Roger Zelazny.

The Man Who Loved the Faioli _____________________________________________________________________ It is the story of John Auden and the Faioli, and no one no!s it "etter than I. Listen## It ha$$ened on that evening, as he strolled %for there !as no reason not to stroll& in his favorite $la'es in the !hole !orld, that he sa! the Faioli near the (anyon of the )ead, seated on a ro' , her !ings of light fli' ering, fli' ering, fli' ering and then gone, until it a$$eared that a hu*an girl !as sitting there, dressed all in !hite and !ee$ing, !ith long "la' tresses 'oiled a"out her !aist. +e a$$roa'hed her through the terri"le light fro* the dying, half#dead sun, in !hi'h hu*an eyes 'ould not distinguish distan'es nor gras$ $ers$e'tives $ro$erly %though his 'ould&, and he lay his right hand u$on her shoulder and s$o e a !ord of greeting and of 'o*fort. It !as as if he did not e,ist, ho!ever. -he 'ontinued to !ee$, strea ing !ith silver her 'hee s the 'olor of sno! or a "one. +er al*ond eyes loo ed for!ard as though they sa! through hi*, and her long fingernails dug into the flesh of her $al*, though no "lood !as dra!n. Then he ne! that it !as true, the things that are said of the Faioli##that they see only the living and never the dead, and that they are for*ed into the loveliest !o*en in the entire universe. .eing dead hi*self, John Auden de"ated the 'onse/uen'es of "e'o*ing a living *an on'e again, for a ti*e. The Faioli !ere no!n to 'o*e to a *an the *onth "efore his death##those rare *en !ho still died##and to live !ith su'h a *an for that final *onth of his e,isten'e, rendering to hi* every $leasure that it is $ossi"le for a hu*an "eing to no!, so that on the day !hen the iss of death is delivered, !hi'h su' s the re*aining life fro* his "ody, that *an a''e$ts it##no, see s it##!ith desire and gra'e, for su'h is the $o!er of the Faioli a*ong all 'reatures that there is nothing *ore to "e desired after su'h no!ledge. John Auden 'onsidered his life and his death, the 'onditions of the !orld u$on !hi'h he stood, the nature of his ste!ardshi$ and his 'urse and the Faioli##!ho !as the loveliest 'reature he had ever seen in all of his four hundred thousand days of e,isten'e##and he tou'hed the $la'e "eneath his left ar*$it !hi'h a'tivated the ne'essary *e'hanis* to *a e hi* live again. The 'reature stiffened "eneath his tou'h, for suddenly it !as flesh, his tou'h, and flesh, !ar* and !o*an#filled, that he !as tou'hing, no! that the last sensations of life had returned to hi*. +e ne! that his tou'h had "e'o*e the tou'h of a *an on'e *ore.

0I said 1hello, and don1t 'ry,10 he said, and her voi'e !as li e the "reezes he had forgotten through all the trees that he had forgotten, !ith their *oisture and their odors and their 'olors all "rought "a' to hi* thus, 0Fro* !here do you 'o*e, *an2 3ou !ere not here a *o*ent ago.0 0Fro* the (anyon of the )ead,0 he said. 0Let *e tou'h your fa'e,0 and he did, and she did. 0It is strange that I did not feel you a$$roa'h.0 0This is a strange !orld,0 he re$lied. 0That is true,0 she said. 03ou are the only living thing u$on it.0 And he said, 0What is your na*e20 -he said, 0(all *e -ythia,0 and he did. 0My na*e is John,0 he told her, 0John Auden.0 0I have 'o*e to "e !ith you, to give you 'o*fort and $leasure,0 she said, and he ne! that the ritual !as "eginning. 0Why !ere you !ee$ing !hen I found you20 he as ed. 0.e'ause I thought there !as nothing u$on this !orld, and I !as so tired fro* *y travels,0 she told hi*. 0)o you live near here20 04ot far a!ay,0 he ans!ered. 04ot far a!ay at all.0 0Will you ta e *e there2 To the $la'e !here you live20 03es.0 And she rose and follo!ed hi* into the (anyon of the )ead, !here he *ade his ho*e. They des'ended and they des'ended, and all a"out the* !ere the re*ains of $eo$le !ho had on'e lived. -he did not see* to see these things, ho!ever, "ut e$t her eyes fi,ed u$on John1s fa'e and her hand u$on his ar*. 0Why do you 'all this $la'e the (anyon of the )ead20 she as ed hi*. 0.e'ause they are all a"out us here, the dead,0 he re$lied. 0I feel nothing.0 0I no!.0

