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by William Michaelian |
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The three doors were identical in every respect, so I picked one at random and knocked. You’re late, a serious-looking young woman said. She looked past me down the corridor. Where are the others? she said. Are they late as well? I nodded, though I had no idea what she was talking about. They’re downstairs in the lobby, I said. I think they were distracted by all the paintings. The young woman smiled, then asked me to come in. Her office was surprisingly small. But what it lacked in size, it made up for in view. From her window one could see the entire city, bathed in blue mist. It was absolutely lovely. You like it? she said. It’s beautiful, I said. She smiled again, then thanked me. I think it’s one of my best, she said. Come. Have a closer look. She gave me her hand, and together we stood before the window and looked out. While I was admiring the scene, I suddenly realized the window wasn’t a window at all, but a painting. This is amazing, I said. You did this? It must have taken forever. But she told me it hadn’t, that it had taken her only a few minutes. We sat down. Are you sure they’re coming? she said. I looked at my watch. The elevator was acting a bit funny, I said. Maybe they had some trouble. She picked up her telephone. I’ll call someone, she said. Hello? Eddie? Would you please check the elevator? No. Uh-huh. Yes. That’s what I thought. She hung up. What did he say? I said. Troubles? No, he said we have no elevator. No elevator? I said. Then what was that I rode up on? For a long time, she didn’t answer. Then she stood up. I think you have the wrong room, she said. I got up and followed her to the door. I do thank you for coming, though. I’ve enjoyed our visit. I stepped into the corridor. The door closed behind me. I was trying to decide which of the other two doors to knock on next when the elevator opened and three well dressed men got out. Sorry we’re late, one of them said. We were looking at all those paintings. Pardon me, I said, but I don’t think we’ve met. This is true, the same person said. To put it another way, we are complete strangers. But let’s be friends, shall we? Life is much more pleasant when people are friends. You remember the war, and how we — Wait a minute, I said. What war? I don’t remember any war. What are you talking about? The war, he said. The war. Surely, you’ve not forgotten the war. Otherwise, why would you be here? I’m here, I said, on business. Trouble is, these doors aren’t marked, and all three are exactly the same. Ah, said another of the strangers. May I offer a suggestion? Certainly, the first stranger said. Thank you, the second stranger said. My suggestion is this: why don’t the four of us have lunch together? It’s almost one o’clock. I’m sure our friend here is hungry. I’m told the café downstairs is quite good. Also, it would be nice if we could get better — What café? I said. There isn’t any café. Everyone smiled. Everyone but me, that is. If you will excuse me, I said. I really am very busy. Perhaps another time. Yes, yes, the third stranger said. Of course. Why not make it for another time? Then he knocked on the door to the room I’d just left. Almost immediately, the door opened and the three strangers were admitted by the same young woman. The door closed. Relieved to be alone, I knocked on one of the remaining doors. Things are certainly hectic this morning, said the older woman who answered. She looked past me down the corridor. I do hope we won’t see the likes of them again. She closed the door behind her. You look familiar, she said. Have we met? I don’t think so, I said. Although you do remind me of my mother. Your mother? the woman said. How very sweet of you. I’m flattered. It’s always nice to look like someone’s mother. Mothers are so very important, especially in this day and age. Really, the frightful things that are happening. Where does it all end? That’s a good question, I said. I’ve been wondering that myself. The woman invited me to make myself comfortable. Tea? she said. Yes, I said. That would be nice, if you’re sure it’s no trouble. She assured me it was none at all. The tea was excellent. We sat at a small table staring at one another. I was hoping you’d come a bit earlier, she said finally. Really? I said. That’s what your neighbor said, too. My neighbor? she said. Which neighbor? The young lady in the next office, I said. The first thing she said was that I was late — which seems odd, since I had no appointment. That is odd, my second hostess said. Very odd indeed. But, never mind. Late or early, you are here, and that’s what’s important. Thank you, I said. I’m glad to hear you say that. I’ve never liked being late — or early, for that matter. I’ve always thought being early was rude — not as rude as being late, to be sure, but almost. Anyway. I’m sorry. This tea is really excellent. What’s in it? The woman smiled. Oh, she said, this and that. Whatever I find. Whatever is available. She sighed. It’s difficult, you know, since the war began. Excuse me? I said. You’re the second person I’ve met today who has brought up a war. I don’t mean to be obtuse, but what war, exactly, are you talking about? The woman put down her cup and leaned forward. Some say it’s over, she whispered. But it’s not. Don’t believe them. The war has never stopped. Oh, there have been occasional breaths of air. But they don’t amount to peace. Take the men you were just talking to. I’m sure they wouldn’t be so — Hold on, I said. How did you know I was just talking to someone? — thoroughly glib if they hadn’t been given those silly suits to wear. Did you hear me? I said. I asked how you knew I was just talking to someone. Yes, she said. Of course I heard you. I’m not deaf. The point is, they can’t be trusted. They