HONOUR: Freedom means whatever you want it to. Freedom means freedom from something, doesn’t it? But what? From memories? Ever think we took take a picture, it’ll last longer to heart a bit too much? I’d say it’s better to misplace a mental note here and there, than to tally on end, file away, to then forget forever. Time is a corporate asset, you know that? Why would I remember something I have a picture of? How ridiculous. That’s not how any of that works at all.
You like magic? The finest trick is the one we use on ourselves, and the best way to keep a secret is by forgetting it altogether. You swallow the key. It’s not lost, we all know it’s right there. It’s the art of misdirection, to hide, to encode meaning in a mess of signs, an excess. It’s the very height of duplicity, to make someone mistake something, to be an open book but in hieroglyphics.
We just need to keep our hands busy. We can turn a page to make it look like we’re reading. You know what they say about idle hands. Whether the outcome is of any value is irrelevant when you’re doing it just to do it. We don’t even know what that word really means anymore.
Captain’s slog, the book of love is long and boring! Sure, I can make a file on you. A nice, thorough file with everything in it, everything I learn about you. Alphabetised, categorised, colour coded, labelled, tabulated, annotated; you know, all of it, everything. How sweet, a file on you, but for who? It’ll grow and grow and grow, moving from binder to binder, ever bigger and bigger, until the only thing left to do is add to it, but, regrettably, never to be read. There wouldn’t be time to.
BRANDY: You ever stop talking?
HONOUR: Not really, I hate getting caught, I need to get away with it. If that makes any sense to you at all. I can’t do silence, I’ll hear it ring. I stand in my own shade and mine alone. You drink anything besides water? By the way, I’m Honour.
BRANDY: On who?
HONOUR: You’re not hearing me. Like Connor.
BRANDY: No, I heard you fine.
HONOUR: You know, when you’re standing still it’s easier to see things that are moving, but when you’re moving, it’s easier to see things standing still. What I’m saying is, we are both moving targets at the gun range. Two moving targets will struggle to see each other. One needs to stand still for both to see each other.
BRANDY: Are you telling me to shut up?
HONOUR: No, not quite, but I can see why you might think that. It’s a bit confusing, I know. But like, you need to stand still to shoot.
An old car horn sounds from inside his pocket.
Sorry, I have to take this.
( answering his phone ) : Yeah, hello?
He waits.
Hey-hey-hey, slow down. What are you saying? It is what it says on the tin, isn’t it?
He waits.
What, am I supposed to do your job for you? I gave it to you on a plate, you want me to also land the airplane onto the, the veritable runway of your tongue as well? Sorry, that was a bit of a mouthful, but you follow, no?
He waits.
( comically rolling his eyes to his date ) : Like I’ve told you, a substitute is not inherently counterfeit. It can be store brand, generic. Not exactly what you wanted, but most of the way there. And perfectly legitimate, mind you.
He waits.
Yes, yes, we’ve been over this. I made no pretences.
He waits.
Right, let me ask you this: would you still call it cheating when everyone is playing by their own rules? I’m doing nothing the next guy isn’t, or soon will be, trust me. You want me to lose that bad? Just sleep on it, I’m on my knees begging you here, but you’ll see in the end, I am right. You’ll wake up, you’ll see, you’ll come around, not a doubt in my mind. It’s the Wild West out here. It’s the flick of the wrist. Bodies left and right. It’s dust to dust. It’s kill or be killed. It’s until the last man standing, you have to understand. At dusk there can only be one at the top of the hill, one lonely cowboy. I’ve got my eyes dead set and my enemies are all would-be Swiss cheese to me, every last one of them. But now I need you to step up to the plate for me. I’m sorry for keeping you. Promise me you’ll consider giving it another think-over. Bring her home, Pauly! We’re at the dawn of a new era. There’s a whole, big, wide, new world out there and the rule of the game is get with it or wither away. I’m sure it’ll click for you like it did for me.
He hangs up with preeminent self-satisfaction.
( returning his attention ) : What were we talking about? I lost my train of thought.
BRANDY: What was that all about?
HONOUR: Do you know what KYC is? Well, they’re on my ass. It’s a pain.
BRANDY: Have you tried having a shot? It’s helped me so far.
HONOUR: Is that what that was?
BRANDY: You think he could’ve taken that last thing you said as a threat?
HONOUR: You think?
BRANDY: I mean.
HONOUR: I really am very sorry. You really do seem just wonderful.
He whips out the phone again, begins punching into it until the dial tone sounds, and waits, breath bated, staring either right at or right through her, as she moves to clasp her handbag.
It is the blue of noon where I’m submerged,
But am afraid to let my shadow know
I tied my shoes, but made the bows too large.
My hands are slick and slipped; they melt exposed.
I twist and tend to talk to toes and ties.
Manoeuvring napkins, I contort myself.
One day I ought to take my own advice,
I know that flight diminishes my health.
Why else look up and envy flocks of birds.
I should work out an answer and unwind.
I don’t want to be frightened by some words.
For now I have to hide and hang to dry.
I must conceal myself, blot out the sun,
Look out my lids without eyes tight or spun.