Kleinzeit

Shackleton-Planck

An intolerably calm placid smiling cheap vulgar insensitive neo-classical blue sky. Sappho! boomed the sky. Homer! Stout Cortes! Nelson! Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Liberty, Equality, Fraternity! David! Napoleon! Francis Drake! Industry! Science! Isaac Newton! Man’s days are few and full of sorrow. Canst thou draw out leviathan with an hook?

Rubbish, said Kleinzeit. Rubbish rubbish rubbish.

Depends on your point of view, said the sky. As far as I know I’m eternal. You’re nothing really.

Poxy fat idiot sky, said Kleinzeit, took his 2-Nup tablets, ate his medium-boiled egg.

A CALL FOR YOU, said his mind. WE HAVE PLEASURE IN ANNOUNCING THAT YOU ARE THE WINNER OF:

FIRST PRIZE,

A HANDSOMELY MOUNTED FULL–COLOUR

MEMORY.

STAND BY PLEASE. WE ARE READY WITH YOUR PARTY AT THIS END, MEMORY.

Hello, said Memory. Mr Kleinzeit?

Kleinzeit here, said Kleinzeit.

Here is your memory, said Memory: Blue, blue, blue sky. Green grass. Green, green, green. Green leaves stirring in the breeze. Your blue serge suit prickles, your starched white collar rubs your neck. Raw earth around the grave of your father. Flashback: he doesn’t look asleep, he looks dead. Smell the flowers. Got it?

Got it, said Kleinzeit.

Right, said Memory. Congratulations. Second Prize was two memories.

I always knew I was lucky, said Kleinzeit, finished his medium-boiled egg.

Hurrah! The X-Ray room Juno, boobs bobbling, bottom bouncing, young blood circulating perfectly, not missing a single curve.

Hurrah! Shackleton-Planck for Mr Kleinzeit. Here he goes, anus quivering.

‘Luck,’ said Schwarzgang.

‘Keep blipping,’ said Kleinzeit.

The hard cold machinery room again. ‘Up your nose, down your tummy,’ said Juno. A tube writhed in her hands like a snake.

‘Aarghh!’ said Kleinzeit. ‘Ugg-ggg-hh!’

‘Quick,’ said Juno, putting ice in his mouth, ‘chew it.’

‘Crungg-ggg-hhh!’ chewed Kleinzeit as the tube snaked into his stomach. ‘Cor!’

Suction. Juno pumped something up the tube. Took the tube out.

‘Swallow this.’ Something the size of a football. Ulp.

‘Elbows back, stomach out.’ Thump. Click.

‘Take off your pyjama top, please.’ Electrodes. Here, here, here, here, and here. Respirator. Treadmill. Gauges. Roll of paper with a stylus. ‘Run till I tell you to stop.’

‘I rummilenahalf evmorng,’ said Kleinzeit inside the respirator.

‘Lovely,’ said Juno. ‘Keep going like that. Stop. Clothes on. Thank you.’

‘My pleasure,’ said Kleinzeit.

‘Dit go?’ said Schwarzgang when Kleinzeit got back to the ward.

‘Beautifully,’ said Kleinzeit. ‘Nothing like a Shackleton-Planck to start the day off right.’

Blip, went Schwarzgang. Kleinzeit had the back plate off the pump before he heard what Schwarzgang was saying.

‘Plug,’ said Schwarzgang. The cleaning lady had just knocked out the monitor plug with her mop. Kleinzeit plugged the monitor in again. Blip, blip, blip, blip.

‘So nervous?’ said Schwarzgang.

‘I’ve always been high-strung,’ said Kleinzeit.

He slept for a while after lunch, woke up with his heart beating fast, was careful not to remember his dreams. He picked up Ortega y Gasset, read:

If we examine more closely our ordinary notion of reality, perhaps we should find that we do not consider real what actually happens but a certain manner of happening that is familiar to us. In this vague sense, then, the real is not so much what is seen as foreseen; not so much what we see as what we know. When a series of events takes an unforeseen turn, we say that it seems incredible.

I haven’t got a foreseen any more, said Kleinzeit to Ortega. Psychical circumcision.

You’re better off without it, said Ortega. As long as you have your cojones.

Kleinzeit put down the book, concentrated on sexual fantasies. Juno and he. Sister and he. Juno and Sister. He and Juno and Sister. Juno and Sister and he. Tiring. Sex isn’t where it is right now, said Sex.

Kleinzeit took his glockenspiel to the bathroom, made music for a while. I don’t really feel like doing this, he said to the glockenspiel.

Believe me, said the glockenspiel, you were not my last chance. I could have had my pick. You are not doing me a favour.

Kleinzeit put the glockenspiel back in its case, put it under his bed.

Urngghh! said Hospital like a giant sweaty wrestler, squeezed Kleinzeit between its giant legs. Kleinzeit in agony thumped the canvas with his fist while his ribs cracked.

Supper came, went. Sister came on duty. She and Kleinzeit looked at each other. Aeroplanes flew across the evening sky. I didn’t mean what I said this morning, said the sky. I don’t think I’m eternal. We’re all in this together.

It’s all right, said Kleinzeit.

After lights out he took the glockenspiel to the bathroom, slowly played a tune with one beater. Sister came in with the helmet, laid it on the glockenspiel. Kleinzeit stood up and kissed her. They both sat down, looked at the glockenspiel and the helmet.

‘Shackleton-Planck results tomorrow?’ said Kleinzeit.

Sister nodded.

‘There’ll be quanta,’ said Kleinzeit. ‘Plus stretto trouble at the very least’

Sister squeezed his knee.

‘Meet me tomorrow afternoon?’ said Kleinzeit.

Sister nodded.

‘At the bottom of the fire stairs,’ said Kleinzeit. ‘Right after lunch.’ They kissed again, went back to the ward.