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stanley.lieber's picture


203 words by Stanley Lieber


What I hold in my left hand is different from what I hold in my right. What is on my face is different still. I have so many choices of how to proceed.

At any moment an alarm will sound and I will be discovered. Sitting in this chair, looking over these files, wearing whichever face has fallen into place as they burst through the door. How will they see me? It is no matter what they will think.

The gray backdrop of what I've learned here throws everything into a menacing relief; paper shadows under fluorescents and lost thoughts in the drawer. Which eyes will I use to record these discoveries? With no compunction I select a mask and peer through it, rifling numerous papers and file folders spread across the floor. A slender cord tethers me to the machine under my cushioned seat, which takes in the ambient state of the room.

Through these eyes.

Oh, Saito. I'm afraid I cannot clean this up. What you've done here has plunged a polished knife into the belly of our government. It is you all over the floor in front of me. Would that I were here when it happened, all those years ago.


To be continued...



illustration by




1OCT1993 | INDEX

metaphorical_cowboy's picture

How do you write all of

How do you write all of this? Are all these backlogs or do you mentally explode?

stanley.lieber's picture

I fell off posting here

I fell off posting here after SHELL OUT. I'm doing 2-3 episodes a month, on average.

And glad we are for it. =)

And glad we are for it. =)