A novel free to read and pass on.	 
               (started 1984 - finished 1993)
               copyright Geoffrey R. Hamilton
               
			   		   
               
               Chapter I

	  Toronto, Sunday, October 3, 2053
			     
  
			   
               Zinta said, "    ".

               I guessed she was getting straight to the point in as few 
               words as possible. Even so, she felt the need to repeat 
               herself, "    ".

               I happened to be lying on the floor when she straddled me 
               and sat on my bent knees to block my infrequent sit-ups. I 
               looked up at her as she drew wide her red irritated eyes, 
               once again opened her purple lips and held that pose - her 
               hesitations, her pauses, they were drying out every wet kiss 
               she'd ever given me -- then she lifted her finger as if it 
               were a magic wand: "    ".

               At that point I finally understood: she was about to turn me 
               into a friend. My mind started to ache, but I told myself it 
               was due to the stale air in our apartment, not to the 
               certainty that Zinta was leaving me.

               I left the matted back of my head in the dusty carpet and 
               looked down past my flushed cheeks into Zinta's eyes.  She 
               couldn't hold my stare.

               I'd never wanted to believe that this was coming.  I'd ignored 
               her signals, claiming to myself that I was too inexperienced 
               with relationships to know what I was seeing.  I wanted to 
               know what was going to happen next and, for that reason only, 
               I wished that I'd had at least one other girlfriend in my 
               life to allow me something to compare this to.  I wanted to 
               know what she was thinking about me right then, but I couldn't 
               know, so the fear in me was manifested everywhere I looked.   
               I guessed there was no way to escape my mind.

               With my cooling muscles too weary to get me off the floor I 
               could do nothing but watch for her next move.  She stared down at 
               me -- me, the 'big baby' -- and this time I was the one who 
               couldn't hold a stare.

               My life had just one dimension until this excruciating moment -- 
               contentment.  How this was achieved was Zinta's secret.  
               Perhaps she didn't even know how she did it, but without her 
               to direct my life she might as well have drowned me on 
               the spot.

               I stopped thinking and waited for her calming voice to 
               start the end of things. Then, without warning, the meaning of 
               what she was about to say burst out onto the floor, 
               unintentionally preceding whatever her voice had wanted to

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                                                                         2.


               say.  Then the control she had over me began to relax; I was 
               slipping out of her warmth and protection, dangling upside 
               down and shivering between her legs as though she had given 
               birth in mid-stride.  I desperately needed to crawl back in 
               somehow.

               She got up from sitting on my knees and smiled at me.  I 
               faked a smile right back at her.  She gave me her hands to 
               help me curl up and get to my feet; then I stood to wait. 
               She reached towards me to hug me, but I grabbed her 
               upper arms to stop her.  Eventually she resigned herself to 
               holding my forearms, she then strained her neck to place 
               her head on my chest.  I noticed her nudge me from side to side, 
               trying to rock me in her arms, but I resisted.  I separated 
                my legs and braced myself against anything she 
               might do next.

               My mind started to fray, 'Is that it?  Is that how she ends 
               what we've meant to each other?  Could I have....'  My 
               breathing was becoming heavier.  I looked at her, 'What did 
               I mean to you?'

               'Nothing'.

               '...But I couldn't have meant nothing to you.  Think of... 
               ...just think of the things we've done -- things you said you'd 
               never forget -- there are things you said.... We've been 
               everything to each other!  This isn't Zinta.  This is not 
               Zinta!'

               Finally she spoke.  "...I don't think I can say this without 
               getting you mad...the wedding is off -- I don't love you 
               anymore -- it's like you're asleep or something -- I don't 
               know...you see, I can't be your protector anymore.  I can't 
               be your parents for you.  I once  wanted...they should  
               have been there for you Bernard. Listen to me.  They're dead.  You've 
               got to open up about it -- to yourself and to other people."  She 
               threw cynical tears at me.  "I've protected you for too long, 
               I've let you hide away somewhere in there."  She laughed - 
               she laughed!  Then she tapped her nose against my forehead.  
               "I'm going away...I'm afraid you'll have to fend for yourself from now 
               on.  You keep the lucky dice, they'll be your souvenir of us. It's  
               just that it's time...I mean, it's time for me to find somebody or 
               something that I can be in love with...a-again."

               'What the hell does that mean?' I thought as I compressed 
               her flabby arms -- dug in my nails -- stuck them in!  She put 
               her head back to focus on my expression and it felt like she 
               was finding a way past my mind's defenses.  So I averted my 
               eyes and let myself feel her flesh squeeze between my fingers.  
               With her tiny hands, she tried to mimic my actions, but she 
               was only able to scratch the skin at my elbows while the 
               only pain affecting me was the pain caused by the tears being 
               forced into my eyes.

               I suddenly lifted her from the ground and spun her around, knocking 
               down our books and souvenirs.

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                                                                         3.


               My feet seemed to be dancing when I let go, but surprisingly 
               she still had a fondness for at least a part of me; she was 
               grasping onto my forearms as though they were the poles in a 
               merry-go-round run amok.  So by the time I had emancipated 
               myself from her grip my timing was off; she hit the couch 
               instead of the wall.

               I stumbled to the floor from dizziness.

               She screamed.  At what point I wasn't sure.

               'What am I doing?' I smeared the perspiration from my face 
               with my bare arms.  The salty taste seeped into my cracked 
               lips and became a soothing balm, a pain to fight the pain of 
               my searing thoughts.

               'Who the hell am I?' I pushed myself off the floor and knocked 
               off a hanging plant from its hook on the ceiling.  I shook 
               the rope away from the pot, scattering soil with the same 
               skill as her artwork possessed, then sat on her legs and 
               tied her feet together, tight enough to have dislocated her 
               ankles.

               She spontaneously roused herself, jerking and twisting, crying 
               my name with such terror and anger I felt a connection -- an 
               empathy between us that I had never known before.  Without 
               pause she stretched across an end of the couch for something 
               to hold and whipped back at me striking my neck with the 
               edge of her heavy dictionary.

               I grabbed my neck to soothe it while a tingle surged from 
               the pain -- or to it -- and agitated my flesh to the point 
               where even ripping it off was not going to satisfy me.  As 
               she wriggled for something more effective to hit me with, I 
               lifted her legs with one arm and pulled her off the couch.  
               She banged her head and twisted in spasms until, with our 
               empathy extending from mutual terrors to mutual strengths, 
               she ripped herself from my grip.

               Again, I tried to find a hold on the rope but it became akin 
               to reaching into a fire to save some treasure.  Over and 
               over I lost her with her kicks and jerks.  Skin was starting 
               to come off my palms, but she was tiring by that point.  I 
               violently shook my hands, hoping to cool them, then again 
               took her legs, grasped a chair and dragged them under the 
               plant's hook.  Zinta became frantic again.  I kicked her in 
               the ribs to knock her wind out and, in one breath, stepped 
               on the chair and hooked her up.  She came around again but 
               her loose hold around my calves gave way as I stepped down 
               to the floor.

               She was crying my name again in fits.  Her face was bloated 
               as she swung like a raging pendulum.  Then something loud 
               happened; she had dropped headfirst into the thin carpet.  
               The hook had come out.

               'What am I doing?'

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                                                                         4.


               I dragged her and the chair across the apartment towards 
               another hook above our bed. I noticed I'd left a careless 
               red line.

               Suddenly I smartened up.  I stood looking down at her with 
               the kind of shame that fills politicians.  '...I don't need 
               the chair.'

               I stepped on the bed, pulled her onto it and for ten minutes 
               struggled to finally hook her up.

               When I'd finished, I stepped down from the bed and looked up 
               at her to reflect for the first time on what it was I'd just 
               done.

               "You've got what you want," I panted to her, "I'm upside down."

               I had to get away from her so I tried to walk to the living 
               room but somehow I did a complete circle and ended up next 
               to Zinta's hanging body again.

               My eyes rolled back in my head then I spontaneously screamed 
               at my parents twenty years too late, "Dad...you COWARD!
               You coward.... No. don't!  Don't leave!"

               I walked in circles countless times occasionally kicking 
               plant dirt out of the way until I went to my dresser and found my 
               dice, the Lucky Sixes.  I picked them up by the string 
               and with my sore hands clasped them 
               around my neck.

               On the wall over our bed was Zinta's favourite picture, a 
               tourism poster of a James Bay resort overlooking the skyline 
               of the Capital.  The slogan read, "NEW OTTAWA, SIMPLY THE 
               BEST PLACE ON EARTH".  It was framed lovingly with gilt-edged 
               carved wood and had a glass panel to protect it.  All this 
               even though the poster was freely available to anyone and 
               was, in her artistic opinion, badly done.  But there it was.  
               She had never visited New Ottawa and through this two 
               dimensional window she thought she had discovered the place 
               to realize all her life's desires.

               As I looked at the poster, it sickened me.  'We had the best.  
               Why did she want to go there?'  Zinta's swinging body was 
               blocking a full view of the poster so I went closer until I 
               decided to move it somewhere better.  I took it off the wall 
               into my hands.   'She must have spent a hell of a lot of 
               money on this frame.'  I leaned it against a wall and then 
               walked over to her easel and sat down in the easel's matching 
               swivel chair.  There were drawings piled on it, 'studies' as 
               she called them, which she usually kept stuffed in a drawer.  
               I wondered why she had them out.  I surmised that she was 
               packing them.  I pushed it all aside and looked around to 
               find clues as to her intentions, any dates ahead that would 
               have told me when she had planned to leave.  There was nothing 
               for the whole of October.  Then I noticed it was a vintage 
               calendar from 2037.

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                                                                         5.


               I sat for a long time ignoring her slight 
               swinging motion.  I didn't think it was possible for her to 
               swing so long.  I put it down to a breeze coming from 
               somewhere.

               Suddenly the glass in the gilt frame shattered and the poster 
               was ripped by some object.  When I remembered how I had just 
               thrown an ink bottle at it, I calmed down.

               "So this is the future," I said aloud.  Like a time traveller 
               I had arrived out of oblivion to remark for the first time 
               on the unfamiliar terrain.  I was lost in this future but 
               perhaps familiar terrain was no better in hindsight.  Zinta 
               was my oblivion and she betrayed that role. I could not grasp 
               the idea that she could abandon me.  My parents were no less 
               incomprehensible.  And who really knew me if Zinta didn't? 
                 She was a shallow 
               illusion after all...as I was no more real to the world than 
               is a caricature.

               I looked at the torn picture of the capital and wiped old 
               tears from my face.  'The last time I bothered to look, the 
               future was supposed to be flying cars and telepathy.  The 
               future's the same as the past, it just lacks the certainty.'  
               I thought this loudly and mournfully -- the conscious word seemed 
               truer.  'What does the future matter?  The future wasn't able to 
               warn me about the desertion!  They couldn't tell me about 
               the betrayal!'  Without noticing, I regressed to unconsciously thinking and 
               rocking in my swivel chair.  'They tell you that you're free, 
               they tell you about the perfection of our democracy and 
               about electoral evolution and they tell you...I don't know.... 
               Why do they spend so much money telling us what we already 
               know?  I know it's a wonderful country -- the best -- but why 
               don't they spend some money on finding out how I can get 
               Zinta back?'

               I imagined I was standing where the photographer stood as 
               he shot the poster of New Ottawa and I was 
               about to walk from that seashore into the "Atrium City".  
               What would I want from that future?  What would it demand of 
               me?  In my mind I moved through this arcade filled with all 
               possible earthly delights and with unlimited credit.  What 
               would I buy first?  I'd always been content with what I had 
               before and what Zinta selected.  So why would I want anything 
               here?  Why?  Because now the factor of Zinta's betrayal was 
               new. What would satisfy me now? Zinta was the only thing that 
               had any value -- she was the one thing that could stop my 
               thoughts. And oblivious thoughts -- total obliviousness is 
               what I knew so well. This limbo between oblivion and purpose 
               in life was only a sickening confusion.

               I spread rubber cement on the easel's calendar and rolled 
               the drying goo into a ball.  I rolled pieces from the fourth 
               of October, from the eighteenth, from the tenth and from all 
               around and took it in my hand. I bounced it and put up with 
               the smell.  At first it was an insignificant toy, but slowly 
               it grew.

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                                                                         6.


               It became an impressive thing, a model for protection, warmth, 
               marriage -- Zinta had always managed to avoid that last step.  
               I wasn't going to let her stop me this time -- finally my 
               life was going to be complete.  Marriage was what I'd always 
               been missing and marriage was what I was going to get.

               I put down the ball on the  easel and picked up the phone to tell 
               a friend, Julie, the good news.  While waiting for her to answer, 
               I watched the ball roll across the  easel, chaotically, on 
               its way over the edge.

               "Julie, you're invited to my wedding.  I've decided to get 
               married.  What do you think?"

               "What's going on?  I haven't heard from you for years."

               "Come on.  Did you hear what I said?"

               "To Zinta?  She agreed to a date?"

               "No, no.  Not to Zinta.  My parents are arranging it.  They 
               want to."  I tried to clear my groggy voice.

               "Bernard?  Give me a second here - I don't believe it.  You're 
               going to marry someone you don't know?"

               "That's right."

               "Why?"

               "They told me yesterday if I didn't marry this girl they'd 
               fond for me, I'm out of their wills.  Zinta really wants the 
               money."

               "I don't remember that they objected to you and Zinta living 
               together.  Not that I'm claiming to have been able to meet 
               your parents - and wait a second -- Zinta?  I would have 
               assumed you broke up with Zinta -- 'Zinta really wants the 
               money?'  You're confusing me.  Take a deep breath and tell 
               me in your usual... sedated...way."

               "Okay.... I'm going to get married to a woman I've never 
               met.  My parents never liked Zinta and have told me if I 
               ever want to escape my financial situation I'll marry this 
               girl they found.  But I'm not going to leave Zinta, she and 
               I will still see each other, she just wanted a place for herself 
               anyway."

               "She told me that years ago."

               I felt sick.

               "...Bernard?"

               "Yeah...."

               "I didn't know they hated her.  Besides you once said they 
               thought she was gorgeous."

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                                                                         7.


               "'When has hate given way for beauty?'  Wasn't that one of 
               your sayings Julie?"

               Julie laughed, "'Flattery is the gold of the golds!'  In a 
               way I love being trapped by my own sayings.  Proves some people 
               are listening.  But you're not getting off just yet.  Your 
               parents can't be over fifty.  When do you expect to collect?"

               "How can you say that to me?"

               "This is a joke, right?  You gotta be kidding?  You're the 
               one -- oh! -- listen Bernard, you're not sounding like yourself.  
               You're barely enunciating, and I've known you long enough to 
               know you're never this confused.  What's happened to your 
               foundation?  Where's God, country and Zinta?  Or was it 
               ignorance, bliss and Zinta?"  Julie spoke cynically and 
               inaccurately.  "Or whatever it is you like to say.  What's 
               wrong Bernard?"

               "Nothing."  My lips were sticking together.

               "Let me speak to Zinta."

               "All right.  Just a sec."  I put the receiver down on the 
               desk and called out loud enough for Julie to hear, "Zinta!  
               It's Julie!"

               I walked to the front door, stopped and put my hand on the 
               door knob.  I considered leaving right then, but footsteps 
               were resonating in the hallway on the other side and were 
               coming closer.  I didn't dare.

               I heard talk just audible near my door.  "...is that 
               the flat?"

