Part 9 (1/2)

Joe took another stiff drink and shook his head. ”But why do they leave so much of it out in the open? I mean, not merely the really shocking things you told me about the Bugs Bunny cartoons, but putting the pyramid on the dollar bill where everybody sees it almost every day-”

”h.e.l.l,” Simon said, ”look what Beethoven did when Weishaupt illuminated him. Went right home and wrote the Fifth Symphony. You know how it begins: da-da-da-DUM. Morse code for V V-the Roman numeral for five. Right out in the open, as you say. It amuses the devil out of them to confirm their low opinion of the rest of humanity by putting things up front like that and watching how almost everybody misses it. Of course, if somebody doesn't miss something, they recruit him right away. Look at Genesis: 'lux fiat'-right on the first page. They do it all the time. The Pentagon Building. '23 Skidoo.' The lyrics of rock songs like 'Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds'- how obvious can you get? Melville was one of the most outrageous of the bunch; the very first sentence of Moby d.i.c.k Moby d.i.c.k tells you he's a disciple of Ha.s.san i Sabbah, but you can't find a single Melville scholar who has followed up that lead-in spite of Ahab being a truncated anagram of Sabbah. He even tells you, again and again, directly and indirectly, that Moby d.i.c.k and Leviathan are the same creature, and that Moby d.i.c.k is often seen at the same time in two different parts of the world, but not one reader in a million groks what he's hinting at. There's a whole chapter on whiteness and why white is really more terrifying than black; tells you he's a disciple of Ha.s.san i Sabbah, but you can't find a single Melville scholar who has followed up that lead-in spite of Ahab being a truncated anagram of Sabbah. He even tells you, again and again, directly and indirectly, that Moby d.i.c.k and Leviathan are the same creature, and that Moby d.i.c.k is often seen at the same time in two different parts of the world, but not one reader in a million groks what he's hinting at. There's a whole chapter on whiteness and why white is really more terrifying than black; all all the critics miss the point.” the critics miss the point.”

”'Osiris is a black G.o.d,'” Joe quoted.

”Right on! You're going to advance fast,” Simon said enthusiastically. ”In fact, I think it's time for you to get get off the verbal level and really confront your own 'Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds'-your own lady Isis.” off the verbal level and really confront your own 'Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds'-your own lady Isis.”

”Yes,” Dillinger said. ”The Leif Erikson Leif Erikson is laying offsh.o.r.e near California right now; Hagbard is running some has.h.i.+sh to the students at Berkeley. He's got a new black chick in his crew who plays the Lucy role extremely well. We'll have him send her ash.o.r.e for the Rite. I suggest that you two drive up to the Norton Lodge in Frisco and I'll arrange for her to meet you there.” is laying offsh.o.r.e near California right now; Hagbard is running some has.h.i.+sh to the students at Berkeley. He's got a new black chick in his crew who plays the Lucy role extremely well. We'll have him send her ash.o.r.e for the Rite. I suggest that you two drive up to the Norton Lodge in Frisco and I'll arrange for her to meet you there.”

”I don't like dealing with Hagbard,” Simon said. ”He's a right-wing nut, and so is his whole gang.”

”He's one of the best allies we have against the Illuminati,” Dillinger said. ”Besides, I want to exchange some hempscript for some of his flaxscript. Right now, the Mad Dog bunch won't accept anything but flaxscript-they think Nixon is really going to knock the bottom out of the hemp market. And you know what they do with Federal Reserve notes. Every time they get one, they burn it. Instant demurrage, they call it.”

”Puerile,” Simon p.r.o.nounced. ”It will take decades to undermine the Fed that way.”

”Well,” Dillinger said, ”Those are the kinds of people we have to deal with. The JAMs can't do it all alone, you know.”

”Sure,” Simon shrugged. ”But it bugs me.” He stood up and put his drink on the table.

”Let's go,” he said to Joe. ”You're going to be illuminized.”

Dillinger accompanied them to the door, then leaned close to Joe and said, ”A word of advice about the Rite.”

