Familials, group A (who disagree with the need to be separated from their Darlings) threaten the Living’s intellect, mental health and progress. These people (primarily women) see their ‘continuation’ in their Darlings, and not in themselves. In so doing they drive society into the primordial savagery based on grievous perversions and animal instincts.
Familials, group B (‘couples’ who do not agree with the necessity for regular changes in partner and remain ‘faithful’, as it is known, to each other) threaten the Living’s freedom of choice, imposing artificial and harmful proprietorial instincts on him.
Tritheists (who disagree with the fact that there is no god but the Living, who is one in three billion) threaten the cultural heritage of the Living with their absurd belief in a hideous god with three heads (the head of the father, the head of the son, the head of the bird) and strive to sabotage belief in the sacred text of the Book of Life.
The ‘Available World’ society (who disagree with the absence of contact between the Living and Our Little Brothers) are perhaps the only ones who do not present a threat. The Living is actually very interested both in establishing contact with animals and in domesticating them.
Dear friends! To aid us in the battle against first-layer threats I propose the following:
1. Introduce tougher penalties for Dissidents. Compulsory pause with subsequent correction in the relevant institutions seems to me to be an adequate and sensible measure.
2. Increase accordingly the number of Houses of Correction (at least double).
3. Introduce a State of Emergency. I will tell you about that last point separately.
Until now it has only been the Wise One who has, before every pause or final immersion, chosen a new Diver to replace him (this time he appointed me). However, the State of Emergency makes it possible for all members of the Council to pass down power not on the basis of invector, but by appointing a successor. This radical measure is designed to help us, in these difficult days for the Living, avoid so-called ‘memory lapses’ – the long and inevitable periods during the reproduction of members of the Council (gestation, infancy, and childhood until eight years old) when it is impossible to access their cell in Renaissance Bank. My friends! At such a critical moment as this, such lengthy losses of memory – and, consequently, of experience and know-how – for several members of the Council is unacceptable.
As a consequence, I have a very serious request to make of my respected colleague Second (and I humbly ask that all members of the Council support my initiative). My request is that he should – in all seriousness – sacrifice himself on behalf of the Living. I ask that Second, the moderator of the tranquillity of the Living in all layers, refuse his office immediately after the onset of the pause and hand the reins over to an heir.
The moderation of tranquillity (including the Service for Planetary Order, the Psychological Service for Assisting the Population, the system of Houses of Correction and much more) is the sort of area of government in which there must be no such ‘lapses’ at such a critical and unstable moment for the Living. For the post of Second I’m picturing an experienced young professional who is up to speed with all aspects of tranquillity and has already garnered invaluable experience as a moderator. I’m talking about the Servant of Order – the head of the SPO and the biological son of our present Second. He is the one who should take up his father’s place after the pause – which is, as tragic as this may be, according to the consulting physician, quite close at hand…
‘An excellent speech, I think,’ Second surmised with a look of contentment. ‘Turned out nicely, right?’
‘You want to refuse your post in the Council in favour of your son?’ the Wise One said dumbly.
‘For the good of the Living,’ Second nodded; for greater solemnity he opened his beetle-like eyes so vigorously and so wide that it looked like they would crawl out of his eye sockets any minute and fly away, buzzing and bobbing, into the Available Garden.
‘For the good of the Living,’ the Servant echoed, looking cheerily at his father and bending over in a clownish bow. ‘So how about it, Wise One? Will you read this speech?’
‘Of course not,’ the Wise One tried to laugh, but ended up with a sort of squeaky whimper.
‘Why, if I may ask?’ the moderator of tranquillity enquired with genuine interest.
servant: only 4 minutes to go!
second: wait. i’m curious to know what this little creature is going to say… in the meantime you upload it
‘Because I don’t think the threat is that great. Because I don’t agree with these harsh measures. And I don’t agree with such… such hypocrisy. You’ve got double standards. You live… here, in the Residence we all live like familials. You are both antivectorites. And you, Second, are an old-living too…’ The Wise One looked carefully at the old man out of the corner of his eye, expecting the next outburst of anger in response, but he listened carefully and even nodded in approval, as if agreeing. ‘According to your own logic,’ Zero continued, ‘for every one of these “crimes” you should be forced to undergo a pause with subsequent correction…’
Second snorted in approval – as if he was not averse to sentencing himself to eternal correction – and coughed briefly.