               "Hey, do you think he cops will show up this time?" a woman 
               said.

               "Why would they?" another woman replied.  "They've refused 
               to charge her for verbal assault for months -- they're waiting 
               until that guy changes his mind."

               "It sounded like a real fight this time -- so what was I saying 
               before?"

               "The nuke voter-rama."

               "Oh, yeah."

               They'd passed by me, down one floor and out the front door.

               I went back to the telephone and told Julie, "I guess she 
               went out."

               "Did she take her phone with her?  Maybe I'll give her a 
               call. Give me the number."

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                                                                         8.


                "No, I see it here, she didn't take it."

               "Bernard.  Listen to me.  Do you really care?  You have 
               everything you've always wanted, I thought.  Is this what 
               happens when you're tempted by a little money?"

               "A lot."

               "So now it's a lot.  Bernard, are you expecting to collect 
               soon?"

               "My Dad has cancer.  Okay?"

               "All right I'm sorry.  Is it serous?"

               "It's a brain tumour."

               "That's not serious."

               "When it's half the brain it is."

               "Oh.  That's one thing I don't know about."

               "I'm doing this for my father.  He wants it this way.  I'm 
               going to do it his way."

               "I guess...I should want to be at the wedding, but -"

               "Then be at St. James Cathedral at seven pm tomorrow."  I 
               gave her all the details in between her attempts to tell me 
               I was crazy.

               I said good-bye and then wrote down what I had told her before 
               I forgot.

               I picked up the phone again, and called another friend from high 
               school.  I was lucky that he was still living at home because 
               I hadn't spoken to him for over four years, and had not seen 
               him since the hockey team broke up at graduation.  I told 
               him about the wedding and invited him.  I said it was going 
               to be a girl we had both liked at school.  He believed me.  
               Immediately after I hung up, I looked up that same girl in 
               information and found her number on the display.  She had 
               changed her name for some reason.  I rang her up to see if 
               she would marry me.  Some man answered the line and eventually 
               I realized I was talking to the woman's husband.

               'First I need the witnesses.'

               I hung up the phone on the husband's yapping and trudged to 
               the window.  I looked across the narrow alley over the roof 
               of the building on the other side.  Orange sunlight shot 
               onto my face -- I needed to close my eyes for a second -- then 
               the warmth of it seemed to nuzzle me back into the bosom of 
               oblivion -- my home.  I knew this sensation wasn't real but I 
               knew a way to make it real and to make it forever.

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                                                                         9.


               'I'm gonna get married! - I'm gonna get married!'

               I turned around and walked out my door to the stairwell, 
               leaned my hip on the railing and paced myself down the one 
               flight to the apartment entrance.

               A letter carrier held the door for me as I entered my 
               building's shadow just outside.  It was a blue shadow, with 
               the orange sunlight defining the limits of the blue air's 
               domain.  I noticed that my rope-burned palms were not 
               bothering me during those slow seconds, so I lifted my hands 
               and groped for something to give me a bearing.  My movement 
               failed to disturb even that blue air, or at least I couldn't 
               sense it with my hands.  When I looked at my palms again, I 
               tried but failed to recall their significance.  Then I 
               shivered in ecstasy:  I'd recaptured, in that moment, that 
               sense of oblivion again, but this time it was real.  I felt 
               like the solid last piece of a great liquid puzzle.

               II

               I yawned.

               "What was I thinking?"

               I started to move away from my building.  I crossed the street 
               towards the park while the clouds shut down the sunlight, 
               diffusing the blue shadow I was in, making it an ordinary, 
               imprecise grey.

               A car flew past sending me its pressure wave and shifting my 
               hair.

               I headed past the playground, debated turning south under 
               the Dupont streetcar line but decided to turn north up to 
               Davenport Road.

               I yawned again and felt the pain return to my hands.

               'Okay, I've got to...um.'

               A water truck rumbled by trying to spray the street clean.  
               It sent water lapping over the curb which splashed between 
               my naked toes.  The potting soil from the flat washed away.

               'Am I ever thirsty.'

               I followed the twists of Davenport east and south until I 
               realized the road had become Church Street.  The night was 
               taking over.

               'Oh yeah!  The wedding!  I'm going to get married - finally!'

               The Singh neighbourhood square came up.  I found a washroom 
               and used it.  Then I bought something to eat and relaxed on 
               the rim of the beautifully moulded plastic fountain.  A plaque 
               honoured the Alhambra as the inspiration for the fountain.

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                                                                        10.


               'I know! I'll soak my feet in the water.'  Suddenly I heard 
               Zinta's screams.  I covered my ears and then pretended that 
               I was scratching them in case anyone was watching.  I turned 
               around on the fountain rim and put my feet in the water.  
               Reaching into the centre of the fountain, I laid my fingers 
               into the upshot of water and felt them bounce around against 
               the water pressure.

               'I guess this is what happens when you grow up with 
               somebody.... How could Zinta leave me? Oh, what time is it?  
               Those damn old fashioned, old town, old stupid public clocks -- 
               what does it say over there anyway?'

               Suddenly I noticed that for exactly one second I was very 
               comfortable.

               'October third!?  I want to know the time! ...Ah, who cares 
               anyway.  Zinta always wanted to know the time too, she always 
               wanted to know the time.  Normal people check it on 
               the job and stuff, she had to do it in the middle of sex.'  
               I covered my eyes again and suddenly forgot what I was 
               thinking.

               When I'd rested, I drank from the fountain's water and quickly 
               decided to leave.  My steps back to the sidewalk grew cautious as 
               my view of things began to rotate inside my mind.  I guessed 
               that I'd stood up too quickly.  I stopped to catch myself 
               from falling and incidentally placed my closed hand against 
               a bronze groin of a male nude sculpture next to the sidewalk.  
               Then the first cool wind I'd felt that night spun over my 
               head, swirled around my body and woke me up.

               A bus was coming south so I ran across the street to a bus 
               stop. When the it halted, I walked into the bright, cold 
               coach. Paying the fare cost me my last few dollars and some 
               slight pain to my hands. The burning had slowly become more 
               tolerable, enough to get the fare from my shorts, but I was 
               beginning to worry about my neck. The run across the street 
               had done something to it, I guessed. The muscles held my 
               head as a string would. When I staggered to the back of the 
               lurching bus, my head bobbed as though I was playing Raggedy 
               Andy. I could feel the people staring at me. Then I tripped 
               over my feet, stretched out my arms and fell. My sore hands 
               sank into a soft old lady as my bare knees hit the grooved 
               floor. I was quickly off the lady, apologizing and in a seat 
               brushing sand off my bruised knees with the back of my hands.

               Some kid with long hair smiled at me when I looked at him. I 
               smiled back and continued to flick off the sand embedded in 
               my skin. I looked up again, then around the bus and back at 
               the kid. He was giving me a variety of smiles with questioning 
               or coy looks.

               'Typical!' I thought. The neighbourhood was too 'out', to allow me 
               to get away with holding the crotch of a bronze man. I got up and 
               walked to the very back of the bus, away from the kid. I didn't want 
               to seem available any longer. Then a woman stepped on the bus

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                                                                        11.


               and sat across from him on the seat I had just vacated. The 
               routine started with her too. He tilted his head as though 
               he was trying to gently lift her face with an invisible 
               projection from his nose. I decided I must have been partly 
               wrong about his intentions but I couldn't be sure of what he 
               was after. He moved across the aisle to her and sat a seat 
               away. Her smile was more than polite, it became deliberately 
               inviting. But she stopped smiling when he pulled out some pamphlets. 
               He handed her some and she threw them on the floor. The old 
               lady I had fallen on picked one up and began licking the 
               inside of it.

               The bus driver was looking through his rear-view mirror. His 
               eyes were angry. He stopped the bus and shouted out, "My bus 
               ziz not going anywhere while one of you druggies ziz on 
               board!"

               The smiling kid got up and coolly stepped out the rear exit, 
               leaving pamphlets scattered on the floor. Equally casual 
               were three passengers who, one at a time, walked down the 
               moving bus to pick up a few of the pamphlets and then sat 
               back down in their seats. One jubilant passenger came to the 
               back where I was, and handed me a few of them, after brushing 
               grains of sand off first.  He offered himself the seat next 
               to me, then let his butt fall onto it. With his shoulder 
               pressed into mine, he opened up a pamphlet, with respect, 
               and licked it once. When he was finished he folded it up, 
               leaned forward in his seat and slipped it into his back pocket 
               before slouching again with his shoulder jabbing into my 
               arm.

               I shifted away from him and took a look at the front of the 
               pamphlets I had been given. In bold letters it said THE CHURCH 
               OF GOD, in smaller letters it continued, "Send donations to 
               Killarney, Ontario K0I 2U9 W3W". For no reason I leaned 
               forward and stuffed the pamphlets in the back pocket of my 
               shorts.

               I flicked my dice on the necklace and felt them fling back 
               on my collarbone. It was my stop coming up. 
               The jubilant man moved his legs for me and thankfully I could 
               get off the bus.

               I had to breathe the extreme heat again which was difficult 
               compared to the air-conditioned bus. I knew 
               that by thinking about my breathing difficulties I was 
               ignoring my terrible situation. My situation was that I had 
               stepped off the bus four blocks too early. I was at Queen 
               Street standing beside The Metropolitan Church, instead of 
               on King Street beside Saint James. I could not fathom how I 
               could be so stupid. I crossed the street to look at the 
               advertised deals in the windows of the pawn shops and cut 
               rate law firms, but I was distracted by my own ghostly 
               reflection and decided then and there to stop ignoring my 
               problems. I forced myself to remember the things I'd done. 
               Most importantly, I remembered never to lie to myself again. 
               Even though my reflection told me more than I could stand, I 
               had to be honest - my hair looked awful. I clawed at it,

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                                                                        12.


               trying to straighten the strands. I couldn't do much else 
               but hope that the next time I had access to a washroom, I 
               would do something about my appearance.

               I crossed Queen Street heading down Church Street towards 
               Saint James Cathedral. As I moved closer to it I watched the 
               spire of Saint James grow higher and larger. Each stride 
               magnified the importance of my upcoming wedding.

               I arrived at the Cathedral's rectory, stopped in the front 
               yard -- I had to think before I went any further -- and sat 
               down on the grass to give my ideas some time to develop. By 
               the time I realized that the rector was watching me from the 
               front step, I'd come up with a few lies to help me get what 
               I wanted.

               The rector spoke. "I've been watching you for quite a while 
               from the upstairs window and I can't help but think you have 
               quite a load on your mind.... Is there something I can do 
               for you?"

               "My parents were killed in a car accident today."

               "Oh my.... My goodness and you're still in shock," the rector 
               said while he came over to me. He put his arms around my 
               shoulders and took me inside.

               I went on, "My girlfriend and I were following them on the 
               expressway - the Don Valley expressway." I pointed east. "We'd been 
               arguing, it seems like the whole afternoon about...my 
               girlfriend. We argued about, you know, living together. My 
               Dad couldn't stand it. But my mother didn't care that much 
               about the wedding. She tried to stop us arguing. I always 
               felt I should've married my girlfriend earlier but it just 
               didn't happen. I guess that's because so few people bother -- 
               after all, the law says moving in together is the same thing."

               "You know that shouldn't matter. If you feel you should get 
               married or feel that you should come to church some Sunday -- 
               you missed it today; first mass is at eight am -- the thing 
               is, you can't think that way.... Come over here and sit in 
               my big chair."

               "Thanks."

               "Now, don't tell me any more if you can't. But I do think 
               you can't hold yourself back from doing what your conscience 
               wants you to do."

               "It was the most--"

               "Not that I can get my wife to do the same, you know," the 
               rector sighed for the rest of his interruption, "Sorry go 
               on. She's been such a test of my faith."

               "Yeah...anyway, it was the most horrible fight we'd had in 
               years. We were dinning next to Markham Cathedral and that's 
               what started it. The Cathedral reminded my father of the

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        13.


               whole situation. He said his ideas were old fashioned and 
               everything like that, but that he wasn't going to die before 
               he'd passed on the family name. 'Legitimately' -- he said 
               that...."

               I was suddenly jolted out of a moment of hesitation when I 
               saw that the rector's mouth was readying another volley of stand 
               and deliver self-pity, I cut him short, "HOW...could he die 
               after saying that. Sue and I were with them the whole day 
               except for the drive there and back. God. Oh, God, I feel so 
               guilty. Even my driving was effected by my anger. He must 
               have gone squirrelly. He couldn't have noticed how close he 
               was cutting in front of that poor family's car."

               "Oh, please! Christ!" He didn't mean to say Christ but he 
               tried to look pious after saying it so that, at least, it 
               could look as though he had meant to. "Look, I do sympathize. 
               It's the worst moment for anyone's life when they lose a 
               dear family member. Personally I've lost several. One was 
               just last year...."

               I let him run through his list of dearly departed. I was 
               contented by the realization that self-pity was his way of 
               sympathizing with me. He was going to help me.

               He clasped my shoulders, "Please hear me now. I understand 
               your pain. But...by the way is your mother...gone as well?"

               I nodded yes, half in a real and half in an artificial stupor. 
               The question took me back to a room where I was both a child 
               and a man. I heard the rector and I came back as he mumbled, 
               "Not tactful."

               The resurgence of Christianity had done nothing to improve the 
               stock of clergy. He continued more clearly, "Sorry. It's just that 
               you didn't mention her.... I'm sorry, just go on."

               "I must get married before they're buried. It would have 
               meant so much to both of them."

               "Not that I think that it's a hasty decision -- it's, after 
               all, in honour of you departed parents - but what does...Sue 
               think? Was it Sue?"

               "It is Sue! She's still alive. You think I'm marrying a 
               corpse?

               "Of course not, it was a simple question. I'm sorry to have 
               implied more than I meant."

               A heat of intense fear surged to the casting of my next words, 
               "It would have meant everything -- we wanted to be together 
               forever in any case but now we're going to make it come true; 
               it will be forever."

               "Good. That's what a wedding is all about, for the world to 
               witness that commitment."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        14.


               "That's why it must be here, the largest place I know of. I 
               want the world to know our commitment. I want the place to 
               be filled with witnesses to my future life."

               "You can have a thousand witnesses, my lad, but don't forget 
               the most important witness only the church can offer."

               I nodded and winked but wasn't sure why God should be confined 
               to churches. The rector took me into the kitchen and gave me 
               some tea while we discussed the details of the ceremony.

               As I rose to leave he had one thing to add, "I just have a 
               slight reservation about doing it tomorrow."

               "Is the Cathedral booked?"

               "Mondays are usually fine. It's the costs I'm considering, 
               especially those concerned with the fact that there's been 
               such a short notice."

               "Insurance and the inheritance will cover any cost you want 
               to  charge -- any cost."

               The rector and I discussed, only briefly, the final plans. 
               We agreed it was a fitting memorial to my parents while of 
               course they would have approved the expense. I signed a debit 
               slip, blank in its amount as it was in its sincerity.

               With the business done I left the rectory and strolled back 
               into the night wondering what to do next.

               I looked up and down Church Street, then pulled out of my 
               pocket one of the pamphlets which I'd been handed on the bus 
               trip. Inside it read, "Lick me." I had never looked into one 
               of these things before and that was all there was to it, 
               "Lick me." So I did. When I looked at the pamphlet again the 
               awful taste and the sight of the smeared words on the paper 
               made me realize that I was meant to lick the strip of crystals 
               on the other page. I spat the cheap printing out of my mouth 
               and licked the crystals.

