A String Theory

It would be easier to describe string theory, the little that I accept of this doubtful turf, than to tell you about the beginning, and the end for that matter, of the string. I barely noticed it one cloudy October weekend afternoon, dangling unbound in the air a bit closer to the ceiling than the floor. Roughly a foot long, it looked bluish and felt British between my fingers. Pubic hair has a peculiar texture, a strange consistency, so it seems, compared to other types of hair and particularly the locks that cover our heads. I have known British pubes, rough and downy at the same time, like a dying poet, unlike the ordinariness of the French, Korean, Russian, and Spanish, and the pubes of other nationalities in all probability. I pulled on it the way an ill-fated woman first pulls on a penis to assess its solidity before milking it for that nauseating nectar. What can be described as a space in space suddenly opened up and pulled me in much the same way that a mindful ant is sucked in by a mindless anteater. I found myself in a dark coldish cave that meandered to a cool darkish cavern.

“Another luckless soul has pulled on a string,” a voice said.

“We’re lucky there isn’t such a soul born every minute,” a different voice replied.

“There aren’t enough strings to go around for all the souls,” the first voice said.

“We’re lucky there aren’t more strings for all the souls,” the second voice replied.

“Luck has nothing to do with it,” said the first voice.

“Says who?” asked the second voice.

“You’re right. Luck can be all there’s to it,” the first voice agreed.

“I hope not,” replied the second voice.

“What’s your name?” the first voice asked.

“Louise Sarfati,” I replied.

“I’m Julie One and he’s Larry Two. The numbers stand for the order in which we got here. You’ll be Louise Seven.”

“How long have you been here and where are we?” I asked as soon as I was able to see their faces.

“I’ve been here for over 12 years, Larry Two for over 10, and Ari Six has recently cursed and celebrated his second year. We don’t know much about where we are.”

“Who wouldn’t pull on that string, especially that it hung in midair?” I said.

“Only one who had pulled it before. But no one had gone back to pull it again,” Julie One said.

“What do we know about our whereabouts?” I inquired.

“There’s the narrow cave that led you to this large cave, and a narrow cave leading outside.”

“And what an outside,” Larry Two said. “It’ll blow your mind away.”

“Can I gather that it’s alien?” I said laughingly.

“Yes, you can. No one will try to eat you or use you as an incubator, but the weather is wild.”

“It must be nice out if the others are not here.”

“Audrey Three, Peter Four, Angela Five, and Ari Six are enjoying the weather alright. You’ll probably have to wait for two long years before you get a mate of your own.”

“I like women.”

“The women will love you, and the guys will respect you, or is it the other way around, but you’ll have to cope with the rest,” Julie One said.

“I see that I’m strung.”

“In and out,” Larry Two said.

“Up and down.”

“You’ll be alright,” Julie One said. “A string just strung you six new friends.”

“And you can never have enough friends.”

“Or dresses,” Julie One said.

“Or strings,” I said.

“There are none here if that’s what you’re alluding to,” Larry Two said.

“I gathered as much given that you’re still here after so many years. But if a string only appears for a brief moment, one has to be there to see it.”

“We’ve looked everywhere possible for as long as possible, but given that its appearance is brief, it’s surely easy to miss,” Larry Two said.

“Perhaps we’ll be luckier with a seventh pair of eyes,” Julie One said.

“Let’s show you the outside.”

The sky revealed two moons, but I was told that two more made their appearance at night. No wonder that the weather was wild with a quartet of satellites pulling the strings. The entire landscape, earth, flora, and firmament, looked turquoise; the three separated by tinges of thistle.

“It’ll be difficult to discern a string if it’s as turquoise as the surroundings,” I said.

“That’s why another pair of eyes can be handy,” Larry Two said.

“The others are gathering food. They should be back soon enough,” Julie One said.

“We can show you some of the safe sights,” Larry Two said jokingly.

“Anything turquoise must be safe,” I said.

“Most of the fruit is bitterly safe,” Julie One said.

“And the water stings your skin in a safe way,” Larry Two added.

“How’s the meat?”

“Lacking, I’m afraid. Completely so! There is no meat to be had,” Julie One said.

“So, you’ve been surviving all these years on plant life and water?”

