‘Lineartrope 04.96’
Author: David Dumouriez
I thought I was ready.
“I was on the precipice, looking down.”
Internal count of five. A long five.
“I was on the precipice, looking down.”
Count ten.
“I was on the precipice, looking down.”
I noticed a brief, impatient nod. The nod meant ‘again’. I thought.
“I was on the precipice looking down.”
No nod. But the Experts looked at each other and not me.
“I was on the precipice … looking down.”
Count of four. Too short?
“I was on the precipice. Looking down.”
“No …”
“No?” (Perhaps I shouldn’t have said it.)
“No.”
One of the others agreed, more emphatically. “No.”
***
Time wasn’t a factor, I thought.
The movement of the head was ‘when you’re ready’. Or I interpreted it as such.
“I was on the precipice-”
“No. The other.”
“Ah. Sorry.”
I looked in front of me. I didn’t think about hurrying.
“When the value exceeds four, begin.”
Ten.
“When the value exceeds four, begin.”
Ten.
“When the value exceeds four, begin.”
They said nothing. They made no movement. I sat up straighter.
“Save one and play one.”
Ten again.
“Save one and play one.”
Ten.
“Save one and play one.”
They offered nothing. Nothing – I was sure – was advancement.
“Suspension …”
***
I looked ahead. I felt utterly relaxed. I took my own cue.
“Egress. Confess. Regress. Ingress …” I held up my hand. I knew it was wrong. “Sorry.”
Smooth stone expressions confronted me. It wasn’t so bad. You just go again. Right? When you’re ready.
You’d guess you need to think, but you don’t. Thinking is the last thing you should do.
I took a breath, perhaps audible only to myself.
“Egress. Confess. Ingress. Regress. Obsess. Transgress. Address. Repress. Digress. Success.”
“Again.”
“Egress. Confess. Ingress. Regress. Obsess. Transgress. Address. Repress. Digress. Success.”
“Again!”
I went faster, because I could. “Egress. Confess. Ingress. Regress. Obsess. Transgress. Address. Repress. Digress. Success.”
“Repress, digress, success?”
“Repress. Digress. Success.”
“Obsess, address, transgress, regress?”
I stated it firmly. “Obsess. Transgress. Address. Repress.”
“Dispossess!”
Was it a joke? Whatever it was, they seemed to appreciate it.
“Suspend …”
***
For how long, nobody said anything. For how long?
Finally, one of them said: “Suspended …”
I wasn’t sure whether I was glad.
***
It was like we’d all left and come back, but we hadn’t.
Each one of them in turn looked at me and nodded. Mostly, these movements were uniform in duration and execution.
“I was on the precipice, looking down.”
Ten.
“I was on the precipice, looking down.”
Twenty.
“I was on the precipice, looking down.”
Thirty.
They looked at each other.
“Where were you?”
“I was on the precipice, looking down.”
“Were you on the precipice?”
I said nothing.
“Were you looking down?”
I made no response.
“Were you on the precipice, looking down?”
Still nothing.
“You don’t need to answer …”
I don’t know why I said it. “It wasn’t me. I wasn’t there.”
“Thank you very much.”
That was it.
They deliberated. They conferred. After a fashion.
“Yes.”
Another nodded.
“Yes …”
“Permiso …”
Were they convinced? Had I convinced myself?
I stood up and went towards the door. I didn’t look back.
The Past
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