Desperation

"Feeling any better?" Ben asked.

Dan didn't look up from his laptop.  He was typing furiously.

"I'm on a deadline," he said.

Ben nodded and sipped his beer.

"So not much better, then," he said.

Dan shrugged without slowing his typing, then cursed, backspaced, and began again.

"At least this isn't overdue yet," he said.

Ben looked around the bar.  Dan continued typing.

"You're not working from notes?" asked Ben.

Dan made an un-uh sound.

"You always work from notes," said Ben.

"No time," said Dan.

"When did you start working on this?" asked Ben.

"This afternoon," said Dan.

"It's afternoon right now," said Ben, gesturing to the sunlight coming in the bar's front windows.

Dan moved his shoulders slightly as if about to shrug again, then reconsidered.

"I started right before you came in," he said.

Ben nodded slowly, making a face that mingled bafflement with mild admiration.  He finished his beer.  

A full glass sat in front of Dan, hidden from his view by the screen of the laptop.  Ben leaned forward casually and reached for it.

"That's mine," said Dan.  Ben sat back.

"So what's this thing you've got a deadline for?" asked Ben.

"The usual," said Dan.  "Short story for a freshman in 101 Comp."

"How come you're typing so fast if it's prose?" asked Ben.  Dan usually was a tortuously slow writer of fiction, he labored over precise descriptions endlessly.

"I'm cheating," said Dan, "it's almost all dialogue."

"Ugh," exclaimed Ben, as if suddenly realizing something.  "I hate meta-humor."

Dan didn't comment.  He kept typing.

Ben got up and got another beer.  There was almost no one at the bar, it was before even the afternoon commuters came in.

"So I'm working on this story," he said as he leaned back into his seat.

Dan made a um-hm sound without looking up.

"I think I need more research before I can pull it off," Ben said.

Dan said, "How so," without much conviction.

"I got the idea reading a book," said Ben, "nonfiction, about history.  And it put very clear ideas in my head, but all the information I could get from that book, the one that gave me the ideas, it was all sort of a summary.  I'm not sure I feel comfortable working from only one source."

"So read up," said Dan.  "If it interests you it'll take up time on its own."

"Maybe," said Ben.  "That's not really the problem."

He paused.  Dan continued typing.

"What's happening in your story now?" Ben asked.

"They're talking," said Dan.

"What about?" asked Ben.

"They're these two guys," said Dan (he was still typing as he spoke), "they're at the foot of this huge wall."

"Like the Great Wall of China?" asked Ben.

"Sure," said Dan, "but I think it's probably higher than that, since we're used to taller buildings now.  Anyway they started by debating over how they're going to climb up, and then they were debating over whether they needed to climb up at all."

"Are they still debating?" asked Ben.

"Yeah," said Dan, "but now they're trying to decide why the wall's even there in the first place."  His fingers continued to clatter away.

Ben nodded again and drank more beer.

"The real problem," he said, "with my story, is that I've got a very clear idea of the feeling of the story, of what I want it to mean."

"Um-hm," intoned Dan.

"It's pretty tidy, like a parable," said Ben.

"You hate those," said Dan.

"I don't hate parables," said Ben.  "I just don't like stories that probably started as little  lessons and then had stories put on them like clothes.  Stories that started as stories are better suited to my taste, they seem more like life."

"So how did this one start?" said Dan.  "As a little lesson or as a story?"

"I'm really not sure," said Ben.  "But I know that the reason the idea first came to me is because of this history book, or summary of history rather, and I'm a little intimidated by the idea of researching enough to 

"Why's that?" asked Dan.

"On the one hand," said Ben, "if I start reading more about this history and find out something that wrecks my idea of how the history really played out, then I wouldn't really feel like I could do the story properly."

"So what?" said Dan.

"So what not much," said Ben, "I'll give up the story and feel a little bummed."

"Couldn't you just change it enough that it fits the history and write it that way?" asked Dan.  

