{"id":325,"date":"2009-06-15T07:52:06","date_gmt":"2009-06-15T05:52:06","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/egophobia.ro\/revista\/?p=325"},"modified":"2010-01-22T21:55:05","modified_gmt":"2010-01-22T19:55:05","slug":"conspiracy","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/?p=325","title":{"rendered":"Conspiracy<\/strong>"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0by Karel Cispic<\/strong>\u00a0(Slovakia)<\/strong><\/p>\n

Translation from Romanian by Adrian Ioni\u0163\u0103<\/em>\u00a0<\/p>\n

Edited by Robert Fenhagen<\/em>\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 It was a day like any other\u2014 a blistering orange sun beat down upon dry Earth, searing and drying everything\u2014including his mind on most days. “Anchors aweigh\u201d thought Karel, briefly enjoying the coolness of the room where he was staying.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He watched the news and soap operas on the cheap TV.
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He decided on tea over Cinzano.\u00a0
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He felt as if the television microwaves were tickling and draining his mind.\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Let\u2019s see. PRO TV. – Most certainly the lowest one. \u201cA Romanian woman from Italy performed an abortion at age 70. A student from Pakistan has placed a bomb at Harvard. Following a national program to prevent the economic\u00a0 crisis,\u00a0 the minimum wage in the country is diminishing… Foreseeable. The same old shit.\u201c He felt listless, but then a bit of news aroused him, and he felt a surge of energy.\u00a0 \u201cThe famous Romanian writer, Pavel Tiamaios, had died and was to be buried at the cemetery in Cluj.\u201d\u00a0 That was something bewildering, since he was to be buried with a complete copy of Cioran, which had been a gift from the French.\u00a0 A complete copy! The news engaged Karel\u2019s interest. He began breathing faster as plans began formulating in his mind with the speed of a Pentium6.
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He would wait until the other interested friends and associates of the dead poet had paid their respects– that was important.\u00a0
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He needed privacy.\u00a0
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He would wait until the sun had begun to sink, and the shadows became softer.\u00a0
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He would wait until dusk, or later.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Of course.
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He switched from tea to Cinzano.
\n\u00a0
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 At 35, Karel knew that he should quit smoking, but like making love, it was a habit that was hard to break.\u00a0So was the needing\u00a0for Cioran, and not just the<\/em> Cioran, but a complete copy!\u00a0 His last trip to the cemetery was orgiastic. He used to crucify hamsters, a Wiener Aktionismus<\/em> of his own,\u00a0 but\u00a0 this time, this time, he had a snowball in hell’s chance. He will make G\u00fcnter Brus eaten up with jealousy. The decision fell over him with the rigor of a tram passing on red through the stoplights. \u201cI have to do it \u2026 It will be difficult, but its worth trying.\u201c
\n\u00a0
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The fleeting thoughts and fantasies of his day inside of a lonely room began to dissipate as he thought through what he would need for his task. He lit a cigarette and headed to Polus to buy a shovel and a good flashlight.\u00a0 At the entrance of the mall, on large plasma monitors, a local TV station displayed\u00a0 scenes from the funeral. Only 50 people. \u201cWhat a small audience,\u201d thought Karel with regret. \u201dAnd Tiamaios wanted a funeral with military honors. Who actually reads him?”<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 A hard hat with a light, a shovel, a desire — a drive, which, had he gone out before, would have been drained by the sun, and lessened by the fear of being discovered.\u00a0 Under the light of evening, he would have his complete copy.\u00a0 He would feel exalted and beautiful again.\u00a0 He would soar above the old cemetery and the Earth below.\u00a0 He, He, He, the new Romanian Fluxus, Karel the Desecrator.\u00a0 Suddenly he loved life and the opportunity that had been presented to him.
\n\u00a0
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Later, as he made his way to the cemetery, the shovel fell out of the ancient knapsack that he had slung over his shoulder.\u00a0 He picked it up and continued.\u00a0 Some passer-by pensioners, blessed him sympathetically. With the shovel on his shoulder, he looked pretty lonesome but filled with proletarian manfulness As he walked, he thought of all of the useless news that had droned on before he had decided to liberate the book.\u00a0 Television and radio.\u00a0 They made him sick.\u00a0 Bombs, old women getting abortions, poverty, death, but not death, but life.
