章节目录 A Shower of Gold

(88106 www.88106.info)    BecauseheneededthemoneyPetersonansweredanadthatsaid"WellpayyoutobeonTVifyouropinionsarestrongenoughoryourpersonalexperienceshaveaflavoroftheunusual."HecalledthenumberandwastoldtocometoRoom1551intheGraybarBuildingonLexington.ThishedidandafterspendingtwentyminuteswithaMissArborwhoaskedhimifhehadeverbeeninanalysiswasokayedforaprogramcalledWhoAmI?"Whatdoyouhavestrongopinionsabout?"MissArborasked."Art,"Petersonsaid,"life,money.""Forinstance?""Ibelieve,"Petersonsaid,"thatthelearningabilityofmicecanbeloweredorincreasedbyregulatingtheamountofserotonininthebrain.Ibelievethatschizophrenicshaveahighincidenceofunusualfingerprints,includinglinesthatmakealmostcompletecircles.Ibelievethatthedreamerwatcheshisdreaminsleep,bymovinghiseyes.""Thatsveryinteresting!"MissArborcried."ItsallintheWorldAlmanac,"Petersonreplied.

    "Iseeyoureasculptor,"MissArborsaid,"thatswonderful.""Whatisthenatureoftheprogram?"Petersonasked."Iveneverseenit.""Letmeansweryourquestionwithanotherquestion,"MissArborsaid."Mr.Peterson,areyouabsurd?"Herenormouslipsweresmearedwithaglowingwhitecream."Ibegyourpardon?""Imean,"MissArborsaidearnestly,"doyouencounteryourownexistenceasgratuitous?Doyoufeeldetrap?Istherenausea?""Ihaveanenlargedliver,"Petersonoffered."Thatsexcellent!"MissArborexclaimed."Thatsaverygoodbeginning!WhoAmI?tries,Mr.Peterson,todiscoverwhatpeoplereallyare.Peopletoday,wefeel,arehiddenawayinsidethemselves,alienated,desperate,livinginanguish,despairandbadfaith.Whyhavewebeenthrownhere,andabandoned?Thatsthequestionwetrytoanswer,Mr.Peterson.Manstandsaloneinafeatureless,anonymouslandscape,infearandtremblingandsicknessuntodeath.Godisdead.Nothingnesseverywhere.Dread.Estrangement.Finitude.WhoAmI?approachestheseproblemsinarootradicalway.""Ontelevision?""Wereinterestedinbasics,Mr.Peterson.Wedontplayaround.""Isee,"Petersonsaid,wonderingabouttheamountofthefee."WhatIwanttoknownow,Mr.Peterson,isthis:areyouinterestedinabsurdity?""MissArbor,"hesaid,"totellyouthetruth,Idontknow.ImnotsureIbelieveinit.""Oh,Mr.Peterson!"MissArborsaid,shocked."Dontsaythat!Youllbe""Punished?"Petersonsuggested."Youmaynotbeinterestedinabsurdity,"shesaidfirmly,"butabsurdityisinterestedinyou.""Ihavealotofproblems,ifthathelps,"Petersonsaid."Existenceisproblematicforyou,"MissArborsaid,relieved."Thefeeistwohundreddollars."

    "Imgoingtobeontelevision,"Petersonsaidtohisdealer."Aterribleshame,"Jean-Clauderesponded."Isitunavoidable?""Itsunavoidable,"Petersonsaid,"ifIwanttoeat.""Howmuch?"Jean-ClaudeaskedandPetersonsaid:"Twohundred."Helookedaroundthegallerytoseeifanyofhisworkswereondisplay."Aridiculouscompensationconsideringtheinfamy.Areyouusingyourownname?""Youhaventbyanychance""Nooneisbuying,"Jean-Claudesaid."Undoubtedlyitistheweather.Peoplearethinkingintermsof——whatdoyoucallthosethings?——Chris-Crafts.Toboatwith.YouwouldnotconsideragainwhatIspoketoyouaboutbefore?""No,"Petersonsaid,"Iwouldntconsiderit.""Twolittleoneswouldmovemuch,muchfasterthanasinglehugebigone,"Jean-Claudesaid,lookingaway."Tosawitacrossthemiddlewouldbeaverysimplematter.""Itssupposedtobeaworkofart,"Petersonsaid,ascalmlyaspossible."Youdontgoaroundsawingworksofartacrossthemiddle,remember?""Thatplacewhereitsaws,"Jean-Claudesaid,"isnotverydifficult.Icanputmytwohandsaroundit."Hemadeacirclewithhistwohandstodemonstrate."InvariablywhenIlookatthatpieceIseetwopieces.Areyouabsolutelysureyoudidntconceiveitwronglyinthefirstinstance?""Absolutely,"Petersonsaid.Notasinglepieceofhiswasonview,andhisliverexpandedinrageandhatred."Youhaveaveryromanticimpulse,"Jean-Claudesaid."Iadmire,dimly,theposture.Youreadtoomuchinthehistoryofart.Itestrangesyoufromthosepossibilitiesforauthenticselfhoodthatinhereinthepresentcentury.""Iknow,"Petersonsaid,"couldyouletmehavetwentyuntilthefirst?"