”Yes?”

Dillinger lowered his voice. ”Lie down on the floor and keep calm,” he said, and his old, impudent grin flashed wickedly.

Joe stood there looking at the mocking bandit, and it seemed to him a freeze and a frieze in time: a moment that would linger, as another stage of illumination, forever in his mind. Sister Cecilia, back in Resurrection School, spoke out of the abyss of memory: ”Stand in the corner, Joseph Malik!” And he remembered too, the chalk that he crumbled slowly between his fingers, the feeling of needing to urinate, the long wait, and then Father Volpe entering the cla.s.sroom, his voice like thunder: ”Where is he? Where is the boy who dared to disagree with the good Sister that G.o.d sent to instruct him?” And the other children, led out of the cla.s.sroom and across the street to the church to pray for his soul, while the priest harangued him: ”Do you know how hot h.e.l.l is? Do you know how hot the worst part of h.e.l.l is? That's where they send people who have the good fortune to be born into the church and then rebel against it, misled by Pride of Intellect.” And five years later, those two faces came back: the priest, angry and dogmatic, demanding obedience, and the bandit, sardonic, encouraging cynicism, and Joe understood that he might someday have to kill Hagbard Celine. But more years had to pa.s.s, and the Fernando Poo incident had to pa.s.s, and Joe had to plan the bombing of his own magazine with Tobias Knight before he knew that he would, in fact, kill Celine without compunction if it were necessary And five years later, those two faces came back: the priest, angry and dogmatic, demanding obedience, and the bandit, sardonic, encouraging cynicism, and Joe understood that he might someday have to kill Hagbard Celine. But more years had to pa.s.s, and the Fernando Poo incident had to pa.s.s, and Joe had to plan the bombing of his own magazine with Tobias Knight before he knew that he would, in fact, kill Celine without compunction if it were necessary....

But on March 31, in that year of fruition for all the Illuminati's plans, while the President of the United States went on the air to threaten ”all-out thermonuclear heck,” a young lady named Concepcion Galore lay nude on a bed in the Hotel Durrutti in Santa Isobel and said, ”It's a Iloigor.”

”What's a Iloigor?” asked her companion, an Englishman named Fission Chips, who had been born on Hiros.h.i.+ma Day and named by a father who cared more for physics than for the humanities.

The room was in the luxury suite of the Hotel Durrutti, which meant that it was decorated in abominable Spanish-Moorish decor, the sheets were changed daily (to a less luxurious suite), the c.o.c.kroaches were minimal, and the plumbing sometimes worked. Concepcion contemplated the bullfight mural on the opposite wall, Manolete turning an elegant Veronica Veronica on an unconvincingly drawn bull, and said thoughtfully, ”Oh, a Iloigor is a G.o.d of the black people. The natives. A very bad G.o.d.” on an unconvincingly drawn bull, and said thoughtfully, ”Oh, a Iloigor is a G.o.d of the black people. The natives. A very bad G.o.d.”

Chips glanced at the statue again and said, more to himself than to the peasant girl, ”Looks vaguely like Tlaloc in Mexico City, crossed with one of those Polynesian Cthulhu tikis.” tikis.”

”The Starry Wisdom people are very interested in these statues,” Concepcion said, just to be making conversation, since it was obvious that Chips wasn't going to be ready to p.r.o.ng her again for at least another half hour.

”Indeed?” Chips said, equally bored. ”Who are the Starry Wisdom people?”

”A church. Down on Tequilla y Mota Street. What used to be Lumumba Street and was Franco Street when I was a girl. Funny church.” The girl frowned, thinking about them. ”When I worked in the telegraph office I was always seeing their telegrams. All in code. And never to another church. Always to banks all over Europe and North and South America.”

”You don't say,” drawled Chips, no longer bored but trying to sound casual; his code number in British Intelligence was, of course, 00005. ”Why are they interested in these statues?” He was thinking that statues, properly hollowed out, could transport heroin; he was already sure that Starry Wisdom was a front for b.u.g.g.e.r.

