Samedi the Deafness

A Novel

Jesse Ball

VINTAGE CONTEMPORARIES Vintage Books A Division of Random House, Inc. New York

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A VINTAGE CONTEMPORARIES ORIGINAL, SEPTEMBER 2007

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Copyright 2007 Jesse Ball All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Vintage Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto. Vintage and colophon are registered trademarks and Vintage Contemporaries is a trademark of Random House, Inc. This is a work of ction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data TK ISBN: 978-0-307-27885-2 Book design by Rebecca Aidlin www.vintagebooks.com Printed in the United States of America 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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Then Chanticleer ran to the garden, and took the garland from the bough where it hung, and brought it to the bride, and then the bride gave him the silken cord, and he took the silken cord to the river, and the river gave him water, and he carried the water to Partlet; but in the mean time she was choked by the great nut, and lay quite dead, and never moved any more. Jacob, Wilhelm Grimm; Kinder-und Hausmarchen, 1812.

Thus Bacon encouraged the Tumult and as the unquiet crowd follow and adhere to him, he listeth them as they come in upon a large paper, writing their names circularwise, that their Ringleaders might not be found out.

day the first

James Sim rose on a Sunday morning

and dressed quietly in the dark. He did not switch on the light before descending the stairs. He did not put on the light in the hall. I came in the front, he said beneath his breath. Best to leave by the side door. It was early yet, and the clouds that had gathered near and made of themselves rain all through the night were now intent on going elsewhere. But it takes the minds of clouds a long time to effect their prodigious actions; the immediate result was solely a sort of paleness, a lightening of countenance. At the nearest market, a balding man with an angry nose was crouched counting in the till. James bought from him a newspaper, folded it under his arm and continued. The change that James gave the man was put on the counter, separate from the business of counting that had been going on. Is it too much to say that there was in James a small sadness for his change kept apart from the rest? Sunday was always the best of days for being the self you had intended to be, but were not, for one or another reasons. This was true most of all for those without families, those without friends. He thought, then: We of the mnemonist profession are always discrete in our ways. This pleased him. He said it aloud as he passed again into the morning as though entering some familiar hall. Of course, we of the mnemonist profession are always discrete in our ways.

Samedi the Deafness A boy of about eleven was on a footpath soon to join that of James. He looked up as James spoke. The footpaths were passing by a row of houses. In one, another boy was sitting on the edge of a dilapidated sand-box strewn with broken toys and faded color. Farrell is a weakling! Farrell is a weak weak weakling! yelled the boy at Jamess side. Rovnin! It was so rare to nd anyone who even knew the game, though of course in the sixteenth, the seventeenth, the eighteenth centuries, Swedes and Danes and Russians lived and died in its mad dictates. FIRST: a sort of stringed set of sticks with markers a calling out of numbers a switching between systems: base ten, base nine, base seven the creation of proxies, ctional players who aid, abet, or at times foil ones own newmade schemes There were books in Jamess childhood home on rovnin. His father had loved the game. James continued. Behind him, the boy sitting in the yard was lost to sight. Is it crueler to be cruel when alone, or to be cruel in front of others? When alone, perhaps. Thats why they say people who are cruel to animals should be punished so badly. For everyones good. Not really for the animals.

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James set the newspaper beside him on the bench. The park ran beneath a cliff that hung above a river. Three bridges crossed the air above, and it was his way to sit beneath the third of these on a bench upon a small outcrop of rock. Away to his right a eld stretched. Perhaps it was crueler to be cruel when in company. Birds were diving back and forth between the limbs of trees, and an ephemeral greenness cast by the morning hung over the late autumn park. He would have liked to tie strings to all the birds, to all the branches of trees, to all the whirling leaves, and the swells upon the river, and pull with his hand, here and there, the glad enormity of morning, of that very Sunday morning. To take up in his hand the paths across which he had come, the boy running ahead upon the path, the boy behind, face covered, the bald shopkeeper with his regimented monies, the small door in the side of his house . . . But what then would he do with them? A sort of shout came. James looked up. In the eld, the gure of a man, bent over. James stood. The man shouted again, and lurched to the closeness of the ground. James looked about him. The park was empty. Leaving the newspaper, the bench, the path, he ran across the atness of grass.

Samedi the Deafness

day the first with his cheeks in an unpleasant way. Ill be dead before it comes. And what if they come back? The man began to cough. James looked away at the river. Its surface was wet, and pierced with innumerable ripples and deformities. The liquid came up against the shore, leaving marks of wetness along the sand, along the bases of trees, upon everything it touched. It made him want to vomit. Thats no way to talk, said James.

In his exploring, James had somehow managed to enter a locked room. Consternation then among the technicians. What are you doing here? Im sorry, said James. I didnt realize.

