back down the stairs to my apartment. It was very important that I not dream of Babylon just as I was starting to get some things worked out. If I got started on Babylon whole hours would pass without my knowing it.
I could sit down in my apartment and suddenly it would be midnight and I would have lost the edge on getting my life back together again whose immediate need was some bullets for my gun.
The last thing in the world that I needed right now was to start dreaming of Babylon.
I had to hold Babylon back for a while, long enough for me to get some bullets. I made an heroic effort as I walked down the stairs of the musty, seedy, tomb-like smelling apartment building to keep Babylon at arm’s reach.
It was touch and go there for a few seconds and then Babylon floated back into the shadows, away from me.
I felt a little sad.
I didn’t want Babylon to go.
Oklahoma
I went into my apartment and got my gun. I should clean this thing someday, I thought, as I put it into my coat pocket. Also, I should probably get a shoulder holster. That would be an authentic touch that might help me get more cases.
When I left my apartment to go out into San Francisco to hustle some bullets, my landlady was standing at the top of the stairs, waiting for me.
Oh, God, I thought. She’s come to her senses. I waited for a huge tirade of curses to bombard my ears and bring my life back to hell on earth again, but it didn’t happen. She just stood there watching me as I walked out of the building with a frozen smile on my face.
Just as I was opening the front door, she spoke. Her voice was almost child-like. “Why not oil wells in Oklahoma?” she said. “There’s a lot of oil in Oklahoma.”
“Too close to Texas,” I said. “Salt water flows under the highway.”
That finished her off.
There was no reply.
She looked like Alice in Wonderland.
Cactus Fog
There was no place that I was going to get any money to buy bullets, so I decided to go where there are always bullets: a police station.
I walked down to the Hall of Justice on Kearny Street to see a detective that I knew down there and once had been very good friends with to see if I could borrow some bullets from him.
Maybe he would loan me six until I met my client and got an advance. I was supposed to meet them in front of a radio station down on Powell Street. It was now 2 p.m. I had four hours to get some bullets. I hadn’t the slightest idea who my client was or what they wanted done except that I was to meet them in front of the radio station at six and then they would tell me what they wanted done and I’d try to get an advance from them.
Then I’d give my landlady a few bucks and tell her that an armored car bringing me the million dollars had gotten lost in a cactus fog near Phoenix, Arizona, but she shouldn’t worry because the fog was guaranteed to lift any day now and then the money would be on its way.
If she asked me what a cactus fog was, I’d tell her it was the worst kind of fog because it had sharp spines on it. It made moving around in it a very dangerous proposition. It was best to stay where you were at and just wait until it went away.
The million dollars is waiting for the fog to pass.
My Girlfriend
It was a fast hike down to the Hall of Justice. I’d gotten used to walking in San Francisco and could move around at a good clip.
I started 1941 off with a car and now a year later, here I was totally relying on my feet. Life has its ups and downs. The only place my life could go now was up. The only thing lower than me was a dead man.
It was a cold windy day in San Francisco but I enjoyed the walk down Nob Hill to the Hall of Justice.
I started to think about Babylon as I neared Chinatown but was able to change the marquee in my mind just in time. I saw some Chinese kids playing in the street. I tried to figure out what kind of game they were playing. By concentrating on the kids, I was able to avoid Babylon rolling toward me like a freight train.
Whenever I was trying to get something done and Babylon started coming upon me I’d try to focus on anything that could keep it away. It was always very hard because I really like to dream of Babylon and I have a beautiful girlfriend there. This is a hard thing to admit but I like her better than real girls. I’ve always wanted to meet a girl that interested me as much as my friend in Babylon.
I don’t know.
Maybe someday.
Maybe never.
Sergeant Rink
After the Chinese kids’ game I thought about my detective friend to keep Babylon away. He was a sergeant and his name was Rink. He was a very tough cop. I think he held the world’s record for being tough. He had perfected a slap across the face that left an exact hand print on it like a temporary brand. That slap was just a friendly greeting from Sergeant Rink compared to how things got later on if you weren’t very, very cooperative.
I met Rink when we were both trying out for the force back in ’36. I wanted to be a cop. We were very good friends back then. We might be on the force together right now, partners solving murders, if only I had managed to pass the final examination. My score was close, though. I was just five points away from being a cop.
Dreaming of Babylon got the best of me. I would have been a good cop, too. If only I had been able to stop dreaming of Babylon. Babylon has been such a delight to me and at the same time such a curse.
I didn’t answer the last twenty questions of the test. That’s why I failed. I just sat there dreaming of Babylon while everybody else answered the questions and became policemen.
The Hall of Justice
I never really cared about the way the Hall of Justice looks. It’s a huge, tomb-like gloomy-looking building and inside it always smells like rotten marble.
I don’t know.
Maybe it’s just me.
Probably.
One interesting thing, though, is: I’ve been in the Hall of Justice a couple of hundred times at least and I never think about Babylon when I’m there, so it does serve some purpose for me.
I took the elevator up to the fourth floor and found my detective friend sitting at his desk in the homicide department. My friend resembles exactly what he is: a very tough cop who’s interested in solving murder cases. The only thing he likes better than a nice juicy homicide is a sirloin steak smothered with onions. He was in his early thirties and built like a Dodge pickup.
The
