Indifference (Short Story)

Something hissed and gurgled on a stove; the conditioner hooted resisting heat. A smell of baked starch impregnated the air. Gorn sat in a chair, relaxed and allowing a thought to turn and float weightlessly, reflecting and stumbling over the events, which have gotten stuck in memory like pieces of food in teeth after breakfast. He thought of how civilizations were born and died, and that he won the happy ticket not being born in a time of changes.

‘I will live another twenty to thirty years – a moment in human history. Still not the thirty-year war.’
He remembered reading and watching about this war when all across the Europe Catholics slaughtered Protestants, Protestants – Catholics. ‘Well, at least, they acted on their convictions. Even though in retrospect these were stupid convictions, to say the least. Then again, drunk mercenaries slaughtered everyone.’

Many other events flashed through his mind, scattering around it like kaleidoscope patterns. He felt himself being an observer ejected from those events as if soaring over a lifeless stream of history. Gorn thought that should he be placed in the midst of those events even with his present understanding, he’d hardly be able to do anything to stop the mutual massacre.

‘Still, even this indifference is none other than a privilege. In those days, however indifferent you might have been, other people indifferent or not, could easily and unexpectedly separate you from a part of the body that is capable of feeling indifference.’

Gorn smiled ‘As if now he is capable of influencing any events con or pro? Capable to stop a war or any societal process for that matter? Casting my vote for a candidate of my choice or rather against the candidate I dislike more. I bet though my opinion is formed by media and whoever runs those multimillion-dollar campaigns. No someone else is calling the shots. Who? Who knows?’
It started to rain. Drops began to patter on the glass and, combining into the joyful channel, fell through a roof fillet. Gorn liked the rain, its universal pacifying noise. The same noise, which the rain created thousands of years ago in Babylon. Particularly joyous was the fact that neighbor’s children who played basketball and broke off the course of his thoughts, had to stay at home; especially irritating was the little girl with her sharp shouts and unique laughter of a hungry hyena.

‘It’s amazing that she appeared from the spawning of spermatozoa and managed to stake her claim in the land of “milk and honey.” The accident, which distinguished her from seven billion other goosebumps in a human ant-house.’

The smell of starch became thicker. The microwave peeped. Gorn opened a door, pulled out a potato, tested its softness with his fingers, cut on two halves, and added to a plate two cooked sausages from a pot. He began to eat slowly, dipping pieces in ketchup mix with mustard, and looking through a transparent patio door. There, behind the door, on the grass sat a turtledove, ruffled up and staring with beady eyes somewhere forward, waiting until the rain would pass.

Gorn thought that he could have taken it inside and gave it potato and breadcrumbs, even though, this effort would be futile. If he would come out it be frightened and depart.
This thought linked naturally to his previous thoughts. It fitted comfortably in his overall thought pattern, which made him feel indifferent, whether it would fly away or not. There are millions of other birds of the same species, and whether he fed this casual bird, or not, it would change absolutely nothing neither for turtledove species nor for all "homo sapiens."

"Well, silly bird, then sit in the rain!"

The thought switched to the recent stroll he made along familiar streets. Gorn stopped for the traffic light at the intersection where some bum asked for it alms. The bum was young; at most, thirty years old. He had dirty blond hair, a rather untidy beard, and greasy clothes. It was a while since he showered. His eyes looked sober though, not obscured by narcotic dimness.

He asked Gorn for money, to buy something to eat in McDonald's. The amount of money he asked for did not make any difference in Gorn’s budget just as breadcrumbs or pieces of a baked potato. The problem was that this beggar did not make him feel compassionate. It wasn’t a matter of the color of his hair, or the untidiness of his beard, and not the stench, though standing next to him was unpleasant. What was revolting was the confidence, with which the bum staked the claim for Horn’s money. He did not ask but demanded it as if the kingdom of egalitarianism already arrived, and a lion laid next to a lamb.

“Why do I have to give you the money?”

“cuz you have them.”

“True, but I worked for them and worked hard.”

The bum sniffed.

“I don’t ask for much. Only to buy food. It’s a shame that you refuse me in such trifle.”