“Except of course for the occasional tidbit of the human kind,” Larry Two said smiling.

“That doesn’t count,” I said. “Does it?”

“It counts a lot,” Julie One said laughing.

“Have you discovered any signs, remains, or artifacts of a civilization?”

“No!” Larry Two replied.

“Except for the DVD,” Julie One said.

“Which comes from our civilization, being a regular DVD of a movie called The Hours,” Larry Two said.

“The Hours?” I asked astonished.

“Yes! The Meryl Streep, Julianne Moore, and Nicole Kidman film,” Julie One replied.

“Very interesting,” I said. “Where did you find it?”

“I found it in the narrow cave upon my arrival. Having been produced in 2002 according to the box, I had reasoned that it had arrived from the future. Someone must have lost it when she or he had pulled the string, luckily staying behind while the DVD went through. I also surmised that someone could be pulled here from any time, past or future, assuming that I represent the present,” Julie One said.

“Do you, represent the present, I mean?”

“It seems so given that Larry Two, Audrey Three, Peter Four, Angela Five, and Ari Six, have all been pulled here after my time, and each after their predecessor’s time. As a result, none, except for Angela Five and Ari Six, could have seen the film, and they hadn’t seen it but had heard of it. My slight suspicion that it might have been sent here on purpose as an apropos storyline or whatever else could not be put to the test.”

“I have seen it more than once. It’s my favourite movie ever. Virginia Woolf’s novel, Mrs. Dalloway, ties the lives of three women, including Virginia Woolf, from three different times, and one can say, with a symbolic string. The viewer is taken beautifully from life to life to life repeatedly until one of the lives, the original, ends and the string is severed.”

“It’s finally settled,” Larry Two said.

“Is it?” Julie One asked.

More sundry than any scenery was the sky, stirring specks of sapphire and spots of cerulean in a soup of turquoise, surveying a setting of vegetation and soil that could not hold a candle to it even if they seemed more significant for the survival of life. It is always greener on the other side.

I wallowed in this new reality for many seconds, the equivalent of a few minutes if stringed together, before realizing that Julie One and Larry Two were sizing me up. They were perhaps estimating how much meat they could get out of me, I mused to myself.

“Where are the others?” I asked.

“Still hunting for fruit,” Larry Two replied.

“Hunting?” I asked.

“They are hard to distinguish having the same fucking colour as everything else,” Larry Two replied.

“How’s the water?”

“The same fucking colour.”

“It’s a peculiar place. Isn’t it also strange in a not-by-chance sort of way that we’ve been pulled here methodically in terms of sex? Female, male, female, male, female, male, female,” I asked.

“Seven, our total number, is too low not to be in the domain of chance. At the rate of one new soul every two years or so, we’ll have a better idea in 46 years or so. I mean those that come after us will,” Larry Two said.

“The trend is still suspect,” I said.

“While it looks that way, looks can be deceiving, as they often are,” Larry Two said.

I had just arrived and I already felt trapped. After years, many years in most cases, they must have felt imprisoned. What else could be expected from a turquoise actuality? Stones to spare?

“Did you find any gems?”

“By the truckload! Turquoise heaven! We use the big ones to hit fruit that we can spot at treetops,” Larry Two said.

“It’s mostly a game because the fruit, or the tree, rarely lets go,” Julie One said.

“Did you figure out why there aren’t any animals?”

“Possibly. There is no competition for food if everything has the same colour,” Larry Two said.

“Maybe they are simply hard to see.”

“We would have seen them after so many years, but it remains a possibility,” Julie One said.

“You mentioned that the fruit was bitter and the water stinging. Perhaps they are microscopic and live in the fruit and water.”

“An interesting idea,” Larry Two said.

“So, we may be getting our animal protein after all,” Julie One said.

“A far cry from meat; more like yogurt.”

“I always hated yogurt,” Larry Two said.

“Most men do,” Julie One said.

“Am I ever going to meet the others?”

“They may be closer than you think. After so many years here, we sometimes look turquoise as well, especially after drinking the water,” Larry Two said without blinking.

“He’s kidding of course,” Julie One said.

“Am I?” Larry Two said quite seriously and then laughed.

He was not joking. Less than an hour in it and even I felt turquoise in this thistly reality. Why turquoise and all its tints? Why not? Could it stand for something? Everything begs a question, everything is a question, and above all in this blue heaven. Where are the others?

