If my math is right, that means today should be December 25, which is... Christmas. Yeah. The forty-fourth Christmas of my life. I solemnly promise myself it won't be the last.
To keep track of time more easily, I decided to carve a mark into the trunk of the big tree, the island's veteran. One mark, one day. One more day, one more mark.
I climbed that tree twice and looked around; everywhere it's nothing but water, nothing else, all the way around, horizon to horizon. No boat, no shadow, not even a shark fin.
I've got way too much free time, so I try to keep my mind busy with something, anything. This morning, I picked the most interesting shells out of the sand and admired them from every angle. They're beautiful.
Looking at them, I get the best idea I've had in two weeks: I drew a chessboard in the sand and sorted the shells by color and size.
Eight white shells and eight black shells are the pawns. Then I patiently searched for some more special shells: the rooks, the bishops, the queens, and the kings. The biggest headache was the knights. No shell looked quite right, so I made some sorry attempts at knights out of little pieces of dry wood. I carved them with my MasterCard.
Island life has advantages and disadvantages.
Disadvantage: It's not raining. If it doesn't rain soon, we won't have water anymore and it's going to get ugly.
Advantage: This beach is quiet. Except for Eva, no other woman is wiggling her ass around here, no man is flexing his biceps, no kid is screaming. Nobody's building sandcastles, no Frenchman comes over to show me his dick. That's what I call normal.
Disadvantage: I've got nothing to eat. Except for one strand of green algae, which I swallowed today along with the water I scooped in my palm.
Advantage: So what if I've got nothing to eat? I read somewhere that a short fast makes you healthier and brings you closer to God. I feel like there's some truth to that. My liver bounced back. I don't feel it swollen like a basketball anymore. With the right mindset, I could easily live forty days on just one little piece of algae a day.
Disadvantage: Oh, my liiife, I don't have cigarettes anymore! Now that's a disaster. This is bad... I don't know how long I'll live without cigarettes. Why are You doing this to me, God?
But I'm a man, and men think. Ten minutes later, the conclusion is clear as day: you don't need cigarettes to smoke. No. You just need to use your brain.
I tear up several kinds of leaves. I'm going to dry them. After they dry, I'll crumble them, mix them with the salty tobacco scraps I've got left, and then I'll smoke it.
How will I smoke it? Simple: I'll use one of the pages from my passport. What was so hard about that?
Oh, God! They poison passports! I'm practically mute, and my throat hurts like I'm dying.
Last night, I dreamed of sharks ripping pieces out of my lungs. In the dream, I was on the beach, and wherever I looked, I saw nothing but pieces of my lungs.
So I won't be tempted to smoke cursed weeds again, I shred what's left of my passport to bits. I get a thousand little paper pieces and set them loose on the water. I'm a wise man with a strong will. I decide to quit smoking.
My luck seems to be changing. As I got wiser, the fish got dumber. Today around noon, I found three unbelievably beautiful specimens in my little trap.
Finally, I've got something to do. I quickly scale the fish, slit them open and pull out the guts, then I dig a hole in the sand. I wrap each fish in a big leaf and lay them all carefully on the bottom of the hole. I cover the leaves with a layer of sand and build a low fire on top. The smoke rises happily.
The whole thing takes me about an hour. Eva is on the other side of the island. Well, when she gets back, she's going to have a very pleasant surprise.
I eat the first fish like that, hot. I burn my mouth and my fingers. My throat hurts even worse, but I don't stop.
I eat the second more slowly, savoring every bite. I'd eat the bones too. I've got no salt, no pepper, but I swear I've never eaten anything better in my life. I'm chef material. The guys at that restaurant in Phuket could take cooking lessons from me.
Done? That's it? What the hell... no way I'm full. I'm still licking my lips. I really want to eat the third one too, but I promised I'd look after Eva. A promise is a promise, so I set the fish on a fresh leaf and decide to take it to Eva right now.