They 'rossed through the 5alley of the .ones, !here *illions of the dead fro* *any ra'es and !orlds lay sta' ed all a"out the*, and she did not see these things. -he had 'o*e to the graveyard of all the !orld, "ut she did not realize this thing. -he had en'ountered its tender, its ee$er, and she did no! !hat he !as, he !ho staggered "eside her li e a *an drun en. John Auden too her to his ho*e##not really the $la'e !here he lived, "ut it !ould "e no!##and there he a'tivated an'ient 'ir'uits !ithin the "uilding !ithin the *ountains, and in res$onse light lea$ed forth fro* the !alls, light he had never needed "efore "ut no! re/uired. The door slid shut "ehind the* and the te*$erature "uilt u$ to a nor*al !ar*th. Fresh air 'ir'ulated and he too it into his lungs and e,$elled it, glorying in the forgotten sensation. +is heart "eat !ithin his "reast, a red !ar* thing that re*inded hi* of the $ain and of the $leasure. For the first ti*e in ages, he $re$ared a *eal and fet'hed a "ottle of !ine fro* one of the dee$, sealed lo' ers. +o! *any others 'ould have "orne !hat he had "orne2 4one, $erha$s. -he dined !ith hi*, toying !ith the food, sa*$ling a "it of everything, eating very little. +e, on the other hand, glutted hi*self fantasti'ally, and they dran of the !ine and !ere ha$$y. 0This $la'e is so strange,0 she said. 0Where do you slee$20 0I used to slee$ in there,0 he told her, indi'ating a roo* he had al*ost forgotten6 and they entered and he sho!ed it to her, and she "e' oned hi* to!ard the "ed and the $leasures of her "ody. That night he loved her, *any ti*es, !ith a des$eration that "urnt a!ay the al'ohol and $ushed all of his life for!ard !ith so*ething li e a hunger, "ut *ore. The follo!ing day, !hen the dying sun had s$lashed the 5alley of the .ones !ith its $ale, *oonli e light, he a!a ened and she dre! his head to her "reast, not having sle$t herself, and she as ed hi*, 0What is the thing that *oves you, John Auden2 3ou are not li e one of the *en !ho live and !ho die, "ut you ta e life al*ost li e one of the Faioli, s/ueezing fro* it everything that you 'an and $a'ing it at a te*$o that "es$ea s a sense of ti*e no *an should no!. What are you20 0I a* one !ho no!s,0 he said. 0I a* one !ho no!s that the days of a *an are nu*"ered and one !ho 'ovets their dis$ositions as he feels the* dra! to a 'lose.0 03ou are strange,0 said -ythia. 0+ave I $leased you20

0More than anything else I have ever no!n,0 he said. And she sighed, and he found her li$s on'e again. They "rea fasted, and that day they !al ed in the 5alley of the .ones. +e 'ould not distinguish distan'es nor gras$ $ers$e'tives $ro$erly, and she 'ould not see anything that had "een living and no! !as dead. -o, of 'ourse, as they sat there on a shelf of stone, his ar* around her shoulders, he $ointed out to her the ro' et !hi'h had 7ust 'o*e do!n fro* out of the s y, and she s/uinted after his gesture. +e indi'ated the ro"ots, !hi'h had "egun unloading the re*ains of the dead of *any !orld fro* the hold of the shi$, and she 'o' ed her head to one side and stared ahead, "ut she did not really see !hat he !as tal ing a"out. 8ven !hen one of the ro"ots lu*"ered u$ to hi* and held out the "oard 'ontaining the re'ei$t and the stylus, and as he signed the re'ei$t for the "odies re'eived, she did not see or understand !hat it !as that !as o''urring. In the days that follo!ed, his life too u$on it a drea*li e /uality, filled !ith the $leasure of -ythia and shot through !ith 'ertain inevita"le strea s of $ain. 9ften, she sa! hi* !in'e, and she as ed hi* 'on'erning his e,$ressions. And al!ays he !ould laugh and say, 0:leasure and $ain are near to one another,0 or so*e thing su'h as that. And as the days !ore on, she 'a*e to $re$are the *eals and to ru" his shoulders and *i, his drin s and to re'ite to hi* 'ertain $ie'es of $oetry he had so*eho! on'e 'o*e to love. A *onth. A *onth, he ne!, and it !ould 'o*e to an end. The Faioli, !hatever they !ere, $aid for the life that they too !ith the $leasures of the flesh. They al!ays ne! !hen a *an1s death !as near at hand. And in this sense, they al!ays gave *ore than they re'eived. The life !as fleeing any!ay, and they enhan'ed it "efore they too it a!ay !ith the*, to nourish the*selves *ost li ely, $ri'e of the things that they1d given. -ythia !as *other#of#$earl, and her "ody !as alternately 'old and !ar* to his 'aresses, and her *outh !as a tiny fla*e, igniting !herever it tou'hed, !ith its teeth li e needles and its tongue li e the heart of a flo!er. And so he 'a*e to no! the thing 'alled love for the Faioli 'alled -ythia. 4othing really ha$$ened "eyond the loving. +e ne! that she !anted hi*, to use hi* ulti*ately, and he !as $erha$s the only *an in the universe a"le to gull one of her ind. +is !as the $erfe't defense against life and against death. 4o! that he !as hu*an and alive, he often !e$t !hen he 'onsidered it.