“I think I can see the others.”

“Where?” Larry Two asked.

“It’s just a turquoise trick.”

“Trying to be funny, are you?” Julie One said.

“I couldn’t resist.”

“Seven is a good number,” Larry Two said.

“Don’t you mean that Louise looks good?” Julie One asked.

“That too. Are you jealous?”

“Should I be?”

“Come on, I only have eyes for you, and glances are allowed.”

“They are. They are.”

“And I still prefer women,” I said.

“Should I be jealous?” Larry Two asked looking at Julie One.

“I only have eyes for you too, and glances are allowed.”

“They are. They are,” Larry Two said laughing.

For some obscure reason, a Sinatra song began to play in my mind, and I found myself adapting the words to the situation at hand.

Fly me to a place,

Let me swing among those moons.

Let me see what spring is like

On Indigo and Blue.

In other words, hold my breath.

In other words, baby, touch me.

“Are you dancing?” Larry Two asked.

“I may be.”

“Without music?”

“I’m using my inner orchestra.”

“I can barely fit a band.”

“It depends on the music.”

“You may be right.”

“Is it turquoise?” Julie One asked.

“The music or the orchestra?”

“Both.”

“They seem to be blue.”

“Louise Seven!”

“Julie One!”

“Louise Seven!”

“Larry Two!”

Where were Three, Four, Five and Six?

“Where’s the rest of the crew?”

“They must be blue,” Two said.

“Let’s look for them,” One said.

How do I label thee? Let me list the ways: azure horizon, beryl backdrop, blue land, cerulean stream, cobalt brushwood, indigo impression, navy vista, sapphire sky, teal east, turquoise twilight.

“A new face,” Three said with a smile.

“Another girl,” Four said with a bigger smile.

“Lucky Seven,” Five said clapping her hands.

“Not so lucky,” Six said crushingly.

“Another string,” I said.

“Another one,” One said.

“Another fucking one,” Two said.

“No fucking as far as I’m concerned,” I said smiling.

“Not so lucky,” Six repeated.

“I’m thirsty,” I said.

“And then some,” Two said.

“Here’s some water,” Four said handing me a bluish pitcher made from what looked like the shell of a fruit.

It tasted good in a bad way, similarly to drinking a cold drink on an icy day, or a hot one on a warm day.

“Isn’t it something?” Two said.

“It’s something alright,” I said.

“You must be hungry too,” One said.

“A bit.”

“Try this,” Four said handing me a bluish thing.

“Is it someone’s favourite?”

“Mine,” Three said.

“I should have guessed given that I got it from your partner.”

“You could have,” One said.

“You could have,” Two repeated.

“I should have.”

“I only hope you’ll be luckier finding a string,” Six said.

“Where did each one of you pull on the string? I pulled on mine at home.”

“At home too,” One said.

“At home,” Two said.

“At home,” Three said.

“At home,” Four said.

“At home,” Five said.

“Bloody home,” Six said.

“It can’t be random then. Why only at home?”

“We’ve discussed it many times, but you were quick to raise the point,” Two said.

“Someone or something is pulling the strings, so to speak. Did it happen during the daytime? It was the afternoon in my case.”

“Afternoon,” One said.

“Afternoon,” Two said.

“Afternoon,” Three said.

“Afternoon,” Four said.

“Afternoon,” Five said.

“Bloody afternoon,” Six said.

“Consistent again! String days!”

“You said it,” Two said.

“Did it happen in October for all of you too?”

“Yes,” One said.

“Oh yes,” Two said.

“Yep,” Three said.

“Yeah,” Four said.

“Indeed,” Five said.

“Bloody yes,” Six said.

“It must have been a perfect day for strings.”

“All that fucking string,” Six said.

“Enough said about no strings attached,” Two said smilingly.

“But who’s the bloody stringer?” Six asked.

“Cats may have been targeted after all, and we bozos ended up here instead,” Two said laughingly.

“It’s a bloody death string,” Six said.

Who else would say it thus? He must be British even if he lacks the accent. I could always find out for sure from his pubes. That will be the bloody day when I stoop so low for so little. “It’s too perfect any way you look at it. What am I going to do? You’ll have to share your women with me at one point,” I said with a big smile.

