A man picked up a stick and threw it in the direction of a dog who then ran in the direction of a man feeding squirrels who then ran in the direction of a woman with a large purse who then ran in the direction of a mail carrier, all the while running in the shadow of a hawk that flapped twenty yards above her. For a moment it appeared as if the hawk were on her shoulder. Then it disappeared. The man looked up just as the hawk collided with its reflection in the sixth floor window and plunged to the sidewalk below, directly in front of the mail carrier. He jumped and letters burst from his mailbag and fluttered away in the breeze.
Lars shook his head. "I wouldn't have known it if I hadn't been thinking about it. And then, I couldn't believe what I knew." He takes a sip of his coffee. The waitress walks by, looking the other way, heading to the cash register. She stumbles on the edge of the carpet and drops her tray. Somewhere, a dog barks.I ask him what he is talking about.
"You didn't hear? There is an archaeological dig next to our apartment building. They want to build another high-rise on the site."
"I haven't heard."
"I can hear the hammers all day, pounding on the rocks, chipping at the clay. I can't sleep. They split open another boulder and out waft the prehistoric molecules, the cholera and plague and decadence and it makes its way up the ventilation shafts into my room. My eyes water.""I haven't heard."
I look at his tired, sad eyes, drooping like a basset hound, the membranes below the eyes thick and red, like a second set of lids. His face melts down from his eyes like a candle, the fat accumulating like wax on a deepening frown. I look out the window and everyone looks tired. "Yes."
"At first it was random, aimless hammering. It blended in with the street noise, the rapid fire of doors and truck concussions that shake the windows, trains rocketing past, the horn blasts, bursts of raging wheels and distress calls, whistles and cat-calls and yelps. The war of sound." He rubs his eyes. "And it blended in with the apartment noise. The hundreds of television sets tuned to hundreds of disparate stations yammering simultaneously in a random, purposeless way. No selection. Nothing to hear." He looked out the window at a loud truck that had passed by the window several times in the past hour. "Do I make sense?"
"I couldn't hear you - the truck -"
"Exactly." He rubs his forehead. "Well, now it doesn't sound the same."
"It sounds the same to me."
"No, I mean the hammering - "
"Too loud." The truck idles at the stoplight.
"Right. About two months ago I noticed that each hammer had a distinct sound. Then I noticed that each hammer would take its turn pounding. Then I noticed that they seemed to be hammering in response to each other, like Morse Code. Then, about three weeks ago, they developed a rhythm, a sort of samba, at times even a bossa nova. This has gone on ever since. Today, I swear, they were playing 'Chega de Saudade'."
His face brightens and he begins to hum the tune. I look out the window and see a man pounding on his car horn. Lars stops singing and the man stops honking. He looks at the man in the car and the man in the car looks in the direction of a police car which slides into a telephone pole, setting off its siren. Lars mutters the last lines:
I do not want this thing anymore
Of you living without me
Let us quit this thing
Of you living without me
His face begins to sag again. I ask, "So have they found anything?"
"Have you heard a word I have been saying? They found samba, music, harmony."
"But have you been down to see them?"
"Sure."
"And what do they say?"
"Not much, just a lot of talk about the landscape before the city came along."
"What have they found?"
His face darkens. "They say this was once a savanna - open woodlands with oak, ash, juniper and elm and interspersed prairie with lazy creeks beneath big cottonwood trees. They found lots of bison bones, plano and folsom points, tipi rings, bison wallows. They say the land swarmed with antelope, mule deer, elk, wolves, coyotes, bighorn sheep, prairie dogs, black and grizzly bear, bobcat, prairie chickens, ferruginous hawks, sage grouse, snow geese." He puts his head in his hands. "I don't know what it means, but it sounds beautiful."
"What happened?"
"This." He gestured with his hand across the urban skyline.
"And what about their singing?"
"Ah, the fools, they deny the whole thing - they say I am hearing things."
"I couldn't hear you - the truck -"
"Exactly." He rubs his forehead. "Well, now it doesn't sound the same."
"It sounds the same to me."
"No, I mean the hammering - "
"Too loud." The truck idles at the stoplight.
"Right. About two months ago I noticed that each hammer had a distinct sound. Then I noticed that each hammer would take its turn pounding. Then I noticed that they seemed to be hammering in response to each other, like Morse Code. Then, about three weeks ago, they developed a rhythm, a sort of samba, at times even a bossa nova. This has gone on ever since. Today, I swear, they were playing 'Chega de Saudade'."
His face brightens and he begins to hum the tune. I look out the window and see a man pounding on his car horn. Lars stops singing and the man stops honking. He looks at the man in the car and the man in the car looks in the direction of a police car which slides into a telephone pole, setting off its siren. Lars mutters the last lines:
I do not want this thing anymore
Of you living without me
Let us quit this thing
Of you living without me
His face begins to sag again. I ask, "So have they found anything?"
"Have you heard a word I have been saying? They found samba, music, harmony."
"But have you been down to see them?"
"Sure."
"And what do they say?"
"Not much, just a lot of talk about the landscape before the city came along."
"What have they found?"
His face darkens. "They say this was once a savanna - open woodlands with oak, ash, juniper and elm and interspersed prairie with lazy creeks beneath big cottonwood trees. They found lots of bison bones, plano and folsom points, tipi rings, bison wallows. They say the land swarmed with antelope, mule deer, elk, wolves, coyotes, bighorn sheep, prairie dogs, black and grizzly bear, bobcat, prairie chickens, ferruginous hawks, sage grouse, snow geese." He puts his head in his hands. "I don't know what it means, but it sounds beautiful."
"What happened?"
"This." He gestured with his hand across the urban skyline.
"And what about their singing?"
"Ah, the fools, they deny the whole thing - they say I am hearing things."
