The illuminatus! trilogy (103 page)

“Well, I don’t know,” said Harry Coin. “Maybe I killed a lot of famous people. But I also got reason to think I may of not killed anybody. And I don’t know which is worse.”

“I wish somebody would tell me I hadn’t killed anybody,” said Waterhouse. “Are you guys going to meet me or what?”

“I wanted to kill Wolfgang Saure, and I did kill Wolfgang Saure,” said John-John Dillinger. “If that brings evil upon me, so be it.” He threw down a five.

“It may bring suffering rather than evil,” said Water-house. “I have just one consolation. The first seven I killed because the Chicago cops made me. The last I killed under orders from the Legion.”

Harry Coin looked at him open-mouthed. “I was gonna fold, but I just changed my mind. You ain’t so smart.” He threw down a ten-ton note. “I’ll raise you five and see you. Do you really believe that?”

“Of course I do. What are you talking about?” Otto threw down another five.

Dropping his own five-ton note on the table, Dillinger shook his head. “Golly. They left you out in the cold
way
too long.”

“Four sevens,” said Otto angrily, spreading his cards out.

“Shit!” said Harry Coin. “All I got’s a pair of fours and a pair of nines.”

“Shame to waste a hand like this beating crap like that,” said John-John Dillinger grandly. He spread out his cards —the eight, nine, ten, princess, and queen of swords—and scooped up the pot.

“It’s the story of the development of the soul,” Miss Portinari was saying at that moment, spreading out the twenty-two
trumps or “keys” of that very ancient deck. “We call it a book—the Book of Thoth—and it’s the most important book in the world.”

George and Joe Malik, each wondering if this was a final explanation or a new put-on leading to a new cycle of deceptions, listened with mingled curiosity and skepticism.

“The order was deliberately reversed,” Miss Portinari went on. “Not by the true sages. By the false Illuminati, and by all the other White Brotherhoods and Rosicrucians and Freemasons and whatnot who didn’t really understand the truth and therefore wanted to hide the part of it they did understand. They felt themselves threatened; the real sage is never threatened. They spoke in symbols and paradoxes, like the real sages, but for a different reason. They didn’t know what the symbols and paradoxes meant. Instead of following the finger that points to the moon, they sat down and worshipped the finger itself. Instead of following the map, they thought it was the territory and tried to live in it. Instead of reading the menu, they tried to eat it. Dig? They had the levels confused. And they tried to confuse any independent searcher by drawing more veils and paradoxes across the path. Finally, in the 1920s, some real left-handed monkey wrenches in one of these mystic lodges recruited Adolph Hitler, and he not only read the book backward, like all of them, but insisted on believing it was the story of the exterior, physical universe.

“Here, let me show you. The last card, Trump 21, is really the first. It’s where we all start from.” She held up the card known as the World. “This is the Abyss of Hallucinations. This is where our attention is usually focused. It is entirely constructed by our senses and our projected emotions, as modern psychology and ancient Buddhism both testify—but it is what most people call ‘reality.’ They are conditioned to accept it, and not to inquire further, because only in this dream-walking state can they be governed by those who wish to govern.”

Miss Portinari held up the next card, the Last Judgment. “Key 20, or Trump 20, or Atu 20, whichever terminology you prefer. It’s actually second. This is the nightmare to which the soul awakes if it begins, even in the slightest, to question reality as defined by society. When you disover, for instance, that you’re not heterosexual but heterosexual-homosexual, not obedient but obedient-rebellious, not loving
but loving-hating. And that society is not wise, orderly, just, and decent but wise-stupid, orderly-chaotic, just-unjust, and decent-indecent. This is an internal discovery— this whole trip is an internal voyage—and this is really the second stage. But if one thinks of the story as the story of the external world, and if the order is reversed, this comes as the penultimate Armageddon with Trump 21, the World, being the Kingdom of Saints. The error of the apocalyptic sects, and of the Illuminati from Weishaupt to Hitler, leading to an attempt to actually carry it out, with ovens for the Jews and gypsies and other ‘inferiors’ and the promise of a Brave New World for the pure, faithful, and Aryan afterward. Do you see what I mean about confusing the map with the territory?

