Klosterman - Raised in Captivity: Fictional Nonfiction

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Copyright 2019 by Charles Klosterman

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Klosterman, Chuck, 1972- author.

Title: Raised in captivity : fictional nonfiction / Chuck Klosterman.

Description: New York : Penguin Press, 2019.

Identifiers: LCCN 2018038237 (print) | LCCN 2018047295 (ebook) | ISBN 9780735217942 (ebook) | ISBN 9780735217928 (hardcover)

Classification: LCC PS3611.L67 (ebook) | LCC PS3611.L67 A6 2019 (print) | DDC 813/.6--dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018038237

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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It was better than anticipated, at least for the first twenty minutes. Not $1,200 better, because thats impossible. But still: Hot towels for the jowls. Enough territory to extend your entire left leg into the aisle without fear of sanction or reprisal. A glass of orange juice while still at the gate, served in a glass made of glass. He thought to himself, I could get used to this. But that thought was a lie. He would never get used to this, even if it became the only way he traveled anywhere. The experience would never seem unremarkable. It would always feel gratuitous in the best possible way.

Would he read a novel or watch a movie? Maybe neither. The chair was so supple, perhaps hed just sit there and stare robotically ahead, fixated on the degree to which he wasnt uncomfortable. There was Wi-Fi in the cabin. Maybe hed send a group email to all his old high school chums, playfully bragging about the altitude from which the message had been sent. His friends didnt understand his job, but they would understand that. He couldnt tell them what his salary was, but he could show them how his company treated its employees. That might scan as pompous, of course. It might make him seem like a bit of a douche, and he didnt aspire to become the kind of person hed always been conditioned to hate. But he was proud of himself, maybe for the first time. His life had changed, and this was proof.

He asked the attendant about the flights duration. She estimated just over three hours. He got up to use the lavatory, delighted by the absence of a line. He wondered if it would be different from the restrooms in coachlarger, perhaps, or cleaner. And it was. It was slightly larger and slightly cleaner. But he barely noticed those details, because it also included a puma.

He immediately closed the door and returned to his seat.

For a solid seventy seconds, he considered doing nothing at all. Dont panic. Dont choke. Theres no way what you think you saw could possibly be the thing that it is. He reached down into his leather satchel and felt around for his book. His father had once told him that the key to life was an ability to ignore other peoples imaginary problems. But he wasnt sure to whom this particular problem belonged, or if it was real or imaginary, or if his father had ever considered what that advice actually implied.

He again got up from his seat and walked to the lavatory. He cracked the door two inches ajar, enough for the automatic light to illuminate. He peered into the tiny room. There it was, sitting on the lid of the toilet, looking back with an empty intensity that matched his own.

He closed the door and returned to his seat.

Seeing the puma a second time did not prompt the internal reaction hed anticipated. He was, for whatever reason, a bit ambivalent. On the one hand, he was trapped in a contained space with a two-hundred-pound cat. On the other hand, at least the puma was truly there. If the lavatory had been empty, it would have meant he was hallucinating. Better to be a noncrazy person in peril than a crazy person who was safe. He turned to the passenger sitting to his immediate right, an older man in a pinstriped suit who was drinking his second martini.

Excuse me, he said to the gentleman in 2D. This is going to sound bizarre, but... have you used the restroom on this flight?

No, said the man. Why do you ask?

I dont know how to explain this, he began, almost murmuring. I dont even know how this happened, or what this means, or what youre supposed to do with the information Im about to give you. Part of me thinks I shouldnt even tell you this, although I dont know why I would think that, since Im sure this is something youll want to know. None of this makes sense. None of it. But I just got up and went to the lavatory, twice. And both times, when I opened the door, there was a puma in the bathroom.

A puma?

Yes. I realize how insane that must sound. Im sorry.

A puma? In the bathroom?

Yes.

A cougar.

Yes.

A mountain lion.

Yes. Sure. A mountain lion.

A catamount.

What? I dont know. Maybe. Yes?

The older man in the pinstriped suit leaned across 2C, dipping his head into the aisle. His hair smelled like rubbing alcohol and coconut water. He studied the closed restroom door. It looked like a door. He resituated himself back in his chair, straightened his jacket by the lapels, and took a quick sip of his translucent beverage. His hands and feet were massive, too big for his frame.

Let me ask you something, the older man said. And dont take this the wrong way. Im not being judgmental. Im drinking gin in the middle of the morning. Im no priest. And you dont seem like a kid on drugs. But tell me if youre on drugs. We just left California. I get it.

Im not on drugs, he replied.

Not even the prescription variety? Lexapro? Valium?

No. Nothing.

Any history of mental illness? Again, no offense intended.

No, and Im not offended.

The two men looked into each others eyes, hunching their shoulders and leaning closer. The interaction adopted a conspiratorial tone. They spoke in stage whispers. The other passengers barely noticed and didnt care.

Tell me this, said the older man. What are your theories?

My theories?

In terms of how this could have happened.

I have no idea, the younger man said. I have no theories.