‘You’re almost right, Wise One,’ he said. ‘About everything except the most important thing…’
servant: that’s it, 3 minutes! i’m going to punch his lights out. now is not the time for philosophical discussions!
second: wait, let me come to an agreement with him. this one-layerer isn’t as thick as i first thought. he thinks quickly and speaks coherently, despite the fact that he’s got no memory. i’m almost starting to like him
‘…The threat is great,’ the old man continued. ‘You have no idea how great. And as for our hypocrisy. I wouldn’t use such a harsh word. Yes, the members of the Council and their… heh-hem…Darlings live a little differently from everyone else. But the logic behind that is entirely practical…’
Second closed his eyes and dug around in the archive from his previous life. He used to have a fantastic recording there in his Favourites, on this very subject. But what was it called? Probably something completely nonsensical… come on, remember. The old man launched a key word search. He remembered the key words well: ‘bare ass’. The search promptly offered up a dozen ‘arses’ – for the most part photographs and only one document containing both elements. The document did indeed have an obscure name, completely unconnected to the context – ‘Jupiter and the Bull’ – probably some sort of code, but Second didn’t have time to figure it out.
‘You have to understand, sonny,’ he said to the Wise One and started reading expressively. ‘“The Living is like a giant organism, a single body made of different parts. You must realise that the head and arse cannot live in the same conditions. The head is in control – the arse takes orders from it. The head breathes, eats, drinks and thinks a lot and takes care of the well-being of the arse. The arse defecates regularly, and with gratitude, ridding the organism of waste products… If you give the arse oxygen, it’s still not going to learn to breathe. If you stick food up the arse, it’s not going to be able to chew it. All these benefits will just make the arse clog up, stop doing its job, get sick and then quickly poison the whole organism. Which is to say, equal rights would be very damaging for the arse and all the other parts of the body…” Do you follow my reasoning, sonny?’
servant: he’s not following anymore
Second broke off from his reading and focused his eyes in first layer.
second: i asked you to wait!
The Servant of Order was dragging the Wise One from the conference hall, his hands thrust under his armpits.
servant: it’s time
The Wise One’s straight, unbending legs rustled quietly on the floor. The Wise One’s fingers were splayed wide, as if he was showing a deaf person the number ten. The Wise One’s eyes were white and covered in little red veins, as if his eyeballs had rolled over i
n their sockets, turning their blind side to the world. The Wise One was like a big plastic doll that had broken as soon as it was bought because someone didn’t play with it properly.
bakugan?
Second asked when the door closed behind the Servant and the Wise One.
servant: indeed
second: i can’t stand those creatures
the old man squirmed.
well that’s it, it’s starting, let me know what happens. and, listen, don’t overdo it with him with those bakugans. try to talk him round nicely
…First, moderator of harmony in first layer, welcomes the Wise One and all members of the Council…
servant: it’s hardly going to work now, you’ve seen with your own efforts how stubborn he’s got
second: you should show him the Malfunction
servant: what???!!!!
second: not the whole thing, obviously, just the stalls… right my turn
The sideways eight, the ancient sign of infinity, pulsed and gave off a panicked squeak somewhere in its centre:
…awaiting greeting… awaiting greeting… awaiting greeting
‘Second, moderator of the tranquillity of the Living in all layers, welcomes the Wise One and all members of the Council…’
The Malfunction
‘Come on, little fellow…’ the Servant whispered tenderly, putting the white bakugan larva on the Wise One’s skin, ‘… over here, by the elbow, you’ll like it there… and there’s a nice big vein there…’
The little round white ball shuddered as it felt the warmth of the human body, then shyly plunged its tiny proboscis into the Wise One’s skin. It carefully injected its juice and, nearly overcome with thirst, waited for it to take effect, and only then drew the warm, magical blood into itself.
