HERE IN THE cave, I attempt to hide from the ever-present battle. It’s almost impossible to focus on the Calcium memories what with all the explosions, nightmarish screaming, and gnashing of teeth. My boss, the editor of the Slammy’s Gazette, appears, suspendered, cigar-chomping, in my head and orders me back onto the battlefield to report on the war. I don’t think I have ever seen him in person, only in my brain. I’m not certain he exists in person. In this way, he is much like the historical Jesus. Still, he is terrifying, with his sleeve garters and green eyeshade.

“Rosenberg, why the hell are you just sitting there like a sack of shit?”

“Sorry, chief. I was just thinking about a movie I saw.”

“Well, get off your goddamn ass! There’s a war on, son! You want the Trunk Trumpet to scoop us?”

“No, sir. I just—”

“I don’t recall asking to hear your pansy excuses! The world needs to know what’s happening!”

“OK, chief. Sorry.”

My editor steps back into his office, also in my brain, and slams his brain door. A framed photo of Truman holding up a newspaper saying Dewey beat him falls off the brain wall outside his office and crashes to the floor of my brain. Broken brain glass everywhere.

With my suddenly free arm, I scoop up some ants from the hospital floor and try to find one with an introspective expression. Alas, they all look the same. And let’s face it, they all look stupid. I realize this is a form of bigotry or speciesism or just plain anti-antism on my part, and I am correctly ashamed, but for the life of me, I cannot tell one from the other of these idiotic-looking creatures. There’s one that seems to have a dimple on his (her, thon) face, but I suspect it is only some sort of injury or birth defect. In any event, it makes him (her, thon) look kind of cute, especially when he, she, thon smiles, which makes me decide he, she, thon is even less intelligent than even the regular ants. Again, I realize this is looksist, and I am correctly further ashamed. I place the cute ant back on the floor and drift back into my memory of Calcium.

CALCIUM CALCULATES. HIS chalkboard filled with mathematical scribbles and chemical equations, he ponders. He paces. He stares out a still-standing window frame at his ruined town. He plays his burnt violin. Unearthly music. Modern Phrygian mode, I’m guessing. He goes back to the board. He practices rock climbing on what remains of his interior climbing wall. It doesn’t seem like he would need the hand and foot holds, since he is an ant and I presume has arolia. Perhaps his various hand and foot mutations have rid him of those. He is, in any event, quite skilled. I was, for several years, an avid recreational climber and quite good at it. I had been told by my internist that my body type is well-suited to climbing, so I took it up, and in a very short time, I was teaching my teachers. If it weren’t for an unfortunate and frankly inexplicable fall to the bottom of a sixty-foot sinkhole at the base of Mount Bald, I would still be at it. I wasn’t seriously injured, but I spent four days down there before my outfitter realized I had not returned my equipment. It was a traumatic experience and put me off climbing. That I had to eat three of my toes to survive contributed mightily to my subsequent aversion to this sport. I cannot say why I felt compelled to eat the first of my toes within fifteen minutes of the fall. I attribute it to an irrationality that often accompanies panic.

I have attempted to make myself relevant in this vacuous culture constructed by Slammy’s and enforced by the Trunks. For it seems now they are in it together (were they always?). I despise the products of this insane marriage, but oh how I want them to love me. I long for them to adopt me as their William Burroughs, their Sam Fuller, their Hunter Thompson—their sagacious primogenitor to be trotted about, admired, raptly listened to. But I suspect it is not to be. That position has been filled by that monstrous and doddering Armond White, who has the distinct advantage, at this point in history, of being African Cavian.