Annus Mirabilis

Part 15 of the Griffin series.  It follows Gravity's Rainbow.

Almost one year after Helena’s death, Griffin meets another woman. She is nice, intelligent, beautiful. They have good conversation at dinner. They can laugh about things. After the fourth date, he’s home, in the dark, crying. They don’t see each other anymore. Griffin removes his mind the idea of new relationships, instead focuses on filmmaking.

***

Griffin’s fifteenth film, Annus Mirabilis, focuses on a physicist who’s writing a book about Albert Einstein. The physicist, whose own scientific career has stalled as he’s focused on teaching, finds himself rejuvenated as he’s writing the book. He becomes happier, and his relationship with his wife improves. The film alternates between present day and the early twentieth century, one of the rare times Griffin has gone deeply into the past.

***

I have accepted, he wrote, I have come to terms. She can’t be replaced. For a reason she departed. I must go on. I am working on Annus Mirabilis, he said, translated as the “year of miracles,” and I declare that this, for me, will be a year of miracles. I will lift myself from darkness. I’m keeping on. I have my whole life ahead of me.

***

The year of miracles came to an abrupt halt on October 14, at 10:14 p.m., when he heard and felt the explosion, windows rattling, the shrieks of people, car alarms and police sirens, then, for a moment, silence, a winter storm at full grip. Then the chaos returned. Richard finds him, says, what the hell? Ambulances and fire engines filled the night. Outside flashing reds and blues everywhere. He turned on the tv. A courtroom drama interrupted by live news feed. Raging fires. Witnesses crying and screaming. All signs of terrorism. Throughout the city and the country, tvs are turned on. They don’t go off.

***

Griffin postpones all filming activities after the explosion. The city grinds to a halt. Richard spends most of his time holed up in his room. When he emerges, he’s a funeral mourner, dressed in black, head hanging down. They don’t talk about the explosion, even as they watch the coverage together. On the phone, Griffin’s assistant says, odd about the date and time, isn’t it? Until that point, it hadn’t occurred to him. Later, though, he thinks, how lost in his head was he that couldn’t put these things together?

***

Griffin has regular dreams of Helena. She’s lying in her coffin, her body and appearance as it was when he first met her, and she’s wearing a red dress. They’re at the table together having breakfast but she’s a skeleton. He wakes up in the middle of the night and the television is on. Construction lights illuminating the rubble.

***

The police had reached the conclusion that two buildings had been rigged with explosives. After three days, 141 confirmed dead, with another 178 missing, and 206 injured. Griffin, watching television, has an Einstein quote pop up in his head: imagination is more important than knowledge.

***

Four days in, the actor playing Einstein phones Griffin, asks if he can stop by. The man has the Einstein hair he’s been growing, has the eyes and the nose that are almost carbon copy. He’s been in fourteen films, but this is the first with Griffin. They have coffee. They talk. In times like these, the actor says, people need to get together, be community. After a few hours, he leaves. Griffin doesn’t want him to. The apartment becomes closed doors once he’s gone.

***

Six days after the attack, the police reveal that they’ve received an anonymous letter. It indicates that a group calling itself Black Thursday has claimed responsibility for the attack. Griffin, taken aback, drops the glass of water he’s holding. The commentators mention Griffin and his film from eight years before. No, he says, to the television, to the apartment’s closed doors, to himself. They are now talking about him. They are now talking about his films. They say the words inspiration, copycats. They mention an increase in confirmed dead. He closes his eyes. He can hear his heart. He can feel himself shaking. The phone rings.

***

That night, Griffin is writing in his journal. Scribbling furiously, burning through pages, his words losing cohesion. Richard emerges from his room, dark circles under his eyes, his hair madness. The tv is off because Griffin is now the topic of discussion. Griffin writes in his journal, I should’ve become a watchmaker, then shuts it.