The Servant of Order adored bakugans – wonderfully useful little monsters, a miracle of insect selection. When they have had their fill of blood, they undergo an instantaneous metamorphosis, moving through the pupa stage in a couple of seconds…
…A two-headed, pinkish-available coloured, winged beetle started scurrying down the Wise One’s arm, heading from his elbow down towards his fist, gradually picking up speed for take-off. The Servant of Order caught him and crushed him: once transformed a bakugan is useless. There was blood, shot through with white bakugan juice, left on his fingers; the Servant licked it off: a natural vitamin… His chest got warmer and started thumping; the walls of the lobby became brighter and thicker, as if someone had increased the colour depth in first layer or put on a ‘feeling lucky’ filter; and after a couple of seconds or so his penis became engorged, like an insatiable bakugan larva – he got the urge to call for his new woman, right now… Now that’s what the natural product gives you – you don’t get that with vitacomplex. Vitacomplex is full of harmful impurities and all sorts of preservatives…
With a click Layla opened a window.
layla: where are you, darling?
servant: busy. at the conference
His desire disappeared immediately. Still, that bint must have some sort of animal instinct…
layla: whatever, gopz, you can take a break, gopz, when your woman asks!!
For some reason she closed her window and then immediately opened it back up again. Click. Click. Like being flicked on the nose. The Servant frowned: recently Layla had taken to getting hysterical within seconds, whether in first layer or on socio. ‘You’ve given her too much slack, way too much slack,’ the Servant thought with irritation. ‘Absolutely anything goes…’
layla: i feel so terrible and you just don’t care
Irritation mingled unpleasantly with pity and some strange wistful feeling, as if he hadn’t fed his pet in a long time…
servant: hey sorry little one i really am busy right now
layla: do you call that bitch ‘little one’
servant: that’s it, gopz! take a tranqvitamin and give me some peace
Click.
Zero twitched.
…His consciousness was still there, it had never even gone away. He was just cold. So cold that he could not breathe, look or move. And it was very quiet, it was quiet in his chest, as if his heart was no longer beating.
It seemed to him: now he was made of ice. His eyes had rolled up into his head and frozen to his eyelids; his arms had gone stiff, his legs had gone stiff and stuck together.
It seemed to him: he was hard and icy, he could not be broken. But if you took his body out into the sun, it would melt and soak into the ground like watery lymph…
But there was no sun. Some warmth came from his left arm and spread through his arteries, veins and capillaries. He inhaled – his chest felt prickly and ticklish. As if a female mosquito had bitten him right on the heart… He tried to move his arm and heard a crack… The ice has snapped, he thought in a panic, …a bit of me has snapped off…
‘Careful there, Wise One,’ said the Servant. ‘Don’t make any sudden movements. First wait until your whole body has relaxed, and then stretch your muscles. And don’t jump up suddenly either: you’ll get dizzy… So, that feel better?’
‘Wht…hppn…m…’ The words stuck in his throat like shards of ice.
‘What happened to you? Oh, you made friends with a couple of my marvellous beetles! The black bakugan and the white bakugan. Those are ancient names, I don’t even know what they mean… But the pets themselves are the product of many centuries of insect selection. Have you seen “extract of white bakugan” on the list of ingredients on vitacomplex? Most ordinary people think that it’s some sort of plant… but no! it’s a beetle…’
Zero sat down, slowly, with difficulty – the walls of the lobby shifted and started swaying back and forth, like pieces of cardboard attached to a gigantic pendulum. The sofa underneath him started jiggling unpleasantly, trying awkwardly to adapt to his new pose, but it could not cope with its sycophantic task and sagged sadly, leaning over to one side.