“Not to me. I don’t feel ashamed at all,” and thought ‘I don’t give a flip whether you exist or not. One bum less, one more.’

The green light replaced red, and Gorn crossed the street. Should it be Francois Villon or Vincent Van Gogh – Gorn, of course, would give them money, and would give them much more, than just for cheap lunch. This bum, though, did not do anything that would make Gorn believe that he is helping the future Villon or Van Gogh.

Gorn was bored. He began watching a movie, but after five minutes of action turned off the TV. It was abundantly clear, what was about to happen – the handsome and strong good guy, certainly, will defeat all the bad guys and will gain the love of the girl.

‘Why is it so? It seems there is nothing to live for anymore. Everything that you see is the reflections of something already seen or lived through.’

Gorn divorced his wife a long time ago. In the process, she snatched their previous large house. He didn’t feel sorry about it, though. If anything, it was a relief. It was surprising how much people can get bored with each other; even the sounds of their voices caused mutual irritation. Then Gorn bought this modest house – only a dining room, a kitchen, an office, a bedroom, and a small backyard.
The phone rang. Gorn answered a call, only to hear about a two-week vacation cruise. He had no wish to go anywhere. It wasn’t that the point in space was he resided was so much better than some other point in space, although maybe that’s how it was.

It’s that in this other point there was nothing especially different – it was the same Universe, the same human nature, except for, likely, randomness. Not finishing to listen to the offer, Gorn turned the phone off.

The rain stopped. It was already seven PM - the time of his evening walk. Gorn put on sneakers, a baseball cap, and locked the door. The air was fresh and smelled like the reception of his dentist’s office.
Near the neighbor’s house, Gorn saw the little girl, the one who had the irritating hyena laughter. Now she did not laugh though, but ached and balked while a man pulled her toward the car standing on a roadside. Except for them, the street was empty.

“Let me go, let me go, leave me alone...”

The man was about forty, quite decent and even intelligently looking, with a high forehead and small red lips.

“Let's go, silly! In the car, I have the entire package of candies for you.”

Gorn trotted toward them and grabbed the man by a hand just in time before he pushed the little girl inside the car.

“Hey! What are you doing?!”

The man looked at Horn and there was irritation in his glance. Silently and quickly he struck Gorn in a nose. Gorn saw the blow and wanted to evade it, but the body did not obey the order of a brain. From the blow, he slumped near the car. He couldn’t breathe through his nose anymore and felt the taste of blood in his mouth. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel any fear, only rage. More importantly, he felt that he was doing something right, that what he’s doing would make a difference.

He seized the man’s leg with both hands, pulled it toward himself, and bit it with all his force. The man let out a short cry and waved his hands up in the air.

“Run!” Horn shouted at the girl.

Her flashing legs quickly approaching her house and opening the door was the last thing that he remembered. From the following blow, Gorn fainted.

He regained consciousness in a hospital. Having opened his eyes, Gorn felt bandages on his head, the nose, and a chest. He moved his toes. All body grew numb as if it was covered with century-old stratifications of a scab. He wanted to take a deep breath and couldn’t. It was painful. He could not breathe through the nose as well. Gorn lay like this for about five minutes, squinting at a lamp. He felt feverish, but he didn’t feel bored, his brain was occupied.
The nurse walked into his room.

“Ah… It looks like you regained consciousness. How do you feel?”

Gorn wanted to smile sarcastically, but could not.

“Don’t you do see?” he squeezed the response.

His mouth felt dry.

“You were unconscious the entire night.”

“What’s wrong with me?”

“A concussion, fracture of a nose, and the rib.”

Nurses’ words linked to the memory of the incident with the little girl and, despite soreness he felt all over his body Gorn, felt some internal peace and satisfaction with his actions.

“What happened to … I mean, who found me?”

“A passerby saw you and called an ambulance.”

Gorn wanted to shake the head, but also could not do it.

“Drink.”

“I’ll bring it in a minute,” the nurse was already on her way out when Gorn asked her

“Did someone visited me during the time I was out?”

The nurse stopped in her tracks and turned to Gorn.

“Yes, the police officer stopped by.”