Читать книгу Adam in Eden - Carlos Fuentes - Страница 7

Chapter 2

Again a comet shoots across the sky. I am paralyzed with doubt. Is the bright heavenly body preceded by its own light or does it merely introduce the light? Does the light mark the beginning or the end? Does it presage birth or death? I believe the sun, the greater celestial object, determines whether the comet is a before or after. In other words: the sun is the master of the game; the comets are specks, chorus members, the extras of the universe. And yet, we are so accustomed to the sun that we only notice its absence, its eclipse. We think about the sun when we do not see the sun. Comets, though, are like launched rays of solid sunlight, emissary beings, ancillaries to the sun, and in spite of everything, proof of the existence of the sun: without servants, there is no master. A master needs servants to prove his own existence. I ought to know. As I am a modern lawyer and businessman who can vouch for my whereabouts five times a week (Saturday and Sunday being holidays), taking my place at the head of the conference table, my subordinated subordinates spaced before me, even if I behave like a modern boss, in a non-arbitrary way, I am like a sun that wants to give warmth but not to burn. And in spite of everything, is it not true that I am the boss only because they agree I am? Do the comets make us think about the sun? Do the former give meaning to the latter? I don’t know if every man in my position thinks about these things. I rather doubt it. A powerful man takes his power for granted, as if he’d been born not naked but swaddled in richest fabrics, with not just a silver spoon in his mouth, but a golden crown upon his head. I look at my employees seated around the table, and I would like to ask them if I am their sun, or nobody’s son? Am I powerful on my own or because you, who could get a job anywhere, give me power? Would I lack power without you? Who is more powerful: you who give me power, or I who exercise it?

Today’s comet is only a comet because it is visible with the naked eye. How many celestial bodies circulate the heavens every day without our knowledge? Are we all bearded astrological bodies, preceded by light, or caudate bodies, succeeded by luminosity? Let’s say I was a comet, then what would my tail be like? Diffuse: branching out in different directions? Or horn-shaped: a corporate chairman with a curved tail? Unexpected or scheduled: a heavenly body, unique and unimaginable, until it appears, or a predictable and therefore boring comet, which is to say, not a lot of comet?

Time—for our purposes, this narrative—will tell.

Are Saturdays and Sundays really holidays? And is a holiday a day of rest, or just a busy shopping day?

I won’t say—or hope not to say—but presiding over the Board of Directors today, I allow myself the perk—willful, determined—of draping my leg over the chair’s armrest and swinging it absently. Let’s see who else dares?

And dare I explain to myself why I am successful?