“It tastes like the urine of a diseased camel. How would I know what the urine of a diseased camel tastes like, no doubt that’s the question you’re pondering, am I right? Well, I’ve had a life just full of experiences. You’d know that if you’d ever read my memoirs. Do you know how to read?”
“Certain it is that I do.”
“Well, that’s a fine thing. Because I’ve written just volumes and volumes of my memoirs. Thank God now there’s someone to read them. You see, there’s no shortage of paper here, nor of ink. We’ve an ample supply,” he indicated several boxes which were filled with blank pieces of paper. “An ignorant, stupid man like yourself naturally you’ll have nothing to write down, but you can read all that I have written and you can learn.”
“Well, that’s something to look forward to. Something to fill the idle hours I’d say.”
“Yes, and this is in the truest sense a posthumous work. I have observed that death has often tended to slow the output of even the most prolific authors. You’ll be happy and amazed to learn that this is not true in my case. My memoirs may well be the first work ever to have been written entirely after the author had passed away.”
“Well, that’s a marvel.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” And Colophus proceeded to burden Tom with pages of his memoirs. “I’ve written other things too, you know. There’s my dissertation on the purposes of existence. I also at one time had written a dissertation on the purposes of non-existence, but sad to say it no longer exists.”
So Tom set about reading Colophus’s memoirs, and other works of a like nature. There was plenty of time in this timeless region where there were no fixed cycles of night and day. He grew accustomed to the taste of the sherry they drank, and actually acquired a taste for it, though Colophus assured him that once Tom had drunk as much of it as he had he’d come to see how vile it truly was. Also he found that when he hungered, he could subsist on raw fish, and one time they stumbled on a round of cheese, which made for a welcome change of diet.
Colophus spent all his time in this large enclosed space which Tom felt certain was the stomach. Tom also spent much of his time there, in reading or in discussion with Colophus on any number of abstruse matters. Colophus considered himself an accomplished philosopher and was at pains to show off to Tom the solutions he’d arrived at for a number of philosophical enigmas. For instance, they debated as to whether happiness and wisdom were two words for the same thing. Tom thought they were, but Colophus differed, saying if you had happiness, why would you want wisdom too? Another time they attempted to unravel the question of free will versus fixed fate. Here Colophus dilated on the idea that God, when He’d created the universe, had set everything in motion, and that there was an inevitable chain of cause and consequence that could account for every single action of every single atom throughout the entire universe. And since every event was the result of the events which had preceded it, every event was, as it were, cast in stone at the first moment of creation and there was no possibility that anything could have happened differently. Yet at the same time, any individual could consult his own thoughts, and knowing he was making choices based on what would content or discontent him and that his choices were entirely free, would know he had free will. How were these two outlooks to be reconciled?
“You see, to simplify the problem – by the way, this is one of the things I love about philosophy; have you ever noticed that every philosopher, without exception, when he explains something begins his explanation with the words ‘So, to simplify the problem?’ Without exception, having propounded a difficult and complex question he then proceeds to solve a different and simpler problem. It is a metaphysical sleight of hand absolutely indispensable to those of us of the philosophical persuasion. To comprehend the answer you must understand that the greatest natural philosophers of the current day have deduced that the world originated in what they call a Big Bang at the creation of time. The particles which make up the universe have ever since been dispersed and are growing ever fainter and farther away from one another until eventually everything will terminate in a great whimper of silent emptiness. However, as anyone who has ever composed a symphony will tell you, the silence comes at the beginning and the big bang comes at the end. The root of our tragedy lies in the fact that we move through time in the direction opposed to time’s flow. This is why we don’t always grow younger and happier. The period behind us, which we cannot see and which we call the future, is fixed and unchangeable and subject to fate. This is what we have clumsily apprehended and tried to express by saying it is predetermined by cause and effect. Whereas the period before us, which we call the past, is unformed and changeable and subject to free will.”
“You mean everything I remember hasn’t happened yet?”
“Yes. However these events are forever beyond our grasp because we are moving through time in the wrong direction. Or perhaps the truth is that past and future are just two different ways of looking at the same thing, like two sides of a coin.”
“I must say that seems to fail the test of common sense.”
“Yes, but all our science and civilization fails that test. Did you realize that mathematics, that tool which seems most precisely to explain the nature of reality and the universe, is in fact founded on a delusion? It is. All our mathematical knowledge is based on the assumption that there is such a thing as zero. Without zero it all falls apart. And yet zero is nothing, and nothing is that which doesn’t exist. So all our knowledge and science is founded on an absurd flaw, the assumption that nothing exists.”
