Part 31 (1/2)

”What would he have done if I did block?” Harry asked Stella in present time.

”Something. I don't know. A sudden act of some sort that scared you more than the gun. He plays it by ear. The Celine System is never twice the same.”

”Then I was right, he wouldn't wouldn't have killed me. It was all bluff.” have killed me. It was all bluff.”

”Yes and no.” Stella looked past Harry and George, into the distance. ”He wasn't acting with you, he was manifesting. The mercilessness was quite real. There was no sentimentality involved in saving you. He did it because it's part of his Demonstration.”

”His Demonstration?” George asked, thinking of geometry problems and the neat Q.E.D. at the bottom, back in Nutley years and years ago.

”I've known Hagbard longer than she has,” Eichmann said. ”In fact, Calley and I were among the first people he enlisted. I've watched him over the years, and I still don't understand him. But I understand the Demonstration.”

”You know,” George said absently, ”when you two first came in, I thought you were a hallucination.”

”You never saw us at dinner, because we work in the kitchen,” Calley explained. ”We eat after everybody else.”

”Only a small part of the crew are former criminals,” Stella told George, who was looking confused. ”Rehabilitating a Harry Coin-pardon me, Harry- doesn't really excite Hagbard much. Rehabilitating policemen and politicians, and teaching them useful trades, is work that really turns Hagbard on.”

”But not for sentimental reasons,” Eichmann emphasized. ”It's part of his Demonstration.”

”It's his Memorial to the Mohawk Nation, too,” Stella said. ”That trial set him off. He tried a direct frontal a.s.sault that time, attempting to cut through the logogram with a scalpel. It didn't work, of course; it never does. Then he decided: 'Very well, I'll put them where words can't help, and see what they do then.' That's his Demonstration.”

Hagbard, actually-well, not actually; actually; this is just what he told me-had started with two handicaps, intending to prove that they weren't handicaps. The first was that he would have a bank balance of exactly $00.00 at the beginning, and the second was that he would never kill another human being throughout the Demonstration. That which was to be proved (namely, that government is a hallucination, or a self-fulfilling prophecy) could be shown only if all his equipment, including money and people, came to him through honest trade or voluntary a.s.sociation. Under these rules, he could not shoot even in self-defense, for the biogram of government servants was to be preserved, and only their logograms could be disconnected, deactivated and defused. The Celine System was a consistent, although flexible, a.s.sault on the specific conditioned reflex-that which compelled people to look outside themselves, to a G.o.d or a government, for direction or strength. The servants of government all carried weapons; Hagbard's insane scheme depended on rendering the weapons harmless. He called this the Tar-Baby Principle (”You Are Attached To What You Attack”). this is just what he told me-had started with two handicaps, intending to prove that they weren't handicaps. The first was that he would have a bank balance of exactly $00.00 at the beginning, and the second was that he would never kill another human being throughout the Demonstration. That which was to be proved (namely, that government is a hallucination, or a self-fulfilling prophecy) could be shown only if all his equipment, including money and people, came to him through honest trade or voluntary a.s.sociation. Under these rules, he could not shoot even in self-defense, for the biogram of government servants was to be preserved, and only their logograms could be disconnected, deactivated and defused. The Celine System was a consistent, although flexible, a.s.sault on the specific conditioned reflex-that which compelled people to look outside themselves, to a G.o.d or a government, for direction or strength. The servants of government all carried weapons; Hagbard's insane scheme depended on rendering the weapons harmless. He called this the Tar-Baby Principle (”You Are Attached To What You Attack”).

Being a man of certain morbid self-insight, he realized that he himself exemplified the Tar-Baby Principle and that his attacks on government kept him perpetually attached to it. It was his malign and insidious notion that government was even more attached to him; him; that his existence that his existence qua qua anarchist anarchist qua qua smuggler smuggler qua qua outlaw aroused greater energetic streaming in government people than their existence aroused in him: that, in short, he was the Tar Baby on which they could not resist hurling themselves in anger and fear: an electrochemical reaction in which he could bond them to himself just as the Tar Baby captured anyone who swung a fist at it. outlaw aroused greater energetic streaming in government people than their existence aroused in him: that, in short, he was the Tar Baby on which they could not resist hurling themselves in anger and fear: an electrochemical reaction in which he could bond them to himself just as the Tar Baby captured anyone who swung a fist at it.