               I'd never tasted anything like it; a sweet taste, despite 
               the pasty contamination of the printing. But it gave me the 
               animal satisfaction of biting into a kill.

               "I need witnesses." With that thought to consider I was filled 
               by the merging of events, the merging of disperse elements 
               in a play where actors had no parts, where meaning had no 
               words and where I moved without increment.

               I could smell my body baking in the sun. In one passing moment 
               I had found myself disappearing from the cool night air 
               outside the rectory and reappearing on my apartment floor. I 
               lay with my back against the carpet, a pillow under my head 
               while I faced the hall window. The strangest thing was that 
               the sun was setting again, as though time had moved back an 
               hour from the rectory, from the bus ride, to the horrible 
               dream of Zinta's fall.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        15.


               The phone rang -

-               but I had lived nearly a day into the future from the moment 
               of the dream.

               I couldn't breathe. The air was rotting while the open window 
               betrayed its designers and refused to allow in some fresh 
               air.

               The phone kept ringing, the answering service was off for 
               some reason. I felt too stiff to get up quickly and find it. 
               But once I had seen it in the middle of the floor, I decided 
               to crawl to it. Lastly, I rolled on my back and picked it 
               up.

               "Good evening sir. I have been trying to call on behalf of 
               my employer to kindly thank you for the flattering invitation 
               to attend your wedding. Personally, I think it sounds quite 
               interesting but on such short notice it's quite impossible 
               for them to accept. We wish you well and hope that you have 
               a wonderful life together. But to be quite honest we have no 
               idea who you are."

               'So what,' I thought. I didn't know who he was either.

               I could feel junk in my pockets. It stuck in my thighs. Inside 
               the pockets were crumpled pieces of paper with partly written 
               invitations to attend my wedding. Then I saw that Zinta's 
               screen was up and that it had the same kind of writing on 
               the screen. I'd probably been scanning the drafts onto Zinta's 
               computer and individually personalizing them. One was 
               addressed to all sheep herders. Apparently they were very 
               rough hand-drafts.

               I slid my head along the shag carpet to view the room then I 
               returned my attention to the phone and saw that the answering 
               service had the maximum six hundred messages on it. I gathered 
               no one had ever seen the limit reached before and I wasn't 
               awake enough to question my eyes. I assumed it turned itself 
               off when it reached its limit.

               "Sorry can't make it, don't know who you are but thanks 
               anyway" -- blip -- "Going to be there darling, just RSVPing" -- 
               blip --"Hey, you fucking creep, if you come to my wife's window 
               in the middle of the night again, I'll rip your head off...." -- 
               blip -- "Your wedding sounds marvellous, why don't we have 
               brunch this morning so I can meet you first...." -- blip.

               I turned the service off again and lay with my face on the carpet. I 
               knew where I was. I knew I was getting married, I even knew 
               my name. But I didn't know anything worth knowing. 
               Inexplicably, Zinta lay with her back arched while dead directly on 
               the floor in the bedroom. I watched how the dust drifted 
               through the sunshine and fell on her as if it were felting a 
               grey shroud.

               Eventually I stood up, then walked carefully in my bare feet 
               around the broken glass on the floor to our bed and slowly

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        16.


               picked up the brown comforter off the floor -- I was tolerating 
               a thumping headache in the process -- and walked back to 
               place it over her to do my part in respecting her passing 
               out of my world. The comforter wasn't large and it was crusty 
               on one end, but it was her arched back and bloated skin that 
               made it difficult for me to cover her completely. So I 
               collected the books scattered about the floor and placed 
               them on the edge of the cover to pin it to the carpet. When 
               I had completed what I thought was a respectable job, I 
               stepped back to see what it was I had done and thought, 'Just 
               like a pile of dirt, like a fresh grave. I guess this means 
               she's buried now'.

               Over on the couch, I put on my shoes and realized, with some 
               pain, that the soles of my feet were blistered. In the 
               washroom, where I wanted to bathe my feet, I found what looked 
               like pieces of excrement in the tub where the bed sheets 
               were rolled up. I didn't know why things were that way, but 
               I guessed Zinta must have been packing. It was a mystery not 
               worth pursing for its truth but only offered further pain and angst. 
               If I was responsible for her new position or the new mess or 
               the stuff in the tub -- then I gathered I was capable of 
               anything. If I was not responsible then I deduced I was not 
               responsible for anything. I said to myself that I didn't 
               want to know -- somehow I thought I would be answerable for 
               Zinta's death. I didn't even consider tricking myself into a 
               pseudo innocence. But something in me would do anything to 
               find an excuse for having killed Zinta.

               I went back to the bedroom area for the money I'd left in the 
               dresser drawers. The drawers were stacked on the floor next 
               to the dresser and I found the money scattered all over the 
               place and picked it up. I changed my shorts and shirt for 
               clean ones with larger pockets so that the money would fit. 
               I cleaned out the pockets of the worn shorts, saving the 
               pamphlets, my wallet and some of the invitations. Deciding I 
               would probably need Zinta's money too, I looked in her hiding 
               spot, the inside of the brass bed post, but the money was 
               gone. With that I had no doubts Zinta had been packing and I didn't 
               look further for it. I had to leave and all I knew was I 
               couldn't stay with Zinta; I couldn't breath comfortably for 
               the rotting smell. I closed the windows and looked back at 
               my strange apartment one last time before I walked out. Then 
               I locked the door and snuck down the fire escape.

               I ran through the back streets of the 
               North Annex, until I felt safe. The Dupont Line streetcar 
               station at Spadina Road was at hand so I jumped on a streetcar 
               going west and sat down in a seat overlooking Dupont Street.

               I let the sun strobe my face through the passing trees while 
               I swore at myself for taking only paper from my place no 
               extra clothes and no shoes at all. I took out of my pocket 
               one of the invitations that I'd printed up.

               All of a sudden I laughed and said to myself, 'Hey, I forgot, 
               I'm getting married.'

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        17.


               I read the invitation to myself, Bernard Kimosa and Sue Jonson 
               wish to invite on behalf of their most gracious parents Debbie 
               and Garth Jonson and Sandy and Richard Kimosa It was 
               unfinished so I looked at the other invitation I'd saved and 
               in neatly scanned and scrolled calligraphy was the place and 
               the time of the wedding, 6:00 pm, Saint James.

               Quickly I looked up to the clock in the streetcar and couldn't 
               believe that my wedding was only thirty minutes away. Nearly 
               a whole day had passed from the time I gave the Rector the 
               rubber debit. Now that I'd rented the Cathedral and invited 
               the guests there was no turning back. I'd surprised myself 
               by obtaining everything a wedding needs except a bride.

               'If I don't go to the wedding now, I'm going to have a few 
               dozen people wondering what I'm up to,' I said to myself 
               even though I doubted so many would come. 'I've got to get 
               someone to pretend to marry me'.

               I jumped off the streetcar when it reached an intersecting 
               line. I had no time to waste looking on the street for a 
               woman to marry -- my connecting car was waiting -- I had to 
               find one en route. Once I had factored in the traffic problems 
               and knew I was going to make it in time, I stared at the 
               different women sitting near me.

               Anyone would do, I thought, 'But I guess she's too old to 
               pass off. Everybody's too old - there's one... ah... she's 
               probably too young. God, everybody else is either too fat or 
               ugly.' I had an inkling that my complaints weren't pertinent 
               but as I was faced with nothing else to care for, I naturally 
               embellished the wedding's importance to my long and short 
               term self-esteem.

               The streetcar went south on Kingsway to Sunnyside Beach and 
               turned east to hug the lake and its series of pavilions.  On 
               the north side of the line were billboards, half of which 
               were for charities and causes. One flashed, "Don't 
               Discriminate - Attractiveness Is Only Skin Deep." I wondered 
               if they meant to include marriage. Another flashed 
               mysteriously, "Incompetence + Education, Two Halves Of A 
               Real Person." I looked for the follow up message to clear it 
               up but it didn't come. We passed the old Exhibition grounds 
               into the nineteenth century theme town officially called 'The 
               Palladium' where the selection of seemingly eligible women was starting to improve. As we slowed up to the next 
               stop, situated before the turn onto a traffic circus and 
               across the street from the Prince Albert Theatre, a girl 
               came running at full speed out of one of the neo-Gothic 
               apartment buildings, and was gleefully dodging cars through 
               the traffic circus towards the fountain in the centre, the 
               halfway point to the delayed streetcar. I sat up in my seat 
               to see if she was trying for my streetcar.

               She started across to my side of the circus, trying to race 
               through a five second long traffic jam that was holding back 
               her apparent target -- me. It also could have been the 
               streetcar that she was after.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        18.


               I saw her face for a moment as she bit her purple lips - 
               Zinta's lips. It was all I needed to want her.

               I stood up from my seat when I realized she wasn't going to 
               make it. She realized this too and gave up the attempt right 
               in the path of the streetcar -- she gave up her glee as well -- 
               but when the driver started to power into her, she decided 
               not to get out of the way. The driver continued at a slow 
               speed and she stood ready to meet him. He hit her and she 
               tried to stop the streetcar by pushing back as her feet 
               backtracked from the indomitable force at the driver's 
               command. The driver slid the car to a stop when she jumped 
               onto the bumper and held on by the windshield wipers. The 
               driver was swearing at her while she pleaded to be allowed 
               on.

               He refused.

               She refused to move and the people on the streetcar started 
               yelling at the driver to let her on. I walked up to him and 
               asked him to let her on and he just told me to sit down, 
               that he had a schedule to keep. I looked at her small face 
               against the glass and her naked arms holding the wipers. My 
               mind wavered on what to do. She watched me closely as I turned 
               my back and returned to my seat.

               The girl jumped off the front, breaking a wiper as a last 
               gesture. The driver tried to run her over, but she stood 
               just to the side, smiling into the sky like the most elegant 
               matador.

               III

               My last sight of the girl was of a black distorted stick off 
               in the distance behind the refracting mist of the circus 
               fountain.

               'I could've stepped off for the girl, but I would've been 
               late for the wedding. And I have to go to the wedding or I 
               risk some strangers thinking about me, about what I was doing, 
               where I was. Once off the streetcar I would have been late 
               and therefore she would be pointless.'

               I made up my arguments while losing track of her amongst 
               other refracted sticks.

               The streetcar slid through the canyons of polymorphic office 
               buildings, which from my vantage point floated by me like 
               the gathering clouds of an evening storm, pink and grey 
               falling on the rippling stone work like the light of the 
               sunset does on the underside of true clouds. And just as 
               with clouds, I felt it a shame that one part of such a 
               structure should bask in the light while the rest is left to 
               whither.

               'Forget that. There's more worthy causes than that!'

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        19.


               Recognizing that this was probably true, I also realized 
               that it was unfair that some parts were anointed with the 
               shade while the rest of the buildings had the addling heat 
               of a sticky October sunset.

               'What the hell are you talking about?'

               Then I thought it was injustice that the sun could not bathe 
               light evenly to all things at all times.

               The pressure was getting to me. As simple a thing as turning 
               my head to lookout the windows at the passing city was causing 
               me to flip through a series of absurd causes. The windows 
               were acting like stencils; allowing only peculiar ways of 
               looking at a scene. 'After all,' I realized in some corner 
               of my mind, 'Everything out there is all just a bunch of 
               things - right? All except me.'

               We passed the Skydome...then by the kids falling in the blue 
               canal - no, they were jumping in and swimming, having a good 
               time.

               As I approached my final stop, I realized what I'd done - 
               the truly stupid things I'd done. I'd hurt Zinta. I couldn't 
               even see why I'd done it.

               Prickly heat erupted all over my skin, I pounded my knee.

               People didn't pay any obvious attention to me, but I had the 
               feeling I may have been talking out loud about Zinta. I may 
               have said something about...what happened.

               I looked out the window, closed my eyes and clenched my knee, 
               and then rolled my forehead against the cool glass. 'Why did 
               I kill her?'

               Then as though a debate were required I responded, "But I 
               didn't kill her, she'd been walking around the flat after I 
               killed her. She was alive. She must have been,' then dejectedly I 
               finished with, "She could have been."

               I collected myself when we arrived at the very bottom of 
               Church Street, the south approach to Saint James. I exited, 
               hopping from the last step and getting the same chill up my 
               back as if it was from the edge of a cliff. Then I left the 
               exposed street for the Esplanade Arcade to stay out of sight 
               while I decided what to do next.

               I remembered the pamphlets. The pamphlets were a little damp 
               in my back pocket, but they still beckoned. All I needed was 
               a touch, enough to get through the wedding. With my finger I 
               scratched at the crystals until I had some under my nail, 
               then I touched my tongue to it. I couldn't taste a thing so 
               I dabbed my tongue to my fingernail until I could taste 
               something, which this time was too faint to savour. Just 
               as before I felt no reaction inside me. I knew there must be 
               some kind of reaction, but I couldn't 
               remember what had happened the first time.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        20.


               I left the security of the Arcade and walked across the 
               Esplanade north from the foot of Church Street through the 
               Old Town of York. My heart thumped so violently I grabbed at 
               it like a dying man in a silent-movie. My mind started to 
               grind from the lack of options I'd given myself.

               I lifted my eyes to see how close I was to Saint James but I 
               couldn't see it over the close set buildings. I could hear 
               it though; its steeple clock said that I was late. The bells 
               ended ringing on the sixth hour. Like a heart magically 
               transformed to a tumour the heavy bells stood quieted in the 
               steeple.

               I stepped within sight of my church.

               The rhythm of my breath had seemed temporarily calmed when 
               the bells had been playing. They had forced a new order into 
               me just in time for it to be snatched away. I looked up at 
               the smudged clock as it was being swallowed and hidden by 
               the clouds' sorcery.

               My breathing was taking over again, it was making me dizzy. 
               I took one step through the giant doors of 
               Saint James before I had to sit down on a bench in the main 
               lobby. '...am I doing here? I should be...my wedding. Should 
               find out what...I need to think. To clear everything...up.' 
               I couldn't breathe. I was weak and shivering when I stood up 
               to receive my award. It was like standing up in a hammock. I 
               fell backwards and drove my spine into the floor. I screamed 
               until my skull cracked. The scream brought a crowd of people 
               to fill the lobby; to fall over me, to lift me up, to brush 
               me off.

               One of the men said, "This can't be the groom, he has shorts 
               on."

               Another man patted me on the back and waited patiently with 
               me for the crowd to funnel through the doors, down the nave 
               and back to the pews. I walked with the crowd until I stood 
               alone, with everyone straining their necks to look back at 
               the attention grabber at the top of the nave.

               From my vantage point I could see that my wedding had really taken 
               shape. Finally, I was going to be married. The power of the 
               crystal drug had given me the insight I needed to be able to 
               trick scores of people into coming. I'd made a spectacle of 
               myself - thank God. Besides amassing more than a thousand 
               guests in the cathedral, I could tell from the party hats 
               sparkling above the other heads that I failed to inform 
               everybody it was going to be a wedding. I'd done just enough, 
               it seemed, to obtain the witnesses.

               Every face seemed to be betraying its owner's thoughts. Those 
               thoughts being generally that I couldn't be the groom. That 
               was the common idea until the rector saw me and dashed over 
               to the organ to play a boring little tune by J.S. Bach.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        21.