From time to time, Tom would take excursions into other parts of the fish’s anatomy, looking to see what else he could find, or if perhaps he could retrace his steps and return to the fish’s gullet, from which, if there were ever opportunity, he might escape back into the world. However, he never found his way back to that pool under the waterfall where his body had been lodged after he’d first been swallowed. His jaunts invariably ended with a return to the large enclosed space of the stomach. There were times when he thought he could feel the fish moving through the ocean’s waters; he had feelings of great distances being traversed. It was hard to say how these feelings were conveyed to him since he had no way of seeing what was passing outside. Sometimes he felt the floor rocking under him and he saw the walls of the tunnels straining and then releasing as the fish exercised its mighty muscles. One time, discovering a route not traversed before, he wandered in mazy passages, hearing what sounded like the rhythmic beating of a vast and mighty drum. Following the sound, he found himself drawn towards a chamber from which he could look out and view a solemn and awe-inspiring spectacle. He saw a gigantic, gleaming muscle of the darkest crimson slowly gathering itself together, drawing what resembled a syrup of viscous dark liquid into itself, and then with a mighty throb, producing the sound he’d heard, dispersing the fluids through what looked like huge chasms that must have been the animal’s arteries. He was witnessing the action of the heart of the leviathan as it slowly extended and distended itself and then with a powerful resounding hug compressed itself again, drawing the blood in and forcing it out again. He gazed, rapt, for a long time, spellbound by this awesome display of the terror and magnificence of life.
Apart from the time he spent in these outings most of his time was spent in the company of Colophus, either reading his memoirs or engaged in discussions of his various philosophical theories. One subject Colophus frequently reverted to was his theory of the best government. As a close confidant of the Emperor he had often spoken of it and had taken some steps to seeing it put into effect. He thought this was probably why his enemies had acted when they had, to forestall the instauration of this much to be desired and broadly beneficial regime. He noted that many forms of government had been attempted, at various times during man’s march through history. “There was autocracy, rule by a single monarch; aristocracy, rule by those who are most noble; democracy, rule by the people; gerontocracy, rule by those who are oldest; gyneco
cracy, rule by women; mobocracy, rule by a mob; plutocracy, rule by those who are wealthiest; technocracy, rule by the most scientific; theocracy, rule by God; and so forth. All of these forms of government may be found to be workable for a while, but eventually they founder and have to be replaced because someone totally unfit to govern is elevated to the highest post and the system collapses. Why is it that there has never been found any form of government that assures us of being administered competently? You would think that somewhere in the course of human history someone would have stumbled on a system that put the reins of government into the hands of the most sensible ruler. So many things have been tried, but inevitably we find ourselves governed by venal self-serving blockheads who deserve to be shot. Why does this happen?”
“I’m sure I don’t know.”
“You’ll be glad to learn that I have given the matter a great deal of thought, and I have arrived at a solution. But to understand my solution, it is necessary first to be disabused of a common error that many make in assuming that the seat of man’s cogitative faculties resides in the skull. It does not.”
“No?”
“Absolutely not. Many people think that the brain, which lies inside the skull, is the engine of cognition. However, my researches indicate that this is not the case. Oh, it’s an easy error to make. Just because so many of the major sense organs are all bundled in the head, it’s convenient to think of the head as the center of reason. There resides the brain, with his attendant senses, sight, hearing, smell and taste near to hand, am I right?”
“I can see the logic of it.”
“Yes, and that’s exactly where you go wrong. Now, look at the body of a man. Where is the central point?”
“The stomach?”
“Close . . . When it’s necessary to apply all of a man’s strength, where is the foundation for it? Where is the biggest muscle to be found? Is it in the upper body? No, of course not. Where is it?”
“In the thighs?”
“Close.”
“In the butt?”
“Of course. In the glorious gluteus maximus, the largest muscle of them all. And let me ask you, if you were to create an organ responsible for all the intellectual work a man would find it necessary to perform, you would want that organ to be able to expand and to grow and to become ever more powerful, would you not?”
“Yes, I think you would.”
“So if you were a benevolent creator you wouldn’t put such an organ into a space where it is confined by a hard bony skull so it can’t grow any larger, would you? Of course not, it wouldn’t be natural. Where would you put it? You’d put it where there were no limits to how large it could grow. And you’d put it in that very spot that’s nearest to where the generative functions reside, wouldn’t you? You’d put it in the buttocks! Wouldn’t you?”
“In the buttocks?”
“Of course!”
“So you think the seat of man’s cogitative faculties is in his buttocks?”
“Precisely. The seat is in the seat, as it were. Could there be anything more sensible?”
“So what’s the brain for then?”
“Who knows? The brain’s of no account. Nothing it does matters. It’s just a silly sponge. On the other hand, I’m sure you’ve observed that the smartest people are always those who have the largest buttocks.”
“Actually I haven’t observed this rule to be of an infallible nature.”
“Well of course you haven’t. But look at your buttocks. Hardly the size of a withered old apple. What are your observations worth? Not much I’d say. Now, compare them to my buttocks. My buttocks, I’m sad to say, are not what they once were.” Here he rolled over to give Tom a good view. “Once they were rotund, they were fabulously fleshy,” he stroked them lovingly. “They have shriveled somewhat. The diet here is not the best for them. But still, you can see they have a hugeness and a very appealing roundness, do they not?”
“As you say, fat as can be.”
“Ah – so my observations would naturally be superior to those of an unintelligent, ignorant man such as yourself, with buttocks like a shriveled pea. Don’t take it personally. It’s just a scientific fact.”
