How could it have happened to him?, W. says. He still can't believe it happened. One moment, he was on the plateau, high up, only the sky of philosophy above him and the firm ground of his scholarship below him, and then?
He blames me, W. says. Why did he listen to me? Why does he base his life decisions on my booming apocalyptic advice? Why, when he knows my utter certainty is not really based on understanding or knowledge?
He still can't believe it, he says. He was headhunted. I was there, I saw it. Him – headhunted! It seemed so fortuitous. Apply!, he was told. We want you!, he was told. Then he asked me what to do, W. says. He turned to me, that's where he went wrong.
What did I tell him? Apply!, I said. Apply at once! I even looked over his application letter! I read it, I went over it for mistakes! I gave him advice. And when he got the job? When he turned up to the campus and found there was no office for him, no computer?
I told him it would be okay! I told him everything would be fine, and it was all turning out for the good. And when he heard that redundancies were imminent? That the end was coming? I was still unbothered. I wasn't really perturbed.
They won't sack you, I said. They've just appointed you. But of course they were going to sack him, W. says. Who else were they going to sack? He was on probation, that was the thing. On probation, and hence sackable, hence they could get rid of him.
Of course they had no grounds to get rid of him, none at all. But they could get rid of him, that was the thing. And that's what they did! They got rid of him!
Whose fault is all of this?, W. says. His, for listening to me. Mine, for giving him advice in the first place. But he can't really blame me, W. says. He knows what's wrong with me, and with my booming apocalyptic advice. He was warned. He knew by my very tone of certainty! What leads him to me, what death-drive? Why is he following me into the darkness?
Lars Iyer's Blog 