You are on page 1of 5

He stood in the gap between the wall and the train platform, like a stone on the shore awaiting

the next human tide. His eyes drooped slightly. Age had made him tired but had not affected his posture. He towered over those who walked the tunnel and watched them scuttle about without paying much attention. His sole purpose that day was the same as it was every other and that was to play his accordion. It was an old piece he purchased years ago but careful preservation had allowed it to keep a veneer youth. Like him it had traveled across the sea to reach this country but its purpose had not changed. It was still a tool that in the proper hand could fashion the air itself into art. And his hand was very able. The music went unnoticed for the most part, as was the way of things for those who practice their craft in crowds. They pass and thought they may hear or even really listen they must keep going on with their day. One group that just heard was made up of four men in business suits. They stood proudly in their wealthy garb and each had on their face the permanent smile of one who knows his own importance. The train was late and so they stood and chatted but one of them could not help but turn his head at the playing of a particular song. The last song the old man had played had been upbeat yet casual, the perfect tune for the mass of walkers around him. This one was different entirely. It had a pitch to it that was intoxicating in its somberness. He had not suspected an accordion of all things could be capable of producing such a song. He walked closer and studied the old mans face and found he was looking far beyond the people and the tunnel and perhaps to another time and place altogether. His next move came naturally. He took some bills out of his pocket and walked closer but found the old man had not laid out a case. No case? The man said nothing. Excuse me. Still he looked beyond. Hello? Hm? Yes? His voice was as ancient as the younger man suspected. As he spoke he did not cease the song. I was wondering where your case was. He flashed the bills. Its leaned against that wall. He nodded to it. It was unopened. Right, the younger man said. I just, yknow. The song is great. I wanted toIts not great. Cmon now, dont be modest with me. I know talent when I see it. Is that why you wear that suit? What?

Do you work with musicians? Oh no. I work with money. I see. Yeah, yknow. Stocks, all that. I see. A rekin. What? A shark. Forgive me. It is what my father used to call business men. Oh. What language is that? Polish. Poland? Wow, far from home. For some time. Whend you come here? Nineteen Forty Four. So you left during the war. The old man did not answer. He kept on playing and his eyes began to drift again. They were wider now as they looked to the distance and the young man could swear they were becoming as sad as the song he played so intently. Sorry. For? If I brought up any, yknow any bad memories. Lets get off that. Your father didnt like business men, huh? I was a business man. He didnt like me very much. Oh. SoIm guessing he didnt teach you to play? Correct. I taught myself in nineteen twenty two. Youre kidding.

I am not. Youve been playing for ninety years? Yes. The train approached and the remaining men in the suits called to the man. Hey, one of them said, we gotta go. Callahans gonna be there by three. Ill take the next train, the man said. What? Why? Ill take the next one. We got time. Suit yourself. They boarded the train and it took off into the tunnel darkness. Why did you not leave? asked the player. We have a few hours until the meeting. And to be honest, I dont like Callahan very much. Why? Well Hes a bit short sighted. Doesnt really look at the big picture, and quite frankly has a bit too much conscience. I think hes worried about being a one percenter and how it affects his image. I see. Yeah. Damn, still playing this song, huh? Yes. Whens it end? It doesnt. Does it at least have a name? Song of the Doomed. Bit dramatic, dont you think? It was written in a dramatic time. Ill bet. During the war?

During and after. May I ask you something? Okay. Why is it you feel this Callahan has too much conscience? Ah, we had a bit of a fight years ago. He said I was ruthless, would do anything for money, that kind of thing. I tried to tell him, that was the job. Yknow? Thats what we do. If you cant be dog eat dog and always on the look out for new chances, then maybe youre in the wrong business. You must know what Im talking about. You think so? Yeah. I mean, hey, dont take this the wrong way, but your own father didnt like you. To me, that says you had the right idea. Kept your eyes on the prize. And hey, you were around when the Nazis were in control. You knew what was up. The fact that you survived? Thats adaptability. Probably gave him, your dad I mean, a good life after the war. Proved him wrong. He died during the occupation. Oh. Oh well, at least you kept going, then. You gotHe died because I told the Gestapo where to find him. You what? For a while the old man did not speak. The song had not stopped and now it evolved into a larger and more powerful and deep series of notes that acted like bullets made of sound and they punctured the walls of the tunnel and the mind of the younger man. The old mans eyes were now closed. He was involved in the resistance, the old man said. I was not. I most decidedly not. Before the invasion I was in business. I told you that. I was approached by a man one day, he was German but his Polish was fair enough. He offered me a great sum if I told him things. Told him things? I was a popular man. I knew many people in the politics. Soldiers, as well. If I helped this man and helped his people do what they wanted, I would be a very wealthy man. What would I have been had I said no? I would not have been wealthy. I would have been poor, like my father. I told them what they wanted. That was August Nineteen Thirty Nine. They came the next month. And the next month, I was very wealthy. Just like they promised. You What? Will you insult me? Will you called me evil? You would not be wrong. You would be most correct. When my father planned to punish me for what I did, I had him killed in return. I was given even more money for that. And when it was over, I left. I was never convicted because

nobody knew anything I had done. Or if they did, I changed their minds. I left for America with this accordion and here I have been. He kept playing. The younger man began to inch away without even realizing, but he could not bring himself to leave the spot completely. The song kept echoing through his head and now it reached a point of speedy measures and powerful bellowing that surely signified the ending was soon to come. But when the notes slowed and the sounds became soft again the old man kept it going from the beginning. It has no end if youre wondering, he said. I may stop playing it but it has no end. Why? Because of what it is. It is the song of the doomed, my boy. It is a song culled from the depths of my memory that reflects what I see in the world. Do you know what that is? No. Allowance. License and permission for men like us to do what we please. Im not like you. You deceive yourself, then. I have not felt guilt for what I have done. Otherwise, I would be playing the song of sadness. But I do not. I play what is in the world and that is doom. For as long as I exist that is all there will be. You wont be around much longer. My spirit is the spirit of all those like me. I am eternal and you are eternal, as eternal as our desire. As long as we live, the world is doomed but we are not sorry. And why should we be? We are the victors. IIm leaving. Oh no. Stay. Wont you dance? Goodbye. He walked away at first slowly then at a brisk pace. He looked back once at the old man and saw that he moved about to the song in a spirited waltz with himself. His eyes were once more off into a distant time and place but his face was full of some kind of emotion that might have been joy. He danced heedless of passersby and regardless of the pain in his old joints. He smiled. The walkers heard the song but paid it no mind. No matter, he thought. They know the song. They know it.

You might also like