               When everyone was sitting I was left dawdling along the 
               nave, pretending I was doing the white glove test for dust 
               on the end of every pew. On my way towards the altar, a woman 
               whispered to me with her fingers pawing her cheeks, "Isn't 
               the bride supposed to walk the aisle with her father?"

               Some people were talking to each other across the pews. I 
               could hear a distant man ask in the spacious church, "Hey! 
               In your invitation, did it say who was getting married?" A 
               woman responded "It wasn't this guy. And did yours come 
               without your address?" "Yeah! Yeah, it did." They turned and 
               stared at me over the heads of the other people.

               Then a new series of questions were lobbed my way, "This is 
               the wedding of the social calendar? You've got to be kidding - 
               " and I could hear someone whisper, "Hey, where's the babes? 
               Where's the babes?" and, "I expect a damn good reception 
               after what I just forked out."

               Julie came out of the crowd, looking three times smaller 
               than usual. She walked up to me angry and disbelieving with 
               her shoulders tense, arms outstretched, palms up, as if it 
               had started to rain inside the church. "What the hell is 
               going on here? Where's Zinta? I thought you were bringing 
               her." She started to brush some dust off me, "I can't believe 
               you're wearing shorts. What is going on? Who are all these 
               people?"

               The organ stopped as I looked around at the hundreds of 
               people. Most were talking, while others were silent and at 
               attention. I had no idea who these people were.

               Julie took off her wedding ring and forced it into my palm, 
               closing my hand tightly around it. "Take the ring, I have a 
               feeling you forgot one." Then she walked back to the pews 
               faintly shaking her head.

               I had no one; not a friend, not a girlfriend, no one.

               I gave a thought to having Julie stand in as a bride but I 
               didn't think it was right. 'Marry the right person,' I began 
               to chant to myself.

               Finally, I relaxed to what was happening -- to my growing 
               power. Whether it was from the crystal, or whether it was 
               from deep inside my true self, it didn't matter. My body 
               seethed with new strengths. Then the movement of my heavy 
               eyelids seemed to activate my super-human senses to the 
               dissensions writhing like eels throughout the great church; 
               the evil smells of the old regimental flags and new paint, 
               mixed with the bad people and their echoes of whispers and 
               coughing. However, nothing could disrupt the preeminent 
               resonance of even my lightest footsteps.

               The rector was approaching me quickly, pointing at me for 
               the benefit of another cleric who stood at the altar tapping 
               his hand on a bible. The rector whispered like a jet engine, 
               "How did you get the Arch-Bishop to perform the service?"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        22.


               So the cleric was the Arch-Bishop. So what? I wasn't 
               impressed. Was he trying to impress me or something? So what 
               if I caused some trouble, what can they do to me? It seemed 
               everybody around me was waiting on my every move. And it 
               turned out, when I went closer to the Arch-Bishop I could 
               see that his hand was not tapping the bible, his hand was 
               quivering with fear of my omnipotence.

               Only a small number of people had the nerve to ignore my 
               power. But I knew just what to do to keep them listening, 
               not to say anything, to glare at the backsliders in the eye 
               and maintain an insane pleasantness.

               I walked slowly and steadily. I inhaled the respect paid to 
               me from all sides of the great church -- a church that held 
               more of these people then any other could, anywhere -- and 
               for that they had to base there design on me, on a structure 
               I could feel in my body. The perfect design, strong and 
               flexible. It wasn't gothic masons that thought of these 
               arches, they stole the pattern from my ribs.

               I, God had certainly fashioned this place.

               Then I decided it was time to come down to my flock and give 
               them the good news. Thus I spake unto them, "I am waiting 
               for thy love."

               I reached the altar and shook the hand of the over-awed Arch-
               Bishop, nodded to the rector, showing him and all the mass 
               of people the ring as I held it in my right hand and drew it 
               not just around my finger but around myself.

               _

               IV

               "You see that? He married himself."

               The ring felt like it had years of embossed slime over it. 
               Even so, it didn't slip on easily. The isolated coughs grew 
               more frequent while I tried to fit it on all the way.

               I looked up at all those different people filling the place -- 
               then I noticed just how strange those people were to me. In 
               front of me people were talking to themselves, or 
               laughing, some were even crying by that point. Everybody, I 
               noticed, had either green, blue or lavender faces, clothes 
               and hair. I couldn't distinguish these humanoids from one 
               another and, in fact, the assemblage appeared less like a group 
               of people and more like a compilation of organs -- they were 
               to me the dyed organs of a student's cadaver.

               I dropped the wedding ring and it clinked loudly off the 
               stone floor.

               Under the circumstances I knew I had to say something. I 
               said "Thanks for coming here this evening. That will be all."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        23.


               Someone yelled, "Hey what's going on here?" Another pointed 
               at me as she answered, "Obviously we didn't get a royal 
               wedding. Although if he starts to use a royal 'we' I won't 
               be surprised."

               A ripped designer bag with packaged clothes was thrown my 
               way, it slid into my feet. A wave of people were rising from 
               their seats and leaving while others yelled obscenities. One 
               woman was fervently clapping her hands when a laughing girl 
               with a mohawk hairstyle barged her way passed the woman and 
               came up to me hurriedly. She took my hand and led me passed 
               Julie, who was blocked from reaching me. I was lead out a 
               rear exit where I patiently followed a group of my guests, who 
               were unaware that I was the subject of their snide remarks.

               "I loved your scam," the girl with the mohawk said, "I hope 
               you appreciate ours."

               As this girl lead me, she had the swagger of an Elvis imitator, 
               two police were sitting on the hood of their cruiser looking 
               at the departing crowd then back at something in one of the 
               cop's hands.

               "Don't worry about the cops," the girl told me, "Cops are 
               too stupid to catch us. Besides, they have other business it 
               looks like. See, they have a photo of someone they're looking 
               for. Don't worry, okay?"

               This girl lost my interest, so did the police. All I thought 
               of was that the marriage was over for me. I was a less 
               suitable match for myself than I had imagined when I hit on 
               the idea during the wedding. But I guessed more preparation 
               for such marriages is not possible.

               The whole point of living even a moment, I felt just then, 
               was to make sure that the next moment was like the time I'd 
               spent with Zinta, time spent oblivious to everything, 
               especially myself. A surge of desperation at the failure of 
               marriage with myself bloomed into my brain like algae in a 
               pond; choking it. Something outside my mind would need to be 
               found to satisfy me. A search for such meaning could not be 
               easy. I needed to fall in love with something and be satisfied 
               with it longer than I had been with myself or with that 
               matador girl or with that vague idea of being part of a liquid 
               puzzle. Those moments of oblivion, moments where I was back 
               where I belonged, were shorter than a lit match. I had no 
               idea what to look for so I decided, de facto, considering my 
               lack of reason, to let chance send it to me for a while at 
               least. Strangely, I had the presence of mind to believe that 
               chance would be less bizarre than my own path.

               "Stop looking at the cops, will you?

               "Anyway, the scam I was talking about? You see me and a bunch 
               of my friends -- you'll soon meet them -- we were sent one of 
               your invitations and figured on our scam. When we saw that a 
               wedding was going to be a Saint James with no reception

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                                                                        24.


               afterwards, we took a chance. Well, we knew the church was 
               so big no one would notice a few nice kids collecting the 
               wedding gifts at one of the side entrances. So that's what 
               we did. Hope you don't mind.

               "Anyway what a bunch of nice kids we are too." She continued 
               talking while we walked up Church Street, "Well, here are my 
               friends now."

               They greeted each other silently on the street and we all 
               moved into a parking lot to talk.

               I found myself brought to the far corner of the lot between 
               a patch of cars and the Imperial Car museum. Different members 
               of the group started thanking me and slapping me on the back 
               or shaking my hands. One member, introducing himself as 
               Tannis, told me they would give me a cut of the money if I 
               wanted, though this seemed to be against his own wishes. I 
               agreed to accepting some of it and they immediately crouched 
               on the asphalt, ripping apart a cardboard box and dumping 
               envelopes out onto the pavement.

               Each one of these teenagers, ten in all, dressed distinctly 
               from one another and, out of the punctuated babble, I heard 
               various accents. But despite these differences, from 
               witnessing the speed at which they operated while dividing 
               up the huge sums of money, it became apparent to me that 
               they operated inside a seemingly efficient command structure. 
               Tannis led them officially but a red headed girl seemed to 
               have the final nod.

               The money was out of the envelopes on the ground and divided 
               up within minutes when someone started calling out from the 
               street at us. A roll of bills was tossed to me as the meeting 
               scattered and the same mohawk girl who had led me out of 
               the Cathedral showed me the way out of the area. She took 
               me silently up a fire escape to the museum roof overlooking 
               the parking lot; the rest of the ten had gone ahead of us.

               I whispered to her, "I think I'm alright. I'll go on my own 
               from here."

               She agreed that I looked better and told me if I lost them 
               and wanted to see them again to go to their house in Nedston, 
               Toronto. She gave me their address with directions to turn 
               left at the statue of Handsome Ned, then she ran across the 
               roof to follow her friends.

               I stayed to see who was following us and discovered it was 
               the two police who had been waiting outside Saint James. 
               They were scurrying in a crouched position after loose money 
               and stuffing it in their pockets. I checked my pockets for 
               the roll of money I was just given and for the money I brought 
               from my flat and it was all accounted for. After seeing how 
               well these ten kids did things I suspected they left the 
               money as a delaying  tactic. I felt a bit of pride at my 
               reasoning. My mind was functioning again.

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                                                                        25.


               The cops strolled back to Church St. as though they had just 
               finished a feast. I went back down and followed them on the 
               ground. They picked up the pace to a jog but stopped when 
               they crossed paths with an elderly couple. One cop asked 
               them, "Did you people happen to see a gang of thugs 
               pass by?"

               "Yeah we did," the elderly woman answered "but they went in 
               so many different directions."

               The same cop continued, "Did you see one in particular, in 
               white shorts with straight black hair and possibly staggering 
               or being helped?"

               I looked down at the colour of my shorts and they were white.

               "No," the elderly man answered while pointing up Church St., 
               "but one in shorts crossed this intersection a moment before 
               you came."

               The two cops then jogged away from the couple in the direction 
               the old man pointed towards. I could not follow them after that, due to the 
               more exposed area into which the cops were heading. The cops 
               may have been running away from me at that moment, but I was 
               sure they were after me.

               "Zinta"

               I called out to Zinta to stop her from tickling me.

               I blinked a few times and remembered where I was. 'How could 
               I have hit her like I did? But what did I do? I can't even decide 
               what it was I was doing. What was is it you did, Bernard?' I 
               shook my head violently. 'I couldn't have killed her. I didn't 
               leave her on the floor. I didn't put those sheets in the 
               tub.' I got up off the ground and frantically tried to decide 
               what to do.

               I had to talk to somebody. I wanted to find the house of those 
               ten in Nedston and explain it to them first. But I couldn't 
               escape the feeling that Zinta may not have been on the floor 
               when I went back, that I could have imagined it. After all I 
               had left her hanging upside down.

               I decided to go back home again to find out if she was on 
               the floor or hanging upside down as I at first had left her.

               I jumped on the next bus going up Church St..

               I may have killed her, I knew, but I had not left her in the 
               middle of the floor near the bed, stiff, in a position that 
               looked something like she was bending over backwards for her 
               gymnastics class. If I had really seen what I recalled seeing 
               in our apartment, somebody else had been there after my fight 
               with Zinta.

               I became attentive again to my surroundings when the bus 
               turned on to Davenport and we approached my apartment.

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                                                                        26.


               Ambulances were passing the bus in both directions so 
               frequently that the bus driver decided to get some tea while 
               waiting for the street to calm down. Also police cars were 
               repeatedly passing without a hint of the direction in which 
               they were going. Finally, when the traffic was crawling and 
               the bus driver had us back on the road, we passed my street 
               and I watched fire engines putting out the last remnants of 
               a fire that had engulfed my entire apartment block.

               I wanted to get off the bus and see what had happened, but I 
               couldn't leave the protection of the bus while I believed 
               the police were after me. But then I thought, how could a 
               fire have burned down the scene of a crime during an 
               investigation with all the police and other officials there? 
               The two cops that were pursuing me had enough information to 
               find me at St. James. Perhaps the time they had used to 
               find me  had left no time to waste  
               before the wedding would have finished. Maybe they forgot to 
               inform homicide investigators. Now that there was nothing 
               left of Zinta to find I felt fortunate that a fire had 
               destroyed any evidence of what I had done to her. Still, I 
               couldn't fathom the coincidence of the fire with my need for 
               one.

               I drifted with the bus for two more stops then got off to 
               consider what to do next.  My choices were limited to leaving 
               for the countryside and putting my cadet training to use or 
               hiding out with the ten kids who had befriended me. The best 
               thing, I decided, was to go to Nedston. I hoped the kids 
               were as friendly as they appeared.

               I walked south from Davenport Road through the middle of the 
               Annex by the large old houses and fraternities, past the 
               salons and cafes of Bloor St. and eventually through 
               Kensington Market's ceremonial gates of stacked twentieth 
               century garbage cans. All of a sudden, I stopped considering 
               my general situation and started to consider where I was 
               walking and how beautiful the walk was. The late night breeze 
               playing shadow puppets with low tree branches and street 
               lamps added a touch of my past into the atmosphere. Then on 
               Spadina Ave. a giant provincial tourism billboard extolling 
               the virtues of New Ottawa added a touch of a future. And 
               between this past and this future I moved for some seconds, 
               aware of a reflected present in which I existed -- not a pure 
               present but with a delay long enough for my mind to see it 
               and feel it and believe it. I  strongly believed that I was 
               indeed in this reflected present, and for the first time in 
               my life all the factors of place, memory and timing had come 
               together and shown me that I was essentially existing in the 
               past -- speaking to myself about the past, considering the 
               past, even my thoughts about a future were past. I wondered 
               how close I could ever get to living in a present.

               I moved onto other considerations as I continued south on 
               Spadina Avenue into Chinatown and eventually Nedston on Queen 
               Street. I approached the statue of a slouched Handsome 
               Ned while a woman was drilling a hole in the statue's 
               strumming arm. I stopped and asked what she was doing. She

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        27.


               told me she was giving him some heroin. I turned left after 
               the statue and found the house I was looking for up a 
               back street.

               "Hey, Bernard, this way" one of 'the ten' said to me from 
               the roof of their house. I waved at him needlessly and signaled to 
               him not to yell out my name, that I was coming to him. He 
               ran inside the house and was the first to greet me at the 
               front door. "My name's Ray. Sorry for yelling out to you. I 
               thought you were going to miss the house." Others appeared 
               at the door, all greeting me with warmth. Ray said, "We all 
               were so worried when we realized those cops were after you. 
               They caught one of us but only asked if we knew where you 
               were going." Ray paused and looked back to his friends. He 
               waited.

               I felt so great due to their welcome that I wanted to 
               talk over what had happened with Zinta, but I became 
               embarrassed when I tried to speak. I realized that I shouldn't 
               tell anyone there that I had just committed a crime no 
               none could justify -- even criminals. Ray helped me, "Hey don't 
               worry about anything. Come inside. We all decided to invite you 
               to join us if you wanted and if you showed up.

               "I would like to. Thank you." I entered their house and found 
               the inside to be very pleasant -- a surprise when I considered 
               the fortress-like exterior. With plants everywhere I 
              knew why I felt calmed by the place.

