Rant: The Oral History of Buster Casey

36–Hit Men II

Tina Something (Party Crasher): On my last date with Wax, and I mean our final gaddamn date, the two of us were cruising a Honeymoon Night in a hot, and I mean stolen, gaddamn Maserati GranSport, and Wax sees this mess of emergency-vehicle lights down along the train yards off Wentworth Avenue, so he goes to cruise by for a peek.

All's left is smoking metal. Even the middle part of the train looks torched, and the fire guys are wrestling to haul the Jaws of Life over to the biggest balled-up chunk of a Lincoln Town Car. All down this side of the tracks, the smoke blows wedding streamers and junk. A white lace veil soggy with blood. A red rosebud boutonniere.

Allan Blayne (Firefighter): The minute I opened my yap, I knew what I said sounded stupid. What I said to the girl. This job, the worst accidents, I go into automatic pilot.

The situation was a two-car scenario: Vehicle Number One is parked at a railroad crossing, waiting for a freight train to pass. According to witnesses at the scene, Vehicle Number Two rammed the parked vehicle and allegedly forced it against the side of the passing train. Vehicle Two then continued to travel forward in a straight line, colliding with the train. Both automobiles underrode the train's wheels and were crushed and dragged a distance of approximately four hundred feet.

Tina Something: I know all the EMTs, 'cause of working for Graphic Traffic, and when Wax stops to rubberneck, I yell out to this guy I know with an emergency-response service. I ask him what's up, and this EMT says I wouldn't believe it if he told me. Some chick's still alive inside the wreck, all her clothes burned off but not a scratch on her. Shaking his head, this EMT says, "Not even a long fingernail busted."

From the Field Notes of Green Taylor Simms (Historian): The chief argument against the possibility of time travel is what theorists refer to as the "Grandfather Paradox"; this is the idea that if one could travel backward in time one could kill one's own ancestor, eliminating the possibility said time traveler would ever be born—and thus could never have lived to travel back and commit the murder.

In a world where billions believe their deity conceived a mortal child with a virgin human, it's stunning how little imagination most people display.

Neddy Nelson (Party Crasher): You want I should risk telling you about Historians? You know what happens when a fellow spreads those rumors?

What? You can't think up a faster way to get us both killed?

Shot Dunyun (Party Crasher): Besides Reverse Pioneering, becoming a Historian is the other secret guilty dream of every Party Crasher.

From the Field Notes of Green Taylor Simms: One theory of time travel resolves the Grandfather Paradox by speculating that, at the moment one changes history, that change splinters the single flow of reality into parallel branches. For example, after you've killed your ancestor, reality would fork into two parallel paths: one reality in which you continued to be born and your ancestor did not die, and one branch in which your ancestor died and you would never be conceived. Each revision one made in the past, the subsequent new reality it created, theorists refer to as a "bifurcation."

Neddy Nelson: Don't you think the biggest, richest fuckers in the world aren't Historians? And you really think they want the rest of us to know that? These rich fucks? Don't you think they can't fake their dying every six decades or so, then transfer their money and property to their new identity?

From the Field Notes of Green Taylor Simms: Within Eastern or Asian spirituality exists the concept that only an individual's ego ties him to the temporal world, wherein we experience physical reality and time. Within this concept, enlightened beings recognize this self-imposed limitation and attachment to the immediate world, and can choose to free their consciousness and travel to any place or period of history. With apologies to Mr. H. G. Wells, one requires no time machine. Anyone can relocate throughout history or space simply by relaxing his grip on his current reality through meditation and spiritual growth.

Neddy Nelson: You think anybody smart is going to tell about Historians? As much as I've already said, what do you think that says about my smarts?

From the Field Notes of Green Taylor Simms: A third possibility does exist, although it's never been widely discussed. Aside from bifurcation and time travel via a freed consciousness, this third option also resolves the Grandfather Paradox and places the traveler in Liminal Time, suspended outside of the linear movement of time which human beings experience. Simply stated, Liminal Time has no beginning and no end. Nothing is subject to the natural processes of decay and replacement. In Liminal Time, nothing is born and nothing dies.

Quite understandably, only deities ever existed in this immortality.

Until now.

Allan Blayne: Both Vehicles One and Two burst into flame, igniting the cargo of adjacent railroad cars as well as the creosote-treated ties of the track bed. Witnesses place the time of the incident at 11:35 p.m., and four engine crews responded initially. It took one additional crew to bring the event under control, but the wreckage was sufficiently cool for investigators to recover the bodies by 4:15 a.m.

From the Field Notes of Green Taylor Simms: Throughout all mythology, the gods have created themselves as mortals by bearing children by mortal women. The deity simply emerges from the infinity of Liminal Time and manifests himself in the form of an angel or a swan or beast, and completes the seduction or announcement that will result in a mortal offspring. The divine made flesh. The infinite made finite.

