Slaves to the Senses

By Eduardo Capistrano

frightened nervous masses | 
in cages of flesh and bone | 
sucking through mirrored tunnels | 
shadows they call life /

The fourth book of tales by Eduardo Capistrano explores the traps of the senses: insufficient tools on which we rely to decipher a world of illusions.

The collection opens with Polished Metal, the tragicomic story of two friends that could be twin brothers. The Assassin Statue is a report on a museum piece surrounded by a terrible legend. Golden Promises follows a disillusioned groom in an unhappy escapade. In Folie à Deux, a father and one of his sons look for reality after the storm. In Chimera in Pieces, a man replaces all of his body with prosthetics. A company delivery man discovers what is The Prey of Man. Based on the work of Erik Satie, Vexations shows the repetitive challenge taken by an arrogant musician. Reflections on Torment shows the bitter existence of a man constantly attacked by a reflection. The author proposes A Russian Enigma about the various versions that a story can have.

Eccentric Vision is not only the perspective but also the solution of a painter for his lost sight, which is taken by creatures that are, in one way or another, fruits of his mind. Almost Cyrano is a bizarre subversion of Rostand's romantic. The most skilled musician of a distant Empire is summoned to play In the Court of the Canary King. In (ghûl), a lost man try to find himself, while a friend also tries to find him. Nobody wants to work at The Abandoned Station, and we follow its last occupant fo find out why. Dark Eyes watch a company's emissary to an island in which experiments went wrong. The Venus Effect accompanies someone who discovers a tool for self-affirmation. The Musica Universalis resounds in the surreal world found by a technician in the sewers. Pupilla is a visual nightmare about the eyes. The Old Man with the Candle is a legend on a peculiar town where everyone is beautiful.

The collection finishes with a search in a used bookstore resulting in a strange Book of Recipes that aren't for the weak stomachs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: Jun 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781071552766

Book preview

PolIshed Metal

Nigel and Caleb shared the pleasure of representation since childhood. The friends met in Sunday theater classes, given by Dorian, an old actor, in a shed behind the small town church founded by Italians. Dorian pulled from memory the pieces that he interpreted and recreated them for the children, intending more to amuse and occupy than to teach anything.

Caleb was only a few months younger than Nigel, and they were very similar in semblance and body: both chubby, freckled and brown-haired. Old Doria was the first to see them as brothers, in an adaptation of the legend of the founding of Rome by Romulus and Remus. The role was so perfect that they decided to become brothers, and everyone in the city went, since that time, to view them as such. Hence the nickname by which they were known: the Roman Twins.

They were inseparable, and they loved Theater. They took it home, carrying on with the roles even outside the shed, reciting grandiloquent speeches around the church square, fighting with invisible swords as they entered and exited the bars, kneeling dramatically on the dirt road to the farms, climbing the fence posts of the fields, flying through the grass of the hills.

Familiarity and friendship, by themselves, would already make them similar in manners and behavior, in addition to what they already were in appearance. Naturally extroverted and passionate, they loved to play tricks and pranks, but in this could be seen the fundamental difference between them. For Caleb there was no need for the prank to be sophisticated: he liked exaggerated imitations of local personalities, making someone think that clay was something else, and spreading absurd stories throughout the impressionable minds of the small town, especially whimsy gossips that he invented about everyone. Nigel, on the other hand, made himself as more cerebral and wasn’t satisfied with vulgarities, preferring to devise plans and stratagems, with a tendency towards the dramatic and the scary: like the Beast of the Coffee Fields, whispered until today by the superstitious, even after the priest having shown at mass the overalls on which the boy glued hair gathered from the barber's floor; or the horrific fate he gave to the red aniline stolen from the bakery.

Their advantage was their similarity, and they explored it in a way that mixed the theatrical and the mischievous. They tried to mitigate as much as possible the differences between them, until they passed for true twins. They combined Nigel and Caleb into a hybrid character, that both could represent. Together, they worked on the small details, traits, mannerisms. Age did not harm this practice, except for one point: by adolescence, the freckles vanished on Nigel, but not on Caleb.

The experience was invaluable for both. The practice for the art benefited greatly from what they learned, and what was a joke became a serious thing. The mere corepresentation of a role developed into a real specialty on the sharing of roles, on the synchronization of movements, on imitation, on makeup. Old Dorian treated them as his greatest artistic legacy, and helped the twins on these first steps towards an effective career in theater, which was fated to continue only in the big city.

