A Naked Singularity: A Novel (79 page)

This was interesting enough at a time when many philosophers occupied themselves, at least partly, with these kinds of purported classifications of different types of knowledge and mental operations: such as what is known
a priori
, meaning instinctually and without reliance on our senses including, for example, the fact that I exist or that 1+1 = 2, and what we know merely as a function of language (e.g. that the proposition
bachelors are unmarried
is always true); but the nicer part was where Hume, while acknowledging that we are of course justified in drawing conclusions like the above one about the sun, indicated that he was unable to provide any real reason why we should draw such conclusions. Specifically, it is certainly not
necessarily
true that the sun will rise each morning (contrast
I exist
or
bachelors are single
which are necessarily true) as we can imagine a contrary state of affairs without internal contradiction. Moreover, the fact that the sun will rise or that a ball in a certain state will fall cannot be demonstrably and conclusively proven for the simple reason that no matter how many times or how consistently one event follows another there is simply no
proof
that it will do so the next time nor by extension any good reason for claiming to
know
that it will. In other words, we can in some sense imagine a situation where the ten-thousandth time a bowling ball is released it does not drop. Therefore we can never conclusively prove that a ball will drop merely by repeatedly dropping one and this is true regardless of the number of times we do so. So in skeptical sum, we have this whole body of knowledge that we can directly attribute to the field of cause and effect but when closely examined it appears that the human perception of a causal relationship is a mere psychological phenomenon and as such not built on the strongest of foundations and certainly not on anything resembling indisputable knowledge.

I thought of this Hume bastard that night when I got in my car and turned the key, an action I had taken countless times and which action had not once failed to be followed by the sound and feel of the attached car starting. But this time, when it finally counted, I heard and felt nothing in response no matter how often and desperately I made the violent twisting motion. I called Dane:

“What’s up?” he said.

“Fucking car won’t start, the fuck,” I said

“Where are you?” he said.

“At a phone a block from it,” I said

“Well okay this is why we gave ourselves several extra hours. Find some other way to get there,” he said.

“Like?” I said.

“Like this is New York. Subway? Cab? Need I continue?” he said.

“Oh yeah? And when we walk out of there with hundred pound bags?” I said.

“Right. Can you get another car? Borrow one?” he said.

“Who has a car but me? This is goddamn New York remember?” I said.

“Can you get the irredeemable prick started?” he said.

“Probably but that’s beside the point,” I said.

“How’s that?” he said.

“Well if this whole thing was about removing the element of chance do you think it’s advisable to at a critical juncture rely on a car that a mere hours before failed to deliver,” I said.

“I hear you but we might have no choice. What do you think’s the problem with that piece of shit anyway?” he said.

“I think it’s bad,” I said. “The battery’s completely dead but there’s no external explanation I can point to, I didn’t leave the lights on or anything. That means probably something like the starter or the alternator, which means I can fix or re-juice the battery right now, shit I can buy a brand new one and install it in the seven hours we have, but that won’t mean that when we jump in this bastard at three-twenty it’ll definitely start and that’s a fucking frightening state of affairs because what do we do then?”

“It’s not ideal I’ll admit that, but the important thing is this: there’s nothing we could have done differently. We addressed this issue. The car had never done this before, all systems were go in that area. What could we have done differently? We didn’t have limitless time, we had to spend our time where it was most likely to be needed. I think everything to this point has still been done perfectly. Things like this just happen sometimes and are beyond the control of mere mortals. There’s a reason
chance
is a word, it describes an actual phenomena that’s all. Get the thing started and we’ll take our chances. We will not fail just because of this,” he said.

“What the fuck are you talking about? I know I’m not to blame for this worthless motherfucker not starting and that consoles me not a bit. The question is what do we do about it. Taking our chances as you call it is not high on my list of responses,” I said.

“So what do you want to do? You’ve thought about it,” he said.

“I think we have to at least consider canceling the whole thing,” I said.

“No this is a minor thing,” he said.

“How is it minor?” I said. “If those guys are looking for us when we get to the car and it won’t start what do you suggest we do then?”

“I’m not sure but we have several hours to decide, we can leave the bags in the locked trunk and leave by subway then return tomorrow with a new battery,” he said. “I don’t know but I do know that canceling is extreme and unwarranted.”

“Okay I have to go,” I said.

“Where?” he said.

“There’s a twenty-four-hour garage near here, I’ll call you when I’m done,” I said.

“How long?” he said.

“Hour, hour-and-a-half,” I said.

“This might fuck with the parking situation too,” he said.

“It might, I’ll call you,” I said.

I pulled the battery out, stripping my hands raw in the process. I locked each of the car’s four doors then slammed mine closed. I kicked the rear bumper of the car as I walked by and when a lady tried to look at my face I looked away. I felt the cold for the first time that night and it got inside me shaking me involuntarily. I put the battery down then pulled my arms out of their sleeves and hugged my chest. I was shaking and sweating. When I stopped I put my arms back in my sleeves grabbed the battery and went towards the subway. There was no one at the station. The guy who ran the newsstand had already pulled down the metal door. I took the elevator down by myself. It was dark and quiet.

I was the only one in the subway car. After two stops I got out. At that station there was no elevator. You had to walk. As I neared the top of the stairs I made sure to fasten every last button I had. Then I pulled my hands up into the sleeves and cradled the battery in my hands using the ends of the sleeves as makeshift gloves.

When I crossed the threshold of the garage a soft bell sounded and a guy slid out from under a car just like the cliché. He wanted to know what the problem was and I told him. He hooked the battery up to that machine they have and it barely registered. He said it would take an hour to get it fully juiced. I told him I didn’t have an hour and did he have any new batteries he could sell me.