It's when you cross this mythology with the Grandfather Paradox that the reverse occurs and mortal flesh might be made divine.

Allan Blayne: Over the course of the search, our unit recovered the charred remains of two adult males and two adult females who witnesses report being in the first, parked vehicle at the moment of impact. In the process of searching the remains of the second automobile, this crewman heard what I took to be sobbing from the collapsed, forward portion of the passenger cell. Using a hydraulic chisel to relieve the buckled, tightly folded structures of the passenger compartment, further investigation revealed a single survivor, an adult female, apparently the driver of the second vehicle. The sound originally believed to be sobbing could now be heard to be laughter, most possibly hysteria-related.

From the Field Notes of Green Taylor Simms: If a deity can make himself flesh by conceiving a life with a mortal, perhaps a mortal can achieve immortality if he's able to travel back in time and destroy one or both of his parents. In this response to the Grandfather Paradox, the time traveler eliminates his physical origins, thus transforming himself into a being without physical beginning and therefore without end.

Stated simply: a god.

Allan Blayne: In my capacity as a crewman, I counseled the survivor, a woman approximately twenty-five years of age, coaxing her to remain calm until she could be examined by paramedics already at the scene. Encasing the survivor was what can only be described as a shell or cocoon of rigid netting. Inspection of the inside surface of this shell proved it to be the burned and melted remnants of synthetic-fiber apparel and headwear, apparently the remains of a long white dress and veil of the type worn by brides at traditional wedding ceremonies.

In my effort to keep the survivor calm, I asked her age, her name, and birthdate.

Perhaps due to shock, she responds, "One hundred and sixty-three years old next month." Twisting her shoulders and torso inside the cocoon of debris, the survivor then said, "That was way fun; now get this burned shit off me…"

Tina Something: Waxman watches this miracle girl walk across the tracks, barefoot and wrapped in a blanket, and Wax says, "That's where I want to get…"

I guessed Wax meant she was pretty.

This miracle girl is looking right back in his eyes.

But that's not what Wax meant. Not even close.

Neddy Nelson: You want I should introduce you to a Historian? You want to be alive and stupid, or do you want to be a know-it-all dead body?

From the Field Notes of Green Taylor Simms: In a somewhat hideous parody of the Annunciation, the time traveler would make a pilgrimage to a direct ancestor, ideally the traveler's mother or father, at a time before the traveler's conception—for the purpose of killing that ancestor.

Shot Dunyun: Again, do not confuse Stoking with Resolving Origin. Stoking means you flashback to breed a better you. Resolving Origin means you slaughter some ancestor to make sure you'll never be born. I'll grant you, they're both pretty nasty.

Neddy Nelson: Historians, don't they call it Destroying Source or Severing Origin? Haven't you heard it called Resolving Origin? Doesn't it make sense, that, serial killers like the Zodiac and Jack the Ripper, those were people dropped back into time and having trouble finding and "resolving" their mothers?

Tina Something: I never hear from Wax, not until a long, long time after Rant Casey takes his suicide dive off the bridge. In the meanwhile, certain police have been asking me if Wax has been in touch. It seems some kids died rolling a Jaguar X-Type inside a concrete highway tunnel. The car turned out to be stolen, and Wax's wallet was in the back pocket of some jeans left behind in the wreck. As if Wax totaled a Jag, killing two kids and leaving his gaddamn pants behind…

Neddy Nelson: You wonder why we always have war and famine? Can you accept the fact that the people, the Historians who run everything, they get off on watching our mortality?

Tina Something: A couple weeks later, the cops are calling about Wax again. Seems another kid's died in a stolen car, this time a BMW 3 Series 325i. Seems a witness is ready to swear that, the second after the car sailed off the top of an eight-story parking garage, landing nose-straight into a concrete sidewalk, killing the kid in the shotgun seat, after that disaster Karl Waxman climbed out from behind the shattered windshield and walked away.

And again, I told the cops I hadn't heard a word.

Neddy Nelson: How can you expect Historians to feel anything for the suffering of the rest of us? Do you cry when a flower wilts? When a carton of milk goes sour? Don't you think they've seen so many people die that their sympathy or empathy or whatever is pretty much wore out?

Tina Something: Another time the cops called, they claimed they'd matched fingerprints on the steering wheel of the BMW to fingerprints in Wax's apartment. The cops asked, was I harboring him?

From the Field Notes of Green Taylor Simms: One of the common tenets shared by widely divergent spiritual beliefs is the rule that an individual can only attain true power by "killing his father." One possibility is that said rule was not meant metaphorically. The primary difficulty would lie in transporting oneself backward to a time before one's birth.

Then, of course, comes the physically easier but emotionally tricky task of murdering one's own parent.