(In 1933, at Harvard, Professor Tochus told his Psychology 101 cla.s.s, ”Now, the child feels frightened and inferior, according to Adler, because he is, in fact, physically smaller and weaker than the adult. Thus, he knows he has no chance of successful rebellion, but nevertheless he dreams about it. This is the origin of the Oedipus Complex in Adler's system: not s.e.x, but the will to power itself. The cla.s.s will readily see the influence of Neitzsche ...” Robert Putney Drake, glancing around the room, was quite sure that most of the students would not readily see anything; anything; and Tochus himself didn't really see either. The child, Drake had decided-it was the cornerstone of his own system of psychology-was not brainwashed by sentimentality, religion, ethics, and other bulls.h.i.+t. The child saw clearly that, in every relations.h.i.+p, there is a dominant party and a submissive party. And the child, in its quite correct egotism, determined to become the dominant party. It was that simple; except, of course, that the brainwas.h.i.+ng takes effect eventually in most cases and, by about this time, the college years, most of them were ready to become robots and accept the submissive role. Professor Tochus droned on; and Drake, serene in his lack of superego, continued to dream of how he would seize the dominant role ... In New York, Arthur Flegenheimer, Drake's psychic twin, stood before seventeen robed figures, one wearing a goat's-head mask, and repeated, ”I will forever hele, always conceal, never reveal, any art or arts, part or parts....”) and Tochus himself didn't really see either. The child, Drake had decided-it was the cornerstone of his own system of psychology-was not brainwashed by sentimentality, religion, ethics, and other bulls.h.i.+t. The child saw clearly that, in every relations.h.i.+p, there is a dominant party and a submissive party. And the child, in its quite correct egotism, determined to become the dominant party. It was that simple; except, of course, that the brainwas.h.i.+ng takes effect eventually in most cases and, by about this time, the college years, most of them were ready to become robots and accept the submissive role. Professor Tochus droned on; and Drake, serene in his lack of superego, continued to dream of how he would seize the dominant role ... In New York, Arthur Flegenheimer, Drake's psychic twin, stood before seventeen robed figures, one wearing a goat's-head mask, and repeated, ”I will forever hele, always conceal, never reveal, any art or arts, part or parts....”) You look like a robot, Joe Malik says in a warped room in a skewered time in San Francisco. I mean, you move and walk like a robot I mean, you move and walk like a robot.

Hold onto that, Mr. Wabbit, says a bearded young man with a saturnine smile. Some trippers see themselves as robots. Others see the guide as a robot. Hold that perspective. Is it a hallucination, or is a recognition of something we usually black out? Some trippers see themselves as robots. Others see the guide as a robot. Hold that perspective. Is it a hallucination, or is a recognition of something we usually black out?

Wait, Joe says. Part of you is like a robot. But part of you is alive, like a growing thing, a tree or a plant Part of you is like a robot. But part of you is alive, like a growing thing, a tree or a plant....

The young man continues to smile, his face drifting above his body toward the mandala painted on the ceiling. Well? Well? he asks. he asks. Do you think that might be a good poetic shorthand: that part of me is mechanical, like a robot, and part of me is organic, like a rosebush? And what's the difference between the mechanical and the organic? Isn't a rosebush a kind of machine used by the DNA code to produce more rosebushes? Do you think that might be a good poetic shorthand: that part of me is mechanical, like a robot, and part of me is organic, like a rosebush? And what's the difference between the mechanical and the organic? Isn't a rosebush a kind of machine used by the DNA code to produce more rosebushes?

No, Joe says. Everything is mechanical, but people are different. A cat has a grace that we've lost, or partly lost Everything is mechanical, but people are different. A cat has a grace that we've lost, or partly lost.

How do you think we've lost it?

And Joe sees the face of Father Volpe and hears the voice screaming about submission....

