Judith (30 page)

I said ‘Yes, I do love him.'

He said ‘In inverted commas!'

He held out towards me the letter that he had been reading.

I took the letter. I looked at it. I said ‘It's from the Professor!'

He said ‘But you do go to bed with him –'

I said ‘Who, the Professor?'

He said ‘No, not the Professor!' He laughed.

I thought – Well, why not the Professor?

Then – You mean, after all, this might be a joke?

This is the Professor's letter –

Dear Bert,

What I was trying to say was this –

Humans are addicted to power-struggles as individuals can be addicted to dope. They need them to locate themselves; to give themselves a fix.

You can't get people out of this by teaching: teaching is one more move in the game: people just learn more sophisticated ways of getting themselves a fix. To get yourself out of an addiction you don't fight it straight; you have to hit some kind of rock bottom. Ask Judith, I don't know whether or not some bomb has to go off.

Structures change through chance mutation – then through the business of whether a mutation lives or dies. What lives is that which is suited to an environment. It is the conventional, by definition, who are usually suited to an environment. So most mutations die. But if an environment changes, then of course it is the conventional who may die.

By environment I mean both conditions in the external world and the habits of humans that affect these.

If a mutant finds itself suited to a change in environment, then of course it can live.

But it might find itself at the mercy of the dying conventionalists.

It is conventional, still, to see things in terms of one thing against another – in terms of opposition, rather than of what is called feedback.

A mutant, yes, might see things in patterns which are circular; or self-referring (or, indeed, a joke?).

It is, yes, like when you have taken the lid off that box: there are all the bits and pieces: but also there is your seeing them, which is to do with light.

Language has evolved to do with the demarcation of bits and pieces: language is not suited to deal with light.

If old forms are broken up, yes, there is a chance for new forms to become available.

You cannot bring about a chance mutation; you can prepare the ground on which such or such a chance mutation might live.

Within the human genetic capability (forgive the jargon; this crops up when language pretends it is in the area of control) there is such enormous potentiality that almost anything might be there to be encouraged to live, given this or that ground.

When one talks about old forms being broken up, one might be talking about ideas or about the outside world or about, yes, people.

Of course – you can talk about the breaking up of things and ideas; you cannot talk thus about people.

I think a hopeful mutant would be able to look at this impossibility. (When I say joke, I do not, of course, mean simply what is taken as a joke.)

Does looking do anything? Well, does doing do anything? We will see. We are looking, aren't we?

You say – Would not women do it better?

Ask Judith.

Love from Max

In the morning (yes, I have left the rest of the evening out: it was you, wasn't it, who said that aesthetics was a matter of leaving this or that out) –

In the morning the walls of the tent, or cave, or tomb, or whatever, were transparent to light. I wondered – We are made of light? This is Easter Saturday? The baby turtles begin their triumphant march towards the sea?

Bert was asleep. Or he was pretending to be asleep. He lay on his back with his hands folded like a crusader.

I thought – So I will be that girl who crawls out of the shelter to collect firewood, who holds out her hands to the flames, and says – If he were the sun and moon and I were gravity –

You think you know why you wrote it like that?

We are happy, yes, when we make connections.

The grass outside the tent was covered with dew, as if seeds or sperm had come down from the sky on it.

I went round looking for firewood. I thought – If I meet that old god walking in the garden I shall say – Hullo, hullo, I hope you had a nice time last night –

– Because I did, we did, thank you.

You cannot be jealous, in this new dispensation?

When I got back to the tent Bert was sitting in front of it cross-legged with his hands on his knees. He said ‘I've been up since dawn collecting firewood.'

I said ‘And I've been lying in bed thinking – Well, I know why we had to go through all that: so we could have such a nice time last night.'

He said ‘You must never believe that everything won't come out all right.'

I thought – And everything is for the best in the best of all possible worlds?

Then – You mean, you don't want to marry me?

I made the fire and put on the saucepan for coffee. There was fruit and some rather old bread. Bert watched.

He said ‘We've been here before.'

I said ‘There is that impression.'

He said ‘It's some trick of the brain.'

I said ‘Ah, don't talk about dimensions!'

Do you remember how the sun used to come up as one jumped up and down in the Garden? It was as if one had made the sun by blowing on it like a furnace.

Bert said ‘I can't think of anything else to say.'

I said ‘We are all right then.'

He said ‘Would you like to hear my speech? about the demonstration –'

I said ‘Yes.'

Bert crawled into the tent. He came out with a sheaf of papers. He sat cross-legged. He stared at the ground.

I said ‘Where are you going to make this speech?'

He said ‘In the market-place.'

We were opposite one another across the fire. Bert sometimes seemed about to perform his speech: then he put the papers on the ground. He said ‘Ladies and gentlemen, your money will be returned at the box-office.'

I said ‘I came here to say I'd marry you.'

Bert said ‘Oh dear God, you can't say that!'

The door in the high brick wall through which I had come the previous day opened, and a man in military uniform came in. He carried some sort of automatic weapon under his arm. He looked at the tomb; then at Bert and myself in front of the tent.

I said ‘Ladies and gentlemen –'

Bert said ‘I mean – thank you!'

I said ‘Look. Do you tell the truth: or do you manipulate?'

Bert said ‘You tell the truth: you manipulate –'

The man in uniform, who appeared to be an officer, made a gesture through the door behind him and five or six soldiers came through. They wore camouflage uniforms and had automatic weapons under their arms.

I thought – Well, can you be shot in inverted commas!

The officer walked over and looked at the tomb. The soldiers watched Bert and myself. I thought – They would see us like figures in a painting?

The officer came towards us through the long grass. He moved slowly, as if treading to avoid fallen pillars.

