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Chapter 1 of Jennifer Egan's "Black Box", as serialized by @NYerFiction between May 24, 2012 - June 2, 2012.
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| <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /><html><head></head><body><h1>Jennifer Egan's <i>Black Box</i></h1> | |
| <i>A short story serialized on twitter by <a href="https://twitter.com/nyerfiction">@NYerFiction</a> between May 24, 2012 - June 2, 2012.</i><br> | |
| <h2>Chapter 1</h2> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>With each number, imagine yourself rising out of your body and moving one step farther away from it.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205827736692981761">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Close your eyes and slowly count backward from ten.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205827483344445441">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Begin the Dissociation Technique only when physical violation is imminent.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205827232546033664">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“Relax, relax,” uttered in rhythmic, throaty tones, suggests that your discomfort is not unwelcome.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205826983060439040">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“No one can see us” suggests that your discomfort has been understood as fear of physical exposure.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205826728487157760">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>The directive “Relax” suggests that your discomfort is palpable.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205826480926756864">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>You will be tempted to pull it when his smell envelops you: metallic, like a warm hand clutching pennies.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205826225510424576">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>You will be tempted to pull it when you feel him start to move against you from below.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205825971285274625">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>You will be tempted to pull the cord when he surrounds you with arms whose bulky strength reminds you, fleetingly, of your husband’s.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205825721585774592">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Too late, and you will be lodged too deeply inside the action to wriggle free.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205825471101927424">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Too soon, and you may hinder your ability to function at a crucial moment;</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205825219561140225">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>The Dissociation Technique is like a parachute—you must pull the cord at the correct time.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205824965415669760">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Remind yourself that you aren’t being paid when he leads you behind a boulder and pulls you onto his lap.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205824719671410688">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Remind yourself that you aren’t being paid when he climbs out of the water and lumbers toward you.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205824465035206656">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Your voluntary service is the highest form of patriotism.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205824211502120962">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>You may appreciate, at such a time, why you aren’t being paid for this work.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205823960389128192">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>You may feel solidarity, at such a time, with the beauties just visible there in their bright bikinis.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205823708231766016">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Being alone with a violent and ruthless man, surrounded by water, can make the shore seem very far away.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205823456275738624">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Throwing back your head and closing your eyes allows you to give the appearance of sexual readiness while concealing revulsion.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205823203543748608">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“I’m not sure” is acceptable only when followed, coyly, with “You’ll have to convince me.”</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205822953261248512">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“You don’t sound sure” indicates insufficient gusto.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205822704765513730">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“I like it” must be uttered with enough gusto to compensate for a lack of declarative color.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205822451534413825">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“Well? What do you think about that?” suggests a preference for direct verbal responses over giggling.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205822200702443520">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Ditto “I want to fuck you now.”</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205821945671987201">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“You are a lovely girl” may be meant straightforwardly.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205821696127680512">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Giggling is sometimes better than answering.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205821443131457538">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“You’re a very fast swimmer,” uttered by a man who is still submerged, may not be intended as praise.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205821191892635651">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Eagerness and pliability can be expressed even in the way you climb from the sea onto chalky yellow rocks.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205820939613646848">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“We cannot promise that your lives will be exactly the same when you go back to them.”</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205820687737307136">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“You will each perform this service only once, after which you will return to your lives.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205820436695625728">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“The instincts and intuition of experts, and the blank records and true freshness of ingénues.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205820185930760194">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“An abiding love for your country and a willingness to consort with individuals who are working actively to destroy it;</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205819933488201728">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“We ask of you an impossible combination of traits: ironclad scruples and a willingness to violate them;</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205819682819813376">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“A few of you will save lives and even change the course of history.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205819430230429697">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“Some of you will not survive, but those who do will be heroes.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205819179624968192">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“You will be in constant danger.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205818931724820480">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“You will be infiltrating the lives of criminals.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205818676962795522">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>At such moments, it may be useful to explicitly recall your training:</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205818425149366274">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>A hundred feet of blue-black Mediterranean will allow you ample time to deliver a strong self-lecture.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205818172744531969">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“We’ll have privacy there” may sound unexpectedly ominous.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205817920486518784">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“All that way?” will, if spoken correctly, sound ingenuous.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205817669008633856">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“Shall we swim together toward those rocks?” may or may not be a question.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205817417832738817">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Your reply—“Swimming”—may or may not be perceived as sarcasm.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205817163695669249">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>“What are you doing?” from your Designated Mate amid choppy waves after he has followed you into the sea may or may not betray suspicion.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205816913471877120">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>When you know that a person is violent and ruthless, you will see violent ruthlessness in such basic things as his swim stroke.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205816661910093827">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>If you love someone with dark skin, white skin looks drained of something vital.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205816412445474816">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>It is technically impossible for a man to look better in a Speedo than in swim trunks.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205816159902240769">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Even a powerful man will be briefly self-conscious when he first disrobes to his bathing suit.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205815903579942913">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Sunlight on bare skin can be as nourishing as food.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205815653637177344">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Posing as a beauty means not reading what you would like to read on a rocky shore in the South of France.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205815402004090880">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Kindness feels good, even when it’s based on a false notion of your identity and purpose.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205815151239241730">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>If your Designated Mate is widely feared, the beauties at the house party where you’ve gone undercover to meet him will be especially kind.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205814901434888192">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Counter to reputation, there is a deep camaraderie among beauties.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205814647322972161">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Some powerful men actually call their beauties “Beauty.”</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205814395010420737">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>When you succeed, a certain sharpness will go out of his eyes.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205814144283316226">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>The goal is to be both irresistible and invisible.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205813892050460674">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>Necessary ingredients for a successful projection: giggles; bare legs; shyness.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205813647157624832">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>If you’re having trouble perceiving and projecting, focus on projecting.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205813398980661248">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>The first thirty seconds in a person’s presence are the most important.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205813143178444800">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
| <blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>People rarely look the way you expect them to, even when you’ve seen pictures.</p>— New Yorker Fiction (@NYerFiction) <a href="https://twitter.com/NYerFiction/statuses/205812891583131648">May 25, 2012</a></blockquote> | |
| <script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script> | |
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