Memoirs of an Invisible Man by H.F. Saint

Author:H.F. Saint [Saint, H.F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-06-03T14:00:00+00:00

OVER THE NEXT WEEKS I SETTLED INTO A COMFORTABLE ROUTINE IN THE Academy Club. Each evening I prepared myself a large meal, which I carried up to the fifth floor and ate under the sun lamp. Then I washed and shaved — the most difficult task of the day. Next to the main dressing room there was a large lavatory lined with washbasins and shelves, on which were arrayed razors, scissors, combs, brushes, and every sort of soap and lotion — but no electric razors. The shaving soap did not adhere well to my face, but — as much to show myself exactly where my face was as to soften my beard — I daubed on huge quantities of it, and, gazing intently into the mirror, carved the lather out of the air. Then, since the noise of a shower would have crashed through the whole building — and would have prevented me from hearing anything, furthermore — I washed myself standing in front of a basin.

Afterwards I liked to slip into the pool and swim repeatedly up and down its length in the darkness. It is odd how much I swim now: I never much cared for it as a child. Lonely and boring but cool and pleasant.

Every week or so I did my best to cut my hair around the edges, flushing the trimmings down the toilet. And every few days I washed out my clothes.

I kept track daily of the reservations for guest rooms, and if there were any empty, I got fresh sheets from the linen closet so that I could make up my bed in the morning and then locked myself safely into a room for the night. When the rooms were all full, which they often were during the week, I stretched out on a couch or on bundles of freshly laundered towels.

During the day I would read in the library, selecting my books early in the morning when no one was about and placing them on the shelves in my favorite alcove. I was beginning a systematic study of physics — or, more specifically, of particle physics — a subject that in my opinion has more in common with theology than with science and that you should probably avoid unless, like me, you find it has some immediate application to your daily life. The Academy Club library was weak in the sciences, but it was adequate for a start, and I spent long hours working my way through encyclopedia articles and periodicals. When I grew bored, I looked at the newspapers half-heartedly, although what they described seemed more and more to be utterly unconnected with my existence. Or I slipped up the fire stairs to the roof and slept under the sun.

At first I made a point of going outside every day, usually at noon, when the Club filled up. I had begun to go a bit mad during those days when I had kept myself locked up inside my apartment. It had

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