Mr Hyun lived down the hall, he was elderly and had arthritis so I\u2019d cook him meals (he offered to pay, but given that I\u2019d been cajoled into spying on him it was the least I could do). Everyone knew about our friendship, and by that I mean: the Kremlin. I\u2019d be snorting lines at Destiny nightclub with friends, trying to forget my divorce, and an unshaved Russian would slam me up against the bathroom stall, and choke me. \u201cTell me the secret of anti-gravity.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019m working…on it,\u201d I\u2019d croak.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
These guys always looked a bit bored and disinterested, they were merely doing a job, keeping me focused on the task I\u2019d been hired for; they\u2019d strangle me to the point of blackout and then let me crumple on the floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I didn\u2019t, yet, have the secret to anti-gravity, but what I could\u2019ve told them about it (which they wouldn\u2019t have appreciated) was that floating in My Hyun\u2019s anti-gravity living-room was like an exorcism, where the heavy part of you disappears, the part that fears falling. You become light. My divorce settlement had given my ex-wife custody of Liesel, I was given soul-crushingly limited visitation rights. I knew the value of lightness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For ninety years, Mr Hyun had lived in obscurity while submitting, admittedly complex, mathematics papers to journals; his proof of the twin prime conjecture, a five-line solution to Fermat\u2019s theory, a refutation of the Riemann\u2019s hypothesis. He\u2019d been rejected. Prickly academics dismissed his results. Told him he was not worth spending time on. That shit really stuck in Mr Hyun\u2019s craw. So, but then he built an honest-to-God anti-gravity living-room and scientists everywhere were like: Shit<\/em>, he\u2019s a genius. And we\u2019re talking NASA, the CIA, NATO, the axis of evil and venture capital alike.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But Mr Hyun was sick of scientists. He was ninety, and he\u2019d got to a \u201cwho gives a shit\u201d point. He\u2019d become, I\u2019d say, embittered, or spiteful, he was a nice guy though, but he just fuckin hated scientists. So, when NASA would call up offering millions to study with him, or to rent his lounge-room for an hour, Mr Hyun would tell me, \u201cYou tell NASA, fuck NASA.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019m maybe the only person ever to tell NASA, multiple times, to go have sex with themselves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mr Hyun could\u2019ve used the cash. He lived on beans. I sometimes bought him steak, but he mostly didn\u2019t eat them (he did have dentures though). I told him: \u201cWhy not put an ad in the paper, Mr Hyun? Host anti-grav kid\u2019s birthday parties? You\u2019d make a motza.\u201d His lounge room would be the most popular kid\u2019s party venue in the city.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cListen, Mr Hyun,\u201d I said. \u201cOkay, ulterior motive. It\u2019s Liesel’s birthday, and if she has her party in your anti-grav living room, well, that\u2019s something she\u2019ll remember.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n My Hyun looked at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n On the wall behind him was a framed haiku by Kobayashi Issa that he sometimes mumbled:<\/p>\n\n\n\n This dewdrop world\u2014<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Is a dewdrop world,<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n And yet . . . and yet . . .<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n It seemed to capture something about Mr Hyun, his austerity? I don\u2019t know. His grimness? There was something in him that hinted at a great love, long past.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cLiesel,\u2019 he said, \u201cyour child?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShe\u2019s turning five,\u201d I said. \u201cWe miss each other.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n My Hyun said okay to the party, but he said no adults. He didn\u2019t want anyone spying for the Russians. So, just me and him and twenty five-year-olds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I padded the living-room with bubble wrap and IKEA cushions, it took me seven hours to get out of IKEA but anyway, I didn\u2019t mention to Mr Hyun how often five-year-olds at birthday parties throw-up (vomit doesn\u2019t puddle in ant-grav, it hangs, and drifts).<\/p>\n\n\n\n The kids arrived and waited patiently in the living-room while I turned the oven on, and they began squealing when gravity fell away. Most of them floated straight upwards and were buffeted against the ceiling. Mr Hyun and I observed. They were so excited and playful, and Liesel, of course, was glorious in her joy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n During pass-the-parcel, My Hyun said, \u201cI\u2019m going to tell you Billy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat?\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe secret of the anti-gravity waveform,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou\u2019re going to tell me\u2026\u201d I trailed off. I looked at him and realised that he knew about the Russians, knew I\u2019d sold him out, knew, and yet\u2026 and yet, he\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018All this,\u2019 Mr Hyun motioned to the copper tubes running over the walls, \u201cto create the waveform. Twenty-years of experimentation.\u201d He eyed me. \u201cAnd what for? I\u2019ve produced nothing more than another fleeting glimpse into a reality we can never comprehend.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Some kid unwrapped a squishmallow to oohhs and ahhhs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAfter the party,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ll tell you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOkay,\u201d I said, as if it was nothing, as if my life didn\u2019t depend on it, as if I hadn\u2019t taken a few measly grand from the Russians to procure this very thing, and as if the Russians hadn\u2019t started sending me fingers in the mail, random fingers, not necessarily even Russian ones, and as if the only thing I had to tell the Russians at this point was to set the oven to one-hundred and eighty and furniture would start floating, and as if I wasn\u2019t just an ephemeral waste of what would one day become nothingness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Liesel unwrapped the last present (as I intended). A thousand-dollar iphone bought with Russian money.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou\u2019re a good man, Billy,\u201d said Mr Hyun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Mr Hyun smiled, and in that moment it felt okay, before we fell back to earth and were left in no doubt it was untrue and despicable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Liesel came floating towards me, fragile like her body was made of glass and her soul of sunshine. Laughing like I was the best dad in the world. Like our problems were solvable, and the weight on our chests was movable, and that the life we lived in this moment was the only one that mattered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n __________<\/p>\n\n\n\n Glenn Orgias is a writer from Sydney. His debut crime novel, Teeth Kicker, is coming\u00a0out in July 2026.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"