He said to Bert ‘Stand up.'

Bert said ‘I'm naked.'

The officer said ‘You're not.'

Bert said ‘Oh no, you're quite right, I'm not.'

The soldiers had spread out and were coming towards us in
a line. I thought – They are those angels with swords, come to turn us out. Then – This is ridiculous.

Bert stood up. He was wearing an enormous pullover which came down to his knees.

Bert said ‘I am the owner of this garden. You have seen the notice. It is out of bounds to troops.'

The officer said ‘Have you means of identification?'

Bert murmured' – What has two legs in the morning, two in the evening and one in between –'

The officer stared at Bert. I thought – You mean, he is homosexual?

The officer said ‘Don't I know you?'

Bert said ‘Yes.'

The officer said ‘You were at school.'

I thought – But this is cheating. Or it is the number coming up, when you make your mind a blank, on the roulette wheel –

The officer blushed. He was a neat, clean-cut-out man like an actor. I thought – You mean, he was once in love with Bert?

Then – This is not cheating? What would be chance, in a chance mutation –

The officer said ‘What are you doing here?'

Bert said ‘We work for a film company.'

The officer said ‘You're making a film?'

Bert said ‘Yes.'

Then he looked up to the tops of trees. The officer looked up to where he was looking.

After a time, one or two of the soldiers did the same.

I said ‘Would you like some breakfast?'

The officer made a gesture to the men who were behind him. Two of them came forwards and knelt and crawled into the tent.

Bert sat down. He said ‘
Petit Déjeuner sur I'herbe
.'

I poured out a cup of coffee which I handed to the officer. I said to the men ‘We have to share one cup.'

The officer said ‘Have you seen any odd bods around here?'

Bert said ‘Oh, I thought you said odd bombs!'

The officer stared at him. Then he said ‘Where did you hear that?'

Bert said ‘I don't think they'll plant a bomb here in fact. I mean in the battle-area. That would be too subtle for them. They might do something somewhere else.'

The officer said ‘Where did you get this information?'

The two soldiers who had crawled inside the tent were going through Bert's photographic equipment. I thought – They are hunters, not elephants looking for a salt-lick in the cave.

Bert said ‘It's no good to them if they do anything that's expected. It's got to seem like an accident.'

The officer said ‘What are you talking about?'

Bert said ‘I've made it up.'

The officer said ‘You'd better come into town.'

The soldiers came out of the tent. One of them said ‘Just photographic equipment.'

Bert said ‘Oh, you want to give us a lift into town?'

I said ‘I've got my bicycle.'

Bert said ‘Put it on the handlebars.' He hit his hand against his head, as if he had been stupid. He said ‘I mean, the undercarriage.'

I did not know how to do this. I did not know if Bert knew how to do this. I thought – You mean, you think of nothing, and say what comes into your head, and then there are one or two connections?

Bert had gone into the tent and was putting on some clothes. The officer, staring after him, seemed to have been hypnotised by Bert. I thought – Well, this area is supposed to be to do with love, isn't it?

There was the sound of a helicopter overhead. It was coming from the direction in which Bert had looked to the tops of trees. The officer and the soldiers looked up again. Bert came out and began tidying the cooking things outside the tent.

I thought – But you can't bring in God – or a helicopter – just like this!

The helicopter came swirling and clacking over the tops of trees. Bert waved to it. Then he said to me ‘Leave your things here,' and he began getting film equipment out of the tent.

I do not know how to write about this. In writing, you say one thing happens after another: you usually see what you expect. But why should not this thing happen after that, in the outside world?

Bert began fastening up the front of the tent. He said to the officer ‘How are you?'

The officer said ‘Very well.'

Bert said ‘See you in the town.'

The officer said ‘You're going into town?'

Bert said to me ‘Coming?'

I thought – You mean, you manipulate; you take what comes; things happen?

I said ‘What shall I carry?'

Bert put out a hand and laid it on my hair. I thought – Cry, what shall I cry –

He said ‘You carry the sound.'

The officer said ‘That is your helicopter?'

Bert festooned himself with film equipment. The officer watched. He was a good-looking young man with small, neat features. Bert put his hand on his arm. He said ‘I've given all the information I know.'

The officer said ‘What information?'

Bert laughed. He said ‘See you behind the cricket pavilion!'

The soldiers, squatting, were making patterns with the butts of their weapons on the ground. I thought – They are embarrassed like Christ with the woman discovered in adultery.

Bert handed me some recording equipment which I hung from a strap over my shoulder. Then he looked up again to the tops of trees. I thought – You mean there are these waves, these particles, going through you all the time?

The officer said ‘You know where to find us?'

Bert said ‘That's right.' The helicopter had gone on.

Bert and I set off as if after the helicopter through the long grass. We went towards the door in the wall opposite to the
one against which I had left my bicycle. I thought – Put your feet exactly where I do –

Bert said ‘Don't look round.'

I thought I might say – I know about not looking round!

Then Bert said ‘You are much loved.'

I thought I might say – This is not laughter, this is tears.

When we reached the doorway in the wall at the far side of the tomb (I never looked closely at that tomb: is there a small tree growing out of it?) the officer and soldiers were still hanging around the tent: perhaps they could not bear to tear themselves away (there are paintings like that). Time did seem to be going very slowly: something happens to time, as well as space, don't they say, when you fall into unknown territory? Bert opened the door in the far wall and went through. At first there seemed to be an area of just further grass and nettles. I thought – But I still know nothing about Bert's relationship with the people who might or might not be planting this bomb: I mean, I believe that what Bert has told me is true: but being true in this area seems to mean that you still do not know exactly what is going on: you are looking at, without putting any interpretation on, what is there: you put one foot in front of another.