More (there was always more, with Hagbard), he had been impressed, on reading Weishaupt's Uber Strip Schnipp-Schnapp, Weltspielen and Funfwissenschaft Uber Strip Schnipp-Schnapp, Weltspielen and Funfwissenschaft, by the pa.s.sage on the Order of a.s.sa.s.sins, which read: Surrounded by Moslem maniacs on one side and Christian maniacs on the other, the wise Lord Ha.s.san preserved his people and his cult by bringing the art of a.s.sa.s.sination to esthetic perfection. With just a few daggers strategically placed in exactly the right throats, he found Wisdom's alternative to war, and preserved the peoples by killing their leaders. Truly, his was a most exemplary life of grandmotherly kindness.

”Gross.m.u.tterlich Gefalligkeit” muttered Hagbard, who had been reading this in the original German, ”now where have I heard that before?” muttered Hagbard, who had been reading this in the original German, ”now where have I heard that before?”

In a second, he remembered: the Mu-Mon-Kan Mu-Mon-Kan or ”Gateless Gate” of Rinzai Zen contained a story about a monk who kept asking a Zen Master, ”What is the Buddha?” Each time he asked, he got hit upside the head with the Master's staff. Finally discouraged, he left and sought enlightenment with another Master, who asked him why he had left the previous teacher. When the poor gawk explained, the second Master gave him the ontological hotfoot: ”Go back to your previous Master at once,” he cried, ”and apologize for not showing enough appreciation of his grandmotherly kindness!” or ”Gateless Gate” of Rinzai Zen contained a story about a monk who kept asking a Zen Master, ”What is the Buddha?” Each time he asked, he got hit upside the head with the Master's staff. Finally discouraged, he left and sought enlightenment with another Master, who asked him why he had left the previous teacher. When the poor gawk explained, the second Master gave him the ontological hotfoot: ”Go back to your previous Master at once,” he cried, ”and apologize for not showing enough appreciation of his grandmotherly kindness!”

Hagbard was not surprised that Weishaupt evidently knew, in 1776 when Uber Strip Schnipp-Schnapp Uber Strip Schnipp-Schnapp was written, about a book which hadn't yet been translated into any European tongue; he was astonished, however, that even the evil Ingolstadt was written, about a book which hadn't yet been translated into any European tongue; he was astonished, however, that even the evil Ingolstadt Zauberer Zauberer had understood the rudiments of the Tar-Baby Principle. It never pays to underestimate the Illuminati, he thought then -for the first time. He was to think it many times in the next two and a half decades. had understood the rudiments of the Tar-Baby Principle. It never pays to underestimate the Illuminati, he thought then -for the first time. He was to think it many times in the next two and a half decades.

On April 24, when he told Stella to deliver some Kallisti Gold to George's stateroom, Hagbard had already asked f.u.c.kUP the odds that Illuminati s.h.i.+ps would arrive in Peos within the time he intended to be there. The answer was better than 100-to-1. He thought about what that meant, then buzzed to have Harry Coin sent in.

Harry swaggered to a chair, trying to look insolent, and said, ”So you're the leader of the Discordians, eh?”

”Yes,” Hagbard said evenly, ”and on this s.h.i.+p, my word is law. Wipe that silly grin off your face and sit up straight.” Wipe that silly grin off your face and sit up straight.” He observed the involuntary stiffening of Harry's body before the man caught himself and remembered to maintain his slouch. Typical: Coin could resist the key conditioning phrases, but only with effort. ”Listen,” he said softly He observed the involuntary stiffening of Harry's body before the man caught himself and remembered to maintain his slouch. Typical: Coin could resist the key conditioning phrases, but only with effort. ”Listen,” he said softly ”I will tell you only one more time” ”I will tell you only one more time”-another Bavarian Fire Drill, that-”This is my s.h.i.+p. You will address me as Captain Celine, You will come to attention come to attention when I talk to you. Otherwise ...” he let the phrase trail off. when I talk to you. Otherwise ...” he let the phrase trail off.

Slowly, Coin s.h.i.+fted to a more respectful kinesic posture-immediately modifying it by grinning more insolently. Well, that was good; the streak of rebellion ran deep. The breathing was not bad for a professional criminal: the only block seemed to be at the bottom of the exhalation. The grin was a defense against tears, of course, as with most chronic American smilers. Hagbard attempted a probe: Harry's father was the kind who pretended to consider the case and to toy with forgiveness before he would administer the thras.h.i.+ng.