“The next card is the Sun, which really means Osiris Risen—or, in terms of the offshot of the Osirian religion most popular in the last two millenniums, Jesus Risen. This is what happens if you survive the Last Judgment, or Dark Night of the Soul, without becoming some kind of fanatic or lunatic. Eventually, if you miss those attractive and pernicious alternatives, the redemptive force appears: the internal Sun. Once again, if you project this outward and think that the Sun in the sky, or some Sunlike divine man, has redeemed you, you can lapse into lunacy or fanaticism. In Hitler’s case it was Karl Haushofer, or Wotan appearing in the form of Karl Haushofer. For most of the nuts you meet handing out tracts on the street, it’s Jesus, or Jehovah appearing in the form of Jesus. For Elijah Mohammed, it was W. D. Fard, or Allah appearing in the form of W. D. Fard. So it goes. Those who do not confuse the levels realize it’s the redemptive force within themselves and pass on —to Key 18, the Moon …”

The next half-hour passed rapidly—so rapidly that Joe wondered afterward if Miss Portinari had slipped them still another drug, one that speeded time up as much as psychedelics slowed it down.

“Last,” Miss Portinari said finally, “is the Fool, Key 0. He walks over the edge of the cliff, careless of the danger. The wind blows wither it will; even so are all they that are reborn of the Spirit.’ In short, he has conquered Death. Nothing can frighten him, and he can never be enslaved. It’s the end of the trip, and keeping humanity from getting there is the chief business of every governing group.”

“And that’s it,” Joe said. “Twenty-two stages. Not twenty-three. Thank God we got away from Simon’s Magic Number for a while.”

“No,” Miss Portinari said,
“Tarot
is an anagram on
rota
, remember? The extra
t
reminds you that the Wheel turns back to rejoin itself. There is a twenty-third step, and it’s right where you started, only now you face it without fear.” She held up the World again. “At first, mountains are mountains. Then mountains are no longer mountains. Finally mountains are mountains again. Only the name of the voyager has changed to preserve his Innocence.” She pushed the cards together and stacked them neatly. “There are a million other holy books, in words and pictures and even in music, and they all tell the same story. The most important lesson of all, the one that explains all the horrors and miseries of the world, is that you can get off the Wheel at any point and declare the trip is over. That’s okay for any given man or woman, if their ambitions are modest. The trouble starts when, out of fear of further movement —out of fear of growth, out of fear of change, out of fear of Death, out of any kind of fear—such a person tries to stop the Wheel literally, by stopping everybody else. That’s when the two great bum trips begin: Religion and Government. The only religion consistent with the whole Wheel is private and personal; the only government consistent with it is self-government. Whoever tries to lay his trip on others is acting from terror, and will soon resort to terror as a weapon if the others won’t accept the trip through persuasion. Nobody who understands the whole Wheel will do that, however, for such people understand that every man and every woman and every child is the Self-Begotten One—Jesus motherfucking Christ, in Harry’s gorgeous brand of English.”

“But,” George asked, frowning, “hasn’t Hagbard been trying pretty hard to lay his trip on everybody? At least lately?”

“Yes,” Miss Portinari said. “In self-defense, and in defense of all life on earth, he broke the basic rule of wisdom. He fully expects to pay for that violation. We are waiting for the bill to be presented. I, personally, do not think that we will have to wait very long.”

Joe frowned. A half-hour had passed since Miss Portinari had spoken those words; why should he remember them so
vividly right now? He was on the bridge, about to ask Hag-bard a question, but he couldn’t remember the question or how he had gotten there. On the TV receptor he saw a long tendril, thin as a wire, brush against the side of a globe, trailing off into invisible distances. That meant it was actually touching the side of the submarine. The tendril disappeared. Must be some sort of seaweed, Joe thought. He resumed his conversation with Hagbard. “The squizfardle on the humits is warb,” he said.

The tendril was back, and another one with it. This time they stayed, and Joe could see more in the distance. We must have run into a whole clump of seaweed, he thought. Then an enormous tentacle came zooming up out of the depths.

Hagbard saw it and crouched, gripping the rail of the Viking prow. “Hang on!” he yelled, and Joe dropped to his knees beside him.

Suddenly, below, above, and on all sides of the globe-shaped vision screen there were suckers, great yard-across craters of flesh. The submarine’s forward motion stopped suddenly with a force that threw Joe against the railing and knocked the wind out of him.