Together they left the families, the children's antics and the patched pieces of old Dorian in the shed behind the church. The big city was hostile from the start, with their only bag of clothes being stolen at the bus station. But they had been rewarded with the dangerous ability of artists to suspend the differences between art and life, and decided to improvise, as on stage, instead of returning to their parents' aid. They had a good bit of luck, but the main thing: they counted on each other.

Caleb, who was the one who had the most reason to be plump, as he was good with a fork, started out as a waiter in an Italian restaurant, and after hours he took burned risotto, fried polenta and chicken giblets for dinner. Nigel, on the other hand, got a job in a hotel laundry, collecting, washing, ironing and replacing sheets, towels, staff uniforms and guest clothes.

At first they lived as a favor in a boarding house, belonging to a widow, to whom they made daily promises of paying everything, with interest, as soon as they could, but the payments were not made before the old woman died. Then, her heirs decided to live in the house instead of renting it. The debts were forgiven as compensation for they returning to the street, but then they already had some money.

They went to the hotel where Nigel worked. He managed to get a good price for them to take up residence in one of the cheapest rooms. Then, finally, they were able to resume the exercise of their youth, and began to change roles occasionally, with Nigel taking on the job of waiter and Caleb going to the hotel's laundry.

The stroke of luck came when a frequent visitor to the Italian restaurant became unnerved by the alternation on the waiter's face, and as she left she decided to ask why on some days he had foundation applied to his face, and on other days he didn't. If Caleb were the one questioned, perhaps the result of the fateful meeting would have been some disgusting joke, and the twins would never have left where they were.

But the question was asked to Nigel. He carried cards containing cryptic and mysterious questions, in rhyme, dealing with identity, secret and illusion, exactly for moments like that. With a skillful gesture of prestidigitation, Nigel attracted the eyes of the entire restaurant to himself, playing with fans of cards on both hands, ending up handing a single one to the woman, which read: if you try to wipe the clown's tear, the man appears underneath.

Everyone who witnessed the scene was delighted. The woman returned several times, and the twin who served her handed a new card. The story took shape, even appearing in a newspaper, and Nigel saw the opportunity for the magic waiter to do one last act and leave the scene. He sent invitations — properly mysterious — to several directors of theater companies, to visit the restaurant, enclosing a clipping of the newspaper article.

Realizing that a director was in the restaurant, the two left the kitchen for the table area, side by side, shoulder to shoulder. Then, as if they were the reflection of the other, in perfect symmetry, they made a path between the tables synchronizing the movements, with one trying to pour an invisible bottle into a real glass, and the other pouring a real bottle in a nonexistent glass. Seeing the consequences, they tried to dry it with a handkerchief, but the twin who had the real cup ended with the handkerchief inside it, and the one with the bottle, with an invisible handkerchief, got his hand all wet. Both reacted identically to the situations, and this became more and more confused and funny, until they ended face to face, negotiated to exchange handkerchief for bottle, one dried his tray, the other drank from the glass, and left amid applause and laughter.

They then returned to talk to the director in question, explaining that they were looking for a place in the company for both of them. Nigel and Caleb repeated the same act for three different directors, but it would only be the fourth, a man named Libero Peters, who received them with standing applause, red with laughter, and accepted them with open arms in his company.

Libero wrote and directed his plays. The twins quit their jobs and dedicated themselves to absorbing what they could from that life they so longed for. The pure passion of the two proved to be efficient to make up for the lack of appropriate training in the area, although both sought it out as soon as they could. They stood out in whatever roles they were assigned. To see how they would fare as protagonists, Libero wrote especially for them a piece inspired by the way he met them, entitled Polished Metal.

A dialogue disguised as a monologue, the play was about an unhappy man, sitting in front of a mirror, enumerating several defects of his own, and the sadness they caused him. Then he praised his reflection, at first as if he were a better man, something he longed to become. The reflex responded to him, accepting the condition of better and superior, and started to imply contempt. The dialogue became tense, and evolved to him trying to break the mirror, but he couldn't, because as the title indicated, it was made of polished metal. It was then revealed that the man who started as real was the reflection; the real man was the better man, with an inflated ego, seeing his defects in the mirror and ignoring them until then. He thought that everyone should accept him, because he thought he was an excellent man; but in the end, he finds himself fragmented, incomplete, and forced to live with it.

The play premiered and caused a sensation, which was amplified with the disclosure that they were not twins, not even brothers. Their ability was finally recognized, and the theatrical career of the Roman Twins began. Thanks to this, they were able to study theater, live among the best in the field and gain renown; but what was the biggest highlight of their partnership ended up also being their undoing.

