I was surrounded by a crowd of grinning appreciative people, some in uniform, some not. They were applauding and cheering. "Good job! Congratulations! Go for it!"
Lizard was offering me a hand to help me up. I took it and pulled myself up weakly. I looked at Lizard-she was beaming-then I pulled her into my arms. If I was going to be wet, so was she. I grabbed her and kissed her hard.
I wasn't surprised when she kissed me back, only by the intensity.
"That isn't the usual response," she said. "But it'll do."
When Shakespeare awakes with a scream
and his member a-drippin' with cream,
'tis just the commission
of nocturnal emission,
which he dubs, "A Mid-Slumber Night-Stream."
64
Acceptance
"All life is barriers. All growth is the transcendence of barriers. It's the dividing line that makes everything possible. Without it, there's nothing but soup."
-SOLOMON SHORT
-and that was a curious thing.
In the middle of dying, we stopped for dinner.
I remember eating. I remember that people were willing to give me anything I wanted. I could have had every dessert in the room. I didn't want.
Curiously, food had become irrelevant. There was something else happening. . . .
After dinner, I resumed my place on the platform without any emotion that I could name.
I mean, I was feeling something, but it was something I had never felt before in my life. If I had to put a word to it, perhaps I'd call it peace. If you can believe that.
I was going to die.
And it didn't bother me any more.
Foreman had brought me through denial and anger, bargaining and depression, and now I had reached a place that he called accptance and I called peace.
How very very odd.
Was this what he meant by enlightenment?
Was this the thing he was talking about that existed on the other side of survival?
I didn't care. The explanation didn't matter. I didn't have to think about this at all. I could simply sit and watch and appreciate and experience whatever happened anywhere around me.
This is what peace feels like.
First of all, everything in the world-and I mean, everything is fascinating. You can see how things fit together. You can see things as if they are illuminated by an interior presence. Everything seems to glow with its own energy. People in particular-you can almost see what they're thinking. And when they speak, you can hear what they mean; and when you speak back to them, they turn to you with light in their eyes and listen to what you're saying. They truly listen.
This is what peace feels like.
It feels like being connected to everything in the universe, everything at once. Foreman and Lizard and the sky and the grass-and even the worms. How very curious. Even the worms. It's like the worm song.
It's a feeling I wish I could share.
And that's the only thing wrong with peace. You can't share it. You can't give it away. You can't even talk about it or they'll think you're crazy. For some reason, that thought was terribly funny. I was still giggling as I headed back into the training room.
Foreman looked at me-when I climbed back up to the platform and he nodded thoughtfully. I recognized the nod. It was his acknowledgment that something had happened.
"You can see it, can't you?" I asked.
"The whole world can see it, Jim. You're wearing a silly beatific expression on your face." He sat me down in the chair and began speaking quietly to me. "Jim, you don't look like a man who's going to die. Someone to whom this training is a totally alien experience would look at you and wonder. They'd think you're crazy; because where you are is light years beyond what most people call normal.
"I want to talk to you now about what's on the other side of survival. Do you want to know about it?"
I nodded. Yes, tell me.
"You think it's a feeling of joy or peacefulness, don't you?" Nod.
"It's not. That feeling-and I can see that you're feeling it now; the whole room can see it-that feeling is only a very small part of what I'm talking about.
"What is beyond survival, Jim, is service. Contribution. Doing something for someone else, for no other reason than to make a difference for them. Without thought of acknowledgment or reward. Without the thought of personal advantage or gain. "Service is a quality that is beyond most people on the planet. They don't even know what the word means. Most people, when they talk about service, they're talking about what they expect from others; they're talking about what they think they have a right to, or what they think they've paid for. Most people on this planet never think of service as something that they themselves might be capable of, let alone be responsible for providing. Why? Because most people don't hear the word service; they hear the word servant; and they think that to be a servant is to be at the lowest state.
"I say that service is the highest state-that there is no greater thing that you can do than serve your fellow beings. By serving, I mean doing things which benefit others, and doing them without regard for your own concerns. And I'm not talking about stopping what you're doing to become some kind of a monk or a nun. I'm talking about an operating context, where you do what you're doing not for your own good, but to produce a result for others. I'm talking about the difference between merely going through the motions and actually making a difference.
"Let me give you an example. The technicians who ready your equipment for you before you go out on a mission; they're not simply serving you, they're serving the mission. And service is a two-way street. You can serve them by making sure that they share the victory, that they know that you got the job done because the equipment worked. That contributes to their pride in the job.
"Service-" said Foreman, "comes from being clear about the larger goal and committing to that goal, first and foremost. The goal for the Core Group is a simple one: design the future of humanity. Do you see the incredible responsibility of that goal? We will not simply let the future happen to us; we will be the source, the cause of our own destiny. By the way, do you get the joke? We have to make sure that humanity survives. Yes, survival is part of service too. It's part of everything. But do you see that service is larger than survival?
