The whale capsized the boat and tore the captain and my friends to pieces. Men of commerce, men of learning, brave at heart and full of dreams, she all ate them. Everyone but me. Next thing I know, it happened that the storm winds cast up my beaten body on the island’s shore.
The sweet tune of a music box woke me. Above my head, thick clouds with bellies filled with thunder, mist, and rain and rainbows. Wet wind raged from the empty shores, the waves crashed, somewhat hesitant, and the sea in them smelled metallic, blood like.
Land stretched up from the shore, carving into the mountain and forming a great abandoned amphitheater.
I found myself exhausted, half naked, bruised and alone, marooned on one of the thousand islands of the expansive archipelago. Why and how I didn’t drown or was devoured like the rest of the crew remains a mystery.
I made my way on narrow paths past crumbling houses overtaken by vegetation and the humid smell of a carpet of moss. I saw not a soul at first.
Foliage grew through the open doors and broken windows painting ceilings and walls green. I saw nothing but a couple of foreign ideograms plastered on some of the few spots that remained naked. No running water, no electricity, but plenty of machinery left to rot and decay.
Life had ebbed away from the village. All that remained was the shell of a place that had once flourished. A shell inhabited by a single man.
He waved at me from a house that stood some distance away among the trees and shruberry above. I went up the path and stone-steps in his direction. My legs ached some, and although my heart drummed hard against my chest, my head hurt not and my lungs seemed to be working well.
The man seemed neither threatened nor afraid. I said hello. He smiled and put out and away the thin cigarette he’d been smoking.
Visitor, what brings you to my island? Why have you come uninvited to my land?
Dear sir, I’m a castaway. May I ask your name?
Here I need none, he said in fluent English. But you can call me Casimir.
Casimir? What a good name.
Thanks, but I can’t take the credit. You must thank my mom for it.
I waited to see if he wanted to know mine. He didn’t. So I said: Where are we, Casimir? Is this Banda or perhaps Timor?
None of those, he said, and if I told I would have to kill you.
I hope you’re joking.
You can think of it as an open wound in the fabric of what’s real. There are places in this world you can only see once you’ve traveled beyond the line and stepped off the edge between the known and the unknown. Places from which you cannot return.
The man was clearly insane. I asked him next who he was with.
Besides God?
Well, yes.
A dog. Two goats. A mama and her child. I guess the insects and the bush birds also count as company.
Any other human?
There’s you.
Besides me.
None. My last companion, try as he might, couldn’t sleep either day or night. After about a week of this he stopped talking. One night he played the fiddle for a while and then shot himself in the chest.
You’re the last man.
I guess I never left.
What brought you here?
I heard it was a good place. And for a while it was. Then the plague came and the townsfolk either left or died, all of them but one.
Why didn’t you leave?
Dark fields of ether sown with stars. Air and land and ocean teeming with innumerable forms of life to challenge my imagination. Scenes of beauty every sunrise followed by more and sometimes better ones at sunset. The melody of mermaids and the language of the birds. There’s plenty of water holes, springs, and wild albatross and geese. Nice climate. Once I realized the plague didn’t mind my being here I guess I didn’t mind it either. I like this place.
Were you a fisherman?
A librarian.
A librarian.
Will you repeat everything I say?
I’m sorry.
No need to be. It doesn’t bother me.
Was that a full time job?
Well, yes. I had to be there all the time.
Yeah. But I mean, was it a busy job?
Oh, definitely no. No, no. It was mostly the kids came see me. Plenty of time to think, plenty of time to sleep, plenty of time to read. I devoured Dante, Poe, Casanova, Melville. Everything by Kafka, Verne, and Flaubert. I reckon I’ve read Salinger’s Teddy and Jacob’s Monkey Paw half a dozen times each.
What keeps you here? This must be a pretty lonely life.
That all depends.
Depends?
There you go again.
What does it depend on?
On what you want and how much of it. It’s weird. There were days when I felt lonely and everyone was still here. I haven’t felt that way since everyone disappeared. There’s always been so much in life since then.
What do you eat?
Herbs, fruits, produce. Plenty grows around here. And I drink a glass of milk in the morning and before going to sleep. It’s been a year since the goat gave birth but she’s still fine to share her milk with me. Now I understand why the Hindus think of milk as the divine nectar.
What about your days?
What about them?
How do you spend them?
I prospect.
What do you look for?
Metals mainly. Stones and metals that the people inland think are worth. Opal, copper, gold, that sort of thing. I exchange the little I find for clothes and other things like medicine, as well as paper, ink, and books. Oftentimes moths and termites chew their way through the few old books remaining.
Are you happy?
Well, now that’s a silly question
Yeah?
Yeah. Happiness is a fleeting dream. I found something else. Something better. I found contentment. I’m still the same I was when I arrived here. The same young man wanting to see what’s over the next hill.
Did you find out?
Oh, no. Don’t break my heart like that. What would there be to live for? Not much. Most likely nothing. The gods have been good to me. And I’d like them to keep being it. Now, why don’t you walk with me?
Large malachite green parakeets flew over our heads looking in vain for a tree where they could perch. We went down and then up again until we found the entrance to a cave and inside the cave a pond, half of it lit, the other half concealed in perpetual shadows. Jewel-like insects crawled around our feet sending up our legs unsettling vibrations.
Forces between planes exist of which we know nothing of, said Casimir. Infinity and uncertainty. Duality, and momentum. Antimatter. Annihilation. The world is a vacuum and also not. This pond right here is but one of the many doors to it.
This is how we get away?
You might. For me it is too late. I’ve crossed the event horizon. You might go back home or you might drown and be forever gone. Or you can stay and be my friend. There’s plenty of goat milk for both of us.
I smiled at him. I noticed his eyes shared the colors of the pond, one was green and bright, the other one submerged in darkness.
I dove in.