"Not really," said Ben.  "I don't know for sure, but I have a feeling it just woudn't be the same.  But I should probably try and do the reading and take a stab at adapting it before I jump to conclusions."

"You said on the one hand," said Dan, still typing, but with less pounding constancy.  "How does this go bad if you find out you're right?  About the history I mean."

"If what I read confirms my ideas," said Ben, "then suddenly it looks like I think I'm an expert, when really I just had an idea for a story, and I want the story to speak for itself, not be an expert thing or not."

"Oh boo-who," said Dan.  "People will think more of your story than you want them to."

"I don't think that's how that's spelled," said Ben.  "I think it's boo-hoo."

"Is it ever boo whom?" asked Dan.

"You've got a story to write," said Ben.  "Stop talking."

Dan slowed typing, pressed two buttons with a small flourish, and closed the laptop.  

"Ready for submission," he said cheerfully.  He picked up his beer and took a long gulp.

"No second draft?" asked Ben.

"It's supposed to be rough," said Dan.  "It's freshman comp."

"Fair enough," said Ben.

"What happens in your story," said Dan.

"It's a little controversial-ish," said Ben.

At this Dan winced and shook his head.

"Yeah I know, sorry," said Ben.  "Anyway these two guys wake up in a field, they're all alone, it's a sunny day.  They sit up and see each other, and at once they're both on the defensive.  They're dressed differently.  Anyway it turns out they were both on opposite sides of a huge battle, and they talk for a bit and they sort of realize that the last thing they both remember is getting wounded so badly that they couldn't have survived, and now they don't have any wounds at all.  So they're both awake and talking to each other, but they're both actually dead."

"What is it with you and the afterlife these days," said Dan.

"I always feel morbid in the springtime," said Ben.

"You've got an overdeveloped sense of irony," Dan said, and finished his beer.

"I'm not sure that's possible," said Ben.

"Be right back," said Dan, and he went to the bar.

"So do they become friends in the end?" he asked when he returned.

"No," said Ben.

"Mmm," said Dan.  "What happens?"

"One of them tries to kill the other one," said Ben.  "They have irreconcilable differences, not to mention some serious communication problems."

"Can they not speak the same language?" asked Dan.

"Language is no barrier," said Ben.  "Whether they could have done so or not, they each understand the other perfectly.  I'm not sure whether to have them comment on the fact."

"Meta-humor," said Dan.

"Not exactly, but yeah sort of," said Ben.

"So where's the controversy part?" asked Dan.  "Is it an unpopular war?"

"Not really," said Ben.  "They were both fighting in the crusades."

"Eesh," said Dan.

"Yeah," said Ben.  "The more I think about it, the less sure of myself I feel."

"I don't know enough about the crusades to comment," said Dan, "but weren't they fought in the middle east?"

"Mostly," said Ben, "I think."

"You should probably do more research," said Dan.  "Not that it's really a problem, that all happened hundreds of years ago."

"That's how I felt at first," said Ben.

"But people would probably think you're trying to say something about the world today," said Dan.

"And that's where I landed when I got stumped," said Ben.

"Are you trying to say something about today?" said Dan.

"Not really," said Ben.  "I'm definitely not trying to say something about today and dress it up like I'm saying it about the middle ages.  If I'm trying to say something at all, it's about how misunderstandings can sometimes be too complicated to explain, they can only be shown."

"Misunderstandings," said Dan.

"Did you ever read Solaris?" asked Ben.

Dan bobbed his head equivocally.  "Only once," he said.  "I feel like I need to read it again to really understand it."

"Funny you should say so," said Ben.  "Part of that book, to me anyway, is all about how two life forms can fundamentally fail to understand each other, no matter how sophisticated their attempts at communication are, no matter how carefully they go about trying to get their point across, both sides are just perfectly in the dark from beginning to end.  Because they're just too different to actually communicate at all."