‘…And have you seen “extract of black bakugan” on the list of ingredients for tranqvitamins?’ The Servant of Order peered at the Wise One and, not waiting for a reply, continued his lecture regardless. ‘In small doses the venom of the black bakugan larva calms you down and takes the edge off, so to speak, and the venom of the white one perks you up. It sharpens the senses, the libido and everything else… But if you increase the dose a little… by which I mean, if, for instance, a black bakugan beetle releases its venom under someone’s skin, then that someone will be completely incapacitated, and will temporarily cease to exist after about an hour, and his pause will look entirely natural: paralysis of the muscles of the heart. That is, of course, if no one administers the anti-venom, which is the extract from the white bakugan. The white bakugan is good at neutralising the effect of the black one…’
‘So that’s what you did to the Diver,’ the Wise One pronounced severely. ‘Tranqvitamins… Extract of black bakugan… You stifled his free will, you made him a puppet… You kept putting those beetles on him… that’s why he can’t move at all in first layer… and in socio he just dumbly said everything you ordered him to say… I’m right, no? No?!’
For some reason the Servant of Order found this very funny and giggled ridiculously. His pupils were narrowing and widening, pulsing, like the hungry black bakugan larvae.
‘…And now he’s been poisoned with so much venom that soon he’s going to temporarily cease,’ the Wise One continued, wiggling his toes and noticing that warmth had, at last, got to the very bottom and was seemingly wrapping his calves and heels in prickly wool, ‘…and you want to turn me into a puppet like him…’
‘Smin, he can think logically!’ the Servant said excitedly; after a dose of white he was predisposed to being upbeat. ‘He can construct chains of logic, in first layer, by himself, without a socio-analyser or the Brain Storm program… He makes conclusions: sure, they’re wrong, but the logic!’
‘You’re talking nonsense, Wise One,’ the Servant replied good-naturedly. ‘Bakugans are valuabl
e little beasts. How many would we have to produce to keep that poor bugger Diver quiet day after day? They are single-use, you know… The larva injects its venom and that’s it, after the metamorphosis it doesn’t bite anymore.’
For the purposes of demonstration the Servant showed his interlocutor the crushed beetle.
‘But the Diver…’
‘But the Diver what?! Out there in the roboslums Divers are as common as flies on shit. They lie there, cretins, drooling and gawping at the heavens. You could pick any one of them, bring them into the Residence and make him the Wise One.’
‘So what, anyone can sit in twelfth layer?’
‘Now that is unlikely.’ The Servant burst into screeching, girly laughter, and then broke off on a high, tuneless note. ‘There’s no one there. No one gets to twelfth. There’s probably no such layer.’
The Wise One’s face went crimson with indignation. This Servant doesn’t even think he needs to lie properly! His thawed heart started jumping, as if it wanted to break through his ribcage. Barely holding back his hot rage, the Wise One said:
‘Do you take me for a dribbling idiot?! I have personally received a message from the Diver! That’s right, there’s no need to act so surprised, he wrote to me once. He promised me his support and he kept his word.’
‘What letter is that you’re talking about? It’s not this one is it by any chance…?’ The Servant rifled through his sent folder looking for what he needed. ‘“Don’t believe the lies. The Leo-Lot ray can shine in both directions, backward and forward, and it has revealed your great future, bla bla bla, but I will right the injustice.” That one, right? Sorry I sent it without signing it. We didn’t really know each other properly anyway…’
‘Why…?’ Zero whispered.
‘Well… To stop you probably going and doing something stupid to yourself, Wise One.’ The Servant found the file ‘psych 0’ in his memory. ‘The expert psychological analysis of your diary – the one you left in the House of Correction – had some worrying outcomes. “The author of this text is experiencing considerable stress and suffers from manic depression. This text, judging by certain psycho-lexemes, was conceived as a decoy (most likely the author has not yet committed the self-pause he warns us about at the end), however, overall, the text is genuine. There is an 87.3% probability that the author of this text is capable of self-pause if his condition becomes more severe.” So we decided to cheer you up, so to speak… It would have been very upsetting to lose such a promising young man as yourself.’
The Living Page 24