“I do. Well I have basically new ones I could sell you,” he said. “Of course do you know it’s not your starter or your alternator? Because for a battery to be this dead.”

“Give me a new one,” I said.

He pulled one off a shelf

“I know it doesn’t look new,” he said. “But it is, it’s never been in a car.”

“Do you have any that look new in addition to being new?” I said.

“No, but look I’ll hook it up and show you.” He quickly clasped a clamp on each of the batteries terminals then pointed to the display as the needle shot up. “See?” he said.

“You have any others?” I said.

“This is the only new one,” he said.

“How much?” I said.

He looked up at the ceiling and told me.

“How much if I leave you this one?” I said.

“I’ll give you five for that one,” he said.

“No,” I said. “Charge it up I’ll get it tomorrow, and give me the other one too.”

I put my hands back into my sleeves and cradled the
new
battery. I walked out. When a long blue car with a miniature regal headdress on the dash approached and our eyes met I yelled at him to stop. He did and I got in. I told him where I was going and asked him how much. I knew he couldn’t answer.

“Whatever you usually pay,” he said looking at the rearview mirror.

The car took longer than the subway had. I gave him a ten and got out five feet from my car.

I popped the hood. No one was around. There was little light where I stood. I dropped the battery into place. The connecting cables were loose and with some effort I was able to pop them into place with just my hands. I got in the car and put the key in the ignition. I lay my forehead on the steering wheel and tapped its sides with my hands. I looked up and turned the key forward. After a brief hesitation, the car started. I called Dane:

“Okay it started,” I said.

“They charged it?” he said.

“No,” I said.

“You got a new one,” he said.

“Sort of,” I said.

“You feel confident we can rely on the car?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“It’s getting late and we need a parking spot,” he said.

“I know,” I said

“So we’ll proceed with the plan as if this never happened?” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“See you there,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

I took the Brooklyn Bridge to the FDR. Wherever I went I hit traffic. It was almost eleven on a Tuesday night. I screamed that out.

I got off at the 96th Street exit and headed westbound. I made a right onto Second Avenue and traveled the twenty-six blocks northbound to 122nd Streetwhere I made a right. As I drove up to the spot, I saw what I thought were a lot of the same people from the night before. They would look at me as my car passed then look right back at the people they were with.

The parking spot I wanted was taken as were the ones directly in front and behind it. It was almost midnight. From the car I could see the back of 402 where we would enter.

I took a spot on the other side of the street about twenty yards back and waited for the good spot to open up. I turned on the radio and put in a CD. The Kreutzer Sonata. The presto first movement filled the car. I breathed in and the warm air entered my lungs then somehow spread out through my veins to pulsate just under my skin and raise it into bumps. I had to change discs. The twenty-four caprices of Niccolo Paganini as performed by Alexander Markov. The volume knob was as high as it could go. My heart slowed. I reached down with my left hand and pulled the lever. The seat reclined and I closed my eyes.

When the CD ended it went right to the radio and an ad for something called Relaxacil. The sudden noise startled me and I sat up. The parking spot was open. It was after one. I turned off the radio and pulled out. There were less people on the street then. I pulled into the spot and heard a loud car horn. Then a giant car with fins pulled up alongside mine. The driver was yelling at me. The passenger leaned forward and yelled too. He balled his hand into a fist and pointed. The driver threw something in my direction and wondered why I didn’t get out of the car.

I got out of the car and walked toward them. It was almost one-thirty. There was no one else around. I told them that if we got into a fight, the three of us, it was
possible
the two of them would emerge victorious and maybe even kill me but that it was
certain
that one of them would lose an eye. I explained to them that if we engaged in a fight I would dedicate myself almost exclusively to achieving the removal of one of their eyeballs. I said that I would do this with little consideration for my own safety or the ultimate result of our battle and I added that once I took that tack I would almost certainly achieve my goal because that was the type of person I was. I told them I thought that whichever of them lost an eye would later feel the whole thing had been a bad idea regardless of my condition. Neither of them got out of the car. They drove away yelling.

I was finished with the car. I put the key in my front pocket where it couldn’t be misplaced and walked to a nearby supermarket. Except for the people working I was the only one there. I walked down every aisle grabbing things and stacking them in my hands because I had not taken a basket from the front. I went to the cashier and paid for a large bag of candy and a magazine. I put everything else back.

I bought a one dollar scratch-off lottery ticket at the register and scratched it off with a dime I had received as change. I won a free ticket. When I scratched the free ticket I won five dollars. I started to leave then went back and bought five more tickets with my winnings. The last one of the five made me a two dollar winner so I bought two more. I only opened one of these and it too was a winner entitling me to another free ticket. I placed the winning ticket on the counter told the girl to keep it and split.

I sat on a bus stop bench and read my magazine. I threw the candy away. The bus schedule was taped to a post. Every time it said a bus would appear one did, precisely as predicted. Then the bus would open its mouth and release someone in sibilant exhale. Four times this happened then I saw it was two-twenty. I got up and went to the bodega. A half a block from the bodega I saw Dane walking towards me. He was the same distance to the store but from the opposite end. We met at the door. We spoke then walked in. It was two-thirty.

Dane went right over to the fridge on the side. He slid the door open and pulled out a can. He turned towards me spun the can in his hands and showed me its face. It was a yellow can with brown letters. A Yoohoo.

“I thought you were kidding about that,” I said.

“Fuck no,” he said. “I love Yoo-hoo, reminds me of being a kid. The key is to not shake the bottle or in any way disturb the chocolate sediment contained therein. What are you getting?”

I didn’t get anything. I had rolled the magazine into a tube and was smacking it against my right thigh. We walked out.

On the corner of 1st Avenue and 123rd Street we made a left and walked toward the front of 402 from the same side of the street. Dane looked skyward as we walked.