Reminiscing about this instance in the Warden’s office, Bunnu couldn’t help but realize that there was something about Makhan Singh’s atmosphere that was similar to that of the sales beast that day on the scrap iron dunes. Despite his deferential manner and self-deprecating, whiny tone—which appeared to be some method of lulling the Mark into a false sense of security and, thus, rendering him open to suggestion—Makhan Singh seemed to possess, beneath it all, an immutable sense of self-assurance, but in addition to that, the look of a man ensnared by what he perceived to be his own Duty. A Duty that effervesced inside of him impatiently, dry at the mouth, shaking feverishly, and holding its breath in anticipation for—not his action, but in fact—the fruits of his actions, however distant these may have been. The goal was to satiate its thirst in as few moves as possible, instilling each action with an almost implied necessity for having a motive by which it must exist, which is to say that no action was to be wasted for anything, but only for that which was rooted in some definable and clear-cut purpose—whether it be one’s financial stability, freedom from one’s burdens, or even the ability to allow the world to benefit greatly from the severity of one’s humble opinions. Every action had to be a step in some direction and there could be no dillydallying, for Duty bubbling in the bloodstream for too long brought with it a kind of sickness-
“Mr. Bunnu?”
- from which it was difficult to recover. Neither could there be any reconsideration, for the values to which one has sworn were unassailable and beyond the powers of one individual to reassess. And so, Duty, once instilled, must be allowed to carry on unabated, diverting sustenance away from other aspects of one’s character—driving them to a weakened state, brow-beaten by circumstances beyond their immediate control and relegated to their own downtrodden acquiescence to the bravado of the Parasitic Superego, and, as such, cognizant of their growing superfluity. It was the essence of Duty that Bunnu could understand in virtue, but the declaration of one’s allegiance to it that he failed to comprehend. He had, after all, always found it difficult to guide his own actions with principles, as he could never find one that he was truly satisfied with, nor could he form his own, as anything that he might consider meaningful and concrete and relevant would inevitably change as it fell victim to his doubts. Thus, it was his lack of assurance that, paradoxically, often served to be a source of strength for him, as he could find no lasting truth that-
“MR. BUNNU!”
Bunnu looked up to see the Warden staring at him with a smile. He was now holding Bunnu’s file. “Got away from us for a moment, did we? Yes…yes…your file says that you have a habit of doing so.” The Warden shook his head with a smile as he perused the file. “Well, Mr. Bunnu, we are a curiosity, indeed! An embodiment of Curiosity, perhaps. It seems that you generated quite a bit of buzz for those first couple of years you were here. Never emerged from that cell of yours for a long, long time until, one night, when you awoke the whole floor with your incessant screaming. The other inmates couldn’t help but feel a little gratified by your outburst, but all the same, disappointed by your humanity, for they had built you up in their stories and in their own minds to be something far different. At times, a silent, but noble avenger. At others, a sleeping monster. On the whole, a formless and faceless entity with an auspicious fate beyond the abilities of the mind to project. Talk of you took on the air of a local legend. But then, you emerged from your cell. Well…you were dragged from your cell, really. And everybody was again abuzz, as though waiting for you to speak. But you didn’t. In fact, I reckon you haven’t spoken once since you’ve come here. And for that fact alone, you still somehow remain a mystery to us.
“And the stories and the theories about you continue to circulate. One wouldn’t normally call these men romantic idealists, but I suppose when you have nothing left to look forward to, you need something to keep you going. You have become that silent, lingering hope. You, Bunnu, with that magnanimous destiny, have been forged by our collective desperation into the anointed guardian from the devils that taunt us. And so, it should be no surprise that the inmates have taken an interest in you. And not just the inmates, as individuals, but even as factions. Every one of the factions, including that of Makhan Singh over here, the Morellan Lady Fuggiebirds. They are very curious about what makes you tick. And they want in on the ground floor of whatever it is you have going for you.
“And through all this…it seems you…you, too, have a curious nature about you. You scrutinize them all, observe them, make your judgments, and walk away, saying nothing. But I assure you, good sir, they feel themselves being scrutinized…but they don’t mind it. They see you as a prospective customer, merely inspecting their wares.
“This being said, we must still, for the sake of fairness and equality, treat you as a regular inmate, regardless of what our hearts tell us. I’m sure you can understand why this has to be done. And so, I must bring up one matter which has been of some concern to the administration—and a point, mind you, that is far from being insignificant—and that is your asexual nature. You have not, to anyone’s knowledge, engaged in one sexual act, masturbatory or otherwise, since you arrived here. Granted you had two years on your own and, surely, you must have jiggled the knob now and again, but there’s no way for any of us to know that and, thus, it hasn’t been noted in your records. As a veteran of numerous administrations, I can tell you that this sort of behavior is abnormal, regardless of who is calling the shots.
