Chapter 9 7

Let him make his speech, Julie said. Yesterday you said no. I was in a fouler mood yesterday. Today I am in a fairer mood. That's interesting, Thomas said. How do you do that? I ignore sense data, she said, let him make his speech. Thomas turned to the Dead Father. Would you like to make your speech now? I have prepared some remarks, said the Dead Father. Remarks which are perhaps not without pertinency. Thomas gathered together the men and Emma. The men stood in a ragged half circle. The nineteen. Edmund with his hand on his back pocket, where the flask was. Emma at one tip of the crescent, Julie at the other.

The Dead Father stepped forward and assumed his speaking position, a kind of forwardly lean. All the men lighted cigarettes. Julie lighted a cigarette as did Emma. The Dead Father placed the tips of the fingers of his two hands together. In considering, he said, inconsidering inconsidering inconsidering the additionally arriving human beings annually additionally arriving human beings each producing upon its head one hundred thousand individual hairs some retained and some discarded -- All the men In sat down and began talk. I say these additionally arrived human beings not provided for by anticipatory design hocus or pocus and thus problematic, we must reliably extend a set of ever-advancing speed poised lingering or dwelling pattern behaviors sufficient unto the day or adequate time. existence of the next time, anticipatory design neurosis designs for integration of the until-then-threatening non-self-requested experience of life and sweet, sweet variable stresses and flows to carry inward and inwardize if rain floods fires earthquakes tornadoes do not occur predicted but look out of the window and see how dark the sky, how bold the wind, how whipped thetrees, how gravitational the red falling skinripping rooftiles not provided for by anticipatory design fury preallotted to the discontinuance of consciousness known as sleep, let us pray. or dwelling particles in waveful duality and progressive conceptioning and Fathers Day interface with holistic behaviors unpredicted by parts such as you, me, them, and we, and I, and he, and she, and it. These, assigned by a static or " at rest" analysis to super series of unpredictable mathematical frequencies composed of complementary and reciprocal numbers found in cyclic bundling of experience not necessarily compromised by variable geographic bundle limitations, but sometimes, as in the song at twilight when show the lights ad low the lights are kering softly come and go, to multidynamically blossom or burst forth in beauty or pain and pre- and postnatal . . . disappointments . . . next appropriate trial balance struck. . . as to what might be. . . in the best case. . . however. flood pestilence violent atmospheric disturbance and providing seventeen cubic feet of air per minute per person free of toxic or disagreeable odors or dust, or malice, we feel that metals broadly speaking and synthetics narrowly speaking will interlink into continuously improving world-around extra-corporeal networks , networks within which only individual man presents himself as an inherent island of physical discontinuity sad to say, sad to say, physical discontinuity and torpor, total velocities of which known practices have proved inadequate to solve. as is known to you and known to me, and freakiness, and bearing in mind push-pull as prior to and above all, and disregarding thosewhose larger pattern security is challenged or threatened by these systematically pulsing alternatives, we project your existence here as possibly tolerable within tolerances of .01, .02, and .03, given up-tooling of social engineering extra-genetic razzle post-partitionum and I spy. Thank you.

The Dead Father waited for the applause. A storm of applause from the men! Thank you, the Dead Father said, thank you. Prolonged and fervent applause. Whistles. Stamping of feet. Waving of handkerchiefs (the women). Thank you. Thank you. A wonderful speech, said Thomas. A marvelous speech, said Julie, would you autograph my program. Thank you, said the Dead Father, of course. Quite extraordinary, said Emma, ​​what did it mean? Thank you, said the Dead Father, it meant I made a speech. Beautifully done, said Thomas, are you free for lunch? Thank you, said the Dead Father, I think so.

Julie was wiping the Dead Fathers brow, with her handkerchief. A long time since Ive heard anything like it, she said, a very long time, not since my student days in fact. Thank you, said the Dead Father. The men loved it, said Thomas. Yes, said the Dead Father. Positively on the edge of my chair, said Emma, ​​figuratively speaking. Thank you, said the Dead Father, it was a pisser all right. Enough! said Julie. Why is it, asked the Dead Father, that alone among the members of this party I am not allowed to be filthy-mouthed? Because you are an old fart, she said, and old farts must be notably clean of mouth in order to mitigate the disgustingness of being old farts.