"I think I got that," said Dan.  "Or didn't get it.  ...I think I successfully did what the author wanted me to do there. Probably."  He drank more beer.  Then he frowned.  "You're trying to set up two guys from the crusades as if they're too different to understand each other?"

"No," said Ben.  "It's actually sort of the opposite.  In Solaris the characters all know they're not getting it.  They're distraught and terrified and baffled and upset over everything the alien life form does to get their attention, but from first to last they know that their guesses at what it's trying to say are only that: guesses.  They never think they're getting anywhere, they know more or less what they don't know."

"And your guys?" said Dan.

"They think they understand each other," said Ben.  "That's the whole point.  They're enemies, they've been brought up to hate and fear each other and fight to the death.  And both side thinks they know how the other side ticks, and why they don't understand each other.  They think they've tried to understand each other, and failed.  But they haven't really tried at all, they've only looked for what they expected to find in each other, and found it, and acted accordingly."

Dan nodded slowly.  "A lot to get across," he said.

"Tell me about it," said Ben.

"But curious," said Dan.  "I'd like to read it."

"I think I really need more research," said Ben.

"Do you know your characters?" said Dan.

Ben considered.

"Yeah," he said.  "I think I know how they both think.  I definitely know how to talk like them at least."

"Why not do away with the history part altogether?" asked Dan.

"Do away with it," said Ben.

"Yeah," said Dan.  "Make them be from Jupiter and Saturn or something, and have them wake up on an asteroid in the year 5000."

"You want to talk about people not really seeing what the story's about," said Ben.

"Two kids on a playground," suggested Dan.

"That means they're dead kids," said Ben.

"Oh right," said Dan.  "Do they have to be dead?"

Ben half-nodded while drinking and set down his glass.  "It's important to what happens at the end."

"Maybe just do away with the holy war part," said Dan.  "It doesn't have to be two soldiers on either side of that particular conflict.  As long as it's not an American and a German in World War Two you're probably fine."

"No one sympathizes with the Nazis?" asked Ben.

"I think it would cloud the issue," said Dan.  "That seems like it's what you're trying to avoid."

"Maybe I'll try it," said Ben.  "The real main thing is that the view each character has of the other is of huge importance to him, in a bad way.  They have to have their concept of the enemy be almost as important as their concepts of themselves.  They hate each other like you hate hagfish."

"I do hate those things," said Dan with a shiver and a brief face of disgust.  

Then he looked thoughtful.  "You think a holy war is the only time that sort of thing can happen?"

"No," said Ben.  "Almost certainly not, but I'm no historian.  It was just the time period of the crusades that put the idea in my head.  Two sides that seem so similar, in some ways, but that just didn't seem to understand the other side at all, no matter how well they thought they did.  It's like a double tragedy sort of."

"Sort of," said Dan.  "I don't really know anything about that period of history, except it seemed like starting those wars was a bad idea on the part of the pope, but it lead to a lot of cultural exchange?"

"History's not my strong suit," said Ben.  "That's kind of why I wanted to read this book in the first place."

"Sort of a summary book, though, you said," said Dan.

"Well, it was a place to start," said Ben.

"Fair enough," said Dan.

"But I've got plenty of time to figure it out," said Ben.  "I really wouldn't mind doing the research."

"Nothing wrong with tweaking the story if you find something that doesn't gel," said Dan.

"I already said I don't like twisitng the story to fit some point or lesson," said Ben.

Dan shrugged.

"So what did your characters decide about the wall?" asked Ben.

"They gave up and went home," said Dan.  "They figured that it was just the two of them, and they realized that even if they got over they weren't sure they could get back again."


Ben closed one eye in apparently thought.  "Nothing ventured?" he said.  "As a good thing?"

"I think it was supposed to be about the futility of all action?" said Dan.

"It's definitely Comp-101 caliber," said Ben.

"Gee thanks," said Dan.

"Well," said Ben, "I wouldn't normally be so fulsome, but I know how much time you put into it."

"At least it's done," said Dan.

"Cheers," said Ben, and emptied his glass.