The Infinite Matrix | Michael Swanwick & Francisco Goya | The Sleep Of

Reason 20

07.11.02

the sleep of reason

by Michael Swanwick

with illustrations by

Francisco JosÉ de Goya y Lucientes

Click image to enlarge

Digital image © copyright

Davison Art Center,

Wesleyan University

DAC permission required

for any other use.

20. [Plate 10]

True Love

Ah, love! It makes the world go round. In spring, a young man's fancy

lightly turns to thoughts of it. Blind it may be, or like a red, red

rose, but still it conquers all. It's a funny thing, a many-splendored

thing, the one thing that money can't buy.

Ricardo was a jerk, but Mercedes loved him anyway. She loved him for his

manly ways ? for his swagger and his bluster and the fact that he never

backed down from a fight. He didn't take any crap, and he always got the

last word, and he never admitted to being in the wrong about anything. He

was a mean little shit, and Mercedes admired that in a man.

Sometimes, when they were out on the town, Mercedes would eye other men

flirtatiously, silently challenging them to make a pass at her. It always

brought out the best in Ricardo. Eyes narrowed, face flushed with blood,

he would advance upon his newfound rival and coldly demand an apology.

Almost always, he got one. What delight, then, to Mercedes, to see that

brawny, handsome man (for she never flirted with less) stammering in fear

and groveling before her lover's wrath.

Even better were the times when the man would not back down. Ricardo was

a demon with a blade. Five exchanges of steel gave him the measure of his

opponent. Ten more brought terror into the man's eyes. Another ten ?

more, if he were feeling cruel ? would close those eyes forever.

Afterwards, they would go to Ricardo's squalid little room and make love

all night. If his blouse had been bloodied in the fight, Mercedes might

tear it open, but she would not let him take it off.

One day, inevitably, Ricardo lost. As simple as that. He had finally run

into his equal; or perhaps he was just having an off night ? it hardly

mattered which. His opponent's steel nicked his heart, he reflexively ran

his blade through the man's throat, and then he collapsed, dying, in

Mercedes' arms.

Oh, how Mercedes wailed! Life holds no greater pain than the loss of

one's true soul-mate. She held his body in her arms as he coughed out a

last vulgar curse upon his opponent ? dead already, so in a way he had

won this fight as well ? and died. Her agony was absolute.

The ironic thing was that she could easily have fallen for the other guy.

He had a good build, and a fine black mustache. He looked like he was a

real jerk. Mercedes admired that in a man.

[ Previous ] [ Next ]

===========================================================================

This is the 20th of 80 stories by Michael Swanwick written to accompany

Francisco Goya's Los Caprichos. For a listing of the most recently

available stories, go to The Sleep of Reason.

The Infinite Matrix is sponsored by Matrix.Net,

the Internet's oldest and most experienced

independent performance analysts.

Hosted by SFF.Net.