Kleinzeit

Arrow in a Box

Night, crepitating slowly, beat by beat. Sister on nights now, glowing in the lamplit binnacle of her office, overlooking the ward as a captain on his bridge, watching the black bow cleave the white wave, watching the compass eye, jewelled in the dark. Thrum of the engines, heave of the sea, silent-roaring, seething and sighing. Dimness of the ward. Groans, gurgles, choking, gasping, splatting in bedpans. Stench. Groans. Curses.

Sister, not writing her report. Not reading a book. Not smoking. Not thinking. Feeling the night rise in the lamplight beat by beat.

Talk to me, said God.

No answer from Sister, tuned to the night, beat by beat ascending.

Kleinzeit awake, watching the blips on Flashpoint’s monitor: blip, blip, blip, blip. Flashpoint asleep. The distant horn sounding in Kleinzeit’s body. Not yet, O God. The stench of bedpans. A sky like brown velvet, the red wink of an aeroplane. So high, so going-away! Gone!

Suddenly the hospital. Suddenly crouching. I am between its paws, thought Kleinzeit. It is gigantic. I had no idea how long its waiting, how heavy its patience. O God.

I can’t be bothered with details, said God. Blip, blip. Blip …

‘Bowls and gold!’ cried Flashpoint, twisting in the dark. ‘Velvet and hangings, youth and folly.’

It’s happened, thought Kleinzeit. Hendiadys.

Sister was there, Dr Krishna, two nurses. The curtains were drawn round Flashpoint’s bed.

There was a terrible rushing tumbling gurgling sound ‘Burst spectrum.’ said Dr Krishna.

‘Arrow in a box.’ said Flashpoint quietly.

Nurses wheeled in a starting gate. The bellows heaved and sighed.

‘Nothing,’ said Krishna behind the curtain. ‘That’s it’

Kleinzeit closed his eyes, heard wheels, footsteps, opened his eyes. The curtains were pushed back, Flashpoint’s bed

was empty, the screen dark. Nobody.

NOW, said Hospital. HERE I AM. FEEL ME AROUND YOU. I HAVE BEEN HERE ALWAYS, WAITING. NOW. THIS. YOU.

Aaahh! groaned the bed, holding Kleinzeit tight as it came.

No, said Kleinzeit, cowering in the dark. Not a star to be seen in the brown velvet. Not an aeroplane.

What? said Kleinzeit.

Be dark, said the dark. Don’t show. Be dark.