               "Bernard, would you like something to eat?" Ray asked.

               I must have eaten earlier, at some point, after I 
               blacked out from that stuff in the pamphlet, I just couldn't 
               tell how long it had been. I was hungry though. They gave me 
               a small bowl of boiled rice with a cheese sauce, one of my 
               favourite dishes. I took a spoon in my fatigued, quivering 
               hands and scooped up a huge spoonful. It was too big and the 
               rice was falling on the tablecloth. I brought my mouth to 
               the spoon before anything else could spill and had the first 
               taste. I chewed every grain of rice, swallowing it bit by 
               bit to stretch the moment until it finally stopped the hunger 
               .

               -

               V

               I ate the whole meal as politely as I could until I was as 
               full as I would let myself be with a shrunken stomach. But 
               it was too small for my mind. I almost asked for another 
               bowl but I felt ashamed to press their hospitality any further 
               than they were willing to offer.

               The group began to lose interest and most of them went out 
               of the kitchen towards the living room while Ray and the 
               girl with the mohawk, who then introduced herself as Wen, 
               sat down across from me. The red-haired girl I'd noticed

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        28.


               earlier stood in the door frame for a second looking at me 
               then she rolled off it and strolled away.

               Wen asked, "We want to know if you would like to live here."

               "I can't say I have any better offers -- yes, I would."

               She continued, "We were wondering before we let you stay if 
               you could tell us what the deal was with those two cops after 
               your 'wedding'. Why did they follow you?"

               "I'm sorry but I don't know"  I answered, "I guess it had 
               something to do with the wedding."

               "Well, don't come and go too often until you're sure you 
               can't put anymore heat on us. When you want to leave just 
               make sure that you ask for help." Wen continued, "The group 
               decided that we wanted you to stay, despite the added risks, 
               because we think you can help us."

               "Help you? I don't know if I can."

               "We saw you manage an operation the size of that wedding, 
               alone it seems. Well, we just want you to do something smaller - 
               hey, that wedding was bizarre. Just what was the angle, 
               anyway? No -- let me guess -- was it like the 'Crash' except 
               that instead of destroying a company you crash one of the 
               rivals by suckering the rube into a lavish wedding? But I 
               can't figure out the 'Hurrah'. Why did you show up to the 
               ceremony? And where was the bride?"  Wen was picking her nose, 
               which distracted me, and I had a hard time following her 
               lingo.

               I sat silently for longer than was good for my image as this 
               con-artist extraordinaire. The lingo was my first hurdle.

               "I'm a self-educated scammer and I make up my own rules. The 
               'Crash' and 'Hurrah' are terms that are just over my head. 
               Sorry, but to put it simply the wedding was performance art. 
               My mark was a rich patron who's been sucked into the whole 
               art game. I just found a friend to play an art critic and 
               then recommend me. My job was easy. I just performed the 
               wedding and was payed beforehand."  I smiled with genuine 
               pride at my lie.

               "But where's the scam in that? That's what real artists do. 
               And even after you were payed you went through with it? What 
               were your expenses?"

               "Zero. The best scams are based on the truth, don't you think 
               so? I couldn't have pulled out of 'the wedding' or the mark -- 
               or 'rube' whatever -- would have stopped payment on the cheque. 
               But I stalled everyone I owed money to, so my expenses were 
               Zero."

               "Classy! Eh, Ray?"

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                                                                        29.


               "Yeah."  Ray said, "Still, we need you. There's a package 
               sitting in the post office -- in customs -- that arrived two 
               months ago from France. It's for Tannis. He thinks its from a 
               friend he has there."

               I was trying to pay full attention to Ray but when Wen smiled 
               I caught glimpses of green, blue and pink individually 
               coloured teeth.

               "When it arrived,"  Wen carried on, "the post office phoned 
               to ask why we were receiving a food parcel from France. Tannis 
               was just as curious. They said they were not going to release 
               it because food is prohibited postal traffic or something 
               like that. well, Tannis says he wrote his friend in France 
               several months ago, but wasn't expecting a reply. His friend 
               there is in the same occupation we are. You know," she said 
               with a grin like an upside down rainbow, "swindling? Tannis 
               thinks his friend could be sending something that could help 
               us here. Tannis is a little dry with his ideas these days. 
               Well, we can use a few new ideas right now. Right Ray?"

               "Right Wen."

               "If they're watching you," I said, "why in the world did you 
               tell me to come back here?"

               "We didn't know you were in trouble when we invited you. 
               But I don't think we have anything to worry about. We know 
               that for a fact. We've done everything to prevent them from 
               listening to us in the house. We even stole a device from a 
               Cadet base that transmits fake house sounds to all kinds of 
               eavesdropping devices. Besides that, the cops that watch us 
               are morons, they have no way of knowing who you are or what 
               you're in trouble for. The problem will be the police that 
               are investigating you. We don't think they're morons. The 
               two cops that followed us were able to catch Tannis," Wen 
               shook her head, "Not easy."

               "Tanis again? He's your leader right? Didn't he go into cadets 
               with everybody else at seventeen? Didn't he learn how to 
               avoid capture?"

               Ray cleared his throat and interjected, "We all did of 
               course, we met and formed ourselves in cadets.

               "Tannis admits he was being cocky when he decided to walk 
               into a crowd on Yonge Street and relax. These cops simply 
               recognized him in the crowd and showed him a photograph of 
               you. They wanted to know everything about you. Tannis didn't 
               know much so he told them. He told us later he could see 
               they were looking at his facial expressions while he spoke 
               to them. They believed Tannis enough it seemed to let him 
               go. After that Tannis made sure he wasn't followed home."

               I felt an urge to say something critical of Tannis and didn't 
               stop myself, "It seems to me, and I hate to trample on your 
               hospitality, but Tannis is a liability."

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                                                                        30.


               I stopped myself too late. I was trampling. I had given up 
               my guard for a moment of self-gratification. I couldn't think 
               of what to say to ease the discomfort I could see in their 
               faces.

               "When you get to know him, I think you'll change your mind," 
               Ray said.

               I was amazing. I had undercut my standing with them with 
               total success.

               "Now let's get back on track," Ray said eagerly. "We thought 
               you should know the situation. You can stay in a room we 
               set up in the basement. Take time deciding how you'll help 
               us. If you have any ideas on how to get the package from 
               customs or even if you don't think we should be bothering to 
               try to get it at all tell us. Think about it. In the meantime 
               let's go into the living room. I'll introduce you to some of 
               the others."

               Ray led Wen and myself into the elegant living room. Tannis was 
               there, with all of the others. I wanted to ask them questions 
               but they were more eager to do the same to me.

               Tannis was the first, he asked, "What did you do to have the 
               police at that wedding? Invite them?"

               "Come on Tannis," Ray said.

               Tannis whined to Ray, "He invited everybody else."

               I answered eventually, "I've already told Ray and Wen why." 
               Then with a sudden pang of guilt I mumbled, "And I just .... 
               committed a violent act of some kind."

               Tannis jumped on that, "What does that mean?" Everyone else 
               added their voice to the same question. Then he continued in 
               the same scrappy way, "Did you pull a leg off a fly?"

               There were some chuckles.

               "I mean, to be perfectly honest, I had a fight with my 
               girlfriend and I ... have to say I ... I've been charged with verbal 
               abuse." I wanted to tell them but I needed more time to see 
               what they would say.

               "I knew it was a mistake to take him in," Tannis scoffed.

               "I'm being honest. I'm trusting you to understand me. In the 
               heat of an argument, who hasn't thrown an insult? After all 
               none of us are pure, are we?" Then I cut myself off,"...No I 
               can't say any more. I want to wait until I can be trusted by 
               all of you before I'll finally take your offer to stay." I 
               hated Tannis.

               I cut everybody else short as well. Ray and the rest did not 
               know what to think . The girl with red hair attracted my

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                                                                        31.


               attention as she readied her pale face and dark lips to say 
               something. Then she spoke, "I'll trust you."

               It was all that I needed. The issue seemed decided by all, 
               even Tannis -- reluctantly though. I felt unworthy of her 
               kindness. How was it that this red-headed woman wanted to 
               trust me when she didn't even know me? All I could think to 
               do was to say, "Thanks."

               Ray told me that her name was Nicola. He continued to 
               introduce the others in the room. Then he told me they called 
               their group the Rubes. He explained that they named themselves 
               after their victims because they usually pretended to be 
               victims during stings. With the introductions complete and a 
               problematic subject put aside, I decided to try to keep the 
               conversation neutral.

               "The weather is nice for October isn't it?" The room cleared 
               with that line, except for Nicola and Tannis.

               "It is getting late, isn't it?" I said with a quick exit in 
               mind.

               "So ... how much did you get from your rube?" Tannis demanded.

               When I remembered who my fictional mark, or rube, at the 
               wedding was I said, "That's my business".

               "Yeah, right," Tannis said then turned his broad shoulders 
               and walked away.

               I knew I should say something to Tannis. He was important 
               around there, "Is there anything I can do, Tannis, to change 
               your mind about me?"

               "You can go back in time and tell Ray and Wen I'm not a 
               liability. And when that's done, get the package from 
               customs." Tannis went up the stairs to the second floor and 
               I heard every heavy footstep.

               I was left standing in the living room alone except for 
               Nicola. She had sat down on the long couch and invited me to 
               sit also. I chose a chair that looked like a dry cleaner's 
               press. She told me it was from a hospital, that it was 
               designed for burn patients to be turned over. I sat down a 
               cool, water-filled surface. while I tried to figure out how 
               it worked she took my mind off my immediate problems.

               "So what do you think of Canada getting nuclear arms?" Nicola 
               said so softly I could barely hear.

               "Hey," I said, "What? Canada?"

               "Yeah, don't you read the papers."

               "Sometimes."

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                                                                        32.


               "The government's planning to have another referendum. Another 
               one. When aren't they having one I wonder. They want to know 
               if we approve of Canada taking the final step towards becoming 
               king of the hill -- getting nuclear weapons."

               "Sounds good," I said in a distracted way as the top came 
               down on my chair and turned me over. My mouth and hearing 
               were muffled until it opened again. I caught the end of 
               something Nicola said, " -valent."

               "What was that?" I said while I turned myself back over to 
               face her again.

               "I'm not sure what to think," she repeated for me,"I'm 
               ambivalent. Hey, what's that around your neck?" She got off 
               the couch and came towards me.

               I took my lucky sixes in my sore right hand and with the 
               weight of a maturing guilt I mumbled, "A gift".

               "No, but what is it?" She came close to me as I reclined 
               uncomfortably on the top part of the chair. I wanted her to 
               stand aside as I got off the chair and stood next to her. 
               Close to her. NIcola took the dice in her right hand and in 
               bringing her head close to take a look at them she made me 
               look down her top at her gorgeous, young, delicious, healthy 
               and tempting breasts. I felt like a cheat for seeing them, 
               like I was cheating on Zinta. Then she moved her head even 
               closer and I smelled the lilac fragrance in her feathered 
               short red hair.

               "They're all sixes, every side is sixes, that's cool."

               She stood away and we looked in each others eyes. A vibration 
               of passion passed through my body like it was from the gavel 
               of a judge.

               "Listen," I said to Nicola, "Take my lucky sixes, I don't 
               deserve them." I tried to take them off but she placed a 
               hand on my neck to stop me.

               "I don't want them. Anyway I can tell they're important to 
               you. Were they a gift?'

               "Yeah."

               She knew not to ask me any more about them. Her irises were 
               so dark her eyes looked black at times. The freckles on her pale 
               face and the leanness of her body told me how young she must 
               have been. I had a hard time turning away from her but I 
               did.

               "It's late," she said. "I'll take you to your bed. I'm sorry 
               for it being in the basement."

               I followed her from a distance as she took me downstairs. 
               The space there turned out to be full of costumes 
               and computer equipment. She explained in a mousy way, "We

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                                                                        33.


               use the costumes to rope in the suckers, the rubes eh? And 
               the computers are for accessing other data systems and to 
               produce false I'Ds. It can be crowded down here in the 
               daytime, but tomorrow you can sleep in -- we already got out 
               the nun costumes. It's a charity scam we do every so often. 
               By the way do you have any ideas on the package Tannis 
               mentioned?"

               I stopped looking around at the mess in the place and 
               answered, "Why don't I just get a job at the post office and 
               then just pilfer it?"

               "It's simple. It might work, but we'll need to give you a 
               false I'D. If the cops are after you a normal security check 
               would reveal that. In fact I'll make a preliminary check to 
               see what they have on you. Then we'll see to what lengths
               we'll need to go to hide your identity."

               "That sounds good but let's see how simple we can make it. I 
               like things kept simple."

               "Your wedding was far from that," she said in a probing way. 
               "In fact I don't think it was a scam at all."

               I felt a flush, 'How did she know?!' I blinked so much from 
               fear she asked me if I was alright.

               "I'm fine, but ... what do you mean?" I said.

               "Your face tells it all, I can read it. I saw you at that 
               wedding and you weren't acting. You were on some drug or you 
               were crazy. You came down from your mania after it so I assume 
               it was a drug."

               "Yeah, it was."

               "Why did you marry yourself?"

               "I guess I didn't love anyone else as much."

               She made a sympathetic smile and stated, "It was sad ... Now 
               that I know for sure you're not a scam artist, are you sure 
               you can cut it here. I'm not kicking you out, but if the 
               others catch on to you they'll give you the boot."

               "I can cut it."

               "Yeah, I think you can too, I'll help you tomorrow to get 
               started. There's a mattress in the corner and some sheets 
               over here. The washroom's over in the opposite corner and 
               you'll find a new toothbrush there, but if you want a shower 
               you'll find it upstairs. I'll see you later. Have a good 
               night."

               I held her arm, "Why did you say earlier that you trusted 
               me?"

               "I do."

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                                                                        34.


               "Why?"

               "Because we're two of a kind."

               Nicola walked up the stairs and I listened to the creaking 
               floorboards above me as she went to bed. I lay down on the 
               bed beside the copy machine while the blood in my feet flowed 
               back toward my head. The blood flowing towards my head: it was 
               suggestive. For hours my mind had been busy with pursuing 
               more simple problems to solve. Now, all that had happened to 
               Zinta came back. Everything was washing into my mind. But it 
               wasn't confusing because the central image that surfaced in 
               my mind was the picture of someone else killing her.

               I was dreaming, and I knew I was, but it didn't stop me from 
               believing what I was experiencing. There were simple things 
               that I loved when I was five years old: the stars, my home, 
               my quilt. I could feel my quilt pressing lightly on me. I 
               felt for the rip where I would habitually pull out the stuffing. 
               As I woke, my conscious memory reminded me about the real 
               world -- that I had thrown out my quilt years before and that 
               I clutched only a borrowed blanket.

               'God damn it. Why is there never enough sleep,' I thought to 
               myself. No light from the outside could make it through the 
               boarded up windows of the basement. I didn't know if it was 
               day or night. I walked up the stairs with the blanket in my 
               arms. At the top of the stairs I sat down and saw the light 
               of the early morning bouncing off the amber walls of the 
               silent rooms. I needed to sleep longer. I'd slept only a few 
               hours but I didn't want to go back to the basement. I went 
               into the living room. It was perfectly empty of dreams. I 
               needed that. It would be therapeutic. I lay down on the thin 
               cushions on one of the couches, spread the blanket over me 
               and fell asleep again.

