So, remember that language is not conscious. Just because it has the power to create people doesn’t mean that it has the power to delete people. It may feel like that is true, it may seem to be true, you may have what you consider to be very compelling evidence to believe it to be true, you may even experience something of that truth in yourself—a kind of emptying out of the self, maybe, or... feeling like you’re disappearing—are you all right?

Just so.

I am going to leave you now. I am sorry, but I don’t think I can stay with you, that is, I don’t want to see. I don’t want to see when there is nothing to see.

There is nothing to see. I am alone. I’ve been alone all day. I’ve spoken to no one. No one has said anything to me. I’ve always had a tendency to daydream nonsense, pure nonsense, really nothing more than mental static, a way of keeping the pilot light of my drably ordinary mind from going out.

I’ve spoken to no one.

I am alone, alone.

I have spoken to no one...

Antisocieties

Antisocieties

COLD NOVEMBER DAY, bright sun cold on the water, the trees’ bare boughs are embedded in a limpid blue sky. A spacious, public park, overlooking a wide river. Tall towers on the far side, housing projects and apartment buildings on this side, stretching off all around the park. A gleaming black car stops by the entrance to the park, and the administrator sets out onto the pavement. He is tall and bulky in his overcoat, muffler, and flat cap, all black wool, so that only his square face and square hands are exposed. He’s closely shaved, his hands are well-kept, and his back is straight. He enters the park, which slopes down to the water before him on all sides. A single person sits alone, centered on nearly every bench, all facing the water.

The administrator follows the blacktop path to his right, which travels in a generous curve out toward some motionless trees still partially covered in brown or rust-colored leaves. As he draws near to the first occupied bench, the man sitting there shivers and straightens up. He does not look toward the administrator, but keeps his eyes hooded against the bright daylight, fixed on the twinkling water of the river below. The administrator pauses to examine the man for a moment, then sits lightly on the bench with him, eyeing him steadily, while the man continues to look at the water. The man speaks first.

“How… how…?”

His voice is hoarse, and he continues to stare at the water. He is struggling to form a sentence. This goes on for a few seconds.

“You may begin,” the administrator says simply.

The man winces at the word “you.”

“How will the… interview… be conducted?” the man asks.