Chapter 1: The Bridge

The naked man apparently walked through New York unnoticed, until he got on the Brooklyn Bridge. He casually strolled on the shoulder of the road, heading toward the apex of the span. Cars slowed to watch the spectacle. Drivers pulled over to snap pictures.

As the man worked his way through the barriers, he seemed smiling and unconcerned.

“Hey, buddy! What the fuck do you think you doing?”

“Nice dink! It’s not that cold”

Some people get out of their cars, talking amongst themselves, “Is he gonna jump?”

“Someone call 911!”

A lady called out to him, “Nothing can be so bad, please talk to me.”

The man paused, briefly, looked at her with understanding eyes, then feigned to look at his watch, pointed ahead, and ambled forward. By now, traffic had stopped, and mobs of people were snapping photos with their phones. The man climbed over the rusty, iron rails, catching his leg on one part, and tearing deep into the flesh of his thigh. He looked down and swatted his leg, as if a fly hand landed on him. He stood briefly, to catch his balance, looked out over the East River, and leapt off the bridge, never looking back.

As people strained to look over the rail, they could not believe their eyes: the man was making a cannon ball, rolling from side to side all the way down. Yet, when he hit the water, he barely made a splash.

The body was not found. The police investigation found a 99% facial recognition match to a 35-year old man, Johannes Haugo, who had died 4 years earlier.