The SAC bases await the presidential order to take off for Fernando Poo, Atlanta Hope addresses a rally in Atlanta, Georgia, protesting the gutless appeas.e.m.e.nt of the comsymp administration in not threatening to bomb Moscow and Peking the same time as Santa Isobel, the Premier of Russia rereads his speech nervously as the TV cameras are set up in his office (”and, in socialist solidarity with the freedom-loving people of Fernando Poo”), the Chairman of the Chinese Communist party, having found the thought of Chairman Mao of little avail, throws the I Ching I Ching sticks and looks dismally at Hexagram 23, and 99 percent of the peoples of the world wait for their leaders to tell them what to do; but in Santa Isobel itself, three locked doors across the suite from the now-sleeping Concepcion, Fission Chips says angrily into his shortwave, ”Repeat none. Not one Russian or Chinese anywhere on the b.l.o.o.d.y island. I don't care what Was.h.i.+ngton says. I'm telling you what I have seen. Now, about the b.u.g.g.e.r heroin ring here-” sticks and looks dismally at Hexagram 23, and 99 percent of the peoples of the world wait for their leaders to tell them what to do; but in Santa Isobel itself, three locked doors across the suite from the now-sleeping Concepcion, Fission Chips says angrily into his shortwave, ”Repeat none. Not one Russian or Chinese anywhere on the b.l.o.o.d.y island. I don't care what Was.h.i.+ngton says. I'm telling you what I have seen. Now, about the b.u.g.g.e.r heroin ring here-”

”Sign off,” the submarine tells him. ”HQ is not interested in b.u.g.g.e.r or heroin right now.”

”d.a.m.n and blast!” Chips stares at the shortwave set That b.l.o.o.d.y well tore it. He would just have to proceed on his own, and show those armchair agents back in London, especially that smug W., how little they actually knew about the real problem in Fernando Poo and the world.

Storming, he charged back to the bedroom. I'll just get dressed, he thought furiously, including my smoke bombs and Luger and laser ray, and toddle over to this Starry Wisdom church and see what I can nose out. But when he tore open the bedroom door he stopped, momentarily stunned. Concepcion still lay in the bed but she was no longer sleeping. Her throat was neatly cut and a curious dagger with a flame design on it stuck into the pillow beside her.

”d.a.m.n, blast and thunder!” cried 00005. ”Now that absolutely does tear it. Every time I find a good piece of a.s.s those f.u.c.kers from b.u.g.g.e.r come along and shaft her!”

Ten minutes later, the GO signal came from the White House, a fleet of SAC bombers headed for Santa Isobel with hydrogen bombs, and Fission Chips, fully dressed, toddled over to the Starry Wisdom church where he encountered, not b.u.g.g.e.r, but something on an entirely different plane.

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THE FOURTH TRIP, OR CHESED.

Jesus Christ On A Bicycle Mister Order, he runs at a very good pace But old Mother Chaos is winning the race-Lord Omar Khayaam Ravenhurst, K.S.C., ”The Book of Advice,” The Honest Book of Truth The Honest Book of Truth Among those who knew that the true faith of Mohammed was contained in the Ishmaelian teachings, most were sent out into the world to seek positions in the governments of the Near East and Europe. Since it pleased Allah to decree this task for them, they obeyed willingly; many served thus for their whole lives. Some, however, after five or ten or even twenty years of such fealty to a given shah or caliph or king, would receive, through surrept.i.tious channels, a parchment bearing the symbol:[image] That night, the servant would strike, and disappear like smoke; and the master would be found in the morning, throat cut, with the emblematic Flame Dagger of the Ishmaelians lying beside him. Others were chosen to serve in a different manner, maintaining the palace of Ha.s.san i Sabbah himself at Alamout. These were especially fortunate, for it was their privilege to visit more often than others the Garden of Delights, in which the Lord Ha.s.san himself would, through his command of magic chemicals, transfer them into heaven while they still lived in the body. One day in the year 470 (known to the uncirc.u.mcized Christian dogs as 1092 a.d.) another proof of the Lord Ha.s.san's powers was given to them, for they were all summoned to the throne room and there sat the Lord Ha.s.san in all his glory, while before him on the floor lay a plate bearing the head of the disciple Ibn Azif. That night, the servant would strike, and disappear like smoke; and the master would be found in the morning, throat cut, with the emblematic Flame Dagger of the Ishmaelians lying beside him. Others were chosen to serve in a different manner, maintaining the palace of Ha.s.san i Sabbah himself at Alamout. These were especially fortunate, for it was their privilege to visit more often than others the Garden of Delights, in which the Lord Ha.s.san himself would, through his command of magic chemicals, transfer them into heaven while they still lived in the body. One day in the year 470 (known to the uncirc.u.mcized Christian dogs as 1092 a.d.) another proof of the Lord Ha.s.san's powers was given to them, for they were all summoned to the throne room and there sat the Lord Ha.s.san in all his glory, while before him on the floor lay a plate bearing the head of the disciple Ibn Azif.

