After a long walk on the irresistibly charming streets of the Magnificent Mile, we had dinner at the hotel. Betty Lou left me at the bar and went up to her room "to sleep". I certainly knew she was going to read a business book instead. I was doing my own thing, of course. Dulling the pain with some black rum, I was reading about the last days of Europe and had just gotten to "Thursday" when Jake sat down in the chair across from me.

He took a gulp of beer, put the cold glass to his neck, and stared at me with the same look a remote control uses to put a device on standby. Finally, he hit his internal "Netflix" button: "Good evening. I knew I’d find you here," he said. "See, another failure," - He replaced the glass with his warm, slightly sweaty fingers, grimaced, then turned his head away from the wall sconces and showed me his neck. A bright red, tell-tale rope mark ran across it, partially hidden by his shirt collar.

"If I were you, I wouldn't go outside without a scarf. People see things," I said.

"So what if the people see? A lot of them have marks too. Everyone knows everything, everyone understands everything, but no one can do anything about it. Just like in Finland twenty years ago." Jake let out a deep, heavy sigh, and then went into standby mode himself, which gave me enough time to finish the book about the last days of Europe up to "Friday".

Outside, unhinged voices were shouting patriotic songs. In the frantic flash of headlights and streetlamps, in the thick, warm evening air, just below the indifferent swaying of the trimmed trees, a bunch of different-colored young people were trying to figure something out. A gentleman in an unbuttoned trench coat, trembling with self-pity, was swallowing pills. Plastic bottles, kicked aimlessly by someone, scraped along the pavement…

Only two kinds of people moved calmly and relaxed past the shop windows: the naked, dark, huge men, and young, beautiful, provocatively dressed women. No one here knew them or cared about them. They were metal, or at least they seemed to be. Both kinds were clearly going somewhere with purpose, but they moved with such a monolithic, unhurried ease that they commanded attention. When you looked at them, time seemed to stop, and it felt like they were standing still, not walking.

I said to Jake, "You know, I think there's a way out. For you and for us Europeans". Jake perked up, looking excited. 

"The only way out is from yourself!" he exclaimed.

"Exactly," I said, "But who am I to get out of myself, and not out of what just seems to be me?".

"Damn, you mean you don't have to sacrifice your body?".

"Look at those guys outside. See them? The dark ones with the dull sheen?"

"I've never seen people like that before," Jake said, stunned.

"I think that's us," I said, "Just after getting out of ourselves. They’re not acting in their own interests, or anyone's specific interests. They've given up what's most familiar and most precious for the sake of all humanity. They only do what the whole world needs. This is our future. Look at those guys! They're so balanced, so calm, they're smiling".

I looked closer at their faces. The men had kind, relaxed, sincere smiles. It had been a long time since I'd seen such bright faces, even though they were bronze. The men were approaching those who were suffering and comforting them. They were breaking up arguments between the "new Americans" and catching plastic bottles out of the air, which they'd simply drop into the trash on their way by. The metal men smiled warmly at the provocatively dressed women, and the women smiled back, unfazed by the men's metallic nakedness. And then they just kept walking past each other.

"I want to get out of myself like that, too!" Jake cried out. "Look how perfect they are! They only seem so dark and metallic to me because I haven't gotten out of myself yet, like they have!".

With that, Jake jumped up from the table and ran toward the doors, but after three meters, he slowed down, then stopped completely. 

Right before my eyes, Jake was getting bigger and darker. A distinct dull sheen appeared on his skin. He turned and looked at me. His smile was kind and free of any worry. He looked at his shirt, whose buttons were popping off, thought for a few minutes, then started ripping his clothes off with his metal fingers, laughing and dancing and throwing pieces around. "Lenny, this is such happiness!" he told me. "You saved me! But why are you still so… "

"So what?" I asked. Jake was deep in thought. He looked at me for a long time, his smile never leaving his face, but his eyes were full of active thought. 

"I don't know," he said. "You seem to be made of two parts. One is thin, pure, and massive, but it's only potential rather than real yet… and the other one is real…"

"What is it, what is the other part?!" I asked.

Jake was clearly embarrassed. Finally, he answered: 

"Well, I'll be honest. It's like you're made of donkey dung. And that dung is your personal interests". 

I was surprised at myself: I took Jake's words like a doctor's diagnosis—sad, but hopeful. Something inside me wanted to answer: "Yes, yes, that's it!"

"So how did you get out of yourself?" I asked, “It was my idea, after all!" I felt stupid, but I had to ask: "Where do you go?".

"I don't know," Jake said, looking a little lost. "Try going to the hotel exit. That's what helped me."

I slowly got up, put the book on the table, looked myself up and down, looked at Jake, looked at the metal men outside, and then at the regular people in the bar. I felt an intense desire to be like Jake, to be like all these people who had gotten out of themselves. Who am I?! Where am I?! I ran outside, breathless and nervous, barely feeling the solid ground beneath my feet. I felt more and more sick. I was waiting for an update. I was looking for a way out of myself!