“But what’s all this got to do with the best form of government?”
“Oh yes. To resume where I left off, the ideal form of government, the one that would inevitably put the best man in charge, after all those other ocracies have been left in the dust, would be what I call buttockracy, rule by those with the largest buttocks. You see? Rule by the most intelligent, the most benevolent, and the most far-seeing. What could be better?”
“Well, I must say no matter what system people put in place, whether they pick the one who can waggle his ears the best, or the one that can sneeze the loudest, still it always seems like it’s the biggest ass that always comes out on top.”
“You see, it’s nature’s law.”
Colophus was very satisfied with this proof of the legitimate authenticity of his theory of buttockracy. But despite the fact that he believed the faculties of thought resided in the buttocks, and that his buttocks were a good example of this rule, there were other times when his confidence in the operations of thought was altogether diminished. Sometimes he would be overcome by a feeling that there was no purpose to existence and that absolutely nothing made any sense, or he would become frightened at the idea that all around him malevolent forces were at work and that he was guided by an illusory and deceitful will-o’-the-wisp called reason which had no foundation to rest on, that thought itself was a flawed and dangerous activity. These times seemed to correspond with his most copious tipples of sherry, although it must be said that the constant consumption of this beverage, morning, noon and night, particularly considering there was neither morning, noon nor night in this timeless limbo, gave a certain tipsy outlook to everything that went on. He would sometimes bemoan the inadequacies of human reason, pointing out that it played no role in the most important operations a person performed, those that the body was conditioned to undertake automatically, such as breathing, or pumping blood. “You notice you don’t let your mind take charge of those things. Oh no, you need those to keep you alive. So you’re quite content to let your body go about doing everything that matters while your mind can play with things like morality and justice and truth and honor and all the stuff that makes us like the angels but which we really know isn’t worth a whistle, otherwise we’d let instinct or some more primitive faculty sort them out, like the animals do. We place so much reliance on our bodies to do all the important work that we are even content to go to sleep, and let the mind loose to wander in irrational absurdities, confident that the body’s taking care of everything that needs doing.” As a demonstration of how little reliance we actually place on rational thought, as opposed to the instinctive actions of the nerves and muscles, Colophus proposed to try walking across the room while attempting to control his muscles entirely by means of conscious ratiocination. Unfortunately his ability to walk across the room had already been considerably compromised by the volume of sherry he’d consumed, so the demonstration was held to have been inconclusive. But there were many discussions of this nature that Tom found himself getting involved in, while drifting in a pearl-gray twilight, where nothing changed and no time seemed to pass, always half intoxicated, listening to the banter of a melancholy philosopher from beyond the grave, and more and more, the longer he was here, he had the curious feeling that time had ground to a halt and was no longer passing. Without cyclical change the whole concept of time began to seem meaningless. His ideas of how and when he could make his escape took on an air of unreality. The very thought of escape seemed incredible. How could he ever get away from here and back to the world of men? And when? He looked forward to it, but couldn’t imagine it actually happening. When there’s no end in view, there’s no sense of direction to draw one on. He realized all his life he’d kept going by having something to look forward to, and now what he looked forward to was nothing.
He was waiting for nothing. And it seemed as if the longer he waited, the less there was to wait for.
Chapter Nine
PIRACY AND PILLAGE
A tattered rag of cloud hung before a gibbous moon waxing towards the full as the Seahawk, three weeks out from San Luno Bay, captained by Crazy Dog Talbot and crewed by his band of heartless renegadoes, swooped down on the Queen of Bel Harbor in Cutthroat Bay, as she approached the port of Kashahar. Crazy Dog was a remarkably ugly man, missing one ear, his face weatherstormed to the complexion of antique parchment, a scar cut slantwise along one temple and cheek, his beard painted blue and his teeth all awry. He was bound to Kashahar where he expected to seize the great emerald that for untold ages had sat in the eye of Slothikay’s one-eyed monkey god Maddibimbo, and he was late. But he couldn’t help but plunder this heavy-laden galleon he’d found thrown in his way.
“All hands! Put all sheets up,” he ordered, and walked towards the forecastle where he could get a better look at his prey. “What do you think?” he asked his First Mate, Barnacle Jack.
“We have the tide and she’s a huge and a clumsy craft. She can’t sail close to the wind and I don’t think she’s even making two knots. She’ll not get to port before we have her. I’d ready the carronades on the port side.”
And so it was done. They brought the Seahawk alongside the Queen and then unfurling the skull and crossbones and taking the canvas off the ship’s figurehead, a skeleton holding a knife in its teeth, they ran the guns out. Once they lay half a cable off they gave a broadside that brought down some spars and killed a few of the Queen’s crew. After that the pirates boarded. Crazy Dog was first, with a lantern and a cutlass. Barnacle Jack was right behind him. The Master chose that moment to stride out of his cabin, wearing a long shirt and nothing else. Barnacle Jack raised his pistol and without a flinch shot him through the eye. Suddenly the pirates were everywhere, carrying lanterns and cutlasses and muskets, and they set about rounding up the crew.
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