I hurry over. She's going to be happy!
Eva is sitting on the sand with her knees pulled to her chest and her arms around her knees. She's watching the waves. I know women have strong peripheral vision, so she probably saw me too.
All of a sudden, she jumps up and smacks my hand. The fish flies and lands in the sand.
"For the love of God, Eva!" I shout, furious. "Have you lost your mind?"
The girl doesn't pay the slightest attention to me. She goes over to the fish, studies it carefully, then asks me:
"Do you have more fish like this? You caught a four-color fish. Are there others? I mean, exactly like this one... with long spines on its back and belly."
"What the hell got into you?" I snap, pissed off.
"Do you have more or not?" she yells.
"The others didn't have long spines on their backs. Only this one did. I brought it to you. It was the biggest."
Eva points at the fish in the sand and tells me, agitated:
"Next time you catch one of these spiky fish, you let it go immediately. It's poisonous. It's toxic! Look at it closely! It's called the "four-color fish." It's red on the belly, blue and green on the body, and it has long black spines."
I stare at the fish, horrified.
"If you'd eaten this one first," Eva adds, "I'd be talking to myself right now. I've seen fishermen in Burma avoid it like the plague. Our guide told us there are little sacs at the base of the spines with a very powerful poison. He said that if it pricks you, the toxin gets into your blood through the spines and reaches your brain very fast."
"And you die?"
"In the end, yes, you die, but first you get paralyzed and you have horrible hallucinations. Then comes delirium and, finally, death by suffocation. The poison in the spines doesn't let you breathe anymore."
Terror sinks into my bones.
"Nowhere is safe these days!" I stammer. "Not even on a deserted island."
"Exactly. Next time you catch one of these, you don't eat it and you don't touch it."
"I don't eat it and I don't touch it," I repeat, pissed off.
I've been playing chess since this morning. Around me, the island and the ocean disappeared. The only thing I can still see are the 64 squares I drew in the sand. It's my square world.
After every move, I get up and walk around to the other side of the board. I've managed to win seventeen times and lose seventeen times. But I don't get discouraged.
I'm not hungry at all anymore. I've successfully duplicated my little fish-fooling system. Yesterday afternoon, Eva helped me build one trap, and this morning, I made another. Soon the whole shoreline of the island will be crawling with traps, and I'll start a little fishing business.
Eva ate two of those flat fish with pretty yellow stripes. They weren't poisonous. I can see she's moving normally, she's lively.
It's good here, on the island. I've got this strange feeling of happiness. I found my little piece of the world, and the rest of them can go to hell. Maybe somewhere, very far away, wars are starting or ending, talks are going on, cities are being bombed, thousands and thousands of hectares of forest are being cut down, but what does any of that have to do with me and my island?
The future doesn't scare me. I've got food. I've got quiet. I'm good here! In the world of the others there are billions of robots who wake up at dawn, chug their coffee, and run to work. Good for them! As far as I'm concerned, they can work until they drop dead. I won't do it ever again. I've got my island here. I'm king.
Somewhere--very far away--billions of poor bastards sell themselves for a piece of bread. Jobs, stupid bosses, banks, loan payments, meds, nerves, bills... little brats that need their asses wiped and trained to become good slaves.
But I'm way above that nothingness. I'm the king of the deserted island! I've got light. I've got warmth. Everything is free.
I thumb my nose at the Gas and Electric guys. I've got enough food. Fish means food, right? It's got vitamins. Why should I care about all those supermarkets with thousands of shelves loaded with millions of products?
Boozing?
No, thanks! I don't even feel the need to get drunk anymore. Getting drunk means escaping. Why would I escape? I want lucidity! I want to be awake here every second. I want to feel life, because life is beautiful!
If I want a good bath among warm, foamy waves, the Pacific is my private pool. The best drug for calming your nerves is a long soak in the water.
I'm a happy man, and right now I'm going to start the eighteenth chess game. This time, I'm definitely winning!