Jangling

Sometimes, I have conversations that touch at something much deeper about the human condition.

“You know,” I started, breaking the silence in the car, “I heard a story that made me seriously question the nature of free will and responsibility. Late in life, a model citizen suddenly starts touching kids, due to impulses he later claims were impossible to control. After he gets caught, it is discovered by a doctor that he has brain cancer. And get this: when the tumor is gone, so is the man's urge to touch kids. Years after he is found not guilty, he starts touching kids again. The cops think, Aha, he really is just a dirty criminal by nature! He is brought in, and soon it is shown again: his cancer relapsed. Tumor gone again, urge to touch kids gone again. Lived the rest of his life without any more diddling.”

The streets pass by outside the window. That morning, Damian and I went to see a baby grand in another city. My friend, also my former high school teacher, was looking to buy it at a steal. My expertise was limited to playing, but I knew enough about soundboard cracks and double escape mechanisms to do a quick inspection. Everything looked and sounded great, from what I could tell. The purchase was finalized, a deposit was paid, and we were on my way back home for some breakfast.

While I was distracted by the landscape, the driver of the car cleared his throat.

“This reminds me of a story I saw in a television show. A man is a complete jerk, but gets a treatable neurological disease that makes him nice. The question on the mind of his wife, family, and friends is: do we let him die as a good man, or live as a bad man?” Damian paused, focusing on turning left at the intersection, heading down the last stretch of the country roads. “I forgot how it ends.”