The shadow-man would watch the crime happening, but not feel the impact, because he has nothing for its force to strike against. He's a shadow. I see the crime, too, but don't feel the impact. This must be a new theory. What would a criminal-court judge say to all this? Would he grasp that I really mean it sincerely? But do those people believe in sincerity? Outside of me, of the limits of my body, people go by, but they could no more imagine what my life is like than they could living on the earth and moon both at once. I'm nothing in everyone's eyes. But still, if tomorrow I throw a bomb or murder Barsut, suddenly I'm everything, the man who exists, the man for whom generations of criminologists have prepared punishments, jails, and theories. I, who am nothing, will start up the whole terrible machinery of police, secretaries, reporters, lawyers, prosecutors, jailers, paddywagons, and nobody will see me as a loser, instead I'll be the antisocial man, the enemy who must be kept apart from society. That's really weird! And yet, only crime can affirm my existence, just as evil is all that affirms the presence of man on earth. And I'd be the one and only Erdosain, the genuine one, who is and ever shall be. Really, this is all so weird. Still, despite everything, there is darkness and mankind's soul is sad. Infinitely sad. But that can't be how life is. If tomorrow I figured out why that can't be how life is, I'd pinch myself and disinflate like a balloon spewing out all these lies I'm filled with, and, from what I seem to be now, a brand-new man would emerge, as strong as one of the primal gods who created all things. But I'm off on a tangent. Should I go to the Astrologer or not? What will he say when he sees me back again? Like me, he's a mystery to himself. That's the truth. He has about as much idea where he's going as I do. The secret organization. The whole thing for him is just exactly that: secret organization. Another case of demonic possession. What a zoo! Barsut, Ergueta, the Ruffian, me ... If they tried to, they couldn't get such perfect weirdos. And to top it all, that pregnant blind girl! What an animal!"
The guard passed by Erdosain a second time. Remo realized he was attracting the man's attention so, getting up, he headed for the Astrologer's place. There was no moon. The arc lights shone amid the branches arching over the crossings. Piano music wafted from one house, and as he walked along, his heart shriveled smaller yet, reacting to the anguish that hit him at the sight of the happiness he imagined behind the walls of those houses nestled coolly under shade trees with an automobile in front of the garage.
The Proposal
The Astrologer was getting ready for bed when he heard steps on the path to his house. Since the dog did not bark, he opened the door part way. A parallelogram of light sliced through the dark up to the tops of the pomegranate trees, and now he saw Erdosain coming through that yellow box with light hitting him full in the face.
"Strange!" thought the Astrologer. "I never noticed the kid wears a straw hat! What can he want?" And after checking to see his revolver was tucked in his waistband (it was instinct with him by now), he unlocked the door and Erdosain came in.
"I thought you were in bed."
"Come in."
Erdosain went into the study. The map of the United States was still there with the black flags stuck into the areas the Ku Klux Klan controlled. The Astrologer had been drawing up a horoscope, because the box of compasses lay open on a table. The wind coming through the window grate stirred the papers, and Erdosain, after waiting for his host to put some papers in the cabinet, sat down with his back to the garden.
From his chair, he surveyed the man's broad face, the twisted nose rising from a troubled forehead, the ear doubled back on itself, the massive chest under the black, dull clothing, a copper chain across the jacket, the steel ring with a violet stone on the hand with its
The guard passed by Erdosain a second time. Remo realized he was attracting the man's attention so, getting up, he headed for the Astrologer's place. There was no moon. The arc lights shone amid the branches arching over the crossings. Piano music wafted from one house, and as he walked along, his heart shriveled smaller yet, reacting to the anguish that hit him at the sight of the happiness he imagined behind the walls of those houses nestled coolly under shade trees with an automobile in front of the garage.
The Proposal
The Astrologer was getting ready for bed when he heard steps on the path to his house. Since the dog did not bark, he opened the door part way. A parallelogram of light sliced through the dark up to the tops of the pomegranate trees, and now he saw Erdosain coming through that yellow box with light hitting him full in the face.
"Strange!" thought the Astrologer. "I never noticed the kid wears a straw hat! What can he want?" And after checking to see his revolver was tucked in his waistband (it was instinct with him by now), he unlocked the door and Erdosain came in.
"I thought you were in bed."
"Come in."
Erdosain went into the study. The map of the United States was still there with the black flags stuck into the areas the Ku Klux Klan controlled. The Astrologer had been drawing up a horoscope, because the box of compasses lay open on a table. The wind coming through the window grate stirred the papers, and Erdosain, after waiting for his host to put some papers in the cabinet, sat down with his back to the garden.
From his chair, he surveyed the man's broad face, the twisted nose rising from a troubled forehead, the ear doubled back on itself, the massive chest under the black, dull clothing, a copper chain across the jacket, the steel ring with a violet stone on the hand with its
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