    PetersonsatinhisloftonlowerBroadwaydrinkingRheingoldandthinkingaboutthePresident.HehadalwaysfeltclosetothePresidentbutfeltnowthathehad,inagreeingtoappearonthetelevisionprogram,donesomethingslightlydisgraceful,ofwhichthePresidentwouldnotapprove.ButIneededthemoney,hetoldhimself,thetelephoneisturnedoffandthekitteniscryingformilk.AndImrunningoutofbeer.ThePresidentfeelsthattheartsshouldbeencouraged,Petersonreflected,surelyhedoesntwantmetogowithoutbeer?Hewonderedifwhathewasfeelingwassimpleguiltathavingsoldhimselftotelevisionorsomethingmoreelegant:nausea?HislivergroanedwithinhimandheconsideredasituationinwhichhisnewrelationshipwiththePresidentwasannounced.Hewasworkingintheloft.ThepieceinhandwastobecalledSeasonsGreetingsandcombinedthreeautoradiators,onefromaChevroletTudor,onefromaFordpick-up,onefroma1932Essex,withpartofaformertelephoneswitchboardandotheritems.Thearrangementseemedrightandhebeganwelding.Afteratimethemasswasfreestanding.Acoupleofhourshadpassed.Heputdownthetorch,liftedoffthemask.Hewalkedovertotherefrigeratorandfoundasandwichleftbyafriendlyjunkdealer.Itwasasandwichmadehastilyandwithoutinspiration:athinsliceofhambetweentwopiecesofbread.Heateitgratefullynevertheless.Hestoodlookingatthework,movingfromtimetotimesoastoviewitfromanewangle.ThenthedoortotheloftburstopenandthePresidentranin,trailingasixteen-poundsledge.HisfirstblowcrackedtheprincipalweldinSeasonsGreetings,thetwohalvespartinglikelovers,clingingforamomentandthenrushingoffinoppositedirections.TwelveSecretServicemenheldPetersoninaparalyzingcombinationofsecretgrips.Heslookinggood,Petersonthought,verygood,healthy,mature,fit,trustworthy.Ilikehissuit.ThePresidentssecondandthirdblowssmashedtheEssexradiatorandtheChevroletradiator.Thenheattackedtheweldingtorch,theplastersketchesontheworkbench,theRodincastandtheGiacomettistickmanPetersonhadboughtinParis."ButMr.President!"Petersonshouted."Ithoughtwewerefriends!"ASecretServicemanbithiminthebackoftheneck.ThenthePresidentliftedthesledgehighintheair,turnedtowardPeterson,andsaid:"Yourliverisdiseased?Thatsagoodsign.Youremakingprogress.Yourethinking."

    "IhappentothinkthatguyintheWhiteHouseisdoingaprettydarngoodjob."Petersonsbarber,amannamedKitchenwhowasalsoalayanalystandtheauthoroffourbookstitledTheDecisionToBe,wastheonlypersonintheworldtowhomhehadconfidedhisformersenseofcommunitywiththePresident."Asfarashisrelationshipwithyoupersonallygoes,"thebarbercontinued,"itsessentiallyakindofI-Thourelationship,ifyouknowwhatImean.Yougottohandleitwithfullawarenessoftheimplications.Intheendoneexperiencesonlyoneself,Nietzschesaid.WhenyoureangrywiththePresident,whatyouexperienceisself-as-angry-with-the-President.Whenthingsareokaybetweenyouandhim,whatyouexperienceisself-as-swinging-with-the-President.Wellandgood.But,"Kitchensaid,latheringup,"youwanttherelationshiptobesuchthatwhatyouexperienceisthe-President-as-swinging-with-you.Youwanthisreality,getit?Sothatyoucanbreakoutofthehellofsolipsism.Howaboutalittlemoreoffthesides?""Everybodyknowsthelanguagebutme,"Petersonsaidirritably."Look,"Kitchensaid,"whenyoutalkaboutmetosomebodyelse,yousaymybarber,dontyou?Sureyoudo.Inthesameway,Ilookatyouasbeingmycustomer,getit?ButyoudontregardyourselfasbeingmycustomerandIdontregardmyselfasyourbarber.Oh,itshellallright."TherazormovedlikeaswitchbladeacrossthebackofPetersonsneck."LikePascalsaid:Thenaturalmisfortuneofourmortalandfeebleconditionissowretchedthatwhenweconsideritclosely,nothingcanconsoleus.Therazorrocketedaroundanear."Listen,"Petersonsaid,"whatdoyouthinkofthistelevisionprogramcalledWhoAm1?Everseenit?""Frankly,"thebarbersaid,"itsmellsofthelibrary.Buttheydoajobonthosepeople,Illtellyouthat.""Whatdoyoumean?"Petersonsaidexcitedly."Whatkindofajob?"Theclothwaswhiskedawayandshakenwithasharppoppingsound."Itstoohorribleeventotalkabout,"Kitchensaid."Butitswhattheydeserve,thosecrumbs.""Whichcrumbs?"Petersonasked.

