232
PARTISAN REVIEW
business is another fine fraud: kill itl A layer of the earth's crust is all
that has to remain, solid enough underfoot , and everywhere else,
nothingness.
I continue my walk along the Prospect, which now cannot be
distinguished from the endless plain, deserted and frozen. There are no
more walls, as far as the eye can see, no mountains or hills; not a river
or a lake or a sea: only a flat, gray expanse of ice, as compact as basalt.
Renouncing things is less difficult than people believe: it's all in
getting started. Once you've succeeded in dispensing with something
you thought essential, you realize you can also do without something
else, then without many other things. So here I am walking along this
empty surface that is the world. There is a wind grazing the ground,
dragging with flurries of fine snow the last residue of the vanished
world: a bunch of ripe grapes which seems just picked from the vine,
an infant's woolen bootee, a well-oiled hinge, a page that seems torn
from a novel written in Spanish, with a woman's name: Amaranta.
Was it a few seconds ago that everything ceased to exist, or many
centuries? I've already lost any feeling of time.
There, at the end of that strip of nothing which I continue to call
the Prospect I see a slender form advancing, in a pale fur jacket: it's
Franziska! I recognize her stride in her high boots, and the way she
keeps her arms hidden in her muff, and the long striped scarf flapping
after her. The cold air and the cleared terrain guarantee good visibility,
but I wave my arms in vain, trying to attract her attention: she can't
recognize me, we're still too far apart. I advance, hastening my steps; at
least I think I'm advancing, but I lack any reference points. Now, on
the line between me and Franziska, some shadows can be discerned:
they are men, men in overcoats and hats. They are waiting for me. Who
can they be?
When I have come close enough, I recognize them: they're the men
from Section D. How is it they've remained here? What are they doing?
I thought I had abolished them too when I erased the personnel of
all the offices. Why have they placed themselves between me and
Franziska? "Now I'll erase them!" I decide, and concentrate. Nothing
doing: they're still there between us.
"Well, here you are," they greet me. "Still one of us, are you? Good
for you! You gave us a real hand, all right, and now everything is
clean."
"What?" I exclaim. "Were you erasing as well?"
Now I can understand my sensation that, this time, I had ventured
