“This is it then,” I announced.
The entrance-hole was so small compared to the sheer size of the Cave, and yet it all looked so majestic. I realized I wasn’t breathing. Light and heat were creeping from the hole, along with grotesque echoes, something halfway between a song and a scream.
We arrived there after an excruciatingly long journey, cold and hungry. My feet were so sore and wet that I was terrified by the thought of taking off my shoes and looking at the damage.
Donnie hadn’t even stopped and was about to walk right into the hole.
“Yo!” — I yelled at him — “what the fuck?”
“What?”
“Not even a moment to regroup?”
He just kept walking and didn’t even turn his head while answering: “What’s there to regroup? We’re here to go inside, come on!”
I took another look at the immensity of the cave, then released my breath before sucking in another huge puff of air.
“Alright then, let’s go.” That’s what I said, I think, but I’m pretty sure Donnie couldn’t hear me, him being basically already inside the cave. I thought about looking back one last time, but then decided that it couldn’t have done me any good, so I just ran into the cavern, right behind him.
“Can’t you even wait a second, asshole?” I squealed.
The first thing we encountered was obviously the reception. Two gals were seated at the desk, both very tall, both smoking like crazy. They were chatting and I could swear they were hitting their cigarettes after every other word. They also looked eerily similar, except the hair: one was blonde while the other was pitch black, both of them styled into very long ponytails.
By the time we approached them, they’d already smoked a couple of cigs each, immediately relighting another one when they were done.
Donnie got closer to the desk — he ran a hand through his hair as if he was some slick glamour boy. Usually I would’ve asked myself: does he not realize we’re both filthy, disgusting and stinking from our journey, or does he just not care? – but by that point I was starting to get a sense of it.
“So you guys are twins or what?” he asked, showing off his slickest smile. The smoke was so thick I was starting to get lightheaded.
The gals didn’t seem to notice our presence, as they continued chatting. As much as I was curious to observe Donnie’s next move, I pointed at the little bell placed on the desk.
“I think you’re supposed to ring tha—”
Of course he didn’t even let me finish. After the third ding they stopped their chatting. Without actually looking at us, one of them turned around, all smiles, and said: “Hello there, darling!”
“Hello to you, beautiful” Donnie replied with his stupid-fucking-smile “we’re here to get inside.”
“Of course you are!” the other one chimed in, and they both started reaching for something under the counter.
They slapped a sheet of paper each onto the desk, at the same time.
“This is the form,” they announced in unison “just put your name right here on top, and your signature right here, at the bottom”
Donnie nodded, not even looking at the form, just gazing at the two girls, both again chatting and smoking.
“That’s great. You guys are great!” he spouted, then turned to me: “you have a pen?”
“Are you going to read that?” I told him, baffled.
He rolled his eyes like I said the stupidest shit ever, then turned back to the receptionists.
“Gorgeous, we really could do with a pen here,” he went on, “also, why don’t we all go get some dinner when we come back?”
“When was the last time you saw a restaurant around here, you stupid cun…” — I paused for a second. As useless as it was trying to put some sense in his dumb head, it was as much pointless for me to get angry. I would have just lost my mind, and between the two of us we really needed at least one. So I took a deep breath, ready to study the form, which incidentally was written with the smallest font I had ever fucking seen.
“We don’t have pens here, silly!” one of them replied, all giggly. “There’s a cup of needles, right there!”
Sure enough, she pointed at a cup full of needles. Some looked clean, some not so much.
What-the-fuck. It was all I could think.
“Sweet!” went Donnie, reaching into the cup, “Ouch! Here we go…” he pricked his finger, then used it to write, or at least he tried, but the result was just an unintelligible smear of blood.
“Oh darling, you better use the needle!” — one of the girls laughed — “Here, let me help you… what’s your name?” she assisted Donnie, diving the needle deep into his finger and then showing him how to write.
The situation was so fucked up it made me momentarily forget one big problem: my name.
The why is a very long and convoluted story, a story for another time I might say, but it’s worth mentioning the what, and that is: I hate my name. Always have, always will. So much that even the idea of having to write it down made me sick. More than the long journey, more than the cold, or the hunger, or that fucking muddy water.
It occurred to me in that moment, though. And it was enough to make me reconsider the whole thing.
I guess this is really it — I reflected — here and now is where I choose the rest of my life.
I turned around and looked at the entrance-hole. I imagined myself taking the whole trip back to the factory, this time alone, with the cold, the hunger, yada yada yada.
It honestly didn’t look half as bad as it should’ve. It wouldn’t have been easy — but nothing was — yet I could’ve done it.
But after the journey there would’ve been the factory, again. And this time alone. Just like poor Dell.
Fuck that. I’d rather write my name a hundred times, and tattoo it on my prick and on my face.
And so I chose, realizing that the life back at the factory would’ve been the worst outcome possible, fuck my name-phobia, fuck the fear of whatever the fuck was waiting for us inside the Cave.
I looked at Donnie, half-flirting with one of the gals, he had finally managed to sign his name. The other girl blew a huge cloud of smoke right in my face.
“You need a needle, darling?” she took another drag out of her cig. I noticed they were both cuter than I had initially realized.
“Yeah, sure.” I took it and pricked my finger, “I guess there’s no other way than putting my name, right?”
“Of course sweetie, don’t be silly!” she took another long drag.
“Yeah, I was only asking because I fucking hate it. But who cares now, fuck it!” I wrote it down and signed.
“Now you’re talking!” Donnie chimed in, “come on, you ready?”
“Yeah, yeah” — I turned back to the girl and gave her the form — “just for the record, what did we just sign?”
“Something about being fully aware of your probable death and immense suffering” — she smiled, and took another puff — “also, don’t worry about your name, darling, inside the Cave everyone changes their name, and many times over”
“Well that’s great” I took Donnie by the shoulder, and off we went. He blew a kiss to the other gal “We have to go now, we’ll come out the other side and take you beautiful girls to dinner!”
“You guys are funny,” they both giggled “I hope you don’t die immediately!” — they giggled again.
“Good luck, Donnie!” one of them shouted, then the other one, checking the paper:
“and good luck to you... Normal!”