Sunday on the Metro

Originally posted on another blog on 09/09/2012 

 There is nothing like it. It's one of man's greatest inventions: The Underground Metro. Depending on the time of day, you'll either enjoy using it or hate it. Sometimes you really have no choice; it's your only option. The only day I enjoy using the Metro is Sunday: less people, cool and quite. You've the pleasure of reading your novel without anyone starring at you in a manner that suggests "get lost". On Sundays too you've the pleasure of simply observing.

Today I was at the Vatican. Not for service but just to get lost among the teeming people who make their way there on Sundays. I enjoy the habit of finding myself in the midst of a crowd. There is something so enchanting about it. You enjoy the connection; I see just how like a grain in a sand the individual is; I also share, vicariously, in the affection, kisses that couples and lovers openly display.

I found a quite place under one of the huge pillars at St. Peter's square to enjoy my novel, Crime and Punishment by Dostoyevsky. I was so absorbed in my reading that but for the intermittent outburst of applause in acknowledgment or agreement by the congregation,  I'd forgotten that Pope Benedict was preaching. After a while I had had enough; it was time to return home--Battistini.

We were all enjoying the ride until suddenly we were forced to direct our vision to a section of the speeding train where there was a heated exchange of accusation and denial; cajoling and refusal.  I saw two security men talking at the top of their voice to this attractive young man. Whatever the young man had done, I still don't know, but I'm guess he didn't have a ticket. Which is one of the thrills and hazards of a Sunday ride on the Metro. A black day for this guy. Breaking the boarding regulations! At a time I was reading Crime and Punishment? Coincidence! After the guy had done what any sane person in that situation would have done (i.e. resisted for while), he saw the futility and gave up. At the next stop the security guys got him off the train. The rest is Law.

I found something interesting too. While the verbal exchange was going on, I finally noticed this man who was seated not very far from me. What struck me was that he had a beautiful black dog on his lap who also followed the incident with keen interest. Frankly, I didn't realize it was a dog (it was so beautifully dressed) until it growled as it tried to position itself in order to, I think, properly take in whatever was going on. I laughed. I looked at the guy who had been arrested and struggling to deny the charge and then I looked at the dog one more time. I couldn't resist another urge to laugh. The whole thing looked familiar. Deja vu? After while it clicked! The night before, I'd read The Island of Doctor Moreau by H.G. Wells. In this novel we're confronted with the failure of Doctor Moreau's scientific activities which involves experimenting on turning animals into humans. The Island is a medical or scientific community that thrives on unethical practices. On one level the novel is a stark warning on the dangers of science without conscience. I think it's also an oblique or satirical commentary on colonization. I've my own problems about the way the novel ends but that's for another time. Anyway, eventually things go awry; the animals rebel; the colonizers are killed. But one animal in particular, the dog-man initially proved faithful to Pendrick, the only guy who survived the disaster on that accursed Island. Ironically, Pendrick's survival depends on lying to the animals that their boss, Dr. Moreau, is still alive. Moreau is dead but it  becomes apparent to Pendrick that without Dr. Moreau's authoritarian laws to regulate behavior, he'll be swept away by disorder or anarchy. So, even though Pendrick detested Dr. Moreau, he's forced to invoke the authority or voice of the dead Dr.Moreau. Pendrick has conscience; he knows he has lied. I think the young man on the train knew he was lying. But whether the dog also knew I can't tell. This was the uncanny connection I made as I looked at the lying young man  and the dog that witnessed the incident on the Metro. How true Pendrick's observation:

     An animal may be ferocious and cunning enough, but it takes a real man to tell a lie