Numb, I went back into the bar, ran up to Jake, and asked, "Is anything changing?"

"Not in you yet," he said, "But keep trying. I'm sure it's necessary. I can just feel that right now, all around, near and far, in different countries, there are still a lot of people like us, getting out of themselves. Keep trying, try to be even more impressed by the ones you see on the street. The main thing is to have a sharp desire, to be sure that you'll die without it"

"Die?"

"Well, I didn't want to be so blunt, but it's the truth," Jake said, "You remember what I showed you fifteen minutes ago. I was ready to die more than once. You'll understand when it happens to you. The people you see as metal now, you'll see as even bigger, thinner, and purer—I don't know how else to describe it. And you'll see that there's no one you're not connected to by an immense force, like gravity… no, it's love! Good luck!"

Jake yelled this as I ran out into the street for the second time. He watched me go, tall and masculine, kind and completely relaxed. I tried to grab hold of him with my eyes, like a handrail on a drunk train going off the rails, but I was carried forward. I couldn't make out the road, couldn't hold onto a single thought, and didn't know what my face looked like. I was waving my arms and feeling the air. I was moving forward by touch.

---

I moved this way down the sidewalks, looking for more and more metal men. I found them. I don’t know if I was moving myself or if some external force was carrying me. I went from one to another, looking them in the eyes, trying not to forget that I was looking for a way out of myself. After a while, I started to notice that the women I was paying attention to, even though they were dressed like prostitutes, were also out of themselves—also metal. I asked one of them, "You're so perfect, why are you dressed so provocatively?". 

"So we don't seem too unusual!" she replied.

I kept looking for a way out of myself. I replayed that metal woman's phrase in my mind constantly. Her voice was like a symphony orchestra. She captivated with her gaze, her movements, even her intonation was incredibly graceful. And I still couldn't figure out how to be like them, how to get out of myself. After four hours, I had run my legs ragged and had to go back to the hotel. Empty-handed, I went to my table, but Jake was, of course, gone. My book was lying on the windowsill. I grabbed it, threw it in the first trash bin I saw on my way to the stairs, and hurried to my room. I couldn't fall asleep. I kept thinking about the metal men, and even more about the metal women. I loved these people and envied them, I wanted to be like them, but sometimes the thought that I was never destined to get out of myself would creep in, and I would suffer because of it.

The last hour before the alarm, I lay in a complete daze, unable to think anymore, unable to want anything, or even to envy. The image of the woman who answered my question about her appearance kept coming back and comforting me. In fact, it never left. I would have died if it weren't for that woman.

---

Betty Lou and I met for breakfast. She was quiet and looked tired. Like she hadn't slept. After finishing everything and drinking my coffee, I looked at her tired, dark curls. She noticed me looking and wanted to say something, but she just sighed, turned away, and squinted disinterestedly at the sun-drenched sidewalk. Her lips were nervously parted.

"Betty Lou," I started, "look at me. You didn't sleep either?". She nodded, looking into my eyes. 

"I was thinking about the future," I said, "You know, I understand a little better now what's happening to our little planet, to our snotty humanity. I just wanted to say… wherever you end up, wherever I end up, if anything ever threatens you… I'll do everything to keep you safe, because… honestly… it's so simple." I couldn't hold back a smile. But I knew I hadn't said what I meant. There were no words. "Yes," she answered and stood up, adjusting her sweater. She walked to the restaurant exit and stopped by the window next to the door to wait for me, who was still fumbling with my coffee.

I caught up to her, but she wasn't going anywhere else. She was standing there, facing me, and watching me quietly, stretching her back without using her hands. I looked into her eyes and tried to get my thought across just with my gaze. I was thinking, "You're thinking about getting out of yourself too!"

A smile grew on Betty Lou's lips. It was a smile full of gratitude, serenity, confidence… and surrender. She closed her eyes, opened them again, and slowly nodded at me. I moved closer, and my hands rested confidently on her hips.

We stood there, looking into each other's eyes, and I watched Betty Lou get brighter, more radiant, almost glowing in waves. With every second, she was purer, more perfect, more simple. She was a part of me. An immense force, stronger than gravity, connected us. I looked around. Everyone, just like Jake said, was made of two parts. A pile of donkey dung was hunched over bacon and eggs, a pile of donkey dung was pushing a cart of trays, but they didn't disgust me. Because at the same time, I could see their future state—pure and perfect. And I knew that was the real one.

I pulled Betty Lou close and held her for a long, long time, watching the streams of cars driving down the wide avenue. Only when I let her go did we notice that I was completely naked. Betty Lou looked down, then up again, shrugged, smiled an even kinder smile, and stayed in my arms for another ten minutes.

---

We drove out of Chicago to the sound of applauding Ring-billed Gulls. Here and there on the sidewalks were bright, radiant, pure men and women. There were more and more of them. On the Kennedy Expressway, a truck with an open bed sped past us, carrying four bronze horses. Betty Lou and I exchanged a look, and she said, "That would have been really stupid if I hadn’t turned away there, by Stockmann".

08.03.2010