”Is that better?” Harry asked, accentuating his respectful posture and grinning more sarcastically.

”A little,” Hagbard said, sounding mollified. ”But I don't know what I'm going to do with you, Harry. That's a bad bunch you've been mixed up with, very un-American.” un-American.” He paused to get a reaction to the word; it came at once. He paused to get a reaction to the word; it came at once.

”Their money is as good as anyone's,” Harry said defiantly. His shoes crept backwards, as he spoke, and his neck decreased an inch-the turtle reflex, Hagbard called it; and it was a sure sign of the repressed guilt denied by the man's voice.

”You were born pretty poor, weren't you?” Hagbard asked, in a neutral tone.

”Poor? We was white n.i.g.g.e.rs.”

”Well, I guess there's some excuse for you ...” Hagbard watched: the grin grew wider, the body imperceptibly moved back toward slouching. ”But, to turn on your own country your own country, Harry. That's bad. That's the lowest thing a human being can do. It's like turning against your own mother.” your own mother.” The toes curled inward again, tentatively. What did Harry's father say before wielding the belt? Hagbard caught it: ”Harry,” he repeated it gravely, ”you haven't been acting like a The toes curled inward again, tentatively. What did Harry's father say before wielding the belt? Hagbard caught it: ”Harry,” he repeated it gravely, ”you haven't been acting like a proper white man proper white man. You've been acting like you got n.i.g.g.e.r blood.” n.i.g.g.e.r blood.”

The grin stretched to the breaking point and became a grimace, the body stiffened to the most respectful possible posture. ”Now, look here, sir,” Harry began, ”you got no call to talk to me that way-”

”And you're not even ashamed,” ashamed,” Hagbard ran over him. ”You don't show any Hagbard ran over him. ”You don't show any remorse.” remorse.” He shook his head with profound discouragement. ”I can't let you wander around loose, committing more crimes and treasons. I'm going to have to feed you to the sharks.” He shook his head with profound discouragement. ”I can't let you wander around loose, committing more crimes and treasons. I'm going to have to feed you to the sharks.”

”Listen, Captain Celine, sir, I've got a money belt under this s.h.i.+rt and it's full of more hundred-dollar bills than you ever saw at one time ...”

”Are you trying to bribe me?” Hagbard asked sternly; the rest of the scene would be easy, he reflected. Part of his mind drifted to the Illuminati s.h.i.+ps he would meet at Peos. There was no way to use the Celine System without communicating, and he knew the crew would be ”protected” against him by some Illuminati variation on the ear wax of Ulysses' men pa.s.sing the Sirens. The money would go in the giant clam-sh.e.l.l ashtray, a real shocker for a man like Coin, but what would he do about the Illuminati s.h.i.+ps?

When the time came to produce the gun, he slipped the safety off viciously. If I'm going to join the ancient brotherhood of killers, he thought morosely, maybe I should have the stomach to start with a visible target. ”Three days and three minutes are both too long,” he said, trying to sound casual, ”if you're ever going to get it, you're going to get it now.” They would be at Peos in less than an hour, he thought, as Coin involuntarily cried ”Mama.” Like Dutch Schultz, Hagbard reflected; like how many others? It would be interesting to interview doctors and nurses and find out how many people pa.s.sed out with that primordial cry for the All-Protector on their lips...but Harry finally surrendered, abdicated, left the robot running itself according to the biogram. He was no longer sitting in an insolent slouch, a respectful attention, a guilty cramp...He was simply sitting. He was ready for death.

”Good enough,” Hagbard said. ”You've got more on the ball than either of us realized.” The man would now transfer his submissive reflexes to Hagbard; and the next stage would be longer and harder, before he learned to stop playing roles entirely and just manifest as he had in the face of extinction.

The gun gambit was variation #2 of the third basic tactic in the Celine System; it had five usual sequels. Hagbard picked the most dangerous one-he usually did, since he didn't much like the gun gambit at all, and could only stomach it if he gave most of the subjects a chance at the other role. This time, however, he knew he had another motive: somewhere, deep inside, a coward in him hoped Harry Coin was crazier than he had estimated and would, in fact, shoot; that way Hagbard could avoid the decision awaiting him in Peos.