+e had *ore than a *onth to live. +e had *ay"e three or four. This *onth, therefore, !as a $ri'e he1d !illingly $ay for !hat it !as that the Faioli offered. -ythia ra' ed his "ody and drained fro* it every dro$ of $leasure 'ontained !ithin his tired nerve 'ells. -he turned hi* into a fla*e, an i'e"erg, a little "oy, an old *an. When they !ere together, his feelings !ere su'h that he 'onsidered the _'onsola*entu*_ as a thing he *ight really a''e$t at the end of the *onth, !hi'h !as dra!ing near. Why not2 +e ne! she had filled his *ind !ith her $resen'e, on $ur$ose. .ut !hat *ore did e,isten'e hold for hi*2 This 'reature fro* "eyond the stars had "rought hi* every single thing a *an 'ould desire. -he had "a$tized hi* !ith $assion and 'onfir*ed hi* !ith the /uietude !hi'h follo!s after. :erha$s the final o"livion of her final iss !ere "est after all. +e seized her and dre! her to hi*. -he did not understand hi*, "ut she res$onded. +e loved her for it, and this !as al*ost his end. There is a thing 'alled disease that "attens u$on all living things, and he had no!n it "eyond the s'o$e of all living *en. -he 'ould not understand, !o*an#thing !ho had no!n only of life. -o he never tried to tell her, though !ith ea'h day the taste of her isses gre! stronger and saltier and ea'h see*ed to hi* a strengthening shado!, dar er and dar er, stronger and heavier, of that one thing !hi'h he no! ne! he desired *ost. And the day !ould 'o*e. And 'o*e it did. +e held her and 'aressed her, and the 'alendars of all his days fell a"out the*. +e ne!, as he a"andoned hi*self to her $loys and the glories of her *outh, her "reasts, that he had "een ensnared, as had all *en !ho had no!n the*, "y the $o!er of the Faioli. Their strength !as their !ea ness. They !ere the ulti*ate in Wo*an. .y their frailty they "egat the desire to $lease. +e !anted to *erge hi*self !ith the $ale lands'a$e of her "ody, to $ass !ithin the 'ir'les of her eyes and never de$art. +e had lost, he ne!. For as the days had vanished a"out hi*, he had !ea ened. +e !as "arely a"le to s'ra!l his na*e u$on the re'ei$t $roffered hi* "y the ro"ot !ho had lu*"ered to!ard hi*, 'rushing ri"'ages and 'ra' ing s ulls !ith ea'h terrifi' ste$. .riefly, he envied the thing. -e,less, $assionless, totally devoted to duty. .efore he dis*issed it, he as ed it, 0What !ould you do if you had desire and you *et !ith a thing that gave you

