(Gustave's Ending)
"I am the Charliefish," were the words that came out of the fish's mouth.
L.B.T. felt the room begin to spin around him. It was as if his head were going to fall into pieces.
"The..." he began, but could say nothing more.
"Don't worry about anything," the fish said. "Please. I know this is a shock to you."
L.B.T. stood, mouth agape. The fish, not even three inches long, eyed him from its place on the ruler.
"This is impossible," L.B.T. finally said.
"No, no, not impossible," the fish said. "In fact there's a good reason it's happened."
"A good reason?"
"I've been waiting here to talking to you, you know. It's because it's taken awhile for my vocal chords to develop."
"You're not really a fish," L.B.T. said.
"I'm a fish and I'm not a fish. Of course I'm a fish. What else do I look like?"
"You're possessed!" L.B.T. blurted out. "Oh, my God! I suspected it before. There was something..."--he paused, looking for the word--" something disgusting about you. You're..."
"Alright," the fish interrupted. "You can say I'm disgusting if you like. But you're not right to say I'm possessed. Or at least not in the way you mean. You too, or at least your body, is possessed, if you want to know the truth."
"The truth? This is ridiculous! You're a talking fish!"
"There's a purpose for everything that happens," the fish said calmly. "Or at least there's a purpose for everything like this. And there's a reason for the possession of your body too. It's the reason you're here."
"You're going to possess me?" L.B.T. asked, stepping back from the tank.
"No, no," the fish said. "You don't understand. What I mean is that the soul occupying your body is already a kind of possession. The soul occupies your material body. It was made for your body, in a way, but also not made. It's likewise with me. I wasn't really made for this body, you know, but look what's happened. Here I am anyway. There's a reason for it, that's all I'm saying."
"I don't like this," L.B.T. said. "I don't like the way you're talking."
"Well..."
"Whatever the reason for this is, I don't know. And what is the reason anyway? Why are you here talking like this? How can this even..." L.B.T. gestured in confusion.
"I'll have to explain," the fish said.
"Yes. You have to explain."
"So I'll have to begin."
"Yes, begin," L.B.T. said.
"Alright, then," the fish began. "I'm here to communicate with you about my failure, the failure of my part of the Work. I'm here because you're the one who's to receive this communication."
"What communication?"
"Listen" the fish said. "It's because of your soul--because of your character. You're the one who'll know how to continue the Work where I left off."
"You're going to ask me to work for you?" L.B.T. said.
"No. Not for me, no. But within the project, the Work, yes--you are the one to complete it. It can only be you, L.B.T."
"Why me?"
"There's a reason you came to the night market that night, and there's a reason I ended up with you."
"And what's the reason?"
"The reason is because you are the one to continue the Work."
"I don't know what you're talking about," said L.B.T. "I don't know anything about any work. And besides, maybe I just ended up with you at random. Maybe it was because the others thought you looked strange, and so they pawned you off on me."
"You shouldn't think of it that way!" the fish insisted.
"Why not?" L.B.T. said. "I don't even know what's going on here. You keep talking about some deep reason, but you still haven't explained. This is all too...." L.B.T. tried to find the words. "I think there's something wrong here," he finally said decisively.
"Yes, there's something wrong
here," the fish replied, "but the wrong is not where you think. I mean, I needn't impress on you how hard
I had to struggle to get here, do I?"
"How hard
you had to struggle?"
"I was a man then," the fish said. "I'd taken up the Work, the transmission of the words. I'd dedicated myself to it."
"What words? What are you talking about now?"
"I mean if I hadn't been so dedicated to it--if I wasn't really serious, that is--in that case the failure wouldn't have meant coming back like this. Coming back like I have--as a fish!"
"So you were dedicated to some kind of work you're telling me about. That's what you're trying to say. And if you're here as a fish now, it's got something to do with this work."
"That's right."
"But what is this work you're talking about? That's what I don't understand."
"But you're beginning to understand," the fish said. "And it's a good thing. I mean, at least you can see that the work wasn't exactly easy. The few opportunities I had for a normal life were left behind. That goes without saying. I did everything only in hopes for the Work."
"The work, the work!" L.B.T. said. "You keep repeating this about the work. But what work? Why don't you answer my question?"
"I'll get to it eventually. You have to be patient."