    Thatnightatallforeign-lookingmanwithaswitchbladebigasabutcherknifeopeninhishandwalkedintotheloftwithoutknockingandsaid"Goodevening,Mr.Peterson,Iamthecat-pianoplayer,isthereanythingyoudparticularlyliketohear?""Cat-piano?"Petersonsaid,gasping,shrinkingfromtheknife."Whatareyoutalkingabout?Whatdoyouwant?"AbiographyofNoldeslidfromhislaptothefloor."Thecat-piano,"saidthevisitor,"isaninstrumentofthedevil,adiabolicalinstrument.Youneedntsweatquitesomuch,"headded,soundingaggrieved.Petersontriedtobebrave."Idontunderstand,"hesaid."Letmeexplain,"thetallforeign-lookingmansaidgraciously."Thekeyboardconsistsofeightcats——theoctave——encasedinthebodyoftheinstrumentinsuchawaythatonlytheirheadsandforepawsprotrude.Theplayerpressesupontheappropriatepaws,andtheappropriatecatsrespond——withakindofshriek.Thereisalsoprovisionmadeforpullingtheirtails.Atail-puller,orperhapsIshouldsaytailplayer"(hesmiledadisingenuoussmile)"isstationedattherearoftheinstrument,wherethetailsare.Atthecorrectmomentthetail-pullerpullsthecorrecttail.Thetail-noteisofcoursequitedifferentfromthepaw-noteandproducessoundsintheupperregisters.Haveyoueverseensuchaninstrument,Mr.Peterson?""No,andIdontbelieveitexists,"Petersonsaidheroically."Thereisanexcellentearlyseventeenth-centuryengravingbyFranzvanderWyngaert,Mr.Peterson,inwhichacat-pianoappears.Played,asithappens,byamanwithawoodenleg.Youwillobservemyownleg."Thecat-pianoplayerhoistedhistrousersandaleglikecontraptionofwood,metalandplasticappeared."Andnow,wouldyouliketomakearequest?TheMartyrdomofSt.Sebastian?TheRomeoandJulietoverture?HolidayforStrings?""Butwhy——"Petersonbegan."Thekitteniscryingformilk,Mr.Peterson.Andwheneverakittencries,thecat-pianoplays.""Butitsnotmykitten,"Petersonsaidreasonably."Itsjustakittenthatwisheditselfonme.Ivebeentryingtogiveitaway.Imnotsureitsstillaround.Ihaventseenitsincethedaybeforeyesterday."Thekittenappeared,lookedatPetersonreproachfully,andthenrubbeditselfagainstthecat-pianoplayersmechanicalleg."Waitaminute!"Petersonexclaimed."Thisthingisrigged!Thatcathasntbeenhereintwodays.Whatdoyouwantfromme?WhatamIsupposedtodo?""Choices,Mr.Peterson,choices.Youchosethatkittenasawayofencounteringthatwhichyouarenot,thatistosay,kitten.Aneffortonthepartofthepour-soito——""Butitchoseme!"Petersoncried,"thedoorwasopenandthefirstthingIknewitwaslyinginmybed,undertheArmyblanket.Ididnthaveanythingtodowithit!"Thecat-pianoplayerrepeatedhisdisingenuoussmile."Yes,Mr.Peterson,Iknow,Iknow.Thingsaredoyou,itisallagiganticconspiracy.Iveheardthestoryahundredtimes.Butthekittenishere,isitnot?Thekittenisweeping,isitnot?"Petersonlookedatthekitten,whichwascryinghugetigerishtearsintoitsemptydish."ListenMr.Peterson,"thecat-pianoplayersaid,"listen!"Thebladeofhisimmenseknifejumpedbackintothehandlewithathwack!andthehideousmusicbegan.