all the things you !ished for in the !orld20 0I !ould##try to## ee$ it,0 it said, red lights "lin ing a"out its do*e, "efore it turned and lu*"ered off, a'ross the ;reat ;raveyard. 03es,0 said John Auden aloud, 0"ut this thing 'annot "e done.0 -ythia did not understand hi*, and on that thirty#first day they returned to that $la'e !here he had lived for a *onth and he felt the fear of death, strong, so strong, 'o*e u$on hi*. -he !as *ore e,/uisite that ever "efore, "ut he feared this final en'ounter. 0I love you,0 he said finally, for it !as a thing he had never said "efore, and she stro ed his "ro! and issed it. 0I no!,0 she told hi*, 0and your ti*e is al*ost at hand, to love *e 'o*$letely. .efore the final a't of love, *y John Auden, tell *e a thing< What is it that sets you a$art2 Why is it that you no! so *u'h *ore of things#that#are#not#life than *ortal *an should no!2 +o! !as it that you a$$roa'hed *e on that first night !ithout *y no!ing it20 0It is "e'ause I a* already dead,0 he told her. 0(an1t you see it !hen you loo into *y eyes2 )o you not feel it, as a 'ertain s$e'ial 'hill, !henever I tou'h you2 I 'a*e here rather than slee$ the 'old slee$, !hi'h !ould have *e to "e in a thing li e death anyho!, an o"livion !herein I !ould not even no! I !as !aiting, !aiting for the 'ure !hi'h *ight never ha$$en, the 'ure for one of the very last fatal diseases re*aining in the universe, the disease !hi'h no! leaves *e only s*all ti*e of life.0 0I do not understand,0 she said. 0=iss *e and forget it,0 he told her. 0It is "etter this !ay. There !ill dou"tless never "e a 'ure, for so*e things re*ain al!ays dar , and I have surely "een forgotten. 3ou *ust have sensed the death u$on *e, !hen I restored *y hu*anity, for su'h is the nature of your ind. I did it to en7oy you, no!ing you to "e of the Faioli. -o have your $leasure of *e no!, and no! that I share it. I !el'o*e thee. I have 'ourted thee all the days of *y life, un no!ing.0 .ut she !as 'urious and as ed hi* %using the fa*iliar for the first ti*e&, 0+o! then dost thou a'hieve this "alan'e "et!een life and that#!hi'h#is#not#life, this thing !hi'h ee$s thee un'ons'ious yet unalive20 0There are 'ontrols set !ithin this "ody I ha$$en, unfortunately, to o''u$y. To tou'h this $la'e "eneath *y left ar*$it !ill 'ause *y lungs to 'ease their "reathing and *y heart to sto$ its "eating. It !ill set into effe't an installed ele'tro'he*i'al syste*, li e those *y ro"ots %invisi"le

to you, I no!& $ossess. This is *y life !ithin death. I as ed for it "e'ause I feared o"livion. I volunteered to "e grave ee$er to the universe, "e'ause in this $la'e there are none to loo u$on *e and "e re$elled "y *y deathli e a$$earan'e. This is !hy I a* !hat I a*. =iss *e and end it.0 .ut having ta en the for* of !o*an, or $erha$s "eing !o*an all along, the Faioli !ho !as 'alled -ythia !as 'urious, and she said, 0This $la'e20 and she tou'hed the s$ot "eneath his left ar*$it. With this he vanished fro* her sight, and !ith this also, he ne! on'e again the i'y logi' that stood a$art fro* e*otion. .e'ause of this, he did not tou'h u$on the 'riti'al s$ot on'e again. Instead, he !at'hed her as she sought for hi* a"out the $la'e !here he had on'e lived. -he 'he' ed into every 'loset and adytu*, and !hen she 'ould not dis'over a living *an, she so""ed on'e, horri"ly, as she had on that night !hen first he had seen her. Then the !ings fli' ered, fli' ered, !ea ly fli' ered, "a' into e,isten'e u$on her "a' , and her fa'e dissolved and her "ody slo!ly *elted. The to!er of s$ar s that stood "efore hi* then vanished, and later on that 'razy night during !hi'h he 'ould distinguish distan'es and gras$ $ers$e'tives on'e again he "egan loo ing for her. And that is the story of John Auden, the only *an !ho ever loved a Faioli and lived %if you 'ould 'all it that& to tell of it. 4o one no!s it "etter than I. 4o 'ure has ever "een found. And I no! that he !al s the (anyon of the )ead and 'onsiders the "ones, so*eti*es sto$s "y the ro' !here he *et her, "lin s after the *oist things that are not there, !onders at the 7udg*ent that he gave. It is that !ay, and the *oral *ay "e that life %and $erha$s love also& is stronger than that !hi'h it 'ontains, "ut never that !hi'h 'ontains it. .ut only a Faioli 'ould tell you for sure, and they never 'o*e here any *ore. _____________________________________________________________________