VII

The Hater

SKIPPING TO AVOID BEING HIT WITH the cane, a man, looking sheepish, approached the owner, who was gazing off toward the retreating figure with a pensive expression, and said, "Excuse me. They told me that I should come here and speak to the doorman and take my chances. Is that all right?"

"You are looking for a room?"

"Well, no I wasn't actually. That is, I am, I guess. I mean, I wasn't really planning to come here quite this early, you know what I'm saying? and I didn't quite have time to, like, look into the matter. I mean I did, of course, but I kept putting it off, somehow, you know what I'm saying? and anyway, before I did more than just start with the brochures and things, I found myself on the plane over here, and so I, like, don't know my way around and--hell, I don't even know if this is the right place!"

"But you would like a room."

"But that's the point, you know what I'm saying? I didn't really have time to, like, book one, and so I don't even know if there's anything available, or what it'd be like, or anything, let alone the price, you understand what I mean? And from the looks out front here, I don't think I've, like, saved up enough to be able to afford it. I'm practically broke, in fact, if you want to know the truth."

"We certainly want to know the truth. I think we might be able to find something. We'll see."

"Um--can I, like, ask you something?"

"Of course."

". . . Well, I don't mean to be disrespectful or anything, you know what I'm saying? and when it comes to that it's none of my business, but it kind of, like, bothered me, and I'd just like to know--if it's all right with you. I mean, if you don't want to tell me, that's all right, because like I said it's really none of my business, but--Why did you turn that poor woman away?"

"You mean the blind woman?"

"Right. See, if you don't mind my saying so, it doesn't sound like the kind of thing I heard goes on over here, and it sort of, like, made me wonder whether I wound up in the wrong place, you know what I'm saying? and if I did, if there's any way I could, like, get up to the place I thought I was going to--or at least hoped I was going to, you know what I'm saying?"

"Actually," said the owner, "there isn't more than one place on this side of the ocean you crossed. It's what the people call one place or the other depending on how you take it."

"I don't get it."

"Well let me explain by answering the question you had about the woman. I offered her a room, and tried to get her to come and look at it--"

"Look at it?"

"Well yes, actually. Literally as well as figuratively. It was a beautiful room too, one of our best; and I'm sure she would have been just delighted with it if she'd come in and actually seen it. But she told me that she couldn't bear to be in the same house with me after all I'd done to her, and that she'd rather spend her time walking about in the darkness."

"Well did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Did you, like, do to her what she thought you did?"

"Yes I did, actually."

"Well then."

"But it's not quite so simple." said the owner. "You see, I consider that what I did was actually a benefit for her, and I'm convinced that if she had only come inside, she would have seen it that way too. I only did it, in fact, because I knew that when she finally got into her room, she wouldn't have wanted me to have done anything else. But there was no way I could persuade her to consider the possibility. So she decided she didn't want to come in."

"So you didn't turn her away, then. I mean, I always heard that it was the very devil to--sorry, I didn't mean that--that it was hard as hell to--sorry, I seem to have, like, got into a habit of speaking, but you know what I mean, that you'd be, like, standing there with a flaming sword or something, yelling at people in a voice loud enough to be heard all over the universe, and telling everybody all the horrible things a man did and so on, and then, like, banishing just about everyone into some pit somewhere where they'd be dancing around in fire and sulfur, you know what I'm saying? From what I heard, practically nobody ever made it in, and if you did, it was because you, like, beat yourself over the back and wore hairshirts and things and, like, had your hell before you ever got here. But that's not the way it is, you say?"

"Not really. We never turn anyone away. The ones who don't come in turn themselves away, because the house doesn't live up to their expectations."

"Not live up to their expectations! This place? What, is it, a dump inside?"

"No, it's just that some people have very high standards."

"I'll say they must! I mean, if this doesn't live up to their standards, then not even heaven itself--Oh."

"Precisely."

"That's really weird. I mean, it, like, boggles the mind!"

"The pit of fire and sulfur is inside their mind, you see; it's the high standards they've set for the way they ought to be treated. If we forced them to come in and live in the room they'd made for themselves, they'd be in even worse torment, because they can't bear to think that reality isn't what they'd like it to be."

"Well, what do you know! I can't get over it! I mean, how could anybody expect more? Than this? Hell, I never even thought that I'd get this far, and I'd, like, be happy just sleeping on the steps here!"

"I don't actually think you would, you know."

"Well, not if there's actually a room for me in there. I can't believe it! I mean, if you knew how up until just yesterday I spent running away from this place, I mean trying to forget that this country even existed, and just, like, laughing off any notion that there was this mansion in it--and especially that business of fire and sulfur. I mean, you can't, like, go around worrying about that all the time, can you? At least--well, you know what I'm saying?"

"I think I do. Yes, it took quite a while for what we were saying to get through to you, didn't it?"

"What you were saying?"

"The things you say you couldn't go around worrying about."