”This deluded one,” the Lord Ha.s.san declared, ”has disobeyed a command-the one crime that cannot be forgiven in our Sacred Order. I show you his head to remind you of the fate of traitors in this world. More; I will instruct you on the fate of such dogs in the next world.” So saying, the good and wise Lord Ha.s.san rose from his throne, walking with his characteristic lurching gait, and approached the head. ”I command thee,” he said. ”Speak.”

The mouth opened and the head emitted a scream such that all the faithful covered their ears and turned their eyes away, many of them muttering prayers.

”Speak, dog!” the wise Lord Ha.s.san repeated. ”Your whine is of no interest to us. Speak!”

”The flames,” the head cried. ”The terrible flames. Allah, the flames ...” it babbled on as a soul will in extreme agony. ”Forgiveness,” it begged. ”Forgiveness, O mighty Lord.”

”There is no forgiveness for traitors,” said the all-wise Ha.s.san. ”Return to h.e.l.l!” And the head immediately silenced. All bowed down and prayed to Ha.s.san and Allah alike; of the many miracles they had seen this was certainly the greatest and most terrible.

The Lord Ha.s.san then dismissed everyone, saying, ”Forget not this lesson. Let it stay in your hearts longer than the names of your fathers.”

(”We want to recruit you,” Hagbard said, 900-odd years later, ”because you are so gullible. That is, gullible in the right way.”) Jesus Christ went by on a bicycle. That was my first warning that I shouldn't have taken acid before coming down to Balbo and Michigan to see the action. But it really seemed right, on another level: acid was the only way to relate to that whole Kafka-on-a-b.u.mmer example of quote democratic process in action unquote. I found Hagbard in Grant Park, cool as usual, with a bucket of water and a pile of handkerchiefs for the teargas victims. He was near the General Logan statue, watching the more violent confrontations across the street at the Hilton, sucking one of his Italian cigars and looking like Ahab finally finding the whale ... Hagbard, in fact, was remembering Professor Tochus at Harvard: Hagbard, in fact, was remembering Professor Tochus at Harvard: ”d.a.m.n it, Celine, you ”d.a.m.n it, Celine, you can't can't major in naval engineering and law both. You're not Leonardo da Vinci, after all.” ”But I am,” he had replied, poker-faced. ”I recall all my past incarnations in detail and Leonardo was one of them.” Tochus almost exploded: major in naval engineering and law both. You're not Leonardo da Vinci, after all.” ”But I am,” he had replied, poker-faced. ”I recall all my past incarnations in detail and Leonardo was one of them.” Tochus almost exploded: ”Be ”Be a wise-a.s.s, then! When you start flunking half your subjects, perhaps you'll come back to reality.” The old man had been terribly disappointed to see the long row of a wise-a.s.s, then! When you start flunking half your subjects, perhaps you'll come back to reality.” The old man had been terribly disappointed to see the long row of As As. Across the street, the demonstrators advanced toward the Hilton and the police charged again, clubbing them back; Hagbard wondered if Tochus had ever realized that a professor is a policeman of the intellect. Then he saw the Padre's new disciple, Moon, approaching.... ”You haven't been clubbed yet,” ”You haven't been clubbed yet,” I said, thinking that in a sense Jarry's old presurrealist cla.s.sic, ”The Crucifixion of Christ Considered as an Uphill Bike Race,” was really the best metaphor for the circus Daley was running. ”Neither have you, I'm glad to see,” Hagbard replied: ”Judging from your eyes, though, you got tearga.s.sed in Lincoln Park