Maarten Dierckx13 juni 2009 – 18:41

The old man and the sea

At the time I was working for what I believe was a dodgy corporation, though I'm not going into details at this time. My job required me to move around a lot: using public transport I'd travel around town.

I arrived at a fancy part of town. Wealth was abundant: taste was not. All these rich bastards somehow end up living in very similar, huge buildings, their gardens filled with plastic shit of the Snow White-type, dwarf accessories, dolphin shaped fountains, heavy gates, room for a dozen ponies.

As I was marching on my way to my next assignment, I noticed a small man sitting on a bench on a busy crossroad, in the middle of a bridge. As I approached him I noticed the man was sound asleep, mouth wide open, head down on his chest. His pose was so ridiculously unselfconscious I could not help but laugh. He, however, did not look well. The closer I got to him, the more the unhealthy pale, green, yellow, blue of his skin made me realise what was a plain fact: this old man was not well at all.

Of course, although, I'd figured it out, my mind wasn't ready to accept all of it just yet. For one, nobody noticed. Or, more precisely, nobody bothered to react. Even as I watched, dozens of people passed him by. Secondly, I was late for work and I didn't have time for this type of rubbish. I didn't know the man. Who cares, right?

People passed him by. An old woman on a bicycle rode past, noticed the man. She shuddered and looked away in disgust. Our eyes crossed and in shame she turned away, riding on..

Reluctantly, I stopped, started talking to the pale, old man. Asking friendly, gay questions. As I did so, people started rushing in. All of them much older and wiser than me. Strangely, none of them did anything. They watched, nodded to one another, said things like “such a shame” and looked mildly troubled at one another.

I checked his pulse but, shuddering from his cold skin. His skin looked slimy but it wasn't. It was very cold, though. I pulled away to quickly, so I had to check again, to make sure, but I already knew. At the same time I noticed he'd wet himself. This was an old man. He had suffered a heart attack, or some such, whilst handing out some type of newspaper. A busy man till the end.

I considered laying him down, resuscitating him: but, to be honest, I wasn't tempted to. I had no idea how to do it to begin with.

“Someone should call the police or something,”I said. The onlooking crowd didn't move. I pulled out my mobile and called an ambulance. Because my mobile at the time was an old piece of junk, everything I said had to be repeated three times. “I found a dead man... I said I think he's dead... no, this old man I found on a bench... I think he's dead...”

I had to spell out everything I said a couple of times before the operator got it. The police came. They were a friendly pair, boy and girl. They checked on the corpse.

The man had been dead for at least an hour.

Only four days later did I tell my girlfriend I had found a dead man. To be absolutely honest: I had simply forgotten.