Page 87 - I Live in the Slums: Stories (The Margellos World Republic of Letters)

The loudspeaker blared again.
“In the spring of 1963, hundreds of bodies were floating in the artificial lake .
. .”
It was always like this: the first sentence was clear, but the rest of it was
indistinct.
He sensed that throngs of people had arrived at the theater. All the curtains
suddenly rose. When the dazzling stage lights shone on his face, he nearly

fainted.
“Look! It’s the swamp!”
“Oh, yes, it really is!”
“This is the way it really was in 1963!”
When Ayuan heard the audience members remarking about this, he tried hard
to remember what his life was like in 1963. He couldn’t open his eyes, and so—
in order not to fall—he had to sit motionless on the floor. His mouth began
moving, but he couldn’t be sure of what he said. It seemed to be related to 1963.
The audience fell silent.
From the loudspeaker came the gurgling of bubbles, as if accompanying his
words.
When he talked of bleeding, he tasted blood in his mouth.
“Piglets! My piglets—” Ayuan covered his eyes with his hands and shouted.
The stage lights went out, and Ayuan opened his eyes. The auditorium
contained only empty seats. A dim light shone on the right side of the wall.
Ayuan thought to himself, It’s over. The show is over for today. He slowly left

the stage from one side and walked toward the back door. It was as if he were
stepping in soft mud. From somewhere within him came a shout that shattered
his heart, “Piglets, piglets!”
When he reached the entrance, the two mountain people reappeared.
“Ayuan, have you said everything you had to say?” the older one asked.
“Pretty much. I did my best.”
“Good. I was afraid you hadn’t and that you’d regret it later.”
Ayuan was grateful to them, but he also wished they were somewhere else,
far away.
“Is this the place that was excavated?” Ayuan asked.
“When you were on the stage, didn’t you use your feet to check each place
you stood on?” the younger one asked.

“No. I didn’t have time. It happened too quickly.”
“Oh, I see. You couldn’t stay calm.”
With a wave of their hands, the mountain people parted from Ayuan, and then
disappeared in the crowds on the main road.
Ayuan headed absentmindedly toward his workplace. When he had almost