Part 25 (1/2)
MORE TRUSTWORTHY.
THAN.
ALL THE BUDDHAS.
AND SAGES.
George laughed out loud. The Robot, of course. Me. George Dorn. All three billion years' worth of evolution in every gene and chromosome of me. And that, of course, was what the Illuminati (and all the petty would-be Illuminati who made up power structures everywhere) never wanted a man or woman to realize.
George turned to the second page and began reading: If you whistle while you're p.i.s.sing, you have two minds where one is quite sufficient. If you have two minds, you are at war with yourself. If you are at war with yourself, it is easy for an external force to defeat you. This is why Mong-tse wrote, ”A man must destroy himself before others can destroy him.”
That was all, except for an abstract drawing on page three that seemed to suggest an enemy figure moving out toward the viewer. About to turn to page four, George got a shock: from another angle, the drawing was two figures engaged in attacking each other. I and It. The Mind and the Robot. His memory leaped back twenty-two years and he saw his mother lean over the crib and remove his hand from his p.e.n.i.s. Christ, no wonder I grab it when I'm frightened: the Robot's Revenge, the Return of the Repressed.
George started to turn the page again, and saw another trick in Hagbard's abstraction: from a third angle, it might be a couple making love. In a flash, he saw his mother's face above his crib again, in better focus, and recognized the concern in her eyes. The cruel hand of repression was moved by love: she was trying to save him from Sin.
And Carlo, dead three years now, together with the rest of that Morituri group-what had inspired Carlo when he and the four others (all of them less than eighteen, George remembered) blasted their way into a G.o.d's Lightning rally and killed three cops and four Secret Service agents in their attempts to gun down the Secretary of State? Love, nothing but mad love ...
The door opened and George tore his eyes from the text. Mavis, back again in her sweater and slacks outfit, walked in. For a proclaimed right-wing anarchist, she sure dresses a lot like a New Leftist, George thought; but then Hagbard wrote like a cross between Reichian Leftist and an egomaniacal Zen Master-there was obviously more to the Discordian philosophy than he could grasp yet, even though he was now convinced it was the system he himself had been groping toward for many years.
”Mmm,” she said, ”I like that smell. Alamout Black?”
”Yeah,” George said, having trouble meeting her eyes. ”Hagbard's been illuminating me.”
”I can tell. Is that why you suddenly feel uncomfortable with me?”
George met her eyes, then looked away again; there was tenderness there but it was, as he had expected, sisterly at best. He muttered, ”It's just that I realize our s.e.x” (why couldn't he say f.u.c.king or, at least, balling?) ”was less important to you than to me.”
Mavis took Hagbard's chair and smiled at him affectionately. ”You're lying, George. You mean it was more more important to me than to you.” She began to refill the pipe; important to me than to you.” She began to refill the pipe; Christ G.o.d Christ G.o.d, George thought, did Hagbard send her in to take me to the next stage, whatever it is? did Hagbard send her in to take me to the next stage, whatever it is?
”Well, I guess I mean both,” he said cautiously. ”You were more emotionally involved than I was then then, but now now I'm more emotionally involved. And I know that what I want, I can't have. Ever.” I'm more emotionally involved. And I know that what I want, I can't have. Ever.”
”Ever is a long time. Let's just say you can't have it now.”
”'Humility is endless,'” George repeated.
”Don't start feeling sorry for yourself. You've discovered that love is more than a word in poetry, and you want it right away. You just had two other things that used to be just words to you-sunyata and and satori satori. Isn't that enough for one day?”
”I'm not complaining. I know that 'humility is endless' also means surprise is endless. Hagbard promised me a happy truth and that's it.”
Mavis finally got the pipe lit and, after toking deeply, pa.s.sed it over. ”You can have Hagbard,” she said.
George, sipping very lightly since he was still fairly high, mumbled ”Hm?”
”Hagbard will love you as well as ball you. Of course, it's not the same. He loves everybody. I'm not at that stage yet. I can only love my equals.” She grinned wickedly. ”Of course, I can still get h.o.r.n.y about you. But now that you know there's more than that, you want the whole package deal, right? So try Hagbard.”
George laughed, feeling suddenly lighthearted. ”Okay! I will.”
”Bulls.h.i.+t,” Mavis said bluntly. ”You're putting us both on. You've liberated some of the energies and right away, like everybody else at this stage, you want to prove that there are no blocks anywhere anymore. That laugh was not convincing, George. If you have a block, face it. Don't pretend it isn't there.”
Humility is endless, George thought. ”You're right,” he said, unabashed.
”That's better. At least you didn't fall into feeling guilty about the block. That's an infinite regress. The next stage is to feel guilty about feeling guilty...and pretty soon you're back in the trap again, trying to be the governor of the nation of Dorn.”
”The Robot,” George said.
Mavis toked and said, ”Mm?”
”I call it the Robot.”
”You picked that up from Leary back in the mid-'60s. I keep forgetting you were a child prodigy. I can just see you, with your eyegla.s.ses and your shoulders all hunched, poring over one of Tim's books when you were eight or nine. You must have been quite a child. They've sure mauled you over since then, haven't they?”
”It happens to most prodigies. And nonprodigies, too, for that matter.”
”Yeah. Eight years' grade school, four high school, four college, then postgraduate studies. Nothing left but the Robot at the end. The ever-rebellious nation of Me with poor old I sitting on the throne trying to govern it.”
”There's no governor anywhere,” George quoted.
”You are are coming along nicely.” coming along nicely.”
”That's Chuang Chou, the Taoist philosopher. But I never understood him before.”
”So that's where Hagbard stole it! He has little cards that say, 'There is no enemy anywhere.' And ones that say, 'There is no friend anywhere.' He said once he could tell in two minutes which card was right for a particular person. To jolt them awake.”
”But words alone can't do it. I've known most of the words for years ...”
”Words can help. In the right situation. If they're the wrong words. I mean, the right words. No, I do do mean the wrong words.” mean the wrong words.”
They laughed, and George said, ”Are we just goofing, or are you taking up the liberation of the nation of Dorn where Hagbard left off?”
”Just goofing. Hagbard did tell me that you had pa.s.sed one of the gateless gates and that I might drop in, after after you had a while alone.” you had a while alone.”
”A gateless gate. That's another one I've known for years, without understanding it. The gateless gate and the governorless nation. The chief cause of socialism is capitalism. What the h.e.l.l does that b.l.o.o.d.y apple have to do with all this?”
”The apple is the world. Who did G.o.ddess say owns it?”
”'The prettiest one.'”
”Who is the prettiest one?”
”You are.”
”Don't make a pa.s.s right now. Think.”
George giggled. ”I've been through too much already. I think I'm getting sleepy. I have two answers, one communist and one fascist. Both are wrong, of course. The correct answer has to fit in with your anar-chocapitalism.”
”Not necessarily. Anarcho-capitalism is just our our trip. We don't mean to impose it on everybody. We have an alliance with an anarcho-communist group called the JAMs. John Dillinger's their leader.” trip. We don't mean to impose it on everybody. We have an alliance with an anarcho-communist group called the JAMs. John Dillinger's their leader.”
”Come off it. Dillinger died in 1935 or something.”