    ThedayafterthehideousmusicbeganthethreegirlsfromCaliforniaarrived.Petersonopenedhisdoor,hesitantly,inresponsetoaninsistentringing,andfoundhimselfbeingstaredatbythreegirlsinbluejeansandheavysweaters,carryingsuitcases."ImSherry,"thefirstgirlsaid,"andthisisAnnandthisisLouise.WerefromCaliforniaandweneedaplacetostay."Theywerehomelyandextremelypurposeful."Imsorry,"Petersonsaid,"Icant——""Wesleepanywhere,"Sherrysaid,lookingpasthimintothevastnessofhisloft,"onthefloorifwehaveto.Wevedoneitbefore."AnnandLouisestoodontheirtoestogetagoodlook."Whatsthatfunnymusic?"Sherryasked,"itsoundsprettyfar-out.Wereallywontbeanytroubleatallanditlljustbealittlewhileuntilwemakeaconnection.""Yes,"Petersonsaid,"butwhyme?""Youreanartist,"Sherrysaidsternly,"wesawtheA.I.R.signdownstairs."Petersoncursedthefirelawswhichmadepostingofthesignsobligatory."Listen,"hesaid,"Icantevenfeedthecat.Icantevenkeepmyselfinbeer.Thisisnottheplace.Youwontbehappyhere.Myworkisntauthentic.Imaminorartist.""Thenaturalmisfortuneofourmortalandfeebleconditionissowretchedthatwhenweconsideritclosely,nothingcanconsoleus,"Sherrysaid."ThatsPascal.""Iknow,"Petersonsaid,weakly."Whereisthejohn?"Louiseasked.Annmarchedintothekitchenandbegantoprepare,fromsuppliesremovedfromherrucksack,somethingcalledvealengagé."Kissme,"Sherrysaid,"Ineedlove."Petersonflewtohisfriendlyneighborhoodbar,orderedadoublebrandy,andwedgedhimselfintoatelephonebooth."MissArbor?ThisisHankPeterson.Listen,MissArbor,Icantdoit.No,Imeanreally.Imbeingpunishedhorriblyforeventhinkingaboutit.No,Imeanit.Youcantimaginewhatsgoingonaroundhere.Please,getsomebodyelse?Idregarditasagreatpersonalfavor.MissArbor?Please?"

    TheothercontestantswereayoungmaninwhitepajamasnamedArthurPick,akarateexpert,andanairlinepilotinfulluniform,WallaceE.Rice."Justbenatural,"MissArborsaid,"andofcoursebefrank.Wescoreonthebasisofthevalidityofyouranswers,andofcoursethatsmeasuredbythepolygraph.""Whatsthisaboutapolygraph?"theairlinepilotsaid."Thepolygraphmeasuresthevalidityofyouranswers,"MissArborsaid,herlipsglowingwhitely."Howelsearewegoingtoknowifyoure""Lying?"WallaceE.Ricesupplied.Thecontestantswereconnectedtothemachineandthemachoalargeilluminatedtoteboardhangingovertheirheads.Themasterofceremonies,Petersonnotedwithoutpleasure,resembledthePresidentanddidnotlookatallfriendly.

