"Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, which we ascribe to heaven."
William Shakespeare.
"I believe it is harder still to be just toward ourself than towards others."
Andre Gide.
These were the reasons why he had adopted obvserver status as his sole rationale, a shambling, shambolic figure ridiculed from the managerial offices to the boardroom, connecting poorly to the physical world. Affable, but affable didn't cut it in this world, certainly not anymore. He would be glad to walk away from the role so haphazardly cast upon him. Cruelty lay in the shallow clash of surfaces. He was willing to do almost anything to be a different person.
Did he fall on his knees like other beaten people? Did he abandon all intellect and join some cult? He was glued to the old ways, a stagger that only he could imagine was sophisticasted, a wooden path that only he could find. What are we talking about here? Is it life and death, or more likely transformation? Dance Before The Devil Knows You're Dead. There Will Be Blood. The searing entertainments. They were cheering themselves on. They were colouring in their own world. They were adding motive and meaning with every step.
The bleached gray world they had known was gone; and with every step things became brighter. The forlorn stumble in the streets, the strange clash of colours, the jerk of limbs, get out of the car please, save yourself, handing him the phone, get out now. He couldn't believe there was going to be another explosion. How was it possible, with so many poice and so much security. Daddy, I didn't sweat you. He could see, unbelievably, that there were some children in the crowd, that onlookers had brought them along to gape at the damaged building,
It erupted into pandemonium again. He found himself running down a side alley, dodging screaming poeple. If the Old Testament is so obviously wrong, come on. He couldn't believe this was happening again. True, that institution had layed havoc to many many people's lives. But to do this. In the crowd, amongst innocent bystanders? That was beyond anything he had known, could envisage or comprehend. The world didn't make sense anymore. In his mind's eye he thought he could see someone reaching down to the window of a glistening new Mercedes. You are hiding from Ancient Origin. Deal me in.
They had busted a major smuggling ring. They had welcomed warm babies into their arms. Romance, stable relationships, had taken hold in their 20s; and now, as young professionals. He paused... You've locked the safe. You promised when you came here you wouldn't do that. He was finding hope in the chaos, the confusion, the urgency of the monent. Crowded days, crowded lives, repeated glimpses of impossible beauty, He wanted to be a real person once again; he wanted an emotinal life that wasn't just a dirty laundry basket. What was it about, why were you there? Why had he fallen so hopelessly, so juvenively, in love all over again.
He was an imposter, he knew that to the core. Thank you for shooting me, he said, blood everywhere, consciousness fading. The pain was unbelievable, but dislocated, as if it wasn't happening to him. He couldn't understand their motive, not this time. In an age of terror and suicide bombs surely there had to be a consistant rationale; although the package out the back of the gleaming BMW required no sacrifice. There were presents, there was fractured love, and he didn't want the recently found to die so soon after meeting them.
I don't understand you, I thought we were only going to do this job if we could do it cleanly, perfectly, the man said. It's a mess. His clairvoyance spread down the city block, keeping up with the fleeing vehicle. The fragments of conversation made little sense, and he was concerned he would lose them in the gathering chaos of the city. Why now, why here, why amongst rescue workers? What sympathy could that possibly bring? He could find no answers; the intense concentration of the driver, the hysterical argument of the perpetrators. What could they have possibly hoped to have achieved?
He snapped back in to the present body. Leave it to the police. All around him was mayhem, scenes of mayhem he had seen replayed on television screens time and time again in recent years, as people picked through the shock of another suicide bomber, another group of targetted civilians. The Mercedes had reached a corner a block away, and was hesitating whether to turn right or left. The man pursuing them on foot was gaining ground. They could see him in their rear vision mirror; then they suddenly moved left into a break in the traffic.
Around him there was smoke and the maw maw maw sounds of broken time zones. He couldn't tell how many were dead. At first he thought it was only four or five, but then he kept on counting and realised it was at least a dozen. That would climb, of course, in the coming hours. There was the sound of sirens converging from all directions. There was smoke coming from the site where the bomb had gone off, ground zero on this job. Above him the wreckage of the building from yesterday's attack, although strangely the marbled foyer was still largely intact. For every action there is an equal an opposite reaction. Was that what this was all about? As he had repeatedly argued, in the days before he was silenced, in the days before the implant went in, you couldn't repress people in this manner and expect to get away with it forever. Impose a homogenous, one-dimensional reality on to the human species and sooner or later they would react. Humans couldn't take that level of emotional grimmness, that bleak lack of spirituality or purpose. They just weren't build like that, not the part that nature built.
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://www.hindu.com/2008/03/25/stories/2008032555151400.htm
DUBAI: Five years after the Anglo-American invasion, the U.S. military death toll in Iraq has climbed to 4,000.
An Associated Press count showed that this number was reached on Sunday when a roadside bomb killed four American soldiers in southern Baghdad.
Around 97 per cent of the American troops died after U.S. President George W. Bush declared on May 1, 2003 that major combat operations were over.
Roadside bombs have been the major cause of casualties. Nearly 44 per cent of deaths last year and 55 per cent to date in 2008 occurred due to these explosions. Around 60 persons were killed on Sunday in Iraq.
The high security green zone, where the U.S. embassy is located was also repeatedly attacked with mortars and rockets.
Analysts attribute the attacks in the green zone to the fraying ties between the Mahdi army — a Shia militant group loyal to cleric Moqtada al-Sadr — and the Americans.
The Sadr movement had earlier warned that it would embark on a general strike if the Iraqi government failed to release members of the Mahdi army who had been previously arrested.
http://www.azcentral.com/arizonarepublic/news/articles/0325iraq0325a1.html
WASHINGTON - Marking a grim milestone, a determined President Bush declared Monday that the lives of 4,000 U.S. military men and women who have died in Iraq "were not lost in vain." The White House signaled anew that additional troops won't be pulled out soon.
One option that has found favor in the Pentagon is for Bush to announce in April a relatively brief pause in troop reductions beyond July, without saying when or at what pace further cuts will be made.
During the pause, Gen. David Petraeus, his top commander in Iraq, would make yet another assessment of conditions there, possibly in September, before recommending specific troop reductions for the final months of 2008.
Bush met for two hours Monday with Petraeus and Ryan Crocker, U.S. ambassador to Iraq, by video linkup.
The U.S. has about 158,000 troops in Iraq. That number is expected to drop to 140,000 by summer.
A roadside bomb in Baghdad killed four U.S. soldiers Sunday, pushing the death toll to 4,000.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/25/opinion/l25iraq.html?ref=opinion
Letters
Sad Iraq Milestone: 4,000 U.S. Dead
Every night I watch the photos of dead soldiers, displayed on the nightly news. Now there are 4,000 dead American service members in Iraq (news article, March 24).
What a sad milestone. I wonder how much higher it will go before it stops — 5,000? 6,000? 7,000? Perhaps more! It’s a sad price to pay for a war that didn’t need to happen.
Barbara Coulson
Bandon, Ore., March 24, 2008
To the Editor:
Unfortunately, the day has come when we report the death toll of our service members in Iraq to be 4,000. We should put faces to that number, and show all 4,000 of the dead. It is a small way to honor their sacrifice and a way to let their families know that their sacrifice is not forgotten.
Kenneth Dunn
Spring Valley, N.Y., March 24, 2008
The writer is a former Army paratrooper in the Vietnam era.
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