Seed abstracts

"Everything I do will end badly."

Melpomene glanced up imperceptibly, instantly snatching worn-out pieces of string from her pocket. But Alex noticed nothing; he was as tired as a pelican of these speculations.

"It depends on how you look at it, Monsieur..." To the undisguised delight of his interlocutors, he veered the conversation towards a philosophical aspect, failing to grasp the implications.

"If a Person"—Bernard continued to obsequiously frame the issue within a theoretical framework—"if a Person, along with another Person, bypassed the subconsciously binding framework of language..."

Alex lost count of the threads they were taking up; they could easily bombard him with fresh bundles of knowledge. Besides, he constantly (a value that laughed in his mother's face) reduced the current discussions to theoretical matters. This was a positive trait at the moment.

Melpomene nervously tightened the string around her neck, knowing that neither male was paying the slightest attention to the women's palace, which was, after all, at stake. While pouring most of the liquids towards the plumage display, they were concentrating on choosing the right words for elegantly sounding sentences.

Melpomene's tears, hidden around the silvery shields, still hadn't spilled from her eyes. She still held out hope.

"If such people possess the ability to abstract," Bernard skipped a bit over his train of thought from two minutes ago, knowing its continuity wasn't necessary, "if these people know that, despite their trivial conversation, the essence of the messages is different..."

Alex ostentatiously demonstrated that he had nothing to say on the matter, ruffling his hair in front of the mirror protruding above the sizzling refrigerator. Melpomene bit the tips of her lips frantically. It soothed, but it couldn't block out all the sensations rushing through her.

"If only such people could, within their established playing field, behind the cloak of socially understood standards, convey messages that would be completely clear to them...

" "Wait, wait, I'm getting lost in all this," Alex circled the table, trying to jump into the meaning of the conversation, the content of which enveloped him in a warm blanket.

"I understand," Melpomene whispered in a trembling voice, pulling lipstick from her purse and smearing it on her lips in unnaturally rapid succession. Lipstick, how happy you are not to feel that...

" "If only such people could, in everyday situations, transmit information to each other indecipherable to others...

" "I understand." Further—the sound suddenly escaping Melpomene's lips became hissing; her breathing was very irregular.

Bernard smiled imperceptibly, glancing timidly at the clock and registering every twitch of Alex's movements as he peered over the rum bottle. Unnecessarily.

Melpomene fixed her gaze on the sugar bowl, biting the top of her tongue until it bled as she stifled the rising whine.

"If one of these Persons, for reasons unspecified, couldn't perform a certain activity with another Person," Bernard continued mercilessly, without interrupting her lip-licking agony, "couldn't they do it on an abstract level? With an imagination of the scent of a box of toy soldiers? And couldn't that level of abstraction be the only, sufficient level at which wishes can come true?"

Melpomene wiped a falling tear from her cheek and gently rested her head on Alex's shoulder. In a moment she would be biting his ears in a sensual frenzy, and tomorrow she would greet her mother-in-law, bowing politely as usual and asking after his health.