Act 1, Chapter 3, Part 5: Linear

Recapitulation: Thus far today, Barry has managed to dent a car, drive away, get sick off of greasy fast food, and fear the possibility he may be harboring an underage runaway. This augurs well for the rest of his day.

***

At least today’s jaunt to Willow Grove involved a more elderly group, rather than the children’s crusade yesterday. Except for what looked to be grandchildren, maybe even great-grandchildren, Jenna was the youngest person there. Barry wasn’t far behind. Ms. Wilborough’s life left many wakes as it sailed through our world. All these people had been caught up in those waves, and now that the ship stalled out and sank, so too had their companionship. Now they stood ready to fare Gertrude well.

Unlike a concert setting, the high ceilings served to baffle sound rather than amplify it. Barry hadn’t noticed it so much with the children, but now the preponderant adults, more engaged in meaningless talk, served up a chattering babble. Jenna hung onto the crook of his arm as he patted her, trying not to rap her. Like a good club, there was scarce room to move, and so they wedged through the crowd, careful to grant a sympathetic nod to everyone that caught their eye, winding their way to the casket.

Some of these haughty guests snorted when Barry and Jenna passed. From a financial high ground, they deigned to look down on their social underlings, garbed in the finest fashion from 1981. It was just a suit, not even required for his chosen profession, yet he could not help but cringe away, keeping a social distance. He too noticed their finery, their finest finery, removed from display cases and draped right onto them, tailored to their measurements, rather than having to strain one’s belly against a belt. To a man everyone else’s clothes shined, casting a subtle glow that may have illumined only Barry’s imagination, but it was enough.

Imagine a man stirring a cup of water. Much of the water spins around in a vortex, but there will always be a few molecules fighting that irresistible force. Barry and Jenna are fighting that force, in order to make it up to the casket. That the hall is this crowded is better news than either could have hoped for. Though there will be many people watching the casket, few will notice individuals. Yes, they are strangers, but there are ways around being strange.

They did reach the front, where a semi-linear queue snaked towards the casket. Every couple of minutes, the line writhed forward, individuals offering personal benedictions, farewells, hellos. They waited in silence, Jenna in front of Barry, his hands on her shoulders, thumbs touching. All he would have to do was link his index fingers and squeeze, then hope no one noticed. After all, the guest of honor was dead. Would another person be that out of place?

Barry wondered, what exactly is it that people say when they speak to a corpse? Assuming a spirit or soul exists, why would it stay around in the body? You would be incorporeal, hence the statement, the spirit leaving the body. You would be free to float anywhere, do anything. Even if a spirit attended the body’s funeral, would it stay confined within the casket? Wouldn’t it stake out a spot higher up in the venue, or even stand right next to the casket, anywhere but inside the husk? And for those that never believed in souls to begin with, but still feel the need to say something, what are they talking to? Their memories? Their fears? Themselves?

When he walked up to the husk, what would he say?