”You win, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d,” Coin's voice said; Hagbard came back and quickly rushed through a small verbal game involving h.e.l.l images picked up from Harry's childhood. When he had Coin sent back to his room, under light security, he slouched in his chair and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He probed for Dorn and found the Dealy Lama was on that channel, broadcasting.

-Leave the kid alone, he beamed. It's my turn now. Go contemplate your navel, you old fraud.

A shower of rose petals was the nonverbal answer. The Lama faded out. George went on rapping to himself on the themes planted by the ELF leader: Odd, the big red one. Eye think it was his I. The eye of Apollo. His luminous I.

-Aye, trust me not, Hagbard beamed. Trust not a man who's rich in flax-his morals may be sadly lax. (Some of my own doubts getting in here, he thought.) Her name is Stella Maris. Black star of the seas. (I won't tell him who she and Mavis really are.) George, I want you in the captain's control room.

George should start with variation #1, the Liebestod Liebestod or o.r.g.a.s.m-death trip, Hagbard decided. Make him aware of the extent to which he treats women as objects-and, of course, give him some mystical hogwash later to gloss it over temporarily, so the doubt will be pushed into the unconscious for a while. Yes: George was already on a p.o.r.nography trip, very similar to Atlanta Hope and Smiling Jim Treponema, except that in his case it was ego-dystonic. or o.r.g.a.s.m-death trip, Hagbard decided. Make him aware of the extent to which he treats women as objects-and, of course, give him some mystical hogwash later to gloss it over temporarily, so the doubt will be pushed into the unconscious for a while. Yes: George was already on a p.o.r.nography trip, very similar to Atlanta Hope and Smiling Jim Treponema, except that in his case it was ego-dystonic.

”That was a good trick,” George said a few moment's later in the captain's control room, ”how you got me up on the bridge with that telepathy thing.”

Hagbard, still thinking about the decision in Peos, tried to look innocent when he replied, ”I called you on the intercom.” He realized that he was whistling and p.i.s.sing at once, worrying about Peos as well as about George, and brought himself back sharply. ”Absurd” was the word in George's mind-absurd innocence. Well, Hagbard thought, I f.u.c.ked that one up.

”You think I can't tell a voice in my head from a voice in my ears?” George demanded. Hagbard roared with laughter, totally in the present again; but after George had been sent to the chapel for his initiation, the problem returned. Either the Demonstration failed, or the Demonstration failed. Double bind. d.a.m.ned both ways. It was infuriating, but all the books had warned him long ago: ”As ye give, so shall ye get.” He had used the Celine System on quite a few people over nearly three decades, and now he was in the middle of a cla.s.sic Celine Trap himself. There was no correct answer, except to give up trying.

When the moment came, though, he found that part of him had not given up trying. ”Ready for destruction of enemy s.h.i.+ps,” said Howard.

Hagbard shook his head. George was remembering some crazy incident in which he had tried to commit suicide while standing by the Pa.s.saic River, and Hagbard kept picking up parts of that b.u.m trip while trying to clear his own head. ”I wish we could communicate with them,” he said aloud, realizing that he was possibly blowing the guru game by revealing his inner doubts to George. ”I wish I could give them a chance to surrender ...”

”You don't want them too close when they go,” said Howard.

”Are your people out of the way?” Hagbard asked in agony.

”Of course,” the dolphin replied irritably. ”Quit this hesitating. This is no time to be a humanitarian.”

”The sea is crueler than the land,” Hagbard protested, but then he added ”sometimes.”

”The sea is cleaner than the land,” Howard replied. Hagbard tried to focus-the dolphin was obviously aware of his distress, and soon George would be (no: a quick probe showed George had retreated from the scene into the past and was shouting, ”You silly sons of b.i.t.c.hes,” at somebody named Carlo). ”These people have been your enemies for thirty thousand years.”

”I'm not that old,” Hagbard said wearily. The Demonstration had failed. He was committed, and others with him were now committed. Hagbard reached out a brown finger, let it rest on a white b.u.t.ton on the railing in front of him, then pressed it decisively. ”That's all there is to it,” he said quietly.

(”Be a wise-a.s.s then! When you start flunking half your subjects, perhaps you'll come back to reality.” A voice long, long ago ... at Harvard...And once, in the South, he had been moved by a very simple, a ridiculously simple, Fundamentalist hymn: Jesus walked this lonesome valley He had to walk it all alone n.o.body else could walk there for Him He had to walk it by Himself.