“Stop all engines,” Hagbard called. “All hands to battle stations.”

George and Hagbard picked themselves up off the floor and stared at the image of the tentacles that were wrapped around the submarine. They were easily ten feet in diameter.

“Well, I suppose we’ve met Leviathan, right?” said Joe.

“Right,” said Hagbard.

“I hope you have somebody taking pictures.
Confrontation
would buy a few if we could afford them.”

George rushed in. Hagbard peered into the blue-black depths, then took George by the shoulder and pointed. “There it is, George. The origin of all the Illuminati symbols. Leviathan himself.”

Far, far off in the depths of the ocean, George saw a triangle glowing with a greenish-white phosphorescence. In its center was a red dot.

“What is it?” George asked.

“An intelligent, invertebrate sea creature of a size so great the word ‘gigantic’ doesn’t do it justice,” said Hagbard. “It is to whales what whales are to minnows. It’s an
organism unlike any other on earth. It’s one single cell that never divided, just kept getting larger and larger over billions of years. Its tentacles can hold this submarine as easily as a child holds a paper boat. Its body is shaped like a pyramid. With that size it doesn’t need the normal fish shape. It needs a more stable form to withstand the enormous pressures at the bottom of the ocean. And so it has taken the form of a pyramid of five sides, including the base.”

“The blink of a god’s eye,” said George suddenly. “Scale makes a tremendous difference to one’s sense and definition of reality. Time to a sequoia is not the same as time to a man.”

Leviathan was drifting closer to them, and it was pulling them closer to itself. A single, glowing red nucleus burned like an under-ocean sun in the center of the pyramid, which looked like a mountain of glass.

“Still, one may become lonely. For a man, a half-hour of loneliness may be enough to cause unbearable pain. For a being to whom a million years is no more than a year, the pain of loneliness may be great. It
is
great.”

“George, what are you talking about?” said Joe.

Hagbard said, “There are plants which live just in that light. At ocean depths far below those at which any plant should be able to survive. Over the millions of years hosts of parasitic satellite life forms have build up around it.” Still puzzled by George’s odd talk, Joe looked and saw a faintly glowing cloud around Leviathan’s angular shape. That cloud must be made of millions of creatures circling around the monster.

The bridge door opened again and Harry Coin, Otto Waterhouse, and John-John Dillinger came in. “We didn’t have any battle stations, so I figured we’d try to find out what’s going on,” said Dillinger. Then his jaw dropped as he looked out at Leviathan. “Holy shit!”

“Jesus suffering Christ,” said Harry Coin. “If I could fuck that thing I’d of fucked the biggest thing that lives.”

“Want to borrow a scuba outfit?” said Hagbard. “Maybe you could distract it.”

“What does it feed on?” said Joe. “Something like that must have to eat constantly to stay alive.”

“It’s omnivorous,” said Hagbard. “Has to be. Eats the creatures that live around it, but can eat anything from amoebas to kelp beds to whales. It can probably derive energy
from inorganic matter too, as plants do. Its diet has had to change quite a bit over the geological eras. It wasn’t as big as this a billion years ago. It grows very slowly.”

“I am the first of all living things,” said George. “The first living thing was One. And it is still One.”

“George?” said Hagbard, looking narrowly at the blond young man. “George, why are you talking like that?”

“It’s coming closer,” said Otto.

“Hagbard, what the hell are you going to do?” said Dillinger. “Are we going to fight, run, or let that thing eat us?”

“Let it come closer for a while,” Hagbard said. “I want to get a good close look. I’ve never had a chance like this before, and may never see this creature again.”

“You’ll be seeing it from the inside with that attitude,” said Dillinger.

At each of the five corners of the pyramid were clusters of five tentacles, thousands of feet long, festooned with auxiliary tentacles, the long, wirelike tendrils that had first brushed the submarine. It was one of the main tentacles that was wrapped around the
Leif Erikson
. The tip of a second tentacle now drifted up. At the very end of this tentacle was a glowing red eyeball, a smaller replica of the red nucleus of the pyramidal central body. Under this eye was a huge orifice full of jagged rows of toothlike projections. Pulsing, the orifice dilated and contracted.