Silent Conservation Law

Silent Conservation Law

Maruta's feet almost overtook her hands which had hardened and petrified, when she found the best angle she could think of before turning perfectly into a statue. Instead of staring west and seeing at dusk burning the sky and clouds, his eyes were fixed on a small stop with a faded blue canopy. With such a small canopy, he was sure that the shelter had long been abandoned, and people preferred to wait at another stop at the end of the road: a bigger and more comfortable stop and not reached by its rocky feet. At night, the small stop may only be a place to sell dirty stickers or small rooms for dogs.

He is confused. Maruta never knew what had to be discussed with a bus stop to fill eternity and silence. Her boyfriend never answered the question. He might consider it just a joke; just like the other questions. Because Mi was just silent and laughing when Maruta asked him one evening, years ago, "What would a monument say to the 101st building that towered beside it?"

It was the fifth meeting with the Mi that year and the second question he submitted that day. The first question had a fate that was not much different. Mi ignored him and the question evaporated in a field when they saw a pair of banyans fenced in with concrete. However, instead of not answering silently, Mi instead asked with joy reflecting the indifference of a bamboo. Are these two banyans married? he asked.

Maruta shrugged. However, then said, yes, they were married. Hundreds of years ago they went to church and got married there. A pastor married them by witnessing thousands of rice stalks, river stones, and a buffalo horned thirty centimeters.

However, that question is not the beginning or the end of the twilight that has burned the tail of the clouds running around. Hours before they had met, made love in a colorful hotel room, then together considered themselves to be the first people to watch mercury burn: yellow or orange. They waited almost an hour for that. And, when finally the mercury shone, Maruta felt his armpit start to cool. However, the night had not yet come down and the twilight was not finished at that time. It was only when the night arrived and they finally separated, Maruta realized that it was cloudy which had ignited the mercury.

At their fifth meeting that year, for the first time Mi wanted to spend time besides making love and being alone. Maruta agreed to his lover's request. He accompanied wherever the place Mi wanted to visit. He watched the Mi oddly when the little woman chased with the waves with loud laughter. He ushered Mi in and out of the campus just to commemorate his never-ending college days. Even Maruta accompanied Mi sitting at zero kilometers — which seemed more like a silly act because of doing it in broad daylight.

"How long has it been since that day?" Mi asked after Maruta took his picture at the gate of an ancient fortress.

What was meant by that day must have been the day when Mi decided to leave college, then left with a bald half man who likes to filter without smoking. His lips are black and his teeth are yellow. And, even though Mi's lips and teeth are still as strong as they once were, Maruta can still feel the taste of tobacco that is spicy and sickening. Maruta himself hates smoking, unless he is driving. He was drunk with heavy vehicles and smoked keeping him from vomiting everything he swallowed.

Must be around seven years, answered Maruta. You are married and have children, he continued. I'm still like this. This is a little disgusting.

"Will you stay like this until you die?"

Not. But, then Maruta looked at the woman, didn't she? He could no longer remember the seasons that stretched and they had gone through together. There was another gap between Mi's departure and their meetings filled with silence. So Maruta felt that it was not love and interrelated feelings that had bound them years after their separation. But, more to sickening loneliness. It was really thought of by Maruta, she even had nausea at the thought of the rotten life she had lived. How sad is human life that makes silence a guide to his life.

"You survive in a strange way," Mi said. Did you know, he said again, I told you to my son. I say that almost all the tall buildings in the city are your creations, including the apartments where we live. He likes to go to the park downstairs, then look up. He said, "The friend of the mother made the building and these rooms, is she god for them?"

Ha ha. Your child is too liberal.

"Maybe because of his father."

But, I am not their god, Maruta said. Maybe not directly.

"Then what should I tell her later?"

Maruta is silent. Mi took her hand, but was reluctant to speak out.

And, memories of the past seemed to occur when they saw a group of young men in the same jacket, all carrying cellphones and cameras. They laughed.

Just because you left me, I made them. Only because of distance, heartache, and odd loneliness.

I imagine, Mi, said Maruta again, that because of the sense of loneliness that made the buildings. I can't cure my heart ache, restore my attitude. Silence cannot be killed, perhaps.

"You know, I never apologized for leaving you."

Yes, you have never been.

"I don't think I really need to."

Yes, you really don't need to.

Then minute by minute the day passed slowly and painfully, like a train running in at a station. As if their togetherness is indeed unpleasant anymore. Laughter could still be heard, but Mi still didn't want to answer Maruta's question when she saw a pair of banyans.

"I always imagined that these buildings could talk to each other," Mi said after they waited for the mercury to ignite. "For example, the rail spoke with a doorstop, a sidewalk with an angkringan cart, then ..."

Bus stops, vehicle wheels with asphalt, mercury with telephone poles.

"Yes, yes. It is typical of this lonely person you are. Or, perhaps all objects are created because of the silence of the creator."

Yes. Good theory, said Maruta.

And, the building was there: towering not high and still maintaining four sides from bottom to top. The monument looks sad. Stand alone at the intersection, far from any building. Perhaps, the only reasonable friend is the 101-storey tall building.

What if the Tugu was once someone who was petrified for a reason, Maruta asked, but more to himself actually. The monument may be a fat man or a pregnant woman because the middle part is enlarged.

Then, the shocking question - even for himself - was said: what would a monument say to the 101st building that towered by its side?

This time he asked Mi, but the woman did not answer. He ran across the street because a small drizzle suddenly arrived, leaving Maruta to raise his head alone under the monument. The little woman called him once from the side, but Maruta did not move. When Maruta looked at him again, he was gone. Even though rain has never been any more profound and his feelings never hurt more than Maruta felt at the time.

Years later, when Mi no longer came to his city, the silence and pain that so began to harden Maruta's heart. He was more often silent at the side of the road, so long that his body began to stiffen. The heartache that suffers from it should be enough to kill him and he knows that. However, he also realized that the only reason he did not die was because of the intense silence. For him silence had six sides and twelve ribs: a sad prison. And, now the silence will turn itself into another form soon.

The second question was unanswered, so he had to figure out what the monument always said to Building 101 first. Is it enough just to say good morning? What did they talk about all day? And again, will the bus stop be as smart as a building to respond to the conversation he made. He must find out for himself the answer to the question. There is still time to go forever.

However, the first question for Mi years ago was never to get the answer. Mi is just silent. He doesn't cry, laugh or smile. No one can answer but Mi, of course, when someone asks him, "Are you happy?"

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