"We are at service to all of humanity. That's the core of the Core Group. Our charter says that our job is to create the future. Anyone who wants to be part of the Core Group can be-if you're ready to be of service to an entire planet. That's what this training is all about.
"Our job, Jim, is threefold: Stop the Chtorran infestation. Provide a safe environment for human beings. Preserve as much of the Terran ecology as we can. There are a lot of different ways we can solve any single one of those three tasks. But solving each of those tasks is infinitely more important than who is president or what flag is flying on the flag pole or what language we speak or which government gets to take credit. How much it costs is irrelevant. We can afford it. However much manpower it takes, we'll do it. However long it takes, that's how long it takes. We'll do the job. It's not about being right. It's about getting the job done. And I promise you that the feelings of satisfaction and joy and enthusiasm that you will experience-even under the most horrifying and adverse of circumstances-will be incredible, so long as you never forget what your job is. To serve your fellow beings."
I nodded.
"There's just one more thing-" BANG!
-I looked up startled. As did everyone else.
Foreman was still holding the gun outstretched in his hand. Smoke was curling from the barrel. He had fired it into the wall. The silence in the room was a roar. And then the roaring in the room was deafening.
Foreman turned and put the gun down on the table. He held up a hand for silence.
"Don't get confused! The process is not over," he said. "The process will continue until McCarthy dies. The process will continue until each and every one of you die. You will go through
The Survival Process each and every day of your life, for the rest of your life-every single minute of your life will be about one thing and one thing only: your survival. The only thing different is that after today, you will have it indelibly engraved on your consciousness that you are in The Survival Process.
"Is there another place to be? No. It is all survival.
"Don't get confused! Don't make the mistake of thinking that service is something you do instead of survival. No. Service is a way to transform survival from a chore to a challenge."
Foreman lowered his voice. We had to strain to hear him. "That has been the point of this entire exercise: to bring you to this moment of consciousness. The words are irrelevant, but the experience is indelible. The purpose of this process is to open you up to the possibility of service. Up until the moment that I fired that gun, you thought that service was just only a part of survival. I fired the gun to break that paradigm. You now have a mnemonic, a focus, something to remind you.
"This is the new paradigm. You are in The Survival Process, but survival is only the smallest part of service. That knowledge alone is enough to transform the rest of your life. It will force you m realize, over and over and over again: There is no other place-but what you do in this place makes all the difference in the world.
Foreman stood behind me. He rested his hands on my shoulders and spoke past my ear. "This is what life looks like from the inside.
"From this moment on, now that you know, every moment of your life is going to be about the choice between survival or service. I promise you, you cannot forget.
"Now that you know that you have a choice, you have space to choose. Now that you know the cost of investing your energy in survival, you can weigh that against the cost of investing your energy in service. What do you get out of survival? Anguish? What do you get out of service? That's what the rest of this training is going to be about."
Foreman let go of my shoulders and stepped out to the edge of the platform. "Now, one more thing. I mean it when I say, 'Don't get confused.' I did not lie to you. The process is not over. It continues until you die. I did not mislead you. You misled yourselves. What I said was, 'I will use the gun. The process will continue until McCarthy dies.' I never said that McCarthy would die today, but you were all so locked up in survival thinking that you made connections that were never there. Yes, I played into those false connections deliberately-I allowed you to think what I knew you were thinking, but you want to notice that you didn't listen. Had any single one of you listened carefully to what I said, we would have had to do this process in an entirely different way, but we could not do it any other way while you were still stuck in Your false connections.
"Some of you are going to be convinced until your dying day that I played a trick on you. Don't fall into that trap! You'll miss the point of the exercise. You are still in The Survival Process. It continues until you die."
There was a forest of hands waving, but Foreman turned to me first. "McCarthy? What are you feeling?"
I was laughing. "I feel disappointed. I mean, I was almost looking forward to dying. I was starting to . . . I don't know. I feel like a damn fool." I couldn't help it, I couldn't stop laughing.
"I suppose I should be so fucking angry at you I want to wring your fucking neck-but I feel so good. You know what I feel? I feel more alive than I have ever felt in my entire life!" There were tears running down my cheeks. Foreman reached over and touched my hand.
"You know what I feel?" I blurted. "I'm feeling every emotion in the world, all at once. I'm feeling joy and aliveness and giddiness-and grief, oh, God I'm so full of anguish-and fear and despair at being so trapped in death-and anger and rage at you for doing this to me. And . . . oh, God, this is overwhelming!"
Foreman was holding me. "That's right, Jim, that's right. What you're feeling is birth-rage. Have you ever noticed how angry babies are at being born? Look at their faces. That's what you've got now. And it's mixed up with curiosity and wonder and joy, the same way it is in a baby. You're fine. You're doing just fine."