    TheprogrambeganwithArthurPick.ArthurPickgotupinhiswhitepajamasandgaveakaratedemonstrationinwhichhebrokethreehalf-inchpineboardswithasinglekickofhisnakedleftfoot.Thenhetoldhowhehaddisarmedabandit,lateatnightattheA&Pwherehewasanassistantmanager,withamaneuvercalleda"rip-choong"whichhedemonstratedontheannouncer."Howaboutthat?"theannouncercaroled."Isntthatsomething?Audience?"TheaudiencerespondedenthusiasticallyandArthurPickstoodmodestlywithhishandsbehindhisback."Now,"theannouncersaid,letsplayWhoAmI?Andheresyourhost,BillLemmon!"No,hedoesntlooklikethePresident,Petersondecided."Arthur,"BillLemmonsaid,"fortwentydollars——doyouloveyourmother?""Yes,"ArthurPicksaid."Yes,ofcourse."Abellrang,thetoteboardflashed,andtheaudiencescreamed."Heslying!"theannouncershouted,"lying!lying!lying!""Arthur,"BillLemmonsaid,lookingathisindexcards,"thepolygraphshowsthatthevalidityofyouranswerisquestionable.Wouldyouliketotryitagain?Takeanothercrackatit?""Yourecrazy,"ArthurPicksaid."OfcourseIlovemymother."Hewasfishingaroundinsidehispajamasforahandkerchief."Isyourmotherwatchingtheshowtonight,Arthur?""Yes,Bill,sheis.""Howlonghaveyoubeenstudyingkarate?""Twoyears,Bill.""Andwhopaidforthelessons?"ArthurPickhesitated.Thenhesaid:"Mymother,Bill.""Theywereprettyexpensive,werentthey,Arthur?""Yes,Bill,theywere.""Howexpensive?""Fivedollarsanhour.""Yourmotherdoesntmakeverymuchmoney,doesshe,Arthur?""No,Bill,shedoesnt.""Arthur,whatdoesyourmotherdoforaliving?""Shesagarmentworker,Bill.Inthegarmentdistrict.""Andhowlonghassheworkeddownthere?""Allherlife,Iguess.Sincemyoldmandied.""Andshedoesntmakeverymuchmoney,yousaid.""No.Butshewantedtopayforthelessons.Sheinsistedonit."BillLemmonsaid:"Shewantedasonwhocouldbreakboardswithhisfeet?"Petersonsliverleapedandthetoteboardspelledout,inhuge,glowingwhiteletters,thewordsbadfaith.Theairlinepilot,WallaceE.Rice,wasledtorevealthathehadbeencaught,onaflightfromOmahatoMiami,withastewardesssittingonhislapandwearinghiscaptainscap,thattheflightengineerhadtakenaPolaroidpicture,andthathehadbeengiveninvoluntaryretirementafterneenyearsoffaithfulservice."Itwasperfectlysafe,"WallaceE.Ricesaid,"youdontunderstand,theautomaticpilotcanflythatplanebetterthanIcan."Hefurtherconfessedtoalifelongandintolerableitchafterstewardesseswhichhadmuchtodo,hesaid,withthewaytheirjacketsfelljustontopoftheirhips,andhisownjacketwiththethreegoldstripesonthesleevedarkenedwithsweatuntilitwasblack.

    Iwaswrong,Petersonthought,theworldisabsurd.Theabsurdityispunishingmefornotbelievinginit.Iaffirmtheabsurdity.Ontheotherhand,absurdityisitselfabsurd.Beforetheemceecouldaskthefirstquestion,Petersonbegantotalk."Yesterday,"Petersonsaidtothetelevisionaudience,"inthetypewriterinfrontoftheOlivettishowroomonFifthAvenue,IfoundarecipeforTenIngredientSoupthatincludedastonefromatoadshead.AndwhileIstoodtheremarvelinganiceoldladypastedontheelbowofmybestHaspelsuitalittlebluestickerreadingTHISINDIVIDUALISAPARTOFTHECOMMUNISTCONSPIRACYFORGLOBALDOMINATIONOFTHEENTIREGLOBE.CominghomeIpassedasignthatsaidinten-footlettersCOWARDSHOESandheardamansinging"GoldenEarrings"inahorriblevoice,andlastnightIdreamedtherewasashoot-outatourhouseonMeatStreetandmymothershovedmeinaclosettogetmeoutofthelineoffire."TheemceewavedatthefloormanagertoturnPetersonoff,butPetersonkepttalking."Inthiskindofaworld,"Petersonsaid,"absurdifyouwill,possibilitiesneverthelessproliferateandescalateallaroundusandthereareopportunitiesforbeginningagain.Iamaminorartistandmydealerwontevendisplaymyworkifhecanhelpitbutminorisasminordoesandlightningmaystrikeevenyet.Dontbereconciled.Turnoffyourtelevisionsets,"Petersonsaid,"cashinyourlifeinsurance,indulgeinamindlessoptimism.Visitgirlsatdusk.Playtheguitar.Howcanyoubealienatedwithoutfirsthavingbeenconnected?Thinkbackandrememberhowitwas."AmanonthefloorinfrontofPetersonwaswavingapieceofcardboardonwhichsomethingthreateningwaswrittenbutPetersonignoredhimandconcentratedonthecamerawiththelittleredlight.ThelittleredlightjumpedfromcameratocamerainanattempttothrowhimoffbalancebutPetersonwastoosmartforitandfollowedwhereveritwent."Mymotherwasaroyalvirgin,"Petersonsaid,"andmyfatherashowerofgold.Mychildhoodwaspastoralandenergeticandrichinexperienceswhichdevelopedmycharacter.AsayoungmanIwasnobleinreason,infiniteinfaculty,informexpressandadmirable,andinapprehension"Petersonwentonandonandalthoughhewas,inasense,lying,inasensehewasnot.

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