"I don't want to be patient. I don't know what you want with me here. All I can see is that this work, whatever it is, has turned you into a kind of ghost. And now you're here as a fish, and you're in my bedroom too! If I'm not dreaming this at least. You're here to haunt me, that's what this is! That's the work you're talking about!"
"You're starting to go wrong again," the fish replied calmly. "I'm not a ghost, L.B.T."
"You're a ghost or some kind of demon I suspect. How is it you know my name?"
"I'm not a demon either," the fish said. "The truth is I'm here for one reason: only to continue the Work. I've come to you because you are to be part of the Work."
"If my mother saw you talking to me you'd be flushed down the toilet in a minute!"
"Please."
"I'm only seventeen, I've never even had a job, and I'm not going to work for some magic fish, alright?"
"You shouldn't talk this way, L.B.T."
"And why not!"
"Listen," the fish said. "Maybe I wasn't pure enough to finish my part, maybe that's why this has happened. But what of it? If you're thinking about things this way, it only proves you don't understand."
"Understand what? You not really helping me understand!"
"It will come with time," the fish said.
"I don't want any part of it," L.B.T. said.
"How can you know that if you still don't even know what it is?"
"So why don't you tell me what it is?" L.B.T. said.
"You are so impatient!"
"And you are a talking fish!"
"This is all because of my failure," the fish said. "Sometimes what should have been brought forth as part of the Work ended up as faulty aphorisms or tales, sometimes not even that. Perhaps I wasn't pure enough."
"Pure enough?"
"But still I knew there wasn't a stress on purity anyhow, at least not purity in the shallow way most people understand it. The dictates of the Work meant that we were to break the mould round things. So where could I have failed through lack of purity?"
"It's not me who said anything about purity, I didn't even mention the word," L.B.T. said. "So don't ask me. Again I don't know what the hell you're talking about! In fact with every word you say things are only becoming less and less clear. Why don't you tell me in clear language why you're here, then I can judge if I should trust you or not?"
"I can say to begin with that the project is now mostly about us, L.B.T. This is to say that it is about the other--the other that was originally to have made the we. That was to be the beginning of the Work. The we was the one that always escaped. I mean--I was to take down the words and put them before whom exactly? Maybe you understand my meaning."
"No, I don't understand your meaning!" L.B.T. said angrily. "I don't understand any of this."
"That's because you're not listening," the fish replied. "You haven't even begun to listen."
"I'm listening, but I don't understand."
"You're not listening, but you will," the fish said. "You will have to."
"I will have to do nothing!"
"You will listen because you have sympathy: you have the sympathy to listen. And that's why I've been sent to you."
"I think you're trying to hypnotize me is what. That's what this is. It's all just a trick."
"It's not a trick," the fish replied. "It's they who've pulled the trick on you, L.B.T. It's they who are making you resistant to my words."
"They?" said L.B.T. "They who? Again you are totally vague."
"They were onto me too," the fish said. "The hand that guided my work, toward the end, it might just as well have been the hand of erasure."
"This is insane!" L.B.T. said. "You're making my head spin with this talk. And you're not getting any closer to explaining. This is a trick to take me in!"
"Don't be so sure of yourself," the fish said. "You're wrong to start thinking this way. Wrong again. But your confusion here--it's true it might be a sign you're starting to understand. Or then again it might not. 'At least if the words persist in some form they may be taken up.' That's one of the principles. So even if they persist in confusion. But then what will be made of them? That's the question. It's up to you to bring it about."
"It's up to me," L.B.T. said, and with his right hand he swiftly pulled the ruler from the tank.
Without the support of the ruler, the fish immediately sank back down under the surface. L.B.T. stepped back into the middle of the room, holding the ruler at arm's length. Already he saw fish facing him through the glass. He could see its unease at the sudden change: its fins were shaking in protest; its eyes seemed to be pleading.
What to do next?
L.B.T. turned and put the ruler on his desk. He paced a moment. He could hear his heart pounding heavily in his chest. He didn't want to look back at the fish. His thoughts were in a riot. He noticed the sweat gathered on his brow.
Again the fish tried to break the surface with its voice; it was calling out something, but the words were garbled. L.B.T. still refused to look. He held his eyes tightly closed, trying to decide what to do.
. . .
[tale to be continued by L.B.T. and peers]
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