The Dead Father lunged against his cable. Look how the red is rising to his top, Emma observed. The Dead Father burst off down the road, his cable trailing. He is going to do it again, said Thomas. They followed at a rapid pace. They found the Dead Father standing in a wood, slaying. First he slew a snowshoe rabbit cleaving it in twain with a single blow and then he slew a spiny anteater and then he slew two rusty numbats and then whirling the great blade round and round his head he slew a wallaby and a lemur and a trio of ouakaris and a spider monkey and a common squid. Then moving up and down the green path in his rage he dispatched a macaque and a gibbon and fourscore innocent chinchillas who had been standing idly by watching the great slaughter. Then he rested standing with the point of his sword stuck in the earth and his two hands folded upon the hilt. Then he again as if taken by a fit set about the bloody work slaying a prairie dog and a beaver and a gopher and a dingo and a honey badger and an otter and a house cat and a tapir and a piglet. Then his anger grew and he called for a brand of even greater weight and length which was brought him by a metaphorically present gillie and seizing it with his t wo fine-formed and noble hands he raised it above his head, and every living thing within his reach trembled and every dead thing within his reach remembered how it got that way, and the very trees of the wood did seem to shrink and step away . Then the Dead Father slew a warthog and a spotted fawn and a trusting sheep and a young goat and a marmoset and two greyhounds and a draghound. Then, kicking viciously with his noble and shapely foot at the piles of the slain, raw and sticky corpses drenching the earth in blood on every side, he cleared a path to a group of staring pelicans slicing the soft white thin necks of them from the bodies in the wink of an eye. Then he slew a cassowary and a flamingo and a grebe and a heron and a bitter and a pair of ducks and a shouting peacock and a dancing crane and a bustard and a lily-trotter and, wiping the sacred sweat from his brow with one ermine-trimmed sleeve, slew a wood pigeon and a cockatoo and a tawny owl and a snowy owl and a magpie and three jackdaws and a crow and a jay and a dove. Then he called for wine. A silver flagon was brought him and he downed the whole of it in one draft looking the while out of the corner of his ruby ​​eye at a small iguana melted in terror against the limb of a tree. Then he tossed the silver flag into the arms of a supposititious cupbearer sousing the cupbearers hypothetical white tunic with the red of the (possible) wine and split the iguana into two halves with the point of his sword as easily as one skilled in the mystery fillets a fish. Then the Dead Father resumed his sword work in earnest slaying diverse small animals of every kind, so that the heaps mounted steaming to the right and to the left of him with each passionate step. A toad escaped.

Heavy work, the Dead Father said, looking pleased. See how many! Thomas was collecting the carcasses of the edible. See how many! the Dead Father said again. Truly formidable, Julie said, to please him. Sword play of this quality has not been seen since the days of Frithjof, Lancelot, Paracelsus, Rogero, Artegal, Otuel, Ogier the Dane, Rinaldo, Oliver, Roll the Thrall, Haco I, and the Chevalier Bayard. Rather good I think, said the Dead Father, for an old man. His smoking whinyard wiped upon the green grass. Emmas gaze (admiring). See how long it is, the Dead Father said, and how limber.

He cut a few figures in the air with it: quinte, sixte, septime. And now, lunch, Julie said. She produced from the knapsack a new tablecloth and a new seating plan. I have been elevated, in the arrangements! the Dead Father exclaimed. Temporary happiness of the Dead Father. And I, relegated, Thomas said. He gave Julie a straight look. Julie returned the straight look. The Dead Father reached for Julies bare toe. Please release my toe. The Dead Father continued to grasp the toe. Toe, he said, now theres an interesting word. Toe. Toe. Toe. Toe. Toe. A veiny toe. Red lines on toe.

The Dead Father placed the toe in his mouth. Thomas rapped the Dead Father sharply in the forehead, across the cloth. Toe fell from the mouth. The Dead Father clutched his forehead. You have rapped the Father, he said between moans. Again. You should not rap the Father. You must not rap the Father. You cannot rap the Father. Striking the sacred and holy Father is an offense of the gravest nature. , wise, all-giving Dead Father is -- More grebe? Julie asked. Is there mustard? Thomas asked. In the pot. Have the troops fed themselves? Julie asked. Thomas peered up the road. Cooking fires were visible.

