Dhalgren

He rocked.

'That man Calkins, the one who runs the Times, do you think he has a home? They're always writing articles about the people who're staying with him, visiting with him, those people he's decided are important. Do you think I'd want a place like that? Oh, no. This is a real home, a place where real things happen, to real people. You feel that way, I know you do. You've become practically part of the family. You are sensitive, a poet; you understand that to tear it all apart, and set it up again, even on the nineteenth floor: that's taking a desperate chance, you see? But I'm doing it. To you, moving like this is just a gesture. But you don't understand how important a gesture can be. I cannot have a home where I hear the neighbors shrieking. I cannot. Because when the neighbors are shrieking, I cannot maintain the peace of mind necessary for me to make a home. Not when that is going on. Why do you think we moved into the Labry? Do you know how I thought of this moving? As a space, a gap, a crack in which some terrible thing might get in and destroy it, us, my home. You have to take it apart, then put it back together. I really felt as though some dirt, or filth, or horrible rot might get in while it was being reassembled and start a terrible decay. But here—' once more she waved her hand—'I couldn't live here any more.'

'But if everything outside has changed—'

'Then I have to be—' she let go her skirt—'stronger inside. Yes?'

'Yeah.' He was uncomfortable with the answer forced. 'I guess so.'

'You guess?' She breathed deeply, looking around the floor, as if for missed fragments. 'Well, I know. I know about eating, sleeping, how it must be done if people are going to be comfortable. I have to have a place where I can cook the foods I want; a place that looks the way I want it to look: a place that can be a real home.' Then she said: 'You do understand.' She picked up another ceramic lion from the nest tables. 'I know you do.'

He realized it was its twin that had shattered. 'Yeah, Mrs Richard's but—'

'Mom?' June said over the sound of the opening door. She glanced hesitantly between them. 'I thought you were going to come right back up. Is that my shell box?' She walked to the cluster of remaining furniture. 'I didn't even know we still had it in the house.'

'Gee,' Bobby said from the doorway. 'We've almost got everything upstairs. You want me to take the television?'

'I don't know why,' June said. 'You can't get any picture on it any more; just colored confetti. You better let Kidd take the teevee. You help me carry the rug.'

'Oh, all right.'

June dragged the carpet roll by one end. Bobby caught the other.

'Are you sure the two of you can manage that?' Mrs Richards asked.

'We got it,' June said.

It came up like a sagging fifteen-foot sausage between them. They maneuvered across the room — Mrs Richards slid the nest tables back, Kidd pushed aside the television — June going forward and Bobby going backward.

'Hey, don't back me into the damn door,' Bobby said.

'Bobby!' his mother said.

June grunted, getting the rug in a firmer grip.

'I'm sorry.' Bobby hugged the rug under his arm, reached behind him for the door knob. 'Darn door… Okay?'

'You got it all right?' June asked; she looked very intense.

'Uh-huh.' Bobby nodded, backing out into the hall.

June followed him: the edge of the rug hissed by the jamb. 'Just a second.' She shoved the door with her foot; and was through.

'All right, but don't push me so fast,' Bobby repeated out in the echoing corridor.

The door swung to.

'Mrs Richards, I'll take the television… if you want?'

She was stepping here and there, searching.

'Yes. Oh. Certainly, the television. Though June's right; you can't see anything on it. It's terrible the way you get to depend on all these outside things: Fifty great empty spots during the evening when you wish a radio or something were there to fill them up. But the static would just be awful. Wait. I could take the rest of these things off the tables, and you could carry them up. Once we get the front room rug down, I'm going to try putting that end table beside the door to the balcony. That's what I really like up there, the balcony. When we came here, we applied for an apartment with a balcony but we couldn't get it then. I'm going to split these up and put them on either side of—'

Out in the hall, June screamed: a long scream he could hear empty her of all breath. Then she screamed again.

Mrs Richards opened her mouth without sound; one hand shook by her head.

He dashed between the television and the tables, out the door.

June, dragging one hand against the wall, backed up the hall. When he caught her shoulder, the scream cut and she whirled. 'Bobby…!' That had almost no voice at all. 'I … I didn't see the…' Shaking her head, she motioned down the hall.

He heard Mrs Richards behind him, and ran three more steps.

The rug lay on the floor, the last foot sagging over the sill in to the empty elevator shaft. The door nudged it, went K-chunk, retreated, then began to close again.

'Mom! Bobby, he fell in the—'

K-chunk!

'No, oh my dear God, no!'

'I didn't see it, mom! I didn't! I thought it was the other—'

'Oh, God. Bobby, no he couldn't—'

'Mom, I didn't know! He just backed into it! I didn't see—'

K-chunk!

Kidd hit EXIT with both palms, vaulted down the flight, came out on sixteen, sprinted to the end of the hall, and beat the door.

'All right, all right. What the fuck you—' Thirteen opened for him—'banging so hard for?'

'A rope…!' Kidd was gasping. 'Or a ladder. You guys got a rope? And a flashlight? The boy from upstairs, he just fell down the elevator shaft!'

'Oh, wow…!' Thirteen stepped back.

Smokey, behind his shoulder, opened her eyes very wide.

'Come on! You guys got a light and a ladder? And a rope?'

A black woman with hair like two inches of Brillo with hints of rust, shouldered Smokey aside, stepped around Thirteen: 'Now what the fuck is going on, huh?' Around her neck hung some dozen chains, falling between her breasts between the flaps of a leather vest laced through its half-dozen lowest holes. Her thumb hooked a wide, scuffed belt; her wrists were knobby, the back of her hands rough. Dark skin rounded above the belt and below the vest bottom.

'A boy just fell down the God-damn elevator shaft!' Kidd took another breath and tried to see past the crowd that had gathered at the door. 'Will you bastards get a ladder and a rope and a light and come on! Huh?'

'Oh, hey, man!' The black woman looked over her shoulder. 'Baby! Adam! Denny, you had that line! Bring it out here. Some kid fell down the shaft.' She turned back. 'I got a light.' A brown triangle of stain, that looked permanent, crossed her two, large, front teeth. 'Come on!'

Kidd turned away and started back down the hall.

He heard them running behind him.

As he ducked into the stairwell, Denny's voice separated from the voices and footsteps around it: 'Fell down the elevator! Oh, man,' and a barking laugh. 'All right. All right, Dragon Lady — I'm with you.'

Sudden light behind him flung his shadow before him down the next flight. At the landing he glanced