Free Oracle Night by Paul Auster Page A

pain, since many of Flagg’s visions furnish him with knowledge of things he would prefer not to know. The day of his mother’s death, for example, or the site of a train wreck in India where two hundred people will be killed. He struggles to lead an unobtrusive life with his children, but the astonishing accuracy of his predictions (which range from weather forecasts to the results of Parliamentary elections to the scores of cricket test matches) turns him into one of the most celebrated men in postwar Britain. Then, at the peak of his fame, things begin to go wrong for him in love, and his talent ends up destroying him. He falls for a woman named Bettina Knott, and for two years she reciprocates his love, even to the point of accepting his proposal of marriage. On the night before their wedding, however, Flagg has another one of his spells, during which he is visited by the knowledge that Bettina will betray him before the year is out. His predictions have never been wrong, and therefore he knows the marriage is doomed. The tragedy is that Bettina is innocent, utterly free of guilt, since she has not yet met the man she will betray her husband with. Unable to face the anguish that destiny has prepared for him, Flagg stabs himself in the heart and dies.
    The plane lands. Bowen puts the half-read manuscript back into his briefcase, walks out of the terminal, and finds a cab. He knows nothing about Kansas City. He has never been there, has never met anyone who lives within a hundred miles of the place, and would be hard-pressed to point to it on a blank map. He asks the driver to take him to the best hotel in town, and the driver, a corpulent black man with the unlikely name of Ed Victory, bursts out laughing. I hope you’re not superstitious, he says.
    Superstitious? Nick replies. What’s that got to do with it?
    You want the best hotel. That would be the Hyatt Regency. I don’t know if you read the papers, but there was a big disaster at the Hyatt about a year ago. The suspended walkways came loose from the ceiling. They crashed down into the lobby, and over a hundred people got themselves killed.
    Yes, I remember that. There was a photo on the front page of the Times .
    The place is open again now, but some folks feel pretty squeamish about staying there. If you’re not squeamish, and if you’re not superstitious, that’s the hotel I’d recommend.
    All right, Nick says. The Hyatt it is. I’ve already been struck by lightning once today. If it wants to hit me again, it will know where to find me. 7
    Ed laughs at Nick’s answer, and the two men continue talking as they drive into the city. It turns out that Ed is about to retire from the taxi business. He’s been at it for thirty-four years, and tonight is his last night on the job. This is his last shift, his last airport run, and Bowen is his last fare – the final passenger who will ever travel in his cab. Nick asks what he plans on doing now to keep himself occupied, and Edward M. Victory (for that is the man’s full name) reaches into his shirt pocket, pulls out a business card, and hands it to Nick. BUREAU OF HISTORICAL PRESERVATION is what the card says – with Ed’s name, address, and phone number printed at the bottom. Nick is about to ask what the words mean, but before he can form the question, the car pulls up in front of the hotel, and Ed holds out his hand to receive the last fare that will ever be given to him. Bowen adds a twenty-dollar tip to the amount, wishes the now-retired taxi driver good luck, and walks through the revolving doors into the lobby of the ill-fated hotel.
    Because he is low on cash and has to pay with a credit card, Nick registers under his own name. The reconstructed lobby looks as if it’s just a few days old, and Nick can’t help thinking that he and the hotel are more or less in the same situation: both of them trying to forget their pasts, both of them trying to begin a new life. The glittering palace with its