I hated him and I loved him. Just like Jason.
But this was different.
Because this was us playing at god-this wasn't worms. There was a lot more than that. Foreman and I went down off the platform and everybody sat on the floor and we all talked. We talked about the responsibilities of human beings to each other and what it felt like to be trapped in human bodies.
We talked about what we really wanted.
And I know it sounds sappy and maudlin-but underneath all of it, we began to discover how much we really cared about each other; we even loved each other.
Not love like most people think of love, but love nonetheless.
Sally-Jo taught erotic correction.
She told her student to get an erection.
"Put your dick in my mouth.
Move it north, move it south -
Now, you're getting a sense of direction!"
Her instructions were very explicit,
and more than a little illicit:
"Please fill up my cunny with fresh clover honey,
and butter my buns like a biscuit."
"Then wrap me up nice in a blanket,
and I'll sit on your staff while you crank it.
I'll put on some feathers,
and laces and leathers,
and wiggle my ass while you spank it."
"Now that your fingers are stinky,
tie me up in some chains that are clinky.
Bring in goats and a sheik,
give my titties a tweak
-and now, we can start getting kinky!"
"Forget what the chain and the whip meant.
Just get the straps and the slings and a shipment
of high-grade Vaseline,
and a strong trampoline,
and all of the other equipment!"
"Now, when we get all the bedsprings a-drummin',
that's when I'll start in a-hummin',
then quickly, my dear,
put it into my ear,
so I'll hear the sound of it comin'!"
"I don't know how much this is costing,"
said her student, still covered with frosting.
"But I can say with affinity
that I've lost my virginity.
Quite frankly, my dear, you're exhausting!"
65
Dirty Limericks
"Isn't it amazing how much fun two people can have just by taking off their clothes?"
-SOLOMON SHORT
Of course, we ended up in bed.
She unpinned her dark red hair and it fell in an auburn cascade to below her shoulders. She took off her blouse and her bra and I saw how pearl-smooth her skin was. Her breasts were rosy; they looked firm. She took off her underwear and I started to giggle. Her ass was freckled.
And she had the longest legs.
I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life between those legs. She took me into her bed and into her body. I let go of my mind and let it happen. I dissolved into her freckled pink face, her tender red kisses.
She was a crimson ocean, stormy and wave-tossed. I was caught up in the rise and fall of her. I felt like a man caught in a whirlwind. My heart was racing-I could die here!-it didn't matter. I pulled myself up, pushed her knees up to her chest, and plunged in deeper. She wrapped her legs around me and began to gasp and laugh and cry. When she came, it was with a little shudder of delight, and then she pulled me close, hugging me even tighter as she held me and held me. I could feel her spasming and throbbing beneath me, around me, and I came too, exploding into her.
And then we collapsed into each other, rolling over onto our sides. I was still facing her, still inside her.
I let myself look into her eyes. She was beaming. "Hi," she said.
"Hi," I replied.
We lay there gasping for breath. "Now, I know," I said.
"Know what?"
"What it's like to screw a colonel. Always before,
it's been the other way around."
She burst out laughing. "Believe me," she said. "It's far more fun screwing captains."
"Really?"
"Sure. You'll find out when you're a colonel."
"Mm, I love it when you talk dirty." I shifted my position, she smiled in response.
"Now, say general."
"Brigadier," she whispered.
"Oh, I can't stand it."
She giggled.
"Want to know something?" I said.
"What?"
"I've missed you."
"I've missed you too."
"You mean, I wasn't just a one-night stand?"
"No, you were; but whoever said that one-night stands couldn't be fun and affectionate too? You don't have to fall in love every time."
"Problem is, I did."
"Mm." She didn't answer that. "I didn't expect you to come back from that mission."
"Nobody did." I turned so I could look directly into her face. "You know, I used to wonder what it would be like to make love lo you."
"Really?" Her voice went soft. "What did you imagine?"
"Um . . ." I tried to remember. I couldn't. I started giggling.
"What?"
"I forgot."
"No, you didn't. You just don't want to say."
"No, really, I did."
"Captain, I could order you to tell me."
"Colonel, just about anything I would say right now would get me in a lot of trouble."
"Then I order you to say it."
"No, sir!"
She rolled me over on my back, so she was on top of me. She was surprisingly strong. She said, "What is it you're not saying? Tell me!" She saw the look on my face and pounced. "That one! Say it."
I said, "I love you."
She blinked.
"What did you say?"
"I said, 'I love you.' See, I told you it would get me in a lot of trouble."
She sniffed back the tears. "No-it's just-you caught me by surprise." She sniffed again. "The army takes a dim view of captains falling in love with their colonels. Well, sleeping with them anyway. I guess this is why." She smiled through the tears. "It's probably lousy for morale to see your superior officer crying."
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