The Economy of Light Read Online Free PDF Page A

them my own age, been sent to the crematoriums just because they weren’t tall enough? I remembered when that happened: It was Yom Kippur, and I had to put stones in my shoes in order to gain a centimeter.) I passed by a door and opened it, hoping it was the office where I had been sent. But the room was empty, nothing but two long tables and high-backed wooden chairs. A high window covered with mesh let in a wan gray light. None of the ceiling lamps were turned on. But the far wall was covered with a taut white canvass, and attached to it with pins were eyes of every color. It was as if they were all staring at me. Condemning me for having arms and legs and a head, while they were dead. Forever staring outward onto one of Mengele’s bare walls.
    “Do you wish me to get you something?” Onca asked.
    “No,” I said, “but I want to know about your dream.” She looked uncomfortable, for she turned her head away; it was a subtle movement, but I had come to know her enough to understand her body language. “I’ve been dreaming about being on a boat with Genaro, too. What do you know about this doctor?”
    She shrugged and sat down in a chair near the bed, her back to the window. I had pulled the mosquito netting away, draping it behind the head post. “This you must ask Genaro.”
    “But I’m asking you first. Then if I decide to pursue it further, I can talk to Genaro. But he can be difficult to talk to, and there are some things I need to know.”
    “Okay, if I know something I will tell you.” She pulled her housedress around her, a nervous habit.
    “In this dream you had about me, you said you knew about a doctor who could make me well. Was that your dream or is it true that you know about a doctor?”
    “It is both. I had the dream, and I know about a doctor.”
    “Who is he?” I asked. “Where is he from?”
    She shook her head. “Genaro met this man a long time ago. He only told me so after my dream.”
    “What did he tell you?”
    “Genaro does not talk so easily, as you know that. But Genaro was very sick. The man helped him.”
    “Any doctor might have been able to do that?” I said.
    “He had febre . It had killed everyone where he was.”
    “Where was that?”
    She shrugged. “He says above Manaus in Aika territory.”
    The Aika were an Indian tribe, part of the Yąnomamö, the largest primitive group in the Amazon. Onca was Yąnomamö. Perhaps Genaro was too.
    “Were you with him then?” I asked.”
    “I told you, no. It happened before I knew him. What I know is from him and from the dream, that’s all, Meester, I swear that.”
    “How did Genaro get out to see this doctor when the others didn’t, when the others died.”
    “You have to ask him these things,” she said impatiently. She looked tired. Her eyes were swollen, but I had noticed that they’ve been like that for the past few days. “Genaro says this man is powerful like a sorcerer.”
    “And what makes you think I would know this man?” I asked.
    “I had the dream, which told me that. That’s how I know. I had the dream before Genaro told me about what happened to him. That’s how I know. The dream said this man could save you. Some of that was told to me by your own dream, I think.” As she talked, she became more agitated and upset. “You don’t want to try it, that’s okay, too. Everybody dies anyway, and if you go you’ll pay for it anyway. So will Genaro.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Just that. I don’t know. The fuck if I know,” and she turned her head away again, this time not so subtly.
    “The whole thing is crazy,” I said. “It’s crazy that I would even consider talking about it.”
    “Yes,” she said. “Crazy. Now I think I should be sleeping.” She stood up and walked to the door.
    “Onca?”
    “Yes, Meester?” Her bulk filled up the doorway, part of her in deep shadow like some great ship about to break away from its moorings.
    “A few nights ago I heard you scream.”
    She