They are eating hearty, he said, because they know what is ahead. What is ahead? asked the Dead Father. The Wends, Thomas said. The Wends? What are they? They are what is ahead. What is peculiar about them? The Dead Father asked. They don't like us. He lifted his hand and rotated it languidly, representing negligence and of-no-consequence. Don't like us? Why is that? First, because we are armed and alien walkers through their domains. Second, because you are, in one of your aspects, a gigantic and strange and awesome-inspiring object. I do inspire awe, said the Dead Father. Better than anybody. A lifetime of it. Did I not once rule the Wends?

You did, you did, said Thomas, with an iron hand. How is it I rule them no longer? It is because you are slipping into the starry starry night, Julie said, together with all your works and pomps. Rule of the Wends was taken away from you in 1936. It will be a hot thing, probably, Thomas said. Touch and go. How many of them are there? Near to a million, at the last census. How many of us are there? Twenty-three, Thomas said. Counting Edmund. Groan from Julie. Thomas, said the Dead Father, let us change the subject. We can talk about something interesting, giraffes for example. Or you can explain yourself. It is always interesting to hear someone explaining himself.

Let us talk about giraffes, said Thomas, when I explain myself I tend to stutter. Of course I dont know a great deal about giraffes. They are said to be very intelligent. Twenty inches. Not much of a mane. Terrific base of the neck. Low fluttering voice. Faster than a horse and can travel longer distances at speed. Can beat lion in fight using hooves unless lion gets lucky. Herds running from twenty to thirty are Not uncommon each containing several males but many more females. Thomas paused. Only old males are excluded and live in isolation, he said. I am offended, said the Dead Father. Again. Then we wont talk about giraffes any more, Thomas said, I will instead explain myself. I will give you the short form, Thomas said, the basic datatata. I was bbbbbbborn twice-twenty-less-one years ago in a great city the very city in fact from which we have subtracted you. As a new creature on the earth I was of course sent to school where I did reasonably well except where I did reasonably badly. As a child I had the necessary sicknesses seriatim a pox here a measle there broke a bone now and then just to keep in step with the others blacked an eye and had an eye blacked now and then just to keep in step with the others. I then proceeded to higher education as it is called and was educated upon by a team of masked gowned and scrubbed specialists, top performers every one. decided that I would be educated up to the height of two meters and this was done over a pppppperiod of. Next, my convalescence which was spent as was right and proper and natural and good in military service chiefly in far parts and strange climes, learning there how to salute and stamp m y foot at the same time in the English wwwwwway, a skill that has been endlessly useful to me ever since. Also a certain amount of truckling, a skill that has been endlessly useful to me ever since. Also how to make friends with the mess sergeant, a skill that et cetera et cetera. Also how to dig a latrine wherein one may spend many happy and productive hours as have we all reading the great Robert Burton. Next, I returned to the educational arena and studied one of the sort- of sciences, sociology to be precise, but quickly learned that I had no talent for it. Nnnnnnext, wishing with all my heart and all my soul to be true to the aspirations and prefabrications of my generation the boys of 34 to be precise, I married. Oh, did I marry. I married and married and married moving from comedy to farce to burlesque with lightsome heart. Oh joy oh bliss oh joy oh bliss. When the bliss had blistered and the smoke had cleared I found that I had fathered , but only once, nota bene nota bene. Then a period of what I can only describe as vacancy. During this period I spent much of my time watching single-engine aircraft practicing stalls and hoping that an engine would fail so that I could see the crash. None ever did. After this I prepared to reenter the main-scream of commercial life. Superbly equipped as I was for nothing-in-particular, I fitted myself into the slot "Navaho lawyer" but this was a flop because first I am not a Navaho and second there are as you know no Navahos in our country. Pity. I was rather good at chanting. Then I did a bit of poaching. Poached trout from government hatcheries, mostly, sorry disestimable work which dddddid nothing to raise the low esteem in which the organism held itself. I was back where I had started, in low esteem. I then spent some years in a monastery, but was ejected for consuming too much of the product, a very fine cognac. Then I began to read philosophy. And what did philosophy teach you? asked the Dead Father. It taught me that I had no talent for philosophy, said Thomas, bbbbb but -- But what? But I think everyone should have a little philosophy, Thomas said. It helps, a little. It helps. It is good. It is about half as good as music.