               "Bernard. Come on, wake up." Wen was standing over me. Her 
               hair was different. She shook her head wildly, spraying my 
               face, the only part of me exposed from the blanket. "Hey, 
               get up," she said. Wen had washed the soap out of her hair, 
               the soap she'd used to make her mohawk stand up. Once she'd 
               shaken it over me sufficiently she flopped it from one shaven 
               side of her head to the other, then she pulled off the strands 
               that had plastered her face. When I took my eyes away from 
               her fruity grin I ran my eyes down her short body. I noticed 
               a slight excess of body parts being exposed to me through 
               her gown. It was open down the centre.

               "Tell us your plans to get the package," she said.

               I was stimulated enough to giver her an intelligible answer. 
               "Wen," I said, "I'll get a job in the post office."

               Wen stood thinking about this skimpy plan for a few seconds 
               while I sat up on the couch and noticed Nicola come in. They 
               said good morning to each other. I started to think about 
               Zinta again and play with the dice but then Wen closed her 
               gown in the presence of Nicola. I felt guilty for doing

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        35.


               something behind Nicola's back, not Zinta's. We were two of 
               a kind now, I thought.

               I blurted out, "We were only discussing the plan for the 
               package."

               "Yes, I guessed. Good morning to you too, Bernard."

               "Yeah, good morning." I knew I had to stop looking guilty 
               all the time and I promised to make a determined effort to 
               stop it. Otherwise I felt I would continue to be a person 
               capable of the most extreme farce.

               "Are you ready to start working on your new I'D?" Nicola 
               asked.

               "Sure, no problem."

               As soon as I got up off the couch to get a bite to eat with 
              Nicola, Wen lay down on it and wrapped herself in my blanket 
               like she was a cat in catnip.

               Nicola grabbed two bagels and oranges for both of us and led 
               me into the basement. On the way down the stairs I noticed 
               that the lumps of money in my shorts had chafed and bruised 
               my skin during the night. I wanted to get rid of it somewhere. 
               I asked her what I should do with it. In the basement she 
               told me to clear out my pockets and savee a comfortable amount 
               to carry. She took the rest of it, labeled it and stashed it 
               in a little safe placed in the foundation. As she was about 
               to close the safe she looked again at what she had placed in 
               there and said, "Why do you have these pamphlets?"

               I had forgotten about the drug pamphlets and was embarrassed. 
               "I don't remember, but I had them in my pocket."

               "Yes, that's where they were," Nicola said politely while 
               examining them.

               "Somebody slipped them in my pocket when I was on a bus." I 
               watched Nicola separate the pamphlets from the money and put 
               the money back in the safe.

               "Is this the drug you took before the wedding?" Nicola asked.

               "Yeah."

               "Did you enjoy it?"

               "I don't know."

               "Let me ask you; did you feel as though you were learning?"

               I stopped to think about her question, then answered, "No."

               "No, I mean learn about yourself."

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                                                                        36.


               Truthfully, I didn't think so and I told her that. I then 
               asked her, "Have you ever tried it?"

               "Yeah, a few times. Someone I once knew is part of this 'Church 
               of God'. His name is Schubel. He ran the pharma-weapons depot 
               during my Cadet tour. I met him when we were stationed 
               together. Then I was transferred to another base in the 
               Arctic. That's the last time I saw Schubel, but we write to 
               each other every so often. In the Arctic I could specialize 
               in what we do here. It was called the Camouflage and Deception 
               engineers Regiment -- a real regiment not a cadet regiment." 
               Nicola was setting up the computer while she talked. "Anyway, 
               we, the Rubes, got together up there. And 
               when we finished our tour, we privatized.

               "The crystal drug Schubel makes, though, is different than 
               the ones we used on maneuvers -- it's really different. It 
               makes you see differently, it makes you feel good, not just 
               invincible."

               We didn't get to use any drugs for maneuvers, " I said. "We 
               had to learn to ignore things on our own."

               "Now Schubel has a cult as a front for his drug beliefs. It 
               says in the pamphlet the name -- right? Here it is -- The Church 
               of God."

               "I guess he uses religious freedoms to protect his drug 
               activities?"

               "Yup, and 'Church of God' because the drug makes you feel like 
               God," Nicola said while thinking of herself. "Okay, let's 
               get to work."

               Nicola pounded her fingers on the keyboard with her face 
               close to the screen. Above her head was a sign that said, 
               "Rubes access code, 606 Brown Sugar Pie."

               "Nicola, what is your basic scam here?"

               "Oh, boy," she said as she leaned back,"There are too many 
               kinds to give you a detailed answer...but ...it's sort of 
               like...you see people always have an anchor in their minds, 
               everybody lives with one kind or another. An anchor of greed 
               or ... pride is the most common. Then you come along and 
               make a frame for their mind, one they don't want to leave. 'Fashion 
               schools' are the best, we don't do that one -- we do short cons --
               you know, stuff we can finish in a day or two. 'The Fashion 
               School' is this: you find an office, some equipment, and 
               send out scouts to refer prospective models. You have them 
               arrive all at the same time to get them in a competitive 
               mood. You hard sell them in private. In the halls you get a 
               roper to say he'll hire them as soon as they get an agent. 
               then you charge the models for the test pictures and 
               preliminary lessons. Anyway you get the idea. They're proud 
               of themselves, greedy for fame and money. You've made the 
               context and they don't want to see out of it. They'd all 
               just rather be asleep."

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                                                                        37.


               "Then you pack up and leave, I guess."

               "Yeah."

               "Don't you feel guilty afterwards?"

               "Yeah, I do. Sometimes, I'm the one who thinks them up so I 
               feel bad sometimes. Maybe that's why lately I've had a hard 
               time thinking up new ones. I guess... I don't know -- let's 
               get down to business."

               Nicola continued, "There's no time wasted with me. I've known 
               how to do this now for a couple of years. I use access codes 
               I've stolen to get into Revenue Canada files and find newly 
               dead people's files to use them for new I'Ds. It's a great 
               scam."

               "That's good," I said.

               I took in a deep breath and took a look at Nicola. I was 
               deciding whether her skin was a soft as it appeared or whether 
               it was subtle make-up. There was something about her being a 
               con-artist that made me doubt the most obvious things about 
               her. I thought about going up to her 
               to feel her clear, soft-looking cheek and then I let my breath 
               go. My exhaled breath turned out also to be my backbone, I 
               could feel how shaky I was. I wanted her to be like Zinta, 
               to look after me, but she didn't look the same and basically 
               she wasn't going to drop her life for me. Then again for the 
               first time in my life I was letting myself be attracted to 
               someone other than Zinta, and that did take some courage.

               "Is there any specific name you would like?" Nicola asked 
               while smiling and scratching her ear.

               She turned away from me again to type on the computer. Her 
               ear was so delicate my mouth tingled with the idea of kissing 
               it.

               "Hello in there!" she said.

               I didn't know what to think earlier when she leaned forward in such 
               a way that I could see down her unbuttoned shirt. I needed time to 
               catch up to events. Too many things were happening in my life; and 
               out of all that I recalled, only Nicola's body now gave me pleasure.

               -

               VI

               'She's just playing with me! I must get her out of my mind.' 
               I ordered myself -- though she seemed to be what I was 
               looking for.

               Nicola typed away until she said she was into Revenue Canada. 
               She started to search for dead people's records -- I assumed.

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                                                                        38.


               She asked me if I had any preferences in dead people. I 
               guessed it was a joke.

               I rambled in my mind, 'I prefer Zinta.' I tried not to look 
               down at Nicola's breasts. 'I love Zinta! Not Nicola! What 
               kind of a person could have done those horrible things to 
               Zinta?'

               "Nicola?" I blurted out, "Could you check my file and see 
               what it says about me? Bernard Kimosa -- Kimosa, that's my 
               last name."

               "I remember, don't worry, I saw your last name on the wedding 
               invitation. Sure, I'll look it up. I forgot we were going to 
               do your file."

               'Nicola is so nice.' I thought, 'Maybe I should explain what 
               happened to Zinta. I was so screwed up at the time --  
               what happened anyway? -- and who were those cops chasing me - 
               they must have just missed me. Yeah, when I left my flat to 
               go to my wedding they had arrived there before I came back and 
               moved everything around -- I wrote those invitations -- they 
               must have found one and chased me there -- when? But the fire? 
               Why was there a fire there if the cops were there?'

               "Got your file -- 'Kimosa, Bernard'."

               I looked in astonishment at my Revenue Canada file when she 
               moved the cursor to a page that listed a totally false 
               criminal record. It listed burglary, assault, fraud, and an 
               outstanding warrant for my arrest for the murder of a police 
               officer.

               "That is outrageous! You may find this hard to believe," I 
               said to her, "but I've never done anything wrong before, 
               much less been convicted of anything. Is there something 
               you can do about this?"

               "I'll delete it for you."

               "It's that easy?"

               She went ahead and hacked away until she succeeded.

               'Why was accessing these confidential files so easy, didn't 
               they have safeguards? And why did my file have false criminal 
               records?' Before I could answer these questions I knew I 
               would need to find out why Zinta had been posed like a gymnast 
               in our flat and how the cops were tied to this whole mess.

               "Look Bernard, I'll be looking for and altering some files 
               here for a while. Why don't you eat your breakfast upstairs 
               while I work on this? And one more thing Bernard, be careful 
               with Tannis, he was mad at you because we could all hear you 
               say he was a liability to Ray and Wen."

               "I gathered."

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                                                                        39.


               "Okay."

               I took her suggestion, wolfed down my bagel and while I went 
               upstairs peeled and ate my orange. I looked to see who was in 
               the house.

               Wen was sleeping on the couch, right where I left her. Her 
               body grew and shrank with the breath passing through her 
               lips. I walked away from her and relaxed on another couch 
               across from her. I stared; I knew we were alone, but I looked 
               for something to look busy with while I admired her. On a 
               low table in front of me was the newspaper wasting power 
               displaying the obituaries. I pressed the front page and looked 
               up while waiting for the display to register the command. I 
               picked it up with both hands expecting it to be a heavy model 
               but it turned out to the latest kind, as light as real paper. 
               I pretended I was reading. Something was happening to my 
               body. Wen looked good to me. The blanket that lay on her 
               paralleled the contours of her body so that every downward 
               swoop of it projected, in my mind, thoughts of the most 
               sensuous skin I could imagine.

               "EXPLOSION KILLS 15 IN ANNEX."

               The newspaper headline made me jump off the couch. No wonder 
               I never read the news if something from my life was going to 
               be in it every time I read it.

               "(CPP) This morning the full extent of the human toll in the 
               tragic Annex explosion came to light.

               Seven more bodies were pulled from the burnt-out remains of 
               the Triumph Apartments on Dartnell Ave.

               The death count is fifteen and is expected to rise

               as the search continues.

               Asked if the explosion was an accident or a bomb, a fire 
               department investigator refused to rule out either suggestion, 
               saying, 'Gas pipes fed the fire to such a high temperature 
               it destroyed most of the evidence that usually survives this 
               type of explosion.'"

               The article went on to say that after the explosion a fire 
               burned like a blow torch in the building while a separate 
               gas rupture spurted gas on to the street. The article 
               mentioned that the firemen did not attempt to stop the flow 
               of gas to the pipes because the rupture had spread gas 
               throughout the system before the fire started. They were 
               afraid the fire would spread inside the gas system while 
               they worked on turning off the valves. Instead of waiting 
               they lit up the gas and let it burn off, then the gas system 
               was safe again to enter. By the time they shut down the valves 
               to the ruptured pipes, the fire had consumed my former home 
               and collapsed everything inward. Zinta's murder became 
               indistinguishable from her neighbours' deaths.

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                                                                        40.


               I sat down again on the couch and put the newspaper display 
               back on the coffee table. I looked at Wen again. She suddenly 
               looked repulsive. I began thinking I was going crazy with 
               all the things I had to do. 'What do I do first? Do I look 
               for her killer? What do I want? I want some peace. Why do I 
               want peace? I had that before Zinta left me and it led to 
               this horrible situation. But if I'd not been so ignorant of 
               the choices I could have made at the crucial moments, perhaps 
               I would still have Zinta -- there's no point in thinking this 
               way. I need something to aim for -- yeah -- to obtain the 
               package for my new friends.'

               Tannis worried me. I had to do something to gain his trust 
               or he was going to turn everyone against me. Quick action on 
               his package was sure to change his mind. I wondered how 
               Nicola's search in the computer was going. If she was able 
               to erase the false criminal records so easily I guessed that 
               was why there were those false records to begin with. Those 
               two cops that followed me were trying to frame me for other 
               crimes in order to get me out of the way for the crime they committed 
               against my Zinta.

               I wondered what Julie thought of my wedding -- I lost her ring, 
               I married myself, I left without her, I was sure she hated 
               me for my lies about Zinta. Now that Zinta was dead I must 
               have been Julie's first suspect. I needed a new friend and 
               Nicola was going to be that friend.

               Suddenly, I felt great. I decided to confide in Nicola and 
               get her advice ... as soon as I could trust her.

               Wen woke up and I felt I had to explain why I was staring at 
               her. "Ah... where is everybody?"

               She stretched like a dog and answered, "Well, most everybody 
               is out searching for some decent scams to work on."

               "I see you have a scam that needs sleeping on."

               Wen smiled, then deliberately grinned her rainbow teeth. She 
               got up from the couch and approached me in a way that lacked 
               all obvious threatening gestures, but I felt frightened.

               "The only scam I've been sleeping on," she said with a syrupy 
               tone of voice, "is the one where I tell you about my hardening 
               nipples to trick you into making love to me."

               I exhaled audibly. Sex was what she was after from  me. The 
               way she woke me with the wet hair and the way she lay in my 
               view. But how could I feel tricked, she told me what she was 
               doing. The only problem was that I felt loyal to Zinta. I 
               wasn't going to be unfaithful to her until I straightened 
               everything out.

               As Wen sat down next to me, I vacated my couch for the nearest 
               exit and stopped.

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                                                                        41.


               "I would like you to help me with a problem ... I have," I 
               said while artlessly leaning back against the door frame.

               "Well, what's the problem?"

               "I want to tell you something that I haven't told anybody 
               about. It's evil, what I've done. It's really bad. In fact 
               it's serious."

               I could see that she was reading my face. She must have known 
               how I felt and what I was thinking. I was relieved to find I 
               could not hide anything from her. 'I'm getting her confused 
               with Nicola. Yeah, Nicola wouldn't have laughed like Wen 
               is now.'

               Without wasting a second more I said, "I was living with a 
               girl for years, then she wanted to leave me for someone else 
               and -- hey -- I'm not a violent person, but I, unfortunately, 
               lost my temper and beat her up ... But that's not what my 
               problem is; it is that the two cops that've been after me 
               ... they murdered her. They must have," I mumbled because I 
               saw that I wasn't convincing anyone, not even to myself. "Because 
               she was fine when I left her in our apartment. I was in a 
               very strange mood when I left her to look for help; but 
               somehow I ended up coming back to the flat after the police 
               must have already been in our apartment. Everything was 
               different - my girlfriend was hanging upside down from the 
               ceiling when I left - I couldn't believe what had happened. 
               I'd phoned the police and this was the result? I ran out of 
               there screaming. I didn't dare call for more police for help 
               against the first cops. I was afraid I was going to be 
               blamed for the murder. I organized the wedding to cover 
               myself."

