The Jokers - Albert Cossery [43]
“Which governor?” said the driver, as if frankly stunned to learn of the existence of such a person.
“What do you mean, which governor?” exploded Karim. “The governor of this city!”
“This city is governed?” said the driver. “Don’t tell me that, young man; I won’t believe you.”
“No wonder things are falling to pieces!” cried Karim. “You and your kind are turning us into a bunch of savages!”
The craziness had reached its peak, but Karim wasn’t capable of stopping the mechanism he’d set off. A familiar demon goaded him to push things even further, to see just how far this absurd conversation could be taken. On top of that, he was reluctant to leave the cool shade and launch out into the torrid atmosphere of the avenue and the hassle of a police interrogation.
“I’m leaving,” he said with conviction. But he didn’t leave. He was waiting for something—as if expecting some dazzling beam of light revealing the secrets of humanity to emerge from the situation.
“Wait, effendi,” said the barber, as he clipped big tufts of fur from the donkey. “I’ll be finished soon. It’ll be your turn in a minute.”
“I will not follow a donkey,” responded Karim proudly. “You don’t seem to have any idea whom you’re speaking to!”
The barber thought for a moment, clippers in suspense, his features twisted in apprehension. Intrigued, he asked:
“Well, who are you, effendi?”
“I’m not going to waste my time telling you,” Karim flippantly responded. “Go on and take care of that donkey—that’s your kind of customer!”
“Did I just hear you insulting my donkey?” cried the driver, wild-eyed. “Who do you think you are to insult someone who works for a living?”
The word was out: a worker! So as far as this pathetic bunch was concerned, the donkey had the right to be respected, not as an animal but for its noble status as a worker. For a few seconds, Karim was blinded by the sheer deliciousness of this—a recompense at last for his long wait. He turned his back on the two men and hurled himself deliberately into the furnace: all was well with the world.
He had to resist further experimentation. After the scene at the barber’s he was running late, and he’d have to hurry to get to city hall at the appointed hour. He felt cheerful, full of optimism—in good enough shape, in any case, to confront the sadistic, power-hungry officers who would be assigned to his interrogation. Moved by this feeling of joy, he broke into a trot, making his way with difficulty through the careless crowd clogging the avenue.
He stopped, out of breath, to examine the big white building topped by a flag—city hall and the seat of the governor. It was a long time since he’d been here. He hesitated before crossing the threshold, remembering his brash attitude on previous visits, when he’d been a reckless and arrogant revolutionary. He felt ashamed recalling his former foolishness. How could he have failed to understand that they were stronger than he was, that all his bluster only played into their hands, hurting his cause by putting him on the same level as his enemies? Happily, things had taken a new turn since that far-off time; he would shock them silly. He lowered his head and tried to look humble and timid, then entered through the monumental double doors, which opened wide like a trap ready to snap up its prey. He shivered, and a cold sweat ran down his back—it was not fear but the effect of suddenly coming into the cool air of the great building. He tried to shrink away even more, camouflaging himself as a citizen without ideas or ambitions, a creature who submitted to fate and trembled before every kind of authority. In this character he was no different from the other people who filled the vast room on the ground floor, coming and going like figures in a nightmare, eyes fixedly staring as they shuttled from one office to another, delivered into the caprice of the vindictive machine. Karim acted like someone who was familiar with the place; without bothering to ask directions he headed straight