Chapter Thirty- Five
My body felt numb as I tossed Fitz over the boat and into the cold sea. Watching him descend into the waters with cold and angered eyes, I felt as if, at last it had settled in. Perhaps I was destined to stay alone; perhaps this was a sign. The ‘perhaps’ slowly faded into fact in my mind, as I sat next to the papers which I stitched back together.
When you look at the world, you might conclude that everyone has someone for himself, that every soul has his missing soulmate. When I read Plato’s symposium, which stated that a long time ago, we all had four arms, four legs and a head with two faces, Zeus feared our power, so he split us apart, forcing us to spend our lives desperately searching for the other half.
It made sense the first time I read it, but it made less sense as the years passed. What about those which do not have the need to search, what of the ones who find their lost half, only to lose it once again.
What about the anomalous? Do we have a lost half? Plato never spoke of anomalies, perhaps that answers most of my inquiries.
Sometimes I think that not knowing who I was, had helped more than I might like to think, for if the professor had given me an answer, I might not have gone this far. I might have been comfortable with my surroundings, having no urge to long for knowledge and aspire in the professor’s teachings. At other times, this being one, I wish I hadn’t gotten this far.
If I had known of my identity, I would have stayed in London. I would have lived my life with the answers which I had craved. I might have even found a solution which would have enabled me to live out a life, a normal life, meet a woman, fall in love, have children, celebrate Christmas, and maybe even own a dog. I might have grown old and watched my children have children of their own. In the end I may have died at last in my dusty bed, with a smile on my face, knowing I lived, but then I might have struggled with the idea of the vast knowledge I would have sought, or living with the anomalous worlds being but an enigma in my mind. To this I say, ‘why bother’? Seeing now, what that knowledge amounted to, I simply do not care, and wish I had never stumbled into the Athenaeum, or had never met the professor, Amalia, Bartholomew and Sarah...
It all seems like too much pain to bear. I wish I had stayed in London, running around and following children to school, pretending that they knew me. I wish I had attended a Christmas meal watching them all make jokes nearly choking on their food. That life was so simple; I miss simple.
I now have neither simple nor complex, I have but- nothing.
I picked the blood-stained dagger from the ground. Cleansing it in the sea, I then lay down, and admired it, gazing at its details.
On the blade’s reflection, I noticed an odd peculiarity. I could see what appeared to be land, a coastline shining from its reflection.
I slowly turned my head and noticed massive mountain range, stretching horizontally in front of me.
It was some distance ahead, so I approached the broken-down motor, attempting to make it run one last time.
I was never the greatest with this, and never will be. Machinery was never my strong suit, but I had no other way of getting to the shoreline, since the tide was moving out to sea, and I had no paddles. It was virtually impossible for me to get to land any other way.
Whilst meddling with the contraption, I soon lashed out in a rage. My anger and frustration combined with my lack of any motivation only led to constant breaks and naps.
I drifted further out to sea, not getting any closer to the coast. Days went by as I fiddled with the motor.
As I was experimenting with many combinations of gears and water, it soon became apparent that the motor would never run. The salt cluttered and destroyed the gears within the machine, but I fought through my utter restlessness and persisted in my attempt to get it running.
I took a risk and detached the rusty box which usually held the fuel. My risk was that the box was fragile and connected to many other parts of the machine. I carefully detached all the metal pumps and connectors from it, and cautiously began to lift it from its resting place.
Successfully I lifted the box from the machine, and just as I was beginning to think things might be turning in my favor, I heard a loud splashing sound, coming from behind me.
I turned only to see that the motor had vanished. Quickly I dropped the box and headed towards what was left of the contraption. It had completely fallen apart, sinking down into the sea.
Kneeling, I screamed out in anger, furiously, grabbing the box, I threw it overboard with his sunken fellows.
Clumsy I sat at the front of the boat, gazing at the shoreline, when a horrid idea popped into my head. I contemplated the inadequate idea, weighing in the consequences and probable imminent death, but in the end my lack of judgment prevailed.
Taking a firm hold on my satchel, and stuffing in it what was left of my writings, I approached the very edge of the boat. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and with an abrupt jolt, I jumped into the chilling waters, immediately surfacing with short shivering gasps. Speedily I swam against the current, using all the strength within me to propel through the ice-cold waters.
I could no longer feel my fingers, or my nose for that matter, but I fought with all my strength to make it to the shore. The land was still quite some distance from me, nevertheless I could not linger on this disturbing fact, for every time I thought about it, my body would convulse in pain.
It felt like an eternity. I felt like I had been swimming for centuries and soon my entire body was numb. All I could feel was the water pressing against my skin. My body was slowing down, and beginning to shiver uncontrollably, but I had almost reached the shoreline, so I continued to fight.
As I at last approached the rocky beaches, my attempts to stand were futile. Constantly collapsing, I decided to crawl further up the beach. The rocks cut at my skin, but I could not feel it. All I could feel was a painful tingling which was driving me mad.
I moaned and screamed, climbing further up the shore.
The very winds which crashed against my body felt alike waves of fire, biting at my skin and pulling me back towards the blasted waters.
Finally, when I had approached the jagged rock-filled pastures which lay above the beach, I lay on my back, feeling nearly dead, gasping for air.
The light from the sky blinded me, and the burning sensation increased, engulfing my body with unimaginable pain.
After a moment, I slowly got up, squinting my eyes at a narrow road which lay ahead. Shivering to the bone, I approached the road, and sat at its edge. I took out some pages from the writings and laid its pages out to dry. As I struggled to set the pages ablaze, I heard a faint noise coming from behind. My ears were filled with water and all I could discern was the muffled sounds of a moving object.
Seeing a carriage turn the corner, I quickly reached for my satchel and rushed over to it.
As the carriage came closer, I swiftly took hold of its wooden skeleton and entered. There seemed to be a plethora of barrels and boxes inside. An old man was driving the carriage, clothed in a heavy coat and wearing a peculiar green hat.
Exhausted and weary, I carefully approached the old man from behind. From my satchel I took out the spyglass and pressed it against the back of the old man’s head.
“You turn around- I shoot…” I commanded with as much boldness as I could muster.
The old man gasped and halted the carriage. “I am sorry, sir. I stop.”
He didn’t seem to speak very good English and was becoming quite jittery.
“I did not tell you to stop, keep the carriage moving.” I threatened him with a tiresome voice.
“Take anything you want, sir. I am no threat!” The old man begged.
“I don’t want any of your belongings,” I answered with a tired voice.
“Take me to the nearest port, and I leave, simple as that.”