colours as the Unicorn Contrada. They are sitting at a table of a small restaurant. A grey-haired man in blue overalls passes through the crowded square and casts a long glance towards Connie, as she eats a vanilla ice cream cone. Jonah looks at his vaguely disquieting face, and their eyes meet for just a moment. Then the man disappears into the crowd.

‘Who is that man?’ he wonders. Then he remembers. ‘That’s me, of course. Poor wretch!’

So, now he’s inside himself. All in all, it’s quite a lewd matter. And wherever can the younger Jonah have gone? ‘He’s here, too’, the older Jonah guesses. ‘He’s probably sleeping, or something like that’.

Something on his mind presses him to speak. “Tell me, Constance...”

“What?”

He’s as emotionally uninvolved as an actor who is listening to a prompter.

“Why did you come here, with me?” he asks, as if he were really interested in her answer.

“Because I love you, Jonathan,” Connie says simply.

‘She’s like a character out of a soap opera’, Jonah thinks cynically. He can’t avoid asking the next question.

“Are you pregnant, Constance?”

For a brief moment her face looks dismal. Then the girl shakes her head in denial. “No, I am not.”

He nods mechanically. Then he acts on his next cue. “Will you marry me, Constance?”

She smiles. At this very moment, she’s as beautiful as a Madonna. But he looks at her as if he doesn’t actually see her.

“Yes, Jonathan, I will.”

‘What am I doing, here?’ Jonah wonders, in dismay. He’s tired, he’s in a sweat, and he desperately needs the next cue from the prompter. But the cue doesn’t arrive. ‘Oh, poor me! Where are you, younger Jonah? I need your help.’

And, all at once, it begins to rain.

* * *

The lift stopped. The sliding door opened and Jonah stepped out into the semi-darkness of the bridge. A man in red overalls was sitting in the pilot’s seat, looking at a wide screen where a luminous track crossed a galactic map and across which a sequence of numerical coordinates was running slowly.

“It was another failure, Sam,” Jonah gloomily said.

The man turned back, wheeling his seat. His face appeared from the twilight. It was not black.

“What?”

“You are not Sam!” Jonah said, surprised.

“No, I’m not. The pilot is on duty, now.”

“What the hell... You’re me!”

“I look like you. But I’m not you. At least, not yet.”

“What do you mean? Will you take my place?”

“No, I won’t. Not if you’re still alive.”

“What the hell, man! Are you going to murder me?”

“Not at all.”

“You’re a fake, hibakusha. You cannot deny that.”

“Be cool, old chap. What failure were you talking about?”

“I was with her, you know, but I remembered nothing of her, do you understand? Worse still, I could feel nothing. It was dreadful...”

The fake Jonah looked quietly at him. “It’s not so dreadful. You missed the full memories of that day, that’s all.”

“Does it seem a trifle to you? My memories are all I have!”

“You’re a wretched man, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am,” Jonah admitted.

“Well, your memories made you unhappy, and now you’ve missed them. It happened when you touched the hyperdrive core.”

“I was right,” Jonah said bitterly. “You robbed me of them.”

“Your best memory was your worst unhappy moment, too. You were freed from your bad emotions.”

“My emotions were all I had,” Jonah cried out, “and I missed them!”

“It’s the same as in the manic-depressive syndrome,” the hibakusha explained. “If you can stop the manic phase, you’ll avoid the fit of depression.”

Jonah’s eyes flashed with rage. “You foolish bastard! My memories are my life, and you robbed me of them.”

The alien’s eyes glazed over, as if their light had faded away. “I could kill you only by thinking you dead. Do you know that?”

He stopped for a moment, then he continued. “But I don’t want you to die. I want to help you. Tell me how I can help you.”

Jonah drew toward him, till their faces were nearly touching. It was as though he was staring at himself in the mirror.

“You want to help me? That’s not hard. You must only send me back there again, however you choose. And listen closely to me, now, hibakusha: I want to be him, this time.”

The alien remained silent for a short time. When he spoke, his face was thoughtful. “Are you sure of that? If you are him, you will not be aware of it.” His bafflement was rather evident.

Jonah smiled, grinding his teeth. “I know that. I have never been so sure of anything in my life as I am now.”

The fake Jonah nodded gravely. He had a strange gleam in his eyes. “If you really want to be him, I will grant your wish.”

All at once Jonah disappeared, as quick as a flash. The fake Jonah remained alone on the deserted starship bridge.

* * *

The starship was running silently through the abyss of deep galactic space, as fast as a beam of tachyons in the direction of distant Earth. The hibakusha kept the hyperdrive working by the pure strength of his mind. As he moved inside the ship, his looks kept changing. He looked like Marilyn, then like Yamaguchi, then like Sam, then like Jonah... and then he would become someone else, and so on, as if he was wondering who he should be like, after all.

In the repertory of his transformations were included all of Jonah’s companions. But he could never make use of them in Jonah’s presence, because he knew it would be painful for the terrestrial; although he was not human, Jonah’s memories had been assimilated into his psyche. He could have been a perfect Jonah, as well as many other things. Even so, he could not understand what might be Jonah’s real reason for choosing oblivion. As for him, he would never forget anything.

* * *

Piazza del Campo is a wide half-shell, lying at the foot of Mangia’s Tower. Connie’s hand touches his arm, drawing his attention to a man in period costume, a white and orange jacket, in the same colours as the Unicorn Contrada. They are sitting at a table of a small restaurant. Jonah is sipping a cup of coffee, a delightful Italian espresso. A grey-haired man in blue overalls passes through the crowded square and casts a long glance towards Connie as she eats a vanilla ice cream cone. Jonah looks at his vaguely disquieting face, and their eyes meet for just a moment. Then the man disappears into the crowd.

“Tell me, Constance...”

As he calls her Constance, instead of Connie, she knows it’s about a serious matter, and he’s aware that she knows.

“What?”

“Why did you come here with me?”

“Because I love you, Jonathan,” she says simply.

He cannot avoid asking the next question. “Are you pregnant, Constance?”

For a single moment, her face darkens. Then the girl shakes her head in denial. “No, I am not.”

He nods gratefully. “Will you marry me, Constance?”

She smiles. At this moment she’s as beautiful as a Madonna. “Yes, Jonathan, I will.”

All at once it begins to rain. A typical summer drizzle falls, light as a feather, wetting the red, herringbone bricks of the pavement, the nine travertine stripes that radiate off from the straight side of the square, and the grey sandstone of the external ring. The sky is crying with joy, just as Jonah is, and the wide half-shell is now a sparkling wine cup, and all the people are tiny bubbles, and Jonah’s happiness is a perfect, unalterable diamond that will shine for all eternity.