Tina Something: To try and find Wax, I looked up his mom in the phone book, Gloria Waxman, but she's not listed. Her maiden name was Elrick, so I call the few Elricks I find. One says, wrong number. When I ask for Gloria Elrick or Waxman at the other number, some old lady hangs up the phone on me. About ten times this old lady hangs up, so I drive over for a visit to the address listed in the phone book. Behind the apartment door, the same old-lady voice tells me to go away, but I don't.

I keep knocking and pounding, saying I know Gloria and Wax are around and saying I only want to talk.

Finally, I threaten to tell the police, and somebody inside unlocks the apartment door. Some old man opens the door enough I can see the gaddamn chain's still on, and he tells me to go away or he'll call the police himself. This old man says his daughter, Gloria Elrick, she died almost twenty-some years back. Seems she was parking with her steady boyfriend, and a maniac shot them both dead in the car. A total stranger, a young man with no apparent motive, somebody nobody knew from Adam, had killed Gloria and her boyfriend. And the old man slams the door in my face.

Through the door, I ask what was the boyfriend's name.

And the old man says, "Go away!"

I yell, "Just tell me his name!"

And the old man says, "Anthony." Through the door he yells, "Tony Waxman." He yells, "Now, you go!"

From the Field Notes of Green Taylor Simms: However, once one had made the journey and completed the task, to become immortal, to live eternally in a world where everything and everyone would wither and die while you accumulated knowledge and wealth, becoming the most powerful leader of all time—for all time—that seems well worth the effort.

Neddy Nelson: You don't think a real Historian wouldn't kill you just for laughs?

Tina Something: The last time I seen Wax, I was Tag Teaming, wearing a bridesmaid dress, making a last-ditch effort to get picked for a team, and a Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud pulls up to the curb. Scrawled down the polished side of the body, white and pink spray paint says "Just Married." The shotgun window rolls down, and inside, leaning over from the driver's seat, is Wax, smiling and saying, "Hey, baby, get in…"

I ask, "Where you been?"

And Wax says, "I did it…"

"Did what?" I ask him.

Neddy Nelson: Next, after Historians "terminate origins," don't they go through a long process called something like "residual fading," where every trace of the old them starts to disappear?

Tina Something: Karl Waxman tells me he's got no more future or past. He never has to eat another bite of food or sleep another wink. No more haircuts. No more bowel movements. No aging or injuries or illness. No death. He's outside of time.

And Wax says, "I am without beginning or end." He says, "And I can make you a goddess."

Yeah, I say. Like he made that burned-up kid in the BMW a god? And the kids in the Land Rover?

And Wax laughs and says he was just goofing with them. Wax says, once you're immortal, you forget that other people aren't; you start screwing around, and somebody gets their head cut off. The way they screamed, he says they sounded funny as hell.

With me, he says, it will be different.

Yeah, I say. Like he made his mom and dad immortal?

The Rolls-Royce, the shotgun door pops open, and Wax says, "Just get in, baby." With his hand, Wax pats the seat next to him, saying, "You won't be young, forever…" He says, "Unless you trust me."

And I didn't get in his car. I slammed the door shut and said he was a dirtbag for not calling me. I said it was his turn to wait.

"Oh, I can wait," Wax said.

Some Party Crashing kids have walked up, thrift-store brides and grooms, flocking to the Rolls with its tin-can tail and white streamers, ready to climb inside, asking if Wax needs a team, asking if they can all ride along.

And I tell these kids, "Don't." I block the door with my hip and yell at them to get the fuck away from this guy. "You get in this car," I tell them, "and this gaddamn psycho will murder you."

And the kids look at me like I'm the gaddamn psycho.

That last night I see Wax, the last thing he says to me is, "Try and not forget me, baby." And he blows me a kiss, pulling away, steering out into the flow of traffic.

I haven't Tag Teamed a night since then. All I hope is that's the last time I ever see Karl Waxman.

Neddy Nelson: Couldn't you guess that old-time gods and saviors like Apollo and Isis and Shiva and Jesus are just losers with beater Torinos and Mustangs who went Party Crashing and found a way to "sever their origins"? Maybe they all started as real nobodies, but as their reality faded, a new story piled up around them?

Tina Something: Soon as I got home, I phoned the gaddamn police detective that's been bugging me. The detective says he's never heard of any Karl Waxman.

Allan Blayne: The stupid thing I said to the girl, it was just a reflex. In my capacity as a crewman, after we had her freed and wrapped in a blanket, I told her, "You are one lucky young lady."

Tina Something: In every gaddamn photo I have of me and Wax, he's gone, just disappeared. They're only photos of me, smiling, with my arm looped around nothing. My lips puckered, kissing air. When I try, I can't even tell you if his eyes were brown or green. Ask me again in a few months and a hundred bucks says I've never, ever heard of Karl Waxman.

Shot Dunyun: The way Rant told it to me, Simms didn't want him to go back in time to fuck anybody. Now that Simms was his own super-hybrid, he wanted to be immortal. Simms wanted Rant to go back in time and kill his mom. Well, I guess—their mom.