               Wen didn't look satisfied with the whole truth so I 
               embellished it a little bit, "I went back again to get my 
               money in the apartment and found her in a position that looked 
               like they'd cut her down and placed her over the edge of the 
               bed until she'd stiffened, probably committing necrophilia 
               in the mean time. The scene was absolutely disgusting. I 
               found my money and left our place  again. You see, only those 
               two cops that were following me from the wedding knew of the 
               murder and they didn't report it to their superiors; at least 
               I don't think they did.

               "Here, look at the headline of the newspaper." I moved away 
               from Wen to get the newspaper. I looked at the headline myself 
               then turned it around to face Wen and said to her, "During 
               the wedding they set my apartment building on fire."

               Wen smiled and told me, "The headline says, 'Last Polls 
               Suggests Close Vote?'

               I looked at the paper again. "Okay, I mean the smaller 
               headline. Shift the display!"

               "...Was this your apartment that burned down?"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        42.


               "Yes," I answered.

               Wen got up off the other couch and stretched for the ceiling, 
               "Well? What's the point?"

               "The point is they were trying to cover up what they did for 
               a reason. That is that they're acting alone. They didn't 
               want to have other police investigating the murder in case 
               they were exposed. Now I want to get out of here to find 
               these, so called, cops. I ...I'm smart enough to do it."

               Wen rolled her eyes, "I thought you were going to get a job 
               in the post office?"

               "Oh, yeah... But I'll do that as well. I just want to get 
               out of here. I don't need a new identity to get the job in 
               the post office. My record is clean now, I think it'll be 
               good enough to be hired into the customs section."

               "Aren't you coming back?"

               "I will. I will. And I'll bring back the package: I promise."

               I walked towards the fridge in the kitchen, "I'm going to 
               grab something to eat before I go."

               Wen walked with me saying, "Don't you think you should wait 
               for Tannis or Nicola before you rush out the door and do 
               something foolish?"

               I stopped in front of the fridge, "Okay. All of you have been 
               so good to me I guess I should obey your rules." Then I went 
               into the fridge and took a hunk of cake. "But I can't wait."

               Once I knew that I didn't kill Zinta, happiness became my 
               occupation. In the time it took for me to realize Zinta's 
               fate was not mine, (I believed in the inevitability of eye 
               for an eye) I had built a great fortress of happiness.

               I just smiled at Wen while I stuffed my face with food. She 
               was panicking.

               'It's those cops that killed Zinta,' I said to myself, 'It's 
               the only explanation.'

               I knew what to do now, go to the real police. When I started 
               to choke on the cake I doubled over and coughed it up. I 
               spit it in the garbage and walked out the kitchen door.

               I said to myself with complete conviction, 'Now I know I 
               didn't kill Zinta.'

               VII

               "Get back here! Bernard!" Nicola was calling me. "You'll 
               never get a job looking like that!"

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                                                                        43.


               What was I doing outside? I guessed I got a little carried 
               away with whatever I had in mind -- oh yeah -- it was to go to 
               the police about Zinta's murderers, the rogue policemen. I 
               hurried back inside the house.

               I could feel my face turning red in front of Nicola and Wen, 
               but they were nice about it. They didn't ask me any questions 
               or sound disapproving, Wen just said, "Before you go why 
               don't you change your clothes into something that would 
               impress the post office to hire you."

               When I smelled myself I knew that what I needed first was a 
               shower. I asked Wen where the shower was and she pointed the 
               way then told me she would find some appropriate clothes and 
               put them out for me.

               Nicola relaxed slightly and insisted that I wait until she 
               finish my new I'D before I leave again. Then she went 
               downstairs again.

               I started thinking, 'After I get the job and the package, 
               I'm going to find Zinta's killers!'

               "Wen could you get my money and things from the basement? Thanks Wen."

               "Wen." I continued in the same hyperventilating manner, 
               "Where's the shower?"

               She told me again and I ran up to where the shower was and 
               threw my clothes against a wall one piece at a time. The 
               shower fogged up the room before I could get naked -- naked 
               except for the dice around my neck. I stepped in and as the 
               water enveloped my head   and I thought 
               about the one time I could say that everything went according 
               to plan; Zinta had entered puberty while I was still a child 
               but didn't abandon me due to adolescent teasing or for boys, instead 
               she gave me a pair of dice with sixes on every side and told me if she 
               and I ever had an argument I could roll the dice and if I 
               got double sixes she would concede defeat. She couldn't have 
               been a better person than she was...

               'I'm going to find those cops.'

               When I finished in the washroom, I came out in a bath towel 
               and yelled for Wen, She yelled back telling me where she was 
               and that she had laid out the clothes.               "I know it's impolite to mention someone's skin colour," Wen 
               mentioned, "but your skin colour is so damn sexy."

               She was right, she was being impolite and my irritation made 
               it easier to brush her off. "Listen, Wen, your appetite for 
               sex is spilling all over the place. I have something to do 
               for you and your friends that I want to do with as little 
               distraction as possible. Now would you please leave so I can 
               get dressed?"

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                                                                        44.


               She wouldn't leave so I just dressed in front of her and 
               stashed my money in my pockets 
               with the drug pamphlets.

               When I felt ready to leave to look for the job and to catch 
               Zinta's killers, I left a spiteful Wen upstairs and an unaware Nicola down. As I was 
               leaving Tannis caught up with me and we walked out the door 
               together.

               "Don't think I'm being friendly, I'm only warning you to 
               watch your ass around me. The Rubes have been a utopia's 
               utopia. It's been as smooth as silk 'til now and I'm going 
               to make sure it stays that way. If you don't get going on 
               the package you'll be out of here in a jiffy." He turned and 
               didn't look back at me as he went back home.

               He succeeded in making me nervous.

               I passed through Nedston trying to ignore my surroundings. 
               On the route towards the post office's human resources 
               department I asked myself questions I might be asked by the 
               interviewer. "I don't live anywhere at the moment. I came 
               from Montreal this past weekend to live and work, giving up 
               my apartment, you see I couldn't speak french..." I had to 
               work on my lies continually from that point.

               When I arrived downtown I spotted the line up of applicants who are always 
               waiting at the post office. I 
               knew my story needed to be good, but it was difficult to 
               decide how to approach the story. Should I be, I was thinking, 
               emphasizing my patriotism and my good record as a cadet, it 
               being my only government job, or should I tell them the truth -- 
               about the fire -- and rely on their sympathy for the job. But 
               about how to be placed in the customs area, I had no easy 
               answer. I would just need to wait until I had the opportunity 
               to obtain the package and get out with it.

               I asked the woman in front of me in the line, "How long do 
               you think we'll need to wait to get to the front of the line?"

               She looked at her watch and at the line and back at her watch 
               then answered, "Sixteen minutes I would say."

               Sixteen minutes - I needed to think quickly. I decided to 
               prepare myself emotionally by running through the story in 
               my head until I believed the whole story myself; like an 
               actor.

               'I had gone to the store to pick up some tea, but I stopped 
               into a cafe before I even walked to the store and had some 
               tea there --' The story was coming along but I knew it would 
               be expected of me that I be mourning my girlfriend after her 
               loss in the fire. I worked and worked on the story until I 
               believed it.

               Much longer than sixteen minutes had passed and I had longer 
               still to wait before I would be in the front.

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                                                                        45.


               I said to the woman in front of me, "Why did you say that 
               the wait in line would be only sixteen minutes? We've barely 
               moved."

               The woman slowly turned to me, tilting her head to one side 
               and said confidently, "I said sixty minutes."

               "You said sixteen minutes."

               "Why would I say sixteen minutes? It's too precise."

               "Why say sixty minutes, not an hour?... Okay, just forget it 
               I don't want to argue."

               The woman wanted to continue but stopped herself and turned 
               again towards the front.

               'I hate people like this,' I was thinking. 'They can't even 
               get their facts straight -- but I must keep my mind on the 
               job.'

               The time passed more quickly as I concentrated more completely 
               on my task, I looked down at myself while I went over and 
               over the story. When I arrived at the front of the line I 
               saw how quickly applications were being dismissed. My opening 
               statement had to be good.

               The woman in front of me was quickly rejected, deservedly. 
               Then it was my try, I said "If I get the job, do I have to 
               join the union?'

               The man taking the applications took his hand away from the 
               keyboard and changed his expression from one of contempt for 
               everyone, to puzzlement, "Don't you want a job here..." he 
               waited for me to tell him my name.

               "Bernard Kimosa," I said.

               "...don't you like the union?" Then he typed it in to his 
               computer.

               "I'm looking for a job here because of the corporation and 
               not because of the union. I hate this union. They are always 
               trying to kill this company."

               The man's expression became a pleased one, "May I see some 
               I'D?"

               I pulled out some money pretending to look for my wallet.

               "May I see some I'D please?"

               "I must have lost it in the fire." I understated fire and 
               emphasized 'have'.

               The man just pointed at my hands and whispered more 
               emphatically, "May I see your I'D?"

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                                                                        46.


               I looked all around me for what he was talking about.

               He gave up, closed his eyes and said, "Sorry. No openings at 
               the moment. We'll keep your application on file until there 
               is an opening."

               Somehow I had just bungled everything. As I got up to go the 
               man just ignored me and looked after the next applicant that 
               entered.

               Outside the office building I felt like I had nowhere to go. 
               The cars passed me in both directions along Front Street. 
               People walked by me narrowly missing me from all directions. 
               I had no friends. I failed to obtain the package. The ten 
               kids had managed to trust me with their task and all I managed 
               to do was destroy the illusions any friend could have in me. 
               I had to forget them. I had to forget my problems... to 
               destroy my problems.

               Then I thought, 'What was it that I did to Zinta if I didn't 
               kill her?' and 'Why did he ask for my I'D when I told him I 
               had none?'

               I found myself passing through the cavernous Union Station 
               listening to the directionless murmur.

               'I seemed so close to having a job. I did something wrong. 
               He liked the union bit. I guess you need I.D. without any 
               exceptions.'

               I saw the spiral minaret from the south side of the station 
               and walked to it. I crossed the Blue Canal and its regular 
               allotment of bathers and then stood next to the plaque at 
               the base of the minaret. It was dedicated to an Iraqi mullah. 
               I climbed the spiral ramp to the top with a lot of effort 
               and it was worth it, even though the vista was a little 
               constricted by the grander buildings around me. The hot wind 
               that played between the buildings and tickled my nose cheered 
               me up a little.

               'I had the money out of my pocket when he repeated his demand 
               for I'D Somebody once told me about kickbacks!' I ran down 
               the tower thinking, 'I may still have friends left in the 
               world!'

               I slowed to a walk when I remembered that I shouldn't be 
               seen perspiring in front of the man at the post office. I 
               knew I must be calm and I must be discreet. I didn't want to 
               wait in line again, the day was almost over. I knew I had to 
               go back in the way I came out and hopefully he would want to 
               talk to me. He did say he would keep my file open until I'd 
               found my I'D. He must have meant until I gave him some money. 
               The man was dismissing another applicant when he saw me, 
               stopped what he was doing and came over to me. With his arm 
               around my shoulder he took me into an office and closed the 
               door.

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                                                                        47.


               I said to him while holding out the money, "I didn't know 
               what you meant by I'D at first."

               "Oh, forget that money. That was just a mistake. You are a 
               lucky man to have come today, we have openings in every 
               department. Anything you want to do -- name it. Honestly."

               'What luck!' I thought, 'he fell for the anti-union line.'

               I said, "You're nice to make this offer."

               "It's nothing I assure you."

               I felt fantastic. I asked to do work in international services 
               so I would be close to the customs area without drawing 
               attention to my task. I arranged with the man that I would 
               start the next day and as a last second suggestion he gave 
               me the address of a place I could stay until I found a place 
               of my own. I walked out of the building finding I was doing 
               things I had not done since I scored goals in high school 
               hockey; grabbing the air, pretending to pull it towards me 
               then making a short yelp. I knew I was being silly but I had 
               friends to go to again. When I was scared that I'd blown 
               everything, I knew I couldn't go back empty-handed to the 
               ten kids, but everything was better again.

               'What a great country,' I said to myself as I went 
               down to the subway, took it the three stops to Queen St. 
               then transferred to a streetcar and took it to the Rubes' 
               fortress. I couldn't wait to tell them the good news.

               Wen was watching out for me and told someone to meet me at 
               the door. Ray greeted me warmly but before I could tell him 
               the good news he said, "Sorry, Bernard, looks like you're 
               not welcome --"

               "I knew it," Tannis burst in then pushed around Ray, "You're 
               a fraud! That wedding was some sick display of guilt or 
               something. You didn't verbally assault your girlfriend you 
               beat her up! You admitted it to Wen, she told me!"

               "It wasn't like that," I said, "I...I... The whole thing-"

               "Tannis get your arm out of my face," Ray said. "Maybe there 
               is some explanation. Bernard, did you lie to us? Because if 
               you did, the cops that are after you seem a little more 
               worrisome for us. you know how hard it is for the Rubes to 
               stay cop-free, if we get mixed up with harbouring a violent 
               criminal -- that's bad for us, really bad."

               "Hey, I didn't do anything -- and you know what, I got the 
               job at customs -- why would they hire a criminal? I used my 
               real name. In fact the guy who hired me loved me and gave me 
               any job I wanted.

               "Yeah," Tannis whined, "Because he's never going to have to 
               give it to you. You'll be in jail."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        48.


               "I'll be coasting through a cinch job and I'll have your 
               stupid package, Tannis, before the glue wears off your wig!" 
               I even shocked myself for being os bigoted against a bald 
               person.

               Ray closed his mouth after his shock, licked his lips and 
               said, "Did the person who hired you have time to check up on 
               you in his computer?"

               "Yeah."

               "Bernard it doesn't look good."

               "Yeah, Bernard," Tannis the buffoon added.

               Nicola and Wen and the others arrived into the heart of our 
               fight and took sides.

               "Tannis," Nicola said, "Why don't you take your fight inside, 
               out of the eyes and ears of the stake-out."

               "Why do you think I'm doing it here, I want them to know we 
               had nothing to do with him. Let me make that clearer for the 
               studio audience, Bernard Kimosa is not a Rube in good standing 
               and is leaving us for good. Good-bye Bernard, and don't waste 
               your phone call on us, we won't be bailing you out."

               Different members of the ten Rubes yelled at me and I began 
               to wonder why I wanted to be friends with this crowd.

               Ray started to defend me while Nicola tried to stop the 
               screaming that had taken over. "Will you guys shut up a 
               second," she yelled, "Shut up a minute. Shut up!" When she 
               succeeded in having all of us stop arguing Ray announced 
               he had something to tell us. "Customs just phoned to say we 
               could pick up the package anytime."

               Tannis opened and closed his mouth like a fish but was unable 
               to think of the best way to finish me off. Everybody 
               reinforced their positions after the news. Then Tannis said, 
               "We'll pick up the package today, but this guy is no longer 
               here. We never needed him anyway."

               The yelling started again and Ray seemed to give up. Then he 
               took me by the arm and yelled with an air of calmness, 
               "Bernard and I are going to the Rivoli! See you later!"

               Ray held my arm and steered me to Queen St., "Battle's over and 
               you lost it I guess. We'll talk about what you can do now." 
               He let me go and edged forward asking me a question when Nicola 
               came running up and joined us. She said,"Tannis is a joke. 
               I'm finished with him and the whole thing. Nothing personal 
               Ray."

