Read Online Kleinzeit by Russell Hoban - Free Book Online Page B

you.’
    Dr Pink’s voice had become a long and massive Sunday afternoon through which Kleinzeit drowsed like a fly in amber. At the end of his remarks it was Monday morning, a change not necessarily for the better. Kleinzeit felt breathless and as if everything was piling up inside him from behind while at the same time he was quite unable to move forward to get away from it. It’s marvellous the way Dr Pink knows exactly how it feels, he thought. I wish I’d never met him. God knows what’ll come into his head next and I’ll feel it.
    I
don’t
know, said God. I’m not a doctor. This is between you and Pink. Kleinzeit couldn’t hear him.
    ‘There’s a good deal to be said on both sides of the question, I think,’ said Kleinzeit to Dr Pink. But all the doctors had gone. The curtains around his bed had been pushed back. ‘His pyjama top was on again. He checked the sky for aeroplanes. Nothing.
    ‘Purgery,’ said a voice.
    Well of course that’s one way of looking at it, thought Kleinzeit. Or had the voice said ‘Perjury’?
    ‘Surgery,’ said the voice of a lady with a large firm bosom at his bedside. ‘If you’ll just fill in this form we can proceed with surgery.’
    Kleinzeit read the form:
    I, the undesigned, hereby authorize Hospital to proceed with the work indicated: Hypotenectomy, Asymptoctomy, Strettoctomy
    I understand that while first quality materials and equipment will be used and every effort made to give satisfaction, Hospital can take no responsibility in the event of death or other mishap.
    Person to be notified, etc.
    ‘ “Undesigned”,’ said Kleinzeit. ‘That may be your opinion, but I’m God’s handiwork just as much as anyone else.’ His voice broke on the last word. ‘Else,’ he said again as baritonally as possible.
    ‘My goodness,’ said the lady, ‘nobody said you weren’t, I’m sure.’
    Kleinzeit showed her the form, pointed to the word.
    ‘Undersigned,’ she said.
    ‘That’s not what’s printed there,’ said Kleinzeit.
    ‘Dear me,’ said the lady. ‘You’re right, they’ve left out the r. It’s meant to be “undersigned”, you know. Legal, like.’ Her large firm bosom shelved at a good angle for crying on. Kleinzeit did not cry.
    ‘I’d like to think about this for a bit before I sign it,’ he said.
    ‘Please yourself, luv,’ said the bosom lady, and returned to the Administration Office.
    Well? said Kleinzeit to Hospital.
    Hospital said nothing, had no quips and cranks and wanton wiles. Hospital huge, bigger than any sky, grey-faced, stony-faced in the rough clothes of the prison, the madhouse, Tom o’Bedlam. Hospital waiting, treading its bedlam round in thick boots. Hospital mute, gigantic, with thick empty hands.

Now Playing
    Kleinzeit standing at the bottom of the fire stairs with the glockenspiel. Suddenly he couldn’t think what time of year it was.
    What’s the difference, said the traffic sounds, the sky, the footsteps on the pavement. Winter is always either just ahead or just behind.
    Kleinzeit said nothing, wound his self-winding watch that no longer wound itself. The sky was an even grey, could have been morning or evening. I happen to know it’s just after lunch, said Kleinzeit.
    Sister from a distance in the tight trouser-suit, looking worried, the helmet in a carrier-bag. Sister close, face cold like an apple. Autumn, thought Kleinzeit. Winter soon.
    ‘You know about the Shackleton-Planck results?’ he said.
    Sister nodded. Kleinzeit smiled, shrugged. Sister smiled and shrugged back.
    They went into the Underground, took a train, got off at the station where each of them had spoken to Redbeard. With the glockenspiel and the helmet they walked through the corridors as in a dream in which they were naked and nobody paid attention.
    They stopped in front of a film poster advertising BETWEEN and THE TURNOVER. ‘I don’t know if this is a good station,’ said Kleinzeit, thinking of Redbeard, ‘but it seems to be the place I