He sat upon his bed. The phonebook read: But this is the egg room! cried one of the attendants, a young man dressed head to toe in white. The man made a painful sort of noise. Did you see them? the man asked. Did you see them? What? asked James. They must have gone past you. How could the man be alive? It must have happened within seconds. But where had the attackers gone? The man was crouched in a way that James recognized. It was the manner of a dog that had been severely wounded by another dog in the presence of people and other dogs who all had done nothing to stop any of it. Furthermore, he, as such a dog, might feel sternly and clearly that any help soon to be forthcoming would be of no use to him, and that rather, perhaps, it were better that he be left alone, and certainly not looked at in this horrible manner. Im going to get an ambulance, said James. Theres no time for that, said the man, grimacing and pufng
Sepwin, Russell Sepwith, Morris Sepwith, Nancy Smith Sepwith, Shep Seph, Yaqin Seril, M. Seril, Theodore Seril, Wendy Sernick, Anthony Sernick, Elinore Sernick, William Sermon, Bill Sermon, Dr. L. N. Xavier 546-948-3321 492-889-0093 492-337-3309 492-349-8893 546-445-4493 492-228-3384 393-818-0989 492-349-2304 492-576-4004 546-298-3038 492-889-5807 492-405-4483 492-817-8717

Sermon thought James to himself. Thats the lead. He closed the phonebook, gathered himself a moment, and called the number. It rang once, and was picked up. I was one of them, but I left, and they didnt want me to leave. Have you seen the paper? Samedi? The conspirators? I was one of them. I didnt have the stomach for it, and I left. The man groaned and rolled on to his back. This prompted a fresh pulsing of the wounds; more blood issued forth out of his broken chest.

AN ITEM IN THE NEWS:

A Few Minutes Passed, Then James

Questions Remain Over Mans Suicide Outside White House

Washington, SEPTEMBER 27: Federal authorities have commenced a probe into a suicide yesterday that occurred outside the White House gates. According to eyewitnesses, at 9 AM, William Goshen, 38, a native of Washington and practicing psychologist, cut his own throat with a knife as he stood facing the White House. He was pronounced dead upon the arrival of paramedics. The letter, which gives no addressee, was made public at an afternoon White House press conference: SEVEN DAYS AND THEN THE ROD. PATHS THAT HAVE BEEN TAKEN ARE WRONG AND MUST BE CORRECTED. THOSE WHO CAN SHOULD NOW DO WHAT THEY WILL TO CHANGE THE WORLD AND LEAVE THEIR NATION IF THEY DO NOT LIKE WHAT IT DOES. SEVEN DAYS, THEN. SEVEN DAYS AND THEN THE ROD. SAMEDI As of press time, authorities have few insights into the incident. The signature Samedi has returned no clues, and it is unclear whether the moniker refers to Goshen himself, or some other member of a possible organization. Despite exhaustive research, Goshen has not been linked to any terrorist groups or fringe religious organizations. Goshen is survived by a wife from whom he separated earlier this year, and a son, age 9.

motioned with his hand. James opened the rst. It was a letter that had been folded upon itself many times. He unfolded it. It was quite short and forcefully clear: Dear James Sim, Your inquiries are not desired. Neither are they appreciated. You have once been warned against continuing, yet still you continue. This is one half of your nal warning. The letter was not signed. The book of the house was on the table in front of him. James picked it up and opened it at random.
rule 37 It is necessary when proceeding from hall to hall and along the stairways never to speak with anyone you see, aside from servants. Should you wish to speak to someone, ring the bell that has been provided to you. Also, a better method of interaction is afforded by the system of note-sending. All the rooms of the house are provided with a small mail shelf on the near wall beside the door. See rule 14 for the particularities of the use of the door knocker.

The light coming through the window was quite pleasant. He wondered if the glass had anything to do with it. Often he had wondered about the effect of glass on a room. He had even thought of writing a monograph on it, for he had been a reclusive

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As soon as he returned to his room, he lay down at on the oor, at on his back.

the end

Grieve came in. She saw him lying there. I dont like this new James, she said. I didnt want to meet him ever, and now here he is in my bedroom. This isnt your bedroom, said James. Its mine. The whole place is mine, said Grieve. I broke the cipher, James said. I read your fathers book. Grieve looked at him carefully. James got to his feet. He pulled off his suit-coat and threw it over a chair. He took off his vest and his shirt. The window that had been open earlier, that he had closed, he reopened it. The air was cold on his chest and arms. No one else has managed to read that particular book, she said. But we have all heard him talk of it. The ideas are in his speech, in his manner. She breathed slowly in and out. He could feel the curve of her breasts against his back. What do you think? she said at last. Please dont judge. Not until hes spoken to you. Its different, Im sure, when he talks to you. I know, said James, that the world is complicated.

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