"Oh, that. You mean you were, like, sending messages to me all the time, or something?"

"We tried everything we could think of; but you were just too busy--forgive my saying it--hating other people."

"Yeah, well that's what occurred to me yesterday. I mean, when I had that pain in my chest the first time, it just, like, kind of came to me. I said to myself, 'What are you doing, you craphead?--'excuse the language, I keep forgetting where I am, but I said, 'What are you doing? What good does it do you if Harry or Sandra gets the shaft? I mean, so they get screwed, how does that help you at all, even if they'd screw you--sorry, I gotta clean up my mouth, don't I?--but you know what I'm saying, they'd--I don't know how to say it another way--if they got the chance. Like, I mean, it's bad enough the way it is for all of us, so why should I, like, pretend that it's easier for me if I make it worse for others, you know what I'm saying? And for what? Let 'em live their lives, what the hell--I mean what difference does it make?"

"That's why you're here, you know."

"Well, to tell the truth, when I felt that pain in my chest, I kind of had what you might call a glimmer of hope that it, like, might work if it wasn't too late, you know what I'm saying? But it probably was, if you know what I mean, but what the hell, whether it worked or not it was the truth anyway, and even if it didn't work, there was just no percentage, like, in making life miserable for people around me. God knows I worked hard enough at that most of my life!"

"Yes, I do."

"What? Oh. Right. I can't believe I'm actually talking to you yet. I mean, I still really can't believe you're actually real. I mean, I'm not dreaming, am I?"

"No, you're dead."

"Christ!"

"Yes?"

"Sorry. I'm sorry. But I mean, when you say it like that! I mean, how can you, like, deal with it?"

"Oh, you'll get used to it soon enough.

"And there's actually a room for me in there!"

"Well, I don't want to get your expectations up too high; it's a pretty small one, and it hasn't got much of a view. But there's a room, yes."

"I don't believe it!"

"You don't have to. I can show it to you."

"I mean, I believe you, but I can't believe it, you know what I'm saying? Just for that few minutes yesterday!"

"That, and a couple of other things. Not many, I'll admit. But you didn't seem to want anything to do with anything in this direction. But why don't I show you to your room?"

As they went inside, the young man remarked about the heat in the floor, which the owner explained to him. He did not seem overly concerned about it, however, because he was so intrigued with the luxury he found inside. He kept exclaiming, "And this is going to be my house! I can't believe it!"

Finally, down a rather long and darkish corridor with a great many doors, they came to a room that was anything but prepossessing in comparison with the rest of the mansion. The owner opened the door, and they went inside.

"But it's real nice!" said the young man. "I mean, I was expecting something down in the basement looking out over the garbage cans or something, and here I've even got French doors that look like they go out into a garden."

"Yes, they do, in fact. I'm afraid that for now, you shouldn't try to draw the curtain or the light out there will be too much for you. But I suspect that you'll find enough to occupy yourself with in here meanwhile."

"What's this map on the wall here?"

"That's one of the things I thought you'd be interested in. It's your life."

"It looks like one of those road maps you get in the auto clubs. It's even got a route highlighted."

"That's the road you actually took. The roads that branch off it show what would have happened to you if you had chosen a different path, or if something different had happened to you."

"Oh yeah. Right here near the beginning, for instance, is where I got scarlet fever and nearly died. Let's see . . . Man! It looks like if I hadn't got it, I'd have gone down here and caught AIDS when I was eighteen." He looked at the owner. "Would I really?"

"Well, there are, as you can see, other possibilities down that path. But first of all, we knew that that was what in fact would have happened, and secondly most of the other possibilities would have involved something worse not only for you but for the people you came in contact with."

"You had it, like, all figured out to the last detail? I mean, not only what did happen, but what would have happened if it didn't?"

"That's right."

"And you drove me down this particular path--"

"Now wait, that's not really true. We knew which turning you'd take, and we helped you make the decision; but it was always yours. What we did, you see, was rearrange the map based on the decisions we knew you'd take, so that you'd ultimately wind up here and have a chance to pick your room. But as you can see from the blind woman, whether you actually take the room depends on you. We'll help, but what the decision is going to be is always up to you."

"I don't understand it."

"Fortunately, you don't have to. But notice how many times you turned away from what would have given you a magnificent apartment here."

The young man looked in some chagrin at the map. "Man! I was pretty damn stupid, wasn't I?"

"I guess you could say that."

"But I made it! I can't believe it! But say--one of the things I, like, wondered this morning when they took me into the emergency room, and I knew I was going to die. Why then? I mean, I'm a young guy, and young guys don't get heart attacks."

"Look at the map."

The route highlighted ended in the middle of the map, but roads still branched off into the unreal future. He began following some of them. "So if I hadn't had the heart pain yesterday, then I wouldn't have realized what I was doing to myself and the other people and turned away from it; and so if I went down this way--Jesus!"

"Yes?"

