minute electroacoustic disturbances. There are horns, conches, collective prayers, chimes, whispers. No distinct voice stands out.
“Hello, can you hear me?” Glouchenko shouts. “Glouchenko here. Is there anyone at the switchboard?” (Faint murmurs, less and less perceptible chimes. Everything fades away.) “No, they don’t hear me. I got a wrong number, of course . . .”
He hangs up. Silence surrounds him. He doesn’t know what to do.
“You bastards!” he suddenly screams. “Turn the lights back on right now! That’s enough, it’s over! This isn’t funny anymore!” (A pause.) “Come on, boys! The joke’s gone on long enough! Turn the power back on!”
A beat.
He picks the telephone back up. He listens to the dial tone. He slams the receiver down violently.
“Bastards!” he mutters.
Then we hear him take a seat next to the phone. He’s made his decision. He sits, he gropes around, he pulls on the wire, he moves the jingling device. He places it against his leg.
He feels tired.
“Fine, might as well stay here and wait for someone to call me,” he says. “I don’t feel too good, I should rest for a bit. Later on, I’ll untangle this wire, if I have time. The thing’s all twisted . . .”
In the distance, an extreme distance, the gongs and horns cease. For several moments, there is absolutely no sound.
Then we are startled. With how intense the silence and darkness are, the officiant’s voice takes us by surprise.
“Oh noble son, Glouchenko,” the officiant articulates, “give yourself over to reason, do not believe what you see, the colors and forms around you are but pure illusion . . .”
Glouchenko doesn’t react. He’s heard nothing. He wasn’t startled.
“Well,” he mutters, “someone’ll call me eventually.” (A pause.) “Whoa, what’s happening? I feel all washed out. I’m just completely tired, all of a sudden.” (A pause.) “I’m going to wait for them to turn the lights back on. Until then, I’ll just take a short nap.”
“Oh Glouchenko,” says Baabar Schmunck, “the skies now appear to you as a dark, navy blue, a divine blue light, marvelous and brilliant, springs forth in your direction. Do not be surprised by it, noble son.” (Gong.) “Do not fear it, even if you are barely able to take in the view.” (Gong.) “Place your faith in it.” (Gong.) “This light is meant to welcome you. Just beside it throbs a drab white glow. Do not be drawn to it, for that is not the light of grace.” (Gong.)
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