Excerpts from
Harmless Tales
By Villy Sørensen
Duo
I came to think that people would be going home now that the Truth Congress was over; many, like me, had a long way to go, and they might be tempted to steal an unlocked cycle. And as I approached the tree my bike was propped up against, I saw a white-clad person bending over it as if about to break open the lock. I ran towards it, intending to strike the thief manfully on the shoulder and expose him; but even while my hand was in motion, he turned round.
"Duo!"
He stood there, smiling his sad and apologetic smile, perhaps because he had wanted to steal the bicycle, perhaps because he was unable to conceal his stunted forelimbs from which the blood still dripped.
"Don´t call me Duo," he said, slowly and clearly, in a shrill voice. "The front half has made off with the whole name. I have no right to reproach him now he is no longer me, but I had imagined we could have shared the name. That he would be content with "Du", while I could be "O", or maybe "Zero". Now I´m just nothing, but maybe that amounts to the same thing."
"It was you who stood behind, "I stammered, and my eyes were just as afraid of his face as my fingertips had been the day before. But it smiled just as beseechingly as the foremost one, and apart from the arms the two of them were exactly alike.
"What am I to do about my suddenly being created at my age - without name, without parents, without country, without arms. May I ride with you?"
I knew that my bike couldn´t carry us both, for it had lost some air and I hadn´t a pump. And yet I would have preferred to say yes - but in order to clear my throat I had to speak harshly, and who would dare to say yes in a harsh voice?
"Duo - you couldn´t possibly hold on," I said. "Let me accompany you to the hospital from here as usual, so that you can have your arms bandaged."
"They dressed me like a corpse and carried me away in secret so that the one in front shouldn"t see me and grieve over my death. For how would he then have been able to say such beautiful words? May I ride with you anyway?"
"Yes," I said, "to the hospital."
"They will be horrified to see me, but it is written that the horrifying is amusing when it is harmless. The circus may have a use for a mysterious creature with no arms who can throw shining knives."
"O," I shouted, for I had gained control of my voice. "You are not well. Come with me to the hospital - we´ll cycle on as soon as you recover!"
I stepped forward to lay a guiding hand on his shoulder, but he stepped backward, standing there with his bleeding forelimbs raised against me; and his sorrowful smile nearly drove me to despair. I felt again that strange tenderness - it seemed even stranger and more tender now; it became an intolerable, piercing agony in my breast, as if someone were cutting into my heart. I dared no longer meet his smile, for I no longer knew it, and my gaze sank giddily onto my own breast.
I had a knife in my heart - only its shining handle was visible. He turned his back on me and walked off, cautiously and stiffly, as if he found it difficult to keep his balance.
I dared not pull out the knife. It was probable that all my lifeblood would have followed after.
From: Villy Sørensen: Harmless Tales
Norvik Press, 1991
Translated by Paula Hostrup-Jessen
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