“Our women?” Four asked.

“She’s into women, you bloody fool,” Two said holding back a chuckle. “Not so perfect after all,” he added.

“Nothing’s perfect anywhere including this blueberry world.”

“I’m game,” Five said timidly. “I’m sure that Ari Six wouldn’t mind,” she added.

“You’re an angel,” I said.

“Don’t you mean Angela?” Five said laughing.

“Can I join in?” Six asked.

“I’m no bi or try.”

“It’ll be just the two of us then,” Five said with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Is there any bluish thing that is also smooth and longish?” I asked smiling.

“My member fits the description quite closely,” Six said laughing.

“Can it be eaten too if we ever crave meat too much?”

“Ouch,” Two said.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Two said. “When it fits, it fits,” he added laughing.

“If there are any strings around here, they could conceivably appear around now, an afternoon in October,” I said.

“If a year lasted 365 days here too,” Two said.

“It doesn’t?” I asked alarmed.

“It’s about a half shorter; 180 days to be exact,” Two said.

“So, when you mentioned that a new bozo appears here every two years, you meant every Earth year?”

“Yes,” Two said laughing.

“That’s good news.”

“I suppose.”

“What about the length of a day?”

“Almost half as well; around 11 hours and 50 minutes to be exact.”

“What did you name this planet? Let me guess! Turquoise.”

“The majority voted for Blue.”

“Fitting and simpler. I would have picked Teal.”

“Oh, my God! I also wanted to call it Teal,” Five said.

“Another reason for you two to get together,” Two said.

“What about me?” Six asked.

“You could get the next guy if you’re both into it,” Two said laughing.

“I’m not.”

“Then you’ll have to be better than Louise Seven to get Angela Five back,” Two said. “Maybe she’s just experimenting,” he added.

I looked at Five who met my gaze but did not say anything. Two was right; I would need to be especially good. A string blew me to Blue with no love of my own. I partake of one’s bone to bear a world anew.

“Is it too late for a swim?” I asked.

“Not at all,” Five said. “Let me show you the way to the closest bathing pond.”

“See you all later,” I said, ready to follow Five, dare I say, to my blue heaven, or at least a blue lagoon.

“Take your time,” Two said. “Everything will still be blue when you come back, including Ari Six,” he added laughing.

“Bloody Larry,” Six said.

“Asshole Ari,” Two said.

“What did I ever do to you?”

“I never liked you.”

“And why is that?”

“Something about you is off.”

“Off?”

“Not right.”

“Not right?”

“What’s, not right?”

“I can’t put my finger on it, but you just bug me. No wonder Angela Five jumped ship.”

“Fuck you,” Six yelled and walked away.

“That wasn’t nice,” I said.

“No, it wasn’t, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer. He’s been a pain since the day he appeared. I’m glad Angela Five is leaving him for you. She was too good for him.”

“She may be too good for me too.”

“I doubt it very much.”

“She’ll be able to judge that pretty soon.”

“You may be the one that’s too good for me,” Five said.

“Let’s go, then, so you can show me what blue heaven really means.”

Five blushed like a virgin bride, and I, unsure of what to expect on both accounts, took her hand and walked beside her like a kid keen to discover what life is all about.

She had long disheveled hair. They all had long disheveled hair since scissors were clearly not available, not even turquoise ones. Two, Four, and Six also had long scruffy beards. It was depressing to think that I was going to look like them. Luckily, we have memories of better hair days to keep us going wherever we may find ourselves. Most people in our situation would surely place their hair in the least-of-our-problems category, unless it surreptitiously stood as the beginning of the end. The Jews who had been hastily shaved before being forced into the gas chambers could stand out as an analogy, albeit of a precipitated end to a rushed beginning. Can words express an appropriately deep all-the-way-down-to-the-Higgs-boson dismay? Only if the Higgs boson exists. It does. It is so very unfortunate that the same cannot be said for those suffocating and suffocated Jews. There are, of course, more than a few so very little minds that deny that the most atrocious event in human history had ever taken place, claiming that no one, and certainly not the Third Reich, had ever wished to annihilate the Jews. I hope that a different string awaits every last one of them.