"Oh. Sorry. Man! That way's no good. What about this one? . . . Chri--I mean, that's even worse!"

"Actually," said the owner, "we saw that you had boxed yourself into a position where every path into the future led to complete disaster. So we decided that, all things considered, it was better to cut your life on earth short."

"This is, like fascinating, you know what I'm saying? I can see why every single thing happened to me. It was all to get me here, wasn't it?"

"Well, it wasn't all to get you here. All that time you were shaping who it was you'd be when you got here. For instance, if you'd taken this road down here that you considered at one time, you would have become a world-famous biologist who discovered a cure for AIDS."

The man thought for a minute and said, "Does somebody else discover it?"

"That particular one? No. No, I'm afraid that particular item of biological knowledge will never get into human consciousness."

"I blew it, then, didn't I?"

"From the point of view of this information, I think you could say you did. But it's your life. However, don't worry about it; we manage to arrange things for other people just as we arranged your map depending on what you actually chose."

"So you do have it all figured out. I mean, there were so many things that happened that just plain didn't make sense at the time--and I mean to nobody--that you just, like, take it for granted that things don't make sense, and what the hell, you've got a life to live, you know what I'm saying? and all the time it does make sense. But I guess you have to get over here before you can see it."

"Generally. Some people spot it before they get here."

"What are all these pictures of other rooms hanging on the wall?"

"Those are the rooms prepared for people your life has touched."

"Yeah? For real? Whose is this big one, for instance, with that real neat balcony looking over--what is it, a lake?"

"That one belongs to Sandra."

"Sandra? You mean Sandra Phillips? That Sandra?"

"Yes, that one."

"But . . . But I hated her! I mean, you wouldn't believe what I did to her! And that's nothing compared to what I wanted to do! If I could've gotten away with it, I'd have killed her!"

"That's true. And if you look back at the map, you'll find that if you had lived five more years, and if she had stayed in Chicago, you would have."

The young man traced the route with his finger, "And I didn't get away with it, did I? I mean I wouldn't have. Here's me in prison. Man! And look at what happens in there! Thank God I missed that!"

"You're welcome."

"What? Oh, that's right, isn't it? I mean, please don't think I'm not grateful or nothing, but, like, all this is so new to me."

"I understand."

"I mean, thanks a lot. An awful lot."

"As I said, you're perfectly welcome."

"You know, I feel funny, like I should be kneeling down and kissing the floor in front of you or something, and here you are, like, just a guy, you know what I'm saying?"

"We try to be friends with the people who live here. If you can put up with me and my ways, I can put up with you and yours."

"I can't believe it! . . . And so that's Sandra's room. You know, that's really neat; it's such a nice room--looks real comfortable. I'm glad she's got something like that to look forward to, instead of what I did to her."

"Yes, well do you see that balcony and that view?" asked the owner.

"Yeah, it's really beautiful. Maybe the best thing about the room."

"That's what you gave her."

"Me?" his mouth dropped in astonishment.

"Your hatred. You see, we don't allow anything but good over here; and we happen to know that this is what would please her more than anything else; she has always longed for a room with a view over a lake and a balcony to sit on so that she can contemplate it. But she couldn't have got it simply by her own efforts, and so we let your hatred build it for her."

"--I can't believe it! That's incredible! It almost makes it worth while hating her! --I mean, I don't mean that the way it sounds, but--you know what I'm saying?"

"Well, we do the best we can with what we have. But I should tell you that what she has is nothing in comparison to what she would have had if you had loved her."

"Oh. . . . So I blew it again, right?"

"Not that it matters. What is is what it is. You seem to be interested in what could have been if things weren't the way they are; and we don't see any reason for not satisfying that curiosity. But in the last analysis, your life here is what you wanted your life to be, and that goes for anyone else who gets here."

"Is Sandra going to be here soon?

"That's not for me to tell you," said the owner. "You'll find out for yourself when the time comes."

"I mean, will I meet her? I mean, I don't know what I could say, you know what I'm saying?"

"Well, if she decides to stay here, then you can be sure she won't take anything you'd say in a wrong sense. You'll find when you talk to people here that you know exactly what they're saying."

"You mean she might not stay?"

"That is totally up to her," answered the owner.

"But--but if she didn't, that'd be, like, really rotten."

"Look at it this way: if she decides not to stay, then it's because she'd feel happier somewhere else. You wouldn't want her to be less happy than she wanted to be, would you?"

" . . . I guess not."

"All the people in this country, whether they are in this house or not, have everything they are willing to receive. But no more."

"But look at me. I got more. A lot more."

"You have a great deal more than you deserve, that's true. But not more than you are willing to accept--provided, of course, you decide to stay."

"Provided! I mean, how could I not?"

"I am happy to hear that; and so, if I may say so, is everyone else living here. And so let me leave you to explore your room until the curtain is drawn back for you and you can see the garden. I'll meet you out there afterwards."