It turns out that, individually, the brothers were great actors, but that would never be seen, as they were stigmatized as a couple. The Romans' appeals to playwrights and directors had occasional effects, but audiences did not appreciate their separate performances as much. They wanted to see them together, and art soon gave in to the demands of the box office.

Caleb's individual plays were tinged by his increasingly vulgar humor, and when it finally caused disgust in audiences, he refused to change, as the directors asked, showing himself to be choleric and irritated. After getting married, this became more pronounced, and he made it clear that he blamed Nigel. Everything that his brother achieved for his life, that he himself could not achieve the same or better, was cause for complaints, which came as mockery, lamentations, and even aggression. Eventually, Nigel gave up doing the work for both of them, focusing on his own career, and it soon became clear which of the brothers would survive the separation.

The outcome came when they were already middle-aged gentlemen. Caleb burst into an essay by Nigel, shouting confused curses, accusing him of all sorts of deception. He was drunk. Libero, who directed the rehearsal, intruded and listened to a whole list of considerations that Caleb had kept for decades. For Libero it was the proverbial drop of water, and he dismissed Caleb in front of the whole company.

Caleb left humiliated and furious, and Nigel, that night, was deeply and mysteriously shaken. All that Caleb had said, those daydreams and curses unintelligible to everyone else, struck him as the harshest truth. He was the target for words fired like bullets, in the language that friends cultivate since friendship is born; that brothers cultivate since they understand each other as brothers, and that it becomes something understandable only for them, between them.

With the alcoholic vapors surrounding them, the scrambled words came out, indecipherable for everyone, but responsible for the hole in Nigel's stomach, for the sleepless nights that followed, for the desperate tears he couldn't explain to his wife: I'm Romulus, I'm the Beast of the Coffee Fields, I'm the waiter, I'm the clown...

A member of the company found Libero's body in the morning. Caleb disappeared and was immediately declared the main suspect, but Nigel was also gone. A call took the police to where they both were, weeks later. Caleb promptly confessed not only to killing Libero but also to attacking Nigel, and leaving him in the state he was in, injured and unconscious. He was arrested immediately and Nigel was taken to the hospital. As soon as he woke up, confused, he claimed that he was, in fact, Caleb. No one was convinced by what was considered a desperate sacrifice attempt, in the midst of a desperate, anguished, painful cry.

Caleb never accepted Nigel's visits in prison, and he died imprisoned, close to the age of sixty. Outside, Nigel performed one of Caleb's plays in his honor, sporting freckles to look like him.

At the end of the play, his tears did not smear the freckles.

The AssassIn Statue

The reports about the piece registered in this Museum under nº 78-7253 prove exactly why the words history and story are confused in some of their uses, even if they mean in some way the opposite of the other: what is history means the detailing and sequence of events that occurred in the past, derived from the most varied scientific studies, confronted with the story created over the gaps that science couldn’t fill, the fictions born at times from adaptations or amalgams of legends, myths and folklore, sometimes from original inventions of minds that sought to make an impression and often, with this, obtain some advantage.

Archeology is a notorious provider of subsidies for the craziest daydreams, as evidenced by the various entertainment productions focused on a strange object or artifact found in ancient excavations. This is exactly the case with the curse of the mummies, for which nature seems to have macabrely collaborated with the pathogens that caused the deaths of the explorers who dared to disturb their tombs. Or, more recently, the case of the thousands of Chinese terracotta soldiers, whose historical value can equal only the eccentricity of the sovereign who recruited them to protect his repose.

As the examples denounce, statues and artifacts linked to death can be listed among the artifacts that most incite the imagination; the first for bringing the man of yore to our presence, and the latter for our persistent wonder and fear in relation to what awaits us after this existence. The study of the culture of peoples is never complete without studying both the representative art in which statuary is included, as well as its funeral customs.

However, occasionally pieces are found that bring together both themes in order to question our understanding of art and death, and instigate with its peculiarities our imaginations and, why not, our fears.

At first glance, the piece could very well be considered a Hellenic-style sculpture, representative of a perfectly erect life-size man wearing a long robe over a tunic, holding a portion of the robe with both hands, which completely hides them. The only apparent portion of the body is the head with exceptionally detailed features, which contrasts with the rest of the composition. Instead of the expected sober and serene expression, the face seems contorted in anguish and even agony, with the eyes compressed and the mouth slightly open. The statue is on a cubic granite pedestal, which contains a carved inscription in Greek, the best translation of which would be: Reward for Pygmalion. Such a name may have been an attempt at humor, albeit somewhat morbid, as will be seen below.

