You didnt want him to worry.

I didnt want him to worry.

You resent people wanting to help you.

I resent people wanting to fix me.

Would that describe your brother?

Sometimes. I think. It pains me to say.

Did you think that he should have taken you to Europe with him?

I got there anyway.

I know. But that wasnt the question.

I know. But that’s the answer.

You dont want to talk about it.

Him.

I just wondered if he shared your pessimism.

Not really. Or maybe he took it as part of his job to try and cheer me up. If anything I was always more inclined to metaphysical musings than he was. Is all of reality devoid of sentience? I dont know. But he would think the question inane.

Do you mean that the world itself might be possessed of something like a will?

Something like. And would that really be good news? That every dumb creature that ever found itself called into being in order to trek its way across a landscape of pain and want to its ultimate eternal extinction is that will’s handiwork?

But the answer, or the solution, could hardly be more of the same.

Hardly.

How many books have you read?

Crikey.

Crikey?

I dont know. Not that many.

Roughly.

Probably two a day. On average. For ten years or so. We’ll say. What is that? Seven thousand three hundred. Is that a lot? It’s probably more. Probably more like ten thousand. I think I’m going to go for ten thousand. Sometimes I would read all day. Eighteen, twenty hours.

Do you remember everything you read?

Yes. Why else would you read it?

Does the Kid know what you know?

No. That would be a bit easy, wouldnt it?

What sorts of things would he talk about.

It was mostly nonsense. Interspersed with comments that were pretty interesting. Sometimes. But mostly talk that you might characterize as schizoid. Klang associations. Rhyming. None of which echoed my own interior life. Before you ask. But having to put up with his dog and pony show was wearing. To say the least. And I’m sure it changed me. You cant have your ambient reality put askew without becoming somewhat askew yourself. By the time that sank in it was too late to do anything about it. But then it was always too late anyway. Even if there was something to be done. Which there wasnt.

So what might he say? For instance?

He might say that milk is the beverage of choice among all right-thinking nightfolk. Or he would say that if anything were true wouldnt everybody know it by now? Or that you shouldnt worry about what people think of you because they dont do it that often. Or that we are hardly creatures of the light in case you hadnt noticed. Or that the darkest hour is just before the storm. Or when you close your eyes do I go away? Do you?