last night.” I nodded, remembering that I had been thinking of him and his weird Discordian yoga when it happened. Malik, the dumb social-democratic-liberal that John wanted to recruit soon, was only a few feet away, and Burroughs and Ginsberg were near me on the other side. I could see, suddenly, that we were all chessmen, but who was the chessmaster moving us? And how big was the board? Across the street, a rhinoceros moved ponderously, turning into a jeep with a barbed-wire crowd-sticker on the front of it. ”My head's leaking,” I said. I said, thinking that in a sense Jarry's old presurrealist cla.s.sic, ”The Crucifixion of Christ Considered as an Uphill Bike Race,” was really the best metaphor for the circus Daley was running. ”Neither have you, I'm glad to see,” Hagbard replied: ”Judging from your eyes, though, you got tearga.s.sed in Lincoln Park last night.” I nodded, remembering that I had been thinking of him and his weird Discordian yoga when it happened. Malik, the dumb social-democratic-liberal that John wanted to recruit soon, was only a few feet away, and Burroughs and Ginsberg were near me on the other side. I could see, suddenly, that we were all chessmen, but who was the chessmaster moving us? And how big was the board? Across the street, a rhinoceros moved ponderously, turning into a jeep with a barbed-wire crowd-sticker on the front of it. ”My head's leaking,” I said.

”Do you have any idea who's picking it up?” Hagbard asked. He was remembering a house lease in Professor Orlock's cla.s.s. ”What it amounts to, in English,” Hagbard had said, ”is that the tenant has no rights that can be successfully defended in court, and the landlord has no duties on which he cannot, quite safely, default.” Orlock looked pained, and several students were shocked, as if Hagbard had suddenly jumped up and exposed his p.e.n.i.s in front of the cla.s.s. ”That's putting it too baldly,” Orlock said finally.... ”It might be somebody years in the future,” ”It might be somebody years in the future,” I said, I said, ”or the past” ”or the past” I wondered if Jarry was picking it up, in Paris, half a century before; that would account for the resemblance. Abbie Hoffman went by just then, talking to Apollonius of Tyana. Were we all in Jarry's mind, or Joyce's? We even have a Sheriff Wood riding herd on us and Rubin's horde of Jerry men.... I wondered if Jarry was picking it up, in Paris, half a century before; that would account for the resemblance. Abbie Hoffman went by just then, talking to Apollonius of Tyana. Were we all in Jarry's mind, or Joyce's? We even have a Sheriff Wood riding herd on us and Rubin's horde of Jerry men.... ”Fuller's car is a stunt, a showpiece,” ”Fuller's car is a stunt, a showpiece,” Professor Caligari fumed, ”and, anyway, it has nothing to do with naval architecture.” Hagbard looked at him levelly and said, ”It has Professor Caligari fumed, ”and, anyway, it has nothing to do with naval architecture.” Hagbard looked at him levelly and said, ”It has everything everything to do with naval architecture.” As in law school, the other students were disturbed. Hagbard began to understand: they are not here to learn, they are here to acquire a piece of paper that would make them eligible for certain jobs.... to do with naval architecture.” As in law school, the other students were disturbed. Hagbard began to understand: they are not here to learn, they are here to acquire a piece of paper that would make them eligible for certain jobs....

”There are only a few more memos.” Saul said to Muldoon, ”Let's skim them and then call headquarters to see if Danny found this 'Pat' who wrote them.”

ILLUMINAT! PROJECT: MEMO #15.