               "Oh no, Nicola," Ray said sadly.

               "I'm going to do something else. Tannis can use all my ideas. 
               I won't charge royalties."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        49.


               "I'm going to miss you Nicola."

               "I'll miss you too."

               We fell silent while the realization began to sink in that 
               the axis in Nicola was changing. I couldn't help but feel 
               that it was swinging my way.

               At the Rivoli cage, we sat down at a spindly iron table with 
               a glass top. Nicola sat close to me and I took a breath of 
               fresh air with her nearness in mind. We seemed to ignore the usual 
               pressure to break a silence and my mind drifted to the first 
               thing she said to me, "I trust you." Why she would tell me 
               that, I had no idea. She was a good con-artist. Perhaps it was an 
               inspiration. When my eyes came back to focus on Nicola she 
               was leaning forward on the table staring at what she could 
               see of me reflected on the glass top.

               Nicola quickly looked up to me as Ray called a waiter over 
               to us. She and I held each other's eyes until I ordered a 
               tea.

               I waited for my tea thinking, 'I can't believe anybody, it 
               seems. I'm glad we're not talking -- talking for one day with 
               those ten kids has screwed me up. I'm not even sure I'm 
               looking for some friends. But I have two, it seems. I don't 
               know ... what was I looking for? God, I hate to think of 
               what I did. She shouldn't have tried to leave me. She'd 
               screwed up everything. She knew I wanted to marry her - and 
               Julie was no help. The only help she gave me was to lend me 
               that slimy ring of hers. Julie's so stuck up she's no help to 
               me now. What am I looking for? Another girl that will rip up 
               my love when it gets too strong. Even God couldn't take a betrayal that 
               easily -- God? God? The wedding. I felt like a god. It was 
               those crystal drugs. Nicola said they made you feel 
               invincible. I felt like a god. I hope God wasn't mad at me.' 
               I pleaded to God, "Hold this peace and quiet forever, will 
               you?... I get it, you can't answer that."

               Then for some reason I broke the peace, "Do either of you 
               believe in God?"

               They respectfully said no.

               "What do you believe in?"

               Ray answered, "I don't have to believe in something."

               Nicola stepped in saying, "Do you believe you just talked."

               "Okay, don't start getting pretentious, Nicola." Ray seemed 
               angry with her, "I'm talking about -- you don't need to have 
               a belief, like in God or something,. But I do believe in a 
               common spiritual knowledge we all share." Nicola and I smiled, 
               "I just wanted to make the point that one is not required to 
               have a belief."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        50.


               I knew Nicola was too polite to go on with what she wanted 
               to say. So I asked her what she meant.

               She said, "I'm just saying there is a common faith in our 
               language. We use it to communicate our thoughts as though 
               our minds are being read. But they aren't being read at all. 
               We may be using the same superficial words but we learned 
               the words through different experiences and different people. 
               That makes it impossible to truly communicate with anybody. 
               And that kind of faith in a word's meaning comes in handy 
               in the scamming business."

               Ray finished Nicola's lecture by saying, "I'm convinced, but 
               I'm not sure what you really said."

               They laughed like it was an inside joke, but I got it too. I 
               just didn't think it was funny.

               Nicola reached across the glass table, grabbed my shoulder 
               and said, "I'm sorry." She gave me a subtle smile and took 
               her hand away , but not before I memorized what her first 
               touch was like.

               Ray broke in, "Your turn Bernard. What do you believe?"

               In God was my first response -- But I couldn't say it. It 
               wouldn't be a lie but it was only that I ...I felt like I 
               would be talking about myself. I felt like I was the God I 
               was talking about. That drug had ruined me. I quickly felt 
               my pockets to check for the pamphlets then I placed my hands 
               on the newly arrived pot of tea and pressed it against my 
               injured palms as though I needed to cotterize a fresh wound. 
               While I suppressed a scream I easily found the right words, 
               "I believe in God."

               Nicola opened her teapot and with the steam lifting passed 
               her face she said, "Why did you hesitate? We could guess you 
               believed in God. There's no reason to be scared."

               "I wasn't scared. Okay?"

               "I just meant looked for our approval. Hey, look. I think 
               Ray and I trust you and we want to help you. That's why we 
               came with you. Right Ray?"

               Without the slightest hesitation Ray answered, "Yeah."

               "Maybe, even more dependable then those dice on your neck."

               Nicola continued cheering me up and I began to choke with 
               the sentimentality of it all. More dependable than my lucky 
               sixes. Perhaps it was friends I was looking for after all. I 
               loved these guys. I had found something, in Ray's smile, in 
               Nicola's caring, I had found my friends.

               -

               VIII

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        51.


               "Now about yourgirlfriend," started Ray.

               I guessed his trust wasn't all that dependable.

               "Wen says that your girlfriend was terribly murdered ...by 
               the police? Is that true?"

               "Yes."

               "But did you assault her and leave her before the murder 
               took place as Wen claims you say you did?"

               The metal teapot I grasped for was not scalding me by that 
               point -- and unnecessary. I relaxed my grip and answered,"No." 
               While I poured the tea and cream into my cup Nicola went on, 
               "Tell us what happened."

               I sipped my tea and held my breath for a few seconds. "I had 
               an argument with my girlfriend, that's all. And that's all I 
               told Wen. She must have misunderstood me. I might have said 
               fight. I don't remember."

               "Wen said, '...beat up'."

               I pushed back and leaned on the back legs of the iron rod 
               chair I sat in. I looked down at my shirt -- Ray's shirt -- 
               and brushed it. 'I didn't hurt her -- why would I? For what 
               possible purpose would I have hurt her? ...I wouldn't.' I 
               licked the corner of my lips. "I didn't hurt her. I had an 
               argument -- okay -- a fight -- okay -- Am I talking out loud? 
               ...I don't care. Because I don't care." The vibration of my 
               voice made my eyesight bend and twist. "I don't care about 
               anything now...because do you think -- DO YOU think for a second 
               that I would KILL the one -- the only thing ... I ever loved?"

               A streetcar screeched by. Someone moved their 
               feet, shifting some broken glass. I put down the teapot on 
               the seat of my chair and rubbed the palm of my hand where 
               the edge of the teapot had stuck in it. Ray lifted himself 
               from his chair with the empty frame of the table, letting 
               the broken glass fall from his stained lap and shaking his 
               trousers off.

               Nicola remained sitting and looking down at the glass on her 
               lap while I was surrounded with vacant faces inside and 
               outside the cafe. I stared at Nicola and waited for her to 
               react.

               Ray walked around to me and asked me for my shirt -- his shirt. 
               Wen had lent me Ray's shirt. I was having trouble unbuttoning 
               the front and I could feel his hand on the back of the collar 
               fidgeting for a stronger hold. I tried to take off the shirt 
               quickly but I couldn't seem to get the tight buttons through 
               the tiny holes. While I was trying to get a closer look at 
               the problem Ray told me through his gritting teeth, "I don't 
               want the cops to find you in my shirt."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        52.


               "Give me a second to get it off. I can't do it with your 
               hand there."

               "I don't have the time." He yanked at my collar, choking me 
               until the top button broke. Then he pulled harder until the 
               second button was at my throat. He then jerked it so suddenly 
               I fell backwards and hit my back against the patio fence. 
               But I had no time to feet the pain, he was dragging me to 
               the ground rabidly tearing the shirt to rags to finally get 
               it off.

               The last thing I heard him say was, "I'm not going to have a 
               damn murderer wear my shirt!"

               My chest was on the ground with the glass pressed into it 
               from my bare waist to my chin. Nicola leaned over and helped 
               me off the glass and stood me up. The larger pieces fell off 
               on their own. Other people came over to help Nicola take off 
               the smaller, embedded particles from my skin. Luckily I had 
               no cuts, at least that I could see. The others confirmed 
               this to me when they were satisfied and went back to observing 
               me from a distance.

               Ray was out of sight when I looked for him.

               Nicola sat down again and looked distressed. I couldn't think 
               of something to say to negate my bad image. I felt chilled. 
               She unbuttoned a vest she wore, took it off and gave it to 
               me.

               I watched the waiter come towards us in horror at the 
               destruction of our table. I put on the vest and reached into 
               my pants pocket for the small wad of money and tried to head 
               off his turn of mood from shock to anger, "I really am sorry 
               for this mess. Please take this money, it should cover the 
               table, and this should cover the disruption we 
               caused, and I'll double it all to cover my absent friend's 
               half of the responsibility. Oh, and your tip. I am sorry. We 
               just had an argument that got out of hand. Oh, and bring the 
               bill too."

               The waiter's expression was one of surprise. "Thank you sir, 
               I'll be back in a minute with your bill." He walked to the 
               back of the cafe counting the money and looking around to 
               see who was watching him.

               Nicola was still upset with me. She said, "Did you beat up 
               your girlfriend or not?"

               I cleared off my chair and sat down to answer her question. 
               "I guess I did."

               "Why?"

               I looked at her, "I don't know."

               "What happened?"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        53.


               "After I... hit her and everything like that ...I had to 
               leave the place, I couldn't stand it ... Could we get away 
               from here. I don't like the stares."

               "Now, who killed her?"

               I sighed, "Two cops."

               "How do you know?"

               "When I came home she was dead. After I left, the whole 
               apartment burned down and the two cops that chased us from 
               the cathedral knew all about it while it wasn't in my 'Revenue' 
               file. I don't understand that file. Why was it like that. 
               They still haven't reported her death because they must have 
               done it."

               "Why would they kill her?"

               "I don't know."

               "Do you think what you did was justified?"

               "No -- I don't know ...No, okay?"

               Nicola relaxed a bit and watched the waiter lay the cheque 
               in my hand. I paid it immediately while we both prepared to 
               leave.

               Together we walked out of the cafe gate but we were found to possess 
               the problem of where to go next. I walked ahead, and turned 
               right or left of the cafe gate, I wasn't paying attention. 
               Then she shouted, "Where are you going?"

               I turned around sharply and burst out, "I don't know. We're just 
              leaving. I don't care where we go."

               She came after me and pulled at my arm until I stopped. She 
               said, "I know where to take you."

               "Why don't you just go home?"

               "I told them I was not coming back."

               "Why?"

               She said smiling, "I want to help you."

               I swallowed and tried to respond but couldn't.

               Nicola smiled again and led me along the street. She 
               continued, "You know, I don't think I could okay what you 
               did. I just don't think that niether I nor the Rubes are all 
               that much better. You know I don't think I've done anything 
               as bad as that ...but I don't know ...some day I may do the 
               same thing if I was under similar circumstances. I'm not 
               here to judge you."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        54.


               "I don't know what to say ...Thanks."

               She lifted her hand slowly through her short hair then 
               scratched her ear. She said, "You know, when I first saw 
               you, you didn't look like you could find your way out of a 
               telephone booth. You were up at the altar and I was looking 
               for your bride. I almost ran up there when I saw what was 
               going on, you started crying I thought I could fill the vacant 
               position for a while. I changed my mind when you put the 
               ring on your own finger. You know, I just thought it was an 
               inspired thing to do. But then you took it off and just 
               dropped it. You're still looking for something, aren't you? 
               And it has something to do with your old girlfriend, doesn't 
               it?"

               She hit something in me. Like an inspiration. I stopped 
               listening to her. I had to think. I looked away from her 
               face and kept alert enough to pretend to listen.

               'She's right. There's a position to fill inside me. I've 
               been looking for ...someone to take Zinta's place.'

               I followed her while over and over in my head I was grasping 
               at loose and misplaced memories. I had been acting in such 
               an aimless way for the past few days. I remembered the things 
               that had made me happy recently; the rice and cheese; the 
               sunlight; and the power I held at that wedding, I began to 
               need a word -- a slogan to get me out of the confusion. A 
               slogan to lock my desires to and to cut away the garbage. 
               The slogan would be a label for something I needed, like an 
               addiction that needs to be discovered -- or was an addiction 
               the thing to be labeled?

               'Addiction,' I thought, absently noting the yellow flash of 
               a passing police cruiser.

               Once out of my own thoughts I tried to come back into Nicola's 
               rambling, but I caught too little to make out the point of 
               it.

               She reiterated, "I don't want you to think that you should 
               do what I say," I caught a glance on her face that was so 
               strange and threatening I wished I'd watched and studied her 
               expressions more closely. Now her face was as taut and vacuous 
               as a hydrogen filled balloon in the net of her red hair. She 
               whispered like a lit fuse, "Are you listening?"

               Fear checked me long enough to decide not to lie, "I'm sorry 
               I wasn't listening, Nicola." I had a second to think about 
               my forced conscience before her next reply. I glanced down 
               to the passing ground and compared the length of our strides. 
               I'd told the truth. But something about the act of attempting 
               to tell the truth surprised me. My truth was inaccurate.

               Nicola replied, "I've been trying to tell you to get yourself 
               together."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        55.


               I looked away from her face as she spoke, to reduce my growing 
               paranoia, and once again I noticed a police car.

               I finally responded to her, "I'm just a little scared by all 
               the problems I've needed to deal with."

               "Begin by forgetting your new job at the post office. If 
               those police that were looking for you are still around 
               they'll find you there."

               "Okay, but what should I do?" I couldn't believe she didn't 
               see all the cops around us.

               Nicola walked ahead of me leading me by the arm and saying, 
               "I know exactly where to go." She held me loosely, dragging 
               me down the sidewalk probably enjoying the idea of keeping 
               me in suspense.

               Suspense: I hated it. She led me to wherever and I followed 
               with the dim hope that the horrors I'd experienced would 
               disappear, that I could crawl back to a 'Zinta' kind of 
               relationship.

               As she led me I noticed the police cars that I had seen 
               earlier seemed to be overly concerned with driving past us. 
               I pulled my arm away from Nicola --  where was she taking me?

               Nicola glanced back at me for a second and kept walking, 
               expecting me to follow -- she was avoiding my question. I had 
               no time to ask again, I knew she was leading me to the 
               police, and I wasn't going to follow her any longer. I was 
               so angry with her now I just stopped where I was and let her 
               walk on.

               'That's it! I'm not going to trust anyone anymore.'

               Nicola stopped beside a newspaper box, glanced back to me 
               and yelled, "Please just come on."

               I stood at a spot on the sidewalk that had been meaningless 
               seconds before and now was a place that to leave willingly 
               would be suicidal. I looked at my feet and where they stood 
               and I knew that it would take courage to stick to what I had 
               just realized was the key to my problems; control. Julie had 
               asked me where was my foundation and where was it? Zinta 
               went and ruined my life by leaving me to fend for myself - 
               she left me upside down. My foundation had been God, country 
               and Zinta but a new slogan would be needed for a new 
               existence. I considered my situation very carefully to see 
               it's essence. I searched out its special quality that 
               distinguished it from my previous life. Yes, it was time to 
               seek justice for Zinta to expose those crooked cops for what 
               they were but after that my slogan and my mission was going 
               to be Truth, Justice and the... something...way. I forgot 
               which country it was supposed to be. Some old country.

               'Truth, Justice and the mmmmm way.'

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                                        56.


               I chanted my slogan, and just as I told the Rubes I would 
               do, I was going to go to the police and face down my enemies.

               'Truth, Justice and the mmmm way.'

               END OF PART I