A detailed study of the piece contributes to its peculiarities. The measurement shows the subtly larger scale of the piece in relation to the human, with the thickness of the limbs and size of the skull indicating an expansion, a volumetric increase so subtle that it does not match the typical creative license to enhance the represented personality.

The piece's history must be preceded by the measures taken to elucidate its mystery, since they were its motivation. I will try to reconstruct all of its past, mixing the mythical and the real from its origins to the present day, being sure that they will be easily distinguished.

We started with the follow-up of the denunciation made against the house of Tryphon of Sestos, an important politician, accused of employing eight of his servants as murderers against his foes. The course of the investigations shows that Tryphon's error was in target and not in method, since the practice was odiously common at the time, and even acceptable, provided it was used with caution.

It so happens that Etesias, the politician with the most influence over the passage of cargo destined for the ports, opposed to collaborate with the transposition of goods owned by Tryphon. The latter was led to believe — probably deceived by someone who benefitted — that it was the beginning of a political coup, and commanded his assassination, accompanied by a smear campaign that legitimized it.

Etesias was a cautious and well-guarded target, and Tryphon considered his servants' methods. Kybiosaktes would not reach him with his dagger, nor Syrri with his garrote. Kynegos had no place from where to shoot his arrows. Korinna would not strangle him in his own sheets after seduction. Melanthios' poison would not even reach his food or drink, let alone his lips. Uraeus’ scorpions and snakes would be killed in the pots or bags that hid them. Ascalaphid could not sabotage the passages he would use, nor cause collapses, nor dig holes.

What remained to Tryphon was his own son, Lysander. The method of the assassin consisted of climbing on a pedestal with a solid rod, in which he held himself firmly. He then covered himself with a bulky cloak, which formed countless straps and folds around him. He then controlled his breathing and movements while being completely covered with a layer of a kind of cement, which was then sculpted and painted like a statue representing Etesias. He remained paralyzed and fasting for days, as he was passed on to the long chain of deliverers who would mislead the origin of that statue to be presented to Etesias. In the portion of mantle that hid his hands he carried a skin containing water, and a sharp dagger.

Sounding massive and, therefore, unable to contain venomous animals or lethal mechanisms, and appealing to the narcissism of the vain Etesias, the statue gained prominence in his collection, in the gallery of his residence. Within two days he was dead in his bed, with the bloody dagger found in the hands of his room’s guard, who appeared to have killed himself afterwards. Thanks to the previous preparation, Lysander was able to commit the crime and return to the condition of statue.

The crime would be perfect, were it not for the unexpected intervention of one of Etesias' mistresses, who refused to allow the statue of her lover to leave the gallery — acquired by the respectful Tryphon. In one last attempt to hold it, she clung to it, knocking it over. The height would be insufficient to break a massive statue, but it was more than enough to break the thin layer that hid Lysander. The boy's identity quickly proved the ruse, condemning Tryphon and all his murderers.

Certainly colored by folklore, the sentence subjected each of the murderers to an ordeal inspired by their own methods, with Kybiosaktes stabbed, Syrri garrotted, Kynegos riddled by arrows, Korinna hung on sheets, Melanthios forced to eat and drink poison, Uraeus thrown over scorpions and snakes and Ascalaphid thrown into a hole and crushed under rocks.

Lysander was placed on his pedestal with the murderous dagger in his hands, but this time tied to the rod and gagged. Tryphon received the worst punishment, which was to coat his son with cement, being allowed, if he wanted, to be merciful and cover his nostrils, killing him by asphyxiation quickly instead of the slow deprivation of air. Some versions of the story tell that Tryphon covered his son's nostrils, witnessing his death before he himself was killed. Others say that he did not cover them, giving rise to varied conclusions, from the most credible, such as that of Lysander having endured days of deprivation before being found dead, to even the most fanciful.

The inscription on its base — Reward for Pygmalion — thus makes a sinister inversion of the myth of Pygmalion, the sculptor who sculpted his ideal of beauty in a statue called Galatea, with which he fell in love, and which later came to life as a gift from Aphrodite.

Tryphon's grief, such as occurs in the imagination of various cultures, grants him the ability to operate the supernatural. Cursing all those who sentence him, Tryphon opens his wrists and sheds his own blood and tears on the cement, with which he kills his son and makes him be reborn as a tool of revenge, before his own life is gone. Lysander's corpse, imprisoned in the petrified countenance of his last victim, is treated as a tribute to the justice that was operated. Here we ignore the reports that put it in the public square or on the grave of Etesias, to choose, not only for the poetic beauty but also for the story, for it being a gift to the mistress