We stripped, keeping our bras and our panties on for good measure, but losing them an unknown number of seconds later in the cool blue waters of discovery, desire, and delight. Angela had no pubes, which pointed out to a very likely and bewildering fact: she was shaving herself somehow. Did she have a razor? Doubtful! Did she lack pubes? Very doubtful! Was Six helping her, and himself, using his teeth? Extremely doubtful! Did she find a shaving plant? Possibly! In that case, they must prefer long hair to a shaved head. At least they have a choice in the matter, and it does not lead to death.

“Clean view,” I said as I was caressing her vagina.

“Do you like it shaved?” she asked, patting her nipples.

“Very much. How do you keep it shaved?”

“Ari Six was shaving when he pulled the string.”

“So, he’s the one with the razor?”

“Yes!”

“And you’re the only one using it.”

“Yes! We wanted it to last.”

“You must be using an oily plant to soften the skin.”

“Yes, and it also seems to delay growth.”

“Heaven,” I said, licking her soft skin square centimetre by square centimetre from face to toes, taking my time with her protruding nipples before returning to her venerable vagina and remaining there until I could hear the voice of her orgasm, which sounded like a funeral hum.

“Oh, my God! I’m still shaking,” she said, kissing me with passion and glee, touching and sucking my breasts, stroking and pecking my buttocks, and then taking charge of my vagina as if it was her own, inflicting upon me so much pleasure till all I could do to stop her was cry.

“Does anything look remotely like a string?” I asked as soon as we returned to join the others, hoping that Two, Four, or Six, would not mention the penis.

“There are leaves that look like strings,” One said.

“There are clouds that look like strings,” Three said.

“There are no strings,” Two said.

“Maybe I can pull my hair,” Six said.

“I’ve tried that already,” Angela said.

“There are many caves in the mountains, and we’ve only been to a fraction of them,” Four said.

“Could a string exist or appear in the water?” I asked.

“Anything’s possible,” Two said.

“Maybe you can pull my dick,” Six said.

“I’ve tried that already,” Angela said.

“Not anymore,” Two said laughing.

“Go to hell,” Six said and walked away.

“I think we’re already there,” Two shouted after him.

“Oh yeah,” Six bellowed back.

“You have first dibs on whomever the next string brings,” Two shouted.

“I hope it’s your mother,” Six yelled.

“I hope it’s a donkey,” Two shouted.

“Same thing,” Six yelled again.

If my arrival did not agitate this caucus of couples too much, my sexual orientation may have caused the breakup of one pair and produced some derisive discord. Would it have been any different had I been a man, and a good-looking one at that? I wonder if the moons are blue as well.

Back at the cavern, Angela showed me her partition, but then reasoned that given that she had left Six, we would have to lay out a new space for ourselves. Where? I wondered, but said nothing. We will have to consider other caves at some point, perhaps a cave per couple, or one for each individual who wishes to have a cave of one’s own.

Six never showed up for dinner.

“Maybe he finally found a string,” Two joked.

“I really hope so,” Angela said.

“It’s much more probable that he’s sleeping outside or in another cave,” One said.

“Agreed,” Two said. “But it would be grand if he’d gone back to the blue planet,” he laughed.

I did not sleep much during my first night on Blue. Angela clung to me like a woman in love, and I, a woman assumed to be forlorn, counted my blessings in this bizarre biosphere.

Blue moon, you pulled me hither alone

Without a thought in my heart, without a love of my own.

Blue moon, you knew just what I was in for,

You heard me wishing a woman for

My spell with you and more.

Six reappeared early in the morning, asking Angela if it was going to be him or me.

“Her.”

“What about both of us?” he asked.

“Just her.”

“That’s not fair.”

“You had me for two years.”

“One has been with Two for ten years and didn’t switch.”

“Well, I am.”

“Am I so bad?”

“No! I always preferred women to men, settling for you until she appeared.”

“So, you lied to me all along.”

“I never said that I loved you. We were just together instead of being alone.”

“What a bloody planet!” he said loudly. “You’ll have to share your women if they’ll have me,” he added.

“Not me,” One said.

“Me neither,” Three said.

“How about the men?” Two asked ruthlessly.

“Not me,” Four said.

“So, you must have been alluding to yourself, you, closeted slug,” Six said mockingly.