\n\u00a0
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Now, there was a meaning, a goal, a purpose to his life\u2014even if it was only fleeting. What would it be like holding the book?\u00a0 The book with such exquisite writing and information.\u00a0 Answers.\u00a0 The book would have answers.\u00a0 He remembered his teacher’s confabulations: \u201cSwarming-swarming, here will gather the disciples. They will sing and they will cry reciting my aphorisms deluged by my eternal genius. High school girls will dance and\u00a0 tear their\u00a0 knife-pleated sailor skirts, to receive the gift of Prophecy\u2026”\u00a0 Karel\u00a0 smiled : \u201d The man was crazy. And he somehow mixed\u00a0 Dionysus with pedophilia \u2026 \u201c
\n\u00a0
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He jumped the fence where the caretaker could not see him, and found the new grave.\u00a0 There were shriveled flowers around from a cheap wreathe.\u00a0 It looked as if a few different groups of mourners had been there.\u00a0 He wondered if any of them had fantasized about getting the book.\u00a0 Not likely.\u00a0 Dear Pavel, was a respected pauper.\u00a0 Wouldn\u2019t that be amazing to have to line up and take a number before robbing the poet\u2019s grave, or to release the hamster he kept in a jar for the occasion?\u00a0 A chuckle died in his throat as he realized fully what he was about to do. Shovel after shovel of dried dirt flew in back of him until the magic moment when he hit wood.\u00a0 He could tell by the solid thudding sound that metal made against wood.\u00a0 It was a satisfying sound.\u00a0 An organic sound.\u00a0 Thud, thump.\u00a0 Thump, thump. He used the blade of the shovel to pry open the casket.\u00a0 No smell came out, but the sight was not a pleasant one. Pavel\u2019s emaciated and very dead face had a rictus grin that sent a fright up Karel\u2019s spine.\u00a0 The dead poet seemed to be smiling at him.
\n\u00a0
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Karel was quite sure that there would be no smiles if what was about to happen will become known. The dead poet held onto the thick book as if his life depended on it, which, of course, was absurd, so Karel used the sharp shovel to chop through the arm, and released the tendons sufficiently so that the book could be lifted and secreted under his coat.\u00a0 Then, his flashlight start flickering frantically. He could not\u00a0 believe his eyes. \u201cWhat a family, such ordinary lies\u2026\u201d He slunk away in the dying light to get to his rendezvous with the book. A hamster start running to freedom, while he and the book would soon be grand conspirators!
\n\u00a0
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 As he flagged a taxi, holding in his raised hand a copy of \u201cHomagium ” by Nicolae Ceausescu, the first words that he spoke to the sullen and grizzled driver were, \u201dI\u2019m going to glory, if you don\u2019t mind.\u201d\u00a0 Soon, he sat back, feeling the book underneath his coat and gave the driver the correct address.\u00a0 A smile played and played on his lips. Karel\u2019s smile was not of the rictus variety\u2026<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Karel Cispic:
\n A chuckle died in his throat as he realized fully what he was about to do. Shovel after shovel of dried dirt flew in back of him until the magic moment when he hit wood. He could tell by the solid thudding sound that metal made against wood. It was a satisfying sound. An organic sound. Thud, thump. Thump, thump. He used the blade of the shovel to pry open the casket. No smell came out, but the sight was not a pleasant one. Pavel\u2019s emaciated and very dead face had a rictus grin that sent a fright up Karel\u2019s spine. The dead poet seemed to be smiling at him.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[7,22],"tags":[23,9,1123,44,1116,312],"class_list":["post-325","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-7","category-short-story","tag-adrian-ionita","tag-egophobia-22","tag-english","tag-karel-cispic","tag-short-story","tag-translation"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6DakB-5f","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/325","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=325"}],"version-history":[{"count":46,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/325\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3478,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/325\/revisions\/3478"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=325"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=325"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=325"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}