City of Glass

"Yes, I remember. According to the President, it was the greatest event since creation."

"He was right. The only intelligent thing that man ever said. And what do you suppose the moon looks like?"

"I have no idea."

"Come, come, think again."

"Oh yes. Now I see what you mean."

"Granted, the resemblance is not perfect. But it is true that in certain phases, especially on a clear night, the moon does look very much like an egg."

"Yes. Very much like."

At that moment, a waitress appeared with Stillman's breakfast and set it on the table before him. The old man eyed the food with relish. Decorously lifting a knife with his right hand, he cracked the shell of his soft-boiled egg and said, "As you can see, sir, I leave no stone unturned."

The third meeting took place later that same day. The afternoon was well advanced: the light like gauze on the bricks and leaves, the shadows lengthening. Once again, Stillman retreated to Riverside Park, this time to the edge of it, coming to rest on a knobby outcrop at 84th Street known as Mount Tom. On this same spot, in the summers of 1843 and 1844, Edgar Allan Poe had spent many long hours gazing out at the Hudson. Qui

He felt little fear now about doing what he had to do. He circled the rock two or three times, but failed to get Stillman's attention. Then he sat down next to the old man and said hello. Incredibly, Stillman did not recognize him. This was the third time Qui

The old man asked him who he was.

"My name is Peter Stillman," said Qui

"That's my name," answered Stillman. "I'm Peter Stillman."

"I'm the other Peter Stillman," said Qui

"Oh. You mean my son. Yes, that's possible. You look just like him. Of course, Peter is blond and you are dark. Not Henry Dark, but dark of hair. But people change, don't they? One minute we're one thing, and then another another."

"Exactly."

"I've often wondered about you, Peter. Many times I've thought to myself, 'I wonder how Peter is getting along.' "I'm much better now, thank you."

"I'm glad to hear it. Someone once told me you had died. It made me very sad."

"No, I've made a complete recovery."

"I can see that. Fit as a fiddle. And you speak so well, too."

"All words are available to me now. Even the ones most people have trouble with. I can say them all."

"I'm proud of you, Peter."

"I owe it all to you."

"Children are a great blessing. I've always said that. An incomparable blessing."

"I'm sure of it."

"As for me, I have my good days and my bad days. When the bad days come, I think of the ones that were good. Memory is a great blessing, Peter. The next best thing to death."

"Without a doubt."

"Of course, we must live in the present, too. For example, I am currently in New York. Tomorrow, I could be somewhere else. I travel a great deal, you see. Here today, gone tomorrow. It's part of my work."

"It must be stimulating."

"Yes, I'm very stimulated. My mind never stops."

"That's good to hear."

"The years weigh heavily, it's true. But we have so much to be thankful for. Time makes us grow old, but it also gives us the day and the night. And when we die, there is always someone to take our place."

"We all grow old."

"When you're old, perhaps you'll have a son to comfort you.”

"I would like that."

"Then you would be as fortunate as I have been. Remember, Peter, children are a great blessing."

"I won't forget."

"And remember, too, that you shouldn't put all your eggs in one basket. Conversely, don't count your chickens before they hatch. "

"No. I try to take things as they come."

"Last of all, never say a thing you know in your heart is not true."

“I won't.”

"Lying is a bad thing. It makes you sorry you were ever born. And not to have been born is a curse. You are condemned to live outside time. And when you live outside time, there is no day and night. You don't even get a chance to die."

"I understand."

"A lie can never be undone. Even the truth is not enough. I am a father and I know about these things. Remember what happened to the father of our country. He chopped down the cherry tree, and then he said to his father, 'I ca

"I agree with you."

"Of course, it's unfortunate that the tree was cut down. That tree was the Tree of Life, and it would have made us immune to death. Now we welcome death with open arms, especially when we are old. But the father of our country knew his duty. He could not do otherwise. That is the meaning of the phrase 'Life is a bowl of cherries.' If the tree had remained standing, we would have had eternal life."

"Yes I see what you mean."

"I have many such ideas in my head. My mind never stops. You were always a clever boy, Peter, and I'm glad you understand."

"I can follow you perfectly."

"A father must always teach his son the lessons he has learned. In that way knowledge is passed down from generation to generation, and we grow wise."

"I won't forget what you've told me."

"I'll be able to die happily now, Peter."

"I'm glad."

"But you musn't forget anything."

"I won't, father. I promise."

The next morning Qui

Today was to have been the crucial day, and Qui

Still, he hesitated. He stood there under his umbrella, watching the rain slide off it in small, fine drops. By eleven o'clock he had begun to formulate a decision. Half an hour later he crossed the street, walked forty paces down the block, and entered Stillman's hotel. The place stank of cockroach repellant and dead cigarettes. A few of the tenants, with nowhere to go in the rain, were sitting in the lobby, sprawled out on orange plastic chairs. The place seemed blank, a hell of stale thoughts.