“Not at all, you, schmuck. I was suggesting you.”

“Me?”

“You got it. The first two letters of meat.”

“What a bloody asshole!”

“Or you can wait for the next guy.”

“I’m done with all of you, and it’s probably what you wanted. I’m moving to another cave.”

“You don’t have to go that far,” One said.

“Don’t I?”

“We’re still your friends,” Three said.

“It surely doesn’t feel like it.”

“They can’t sleep with you to prove it,” Four said.

“You’ll be the one regretting it, all alone,” Two said.

“What else is new?”

“I’m sorry, if it can help you change your mind,” Two said.

“I’m tired of all this blueness. I miss the other colours. I’m going to spend most of my time looking for a string out of here.”

“Let’s hope that it doesn’t pull you or anyone of us into a black world,” Two said.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it does.”

A woman defines a man, but nobody defines a woman. Another woman! Her father! Her mother! Her children! Her genes! Her environment! If the latter is the case, then a woman can only be blue.

Angela showed me the fine art of finding blue food in a blue world. Luckily, nothing was poisonous, perhaps owing to the lack of animal life, but some fruits and vegetables tasted like there would be no tomorrow. Did I find my fill on this blueberry hill? How could anyone? There would be no thrill here, save of course the closeness afforded me by the beautiful woman beside me.

Half-days became half-weeks, and half-weeks turned into half-months, as life lingered on Azuria; a more pleasant name for the planet when I was within reach of Angela than when I was alone and despondent and called it Berylia. We searched countless caves for the sacrosanct string, hoping to pull it together and be taken to greener pastures with cattle grazing as far as the eyes could see. Any emerald existence, not necessarily on Earth, with meat or meat-like flora, would make the heart grow fonder for such a new beginning. With no string in plain sight, as if blues could ever lead to such a bare depiction, we started to search for the string in implausible places, including trees, both diminutive and towering all the way to the top, rock formations, up to and around their edges, mountains, in every nook and cranny, and waters, as deep as we could drop. This out-of-your-world snatcher remained unnoticed like a nascent cancer cell. I began to adopt the group’s passive desperation, using physical abandon as my default response to any feeling of anxiety, the receiving end, Angela my love, always ready and available to calm us down. There were also mushroom-like flower buds that made the blues dance between cyan and violet, bringing us closer to the lives that we lost.

Six and Eight, Paul Eight, barely got along, counting the days until the arrival of Nina Nine, who luckily for Six, did not speak a word of English. He had picked up some French during the years that he had spent in Montreal, and thus was able to talk himself into becoming her companion. By the time of her pulling into Cobaltia, we were occupying several caves that were close to each other. One and Two lived in the deep one. Three and Four inhabited the long one. Five and I slept in the small one. Six dwelled in the largest one. And Eight occupied the bluest one. The size of Six’s cave was not lost on Nine who seemed to value the fact that it was the biggest one around. He had discovered the caves, and consequently had chosen the biggest.

“Let’s hope that your dick is big too,” Two said.

“Don’t ruin it for me; you’ve done plenty already,” Six said.

“We can say whatever we want; she doesn’t understand a word, except of course for sex,” Two said laughing.

“But she’ll learn.”

“But until she does, I can say anything.”

“Que ce qu’il raconte ?” Nina asked. (What is he saying?)

“Rien. C’est un con.” (Nothing. He’s an idiot.)

“J’ai entendu le mot sexe.” (I heard the word sex.)

“Oui. Il disait que c’était le seul mot que tu comprendrais.” (Yes. He was saying that it was the only word that you’d understand.)

“Il n’a pas menti.” (He didn’t lie.)

“C’est un salaud.” (He’s a bastard.)

“Now, we don’t understand a word,” Two said.

“Ain’t that a shame,” Six said.

“You’re the one to blame,” Two said laughing.

“Quel con.” (What an idiot.)

We waited for Ten, but he never appeared. Was he able to bypass the space in space? Was Nine the last one? If so, what will happen to Eight?

Pieces of Eight;

The wait for the man called Ten

Has twisted his mind into mold.

Pieces of Eight;

Eleven will never come;

He drifted and became a clod.

What else is there to recount? Yes! Do not under any circumstances pull on some hovering string; even a prick!