are carriers of the blight we are now suffering. They look innocent enough, but they’re nothing more than mindless drones. On the contrary, I said. They didn’t look innocent at all. By the way. Do you have any idea what business they might have in the office next door? No, she said, I don’t. Other than the obvious. The obvious? I said. And what might that be? The woman fell silent. She looked down at her cup. Never mind, I said. I understand. It looks like I have the wrong room. No, please don’t get up. I’ll let myself out. Thanks again for the tea. You’ve been very kind. Once again, I was alone in the corridor. While I was getting up the courage to knock on the third door, the first door opened and the three well dressed men came out. This time, though, they were without their polite and cheerful demeanor. I told you it was a waste of time, one of them said to the others as soon as the door had been closed behind them. People like her make me sick. Yeah, one of the other suits said. Artists. Excuse me? I said. Did any of you happen to see her painting of the city? I thought it was quite excellent. Painting? the third suit said. What painting? The one behind her desk, I said. The one that looks exactly like a window. Suddenly, all three of them laughed. That is a window, the first suit said. Don’t tell me you fell for that. I didn’t fall for anything, I said. I saw what I saw, and what I saw was a painting. And it was a darn good painting, at that. They laughed some more. Then, suddenly, they became deadly serious. Look, all three of them said, we know why you’re here, so why don’t you just tell us? They took an ominous step closer. Huh? I said. Tell you what? If you know why I’m here, why don’t you — Ah, shut up, they said. We know your kind. Here — and they handed me a map. What’s this for? I said. To help you get your bearings, they said. To find yourself, as it were. Business indeed. Hah! You’re one of them. Now, don’t try to worm out of it. We’ve been watching you for a long time. Watching me? I said. Why on earth would you be watching me? Don’t play games with us! they roared. Now get in that elevator. We’re going for a ride. There is no elevator I said, quoting the artistic woman I’d met behind the first door. Ask Eddie. He’ll tell you. The three stopped. Eddie? they said. You know Eddie? Of course, I said. Everybody knows Eddie. Just then, the elevator door opened. Without saying another word, my three would-be assailants stepped inside. The door closed. I went to the third door and knocked. Sorry I’m late, I said to the very old woman who let me in, but I was detained. The old woman closed the door. No need to apologize, she said. It happens all the time. I suppose it does, I said. Especially with the war and all. The old woman nodded. It has been the same for as long as I can remember, she said in a weary voice that seemed to recall much suffering. And that is a very long time, I can assure you. But please, won’t you sit down? Your papers are almost ready. We sat down on opposite sides of a clear, quiet pond. Papers? I said. What papers? A leaf landed on the water’s surface. The old woman smiled. It doesn’t matter, she said. When the time comes, you will see. Or, you won’t. Either way, life will go on, as it has since the beginning. As the old woman spoke, she rocked gently, side to side. To keep myself from being hypnotized, I said, And the war, too, I suppose. You know, to be perfectly frank, until a little while ago, I didn’t even know there was a war. But now I think I must have just forgotten. I’ve been so preoccupied lately — worried. It’s sad. It seems the harder I try, the less I accomplish. I’m not a lazy person. I never have been. I enjoy work. I really do. Anymore, though, my efforts always lead to a dead end. If that makes any sense. The old woman rocked. Another leaf landed on the water. Well, I went on. As you said, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we are here. I am concerned about the war, though. Tell me. How did it start? The old woman became very still. It started, she said, when people stopped believing in life. When they became dissatisfied with common miracles. When the soft breeze upon their skin was no longer a surprise, they set out to measure the unmeasurable, and to give it a foolish name. War has been with us ever since. As she spoke, a soft rain began to fall. The men outside, I said finally. For a moment, they seemed quite anxious to do me in. She smiled. Because they can’t understand you, she said. You are a threat. But what’s there to understand? I said. I’m just a guy. A person. The clouds opened. The rain came harder. And the wind. The pond between us became a raging river. I stood up to leave. Perhaps I should return for my papers later, I said. After the storm. I stood in the corridor, wondering about the painted world outside, and about the very strange one inside. I wondered about the war, and about the three women and three men I’d met. Who were they? And who was I? To this day, I still don’t know. And to this day, I don’t know which door to knock on next, or who I will meet inside. But I keep knocking, and I keep finding out. And the men keep laughing at me and telling me I’m wrong — about everything — or, as I’m afraid I’ll one day find out, about nothing. Nothing at all. William Michaelian’s newest releases are two poetry collections, Winter Poems and Another Song I Know, published in paperback by Cosmopsis Books in San Francisco. His short stories, poems, and drawings have appeared in many literary magazines and newspapers. His novel, A Listening Thing, is published here in its first complete online edition. For information on Michaelian’s other books and links to this site’s other sections, please go to the Main Page or visit Flippantly Answered Questions. |
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