“Embodiment of Hope, Damnation or otherwise: You are out of play! In the reality of the prison environment, power roles are distinct and must saturate every aspect of existence. To exist without having a bitch, being a bitch to someone else, much less being one’s own bitch creates an obstruction in the dynamic ebb and flow of events to the extent that one degrades to the equivalent of a null Being—a kind of stationary rock or land formation, around which Flow must be diverted.
“Now, what I’m about to say may sound a little callous…and I want to make it clear to you that it comes only out of Duty and not as a result of Free Will, so I ask that you not use your mystical powers against me. What I have to say is this: the other men in this facility have a great admiration for you. Perhaps their admiration is rooted in something that is beyond your control…and yes, maybe it is not truly you that they admire, but an idealized representation of you. Either way, don’t you think you owe it to them to humor them just a little bit? Would it really, honestly, kill you to take on the characteristics of that role circumscribed for you by their expectations? Is it so bad to be as an actor and take on a part, knowing full well that it will give so many people the joy they so richly deserve? Just acting, mind you! Not too much to ask, right? But no…you don’t want to cater to their fantasies, because you have your pride. Why…why do you seek to deprive them of their happiness? Are you that selfish? That much of an ingrate that you don’t care about morale? Don’t you know what effect you have on other people? No doubt my saying so upsets you, but naturally that is because you are so stubborn. But I have something else to say on top of that, so I must insist that you be patient with me. And it is this: I am told that you are, in fact, quite capable of speaking…and not only that, but that you have actually engaged in real conversations on numerous occasions before coming to this facility.”
“Noooo…” cried Makhan Singh in disbelief.
The Warden nodded, as though he himself were grappling with a similar sense of doubt, “Please don’t get angry! Now…you may not remember that time anymore. It may seem like a distant memory or even a dream to you. But your file alleges that that time did once, in fact, exist. It also alleges that you were related—not by blood, but by circumstance—to a Legal Non-Entity by the name of O.”
“O., the reclusive tycoon?” Makhan Singh gasped, shocked by this bit of news. He had now taken a seat on the toilet seat next to the Warden’s desk. “I must say, Mr. Bunnu, I always knew that there was somethin
g interesting about you. Well…we all did! But I never imagined that you would be related to a celebrity, too!”
The Warden ignored Makhan Singh and continued, “I don’t know if what the file says is true, Mr. Bunnu. But if it is, could it be that you are seeking to mimic the behaviors of this O. and are, thus, shutting off your responses to the outside world?” The Warden shrugged, “Now, to be clear, this is just a theory and I don’t want you to get upset that I’ve said this. After all, I have never met this Legal Non-Entity and have no basis from which I can draw a comparison between its absence of response and your own. Regardless of whether I’m right or wrong, though, I would be remiss in the performance of my duties if I didn’t tell you that the administration seems to feel that it’s a terribly lonely way to be. But then, some people can’t help it…and perhaps you are the same.”
“He is a very good listener!” Makhan Singh remarked with a smile.
“Yes…” the Warden said with a frown. “That I’m sure he is. Well, Mr. Bunnu, as you know, my options are limited. The facility has a very liberal take on rehabilitation and I can’t actually force you to do anything you don’t want to. This same principle extends both to talking and to fucking. But I can encourage you to socialize with the others more actively. You have a dour way about you that I think can easily be remedied, so long as you are willing to make the effort to interact and make the best of your situation. We haven’t seen that so far. What you seem to be doing is shutting down: which some might construe to be both weak and defeatist. Not to say that I see it that way, mind you! The administration seems to be under the impression that you are depressed. I don’t know you well enough to know whether or not this is truly the case and certainly your silence does nothing to prove or disprove any such claims. Anyway, if that’s the way you choose to be, then you must continue to suffer in silence. And that must truly be a fate worse than anything anyone external could ever wreak upon you.”
“So, what’ll you have us do, then?” Makhan Singh inquired. “What’s your judgment on the matter?”
“Like I said before, there’s not much I can do. You should be allowed to approach him and he should be allowed to withdraw. And you are similarly allowed to react irrationally and violently. We do not discourage any of these behaviors and we certainly can’t enforce repercussions for them. It would be hypocritical. So, I ask you both to consider the consequences of your actions and proceed with discretion from there…but not with too much discretion. I think that’s about all I can do for you. That being said, that’ll be all gentlemen.”
Ways Out