“You’re right, mister. Can you prove where those newest freak-doll supermen got such undreamt superpowers? Is it only from creativeness? No. It’s stolen from someone’s ideology. They fly as hell-meteors to defeat everything unbeatable. As I recall, you had asked me about God. What is that? Why are they stronger than our maker? Or has God been forgotten here?”
At that exact second, when he finished the rhetorical question, my wife appeared at the entrance. She beckoned me by her small finger with a beam.
“It was an unexpected and fascinating chat, man. I have to go. Are you staying a few more days? Would it be possible to continue this acquaintance?”
“Sure. I’m here for two more nights. What time is better?”
“I guess five in the evening is best. I promised my bandwagon a drive to the neighboring city for a few hours.”
“You got it. I’ll wait. And don’t scare your wife by saying you met a gang member. Ha-ha.”
“Thanks. See you.”
When he disappeared, my body felt relief. I was stunned by how brainy he was. I thought, better to prepare a series of annoying items. Why not? It can discourage him. But, it lifts my interest to get together.
***
Thinking ahead to a new talk agitated me from 10:00 a.m. until 5:00 p.m. I tuned myself to be ready to hear more, and then take any battle that even we couldn’t predict. So, when we shook hands, I understood he was in a sour mood.
“Hi! How did you sleep?” he asked first.
“It wasn’t quiet. My boisterous wife and sister’s kids had a play of whispering jests. They all giggled, but I fell asleep quickly. What about you?”
“I bought nuts and a few bottles of Klosterbrau Pils ale and fell asleep in my armchair. Then later, I moved to the bed.”
“I’ve found you are insatiable with that drink.”
“Yep, I’ve liked it since my time in Europe.”
“Sorry, I didn’t ask about your friends.”
“I got a woman. She adores swimming and comes out only for the fast food, then jumps back to the water features. In her thirties, she is still a kid. I call her Kindergarten. She’s made me twenty years younger.”
“That is funny. I was in shock yesterday by your knowledge.”
“Do you mean philosophy? Yes, my list already has around sixty thinkers on it. For instance, a Zeno has eminent separated paradoxes—Confucius, Voltaire, even a British philosopher named Spencer. I’ve tracked vast materials for evaluation. It’s always looked for me, as ten lives will be not enough to comprehend everything. Have you ever admitted how their theories work?”
“There’s that ‘wow’ again, man. I want to ask your opinion about Spinoza.”
“First name Baruch?”
“You astonish me. How do you know the first names of those guys? It’s just excellent.”
“I didn’t figure out who that is, but you are welcome. Did I mention in that ring the name of Descartes?”
“Looks like yes. What’s next?”
“If I’m not mistaken, we can include Descartes and Spinoza in the same group.”
“I don’t have such in-depth learning of ideological history, but it’s still my big interest, almost a hobby.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll clarify. When you requested Spinoza, I thought it possible to confirm something—his stance on pantheism. Pantheism means, he thought our Lord was present in all things. Spinoza wrestled to pretend that God was only in nature and could transform into any shape. Are you following such an explanation?”
“I understand, but still there’s the question about Descartes.”
“Let me complete an idea. I also recollect, for Descartes, the substance of infinity was the creator. Even Mr. Spinoza inferred that God was the essence. I have a question for you. Why are you trying to attack Spinoza?”
“That’s complicated but comes up luminous when you think about offenses you have done. I will try to find a point. Will you accept that Spinoza claimed, when a crime is committed, the wrongdoer doesn’t think about punishment, or even about God?”
“Oh, you’re bold. But, let me confess that, as a former gang member, I have another clue. As a man becomes a real soldier, he dies as a soldier. Something similar is true of the underworld. If you were a thief, you would never return to the common or garden life.”
“Oh, I see. You disagree with regular people that few convicted offenders come with penance to the Lord?”
“Maybe, but it depends on my principles. I presume no confessions from me. The cruelty I saw can’t call any penance either,” Mark answered sadly.
“I see, but someday…" I insisted a little.
“No. I don’t trust in rooted inner remorse, compunction, or pity,” admitted Mark.
“But it’s the same as penitence.”
“I get it, but I repeat, not for me,” concluded Mark. “When I was young, my intention to enroll in the university was persistent. I was in prep day-by-day. Let me tell you about my family. My mother, after the arrests and imprisonment of my brother and father, just didn’t survive it. Could you imagine a young woman, still blooming like a flower, dying at fifty-five?”
“Sorry about that. Is that how you drifted into gangland? As far as I understand, in such an environment flows neither simple nor, can I say, gifted guys. But also, those boys are from broken or low-income families.”
“Yes but there’re still exceptions. For example, my father owned an expensive, fancy restaurant. We were a well-endowed family.”
After this tension, we got a break. We reordered the same drinks. I didn’t wait for the talk to become uncontrolled but kept the same way. “Man, no offense, please, but by any point, have you killed anyone?” I asked, staying unruffled.
“Nope, I won’t tell you all about my life. I haven’t taken part in major crimes like murder, human trafficking, prostitution, rape, and drugs or weapons sales. Meanwhile, I’ve robbed many purses of overweening rich idiots in Europe. Sorry… and here. For the United States, such a man plays as a swindler or shady dealer.”
“Are we talking about finance? And, sorry, I’m also about to associate Spinoza’s views on crime.”
“Yes. You’re on the right path. At first, Spinoza had a miracle belief in the Lord. He guessed that the eternal was infinite, perfect. While Spinoza denied the soul’s existence after death, he made a severe impact on the canons of Christianity. Have you heard about the attribute of predestination?”
“I guess, rather… I delighted in college after a lecture about pantheism and misdoing. More or less, I could tell you what the guest professor from Boston told us.”
“Oh, yes, it gets fascinating! Go ahead.”
“As I can recall, he narrated how Spinoza had many followers. I keep in memory thinkers like Whitman, Emerson, and Wright, but the stature of Einstein is most phenomenal. He, like Spinoza, rejected free will.”
“You mean ‘free will’ as in self-determination and liberty to do what we want to do?”
“Yep,” I replied as he did and continued plainly. “De facto criminals do what they want. They hold no restraint of guilt. Do you know what I’m wondering?”
“Let’s estimate we’ve found the view of Spinoza and Einstein in describing outlawry.”
“Oh, you’re smart, fellow. The professor told us that murderers and rapists might suppose that delinquency is as inevitable as fate. So, by this point, they handled no pangs.”
“It’s just magnificent. Now, I must ask again why you attacked Spinoza.”
“Hm, I have a useful opinion that a lot of convicts, after many years in prison, rethought their actions and went looking for a personal connection with God. But what about you?”
“Oh, I have my own talks with Lord. Listen, tomorrow is our last day. We must say goodbye to the place.”
“I understand. Do you want more talk?”
“Come on, man. We’re not dead yet. I’ll tell you of a few brackish episodes from my wheeler-dealer crime days. Ha-ha!”
/> “What about near six in the evening?”
“Perfect but there’s one clause.”
“What is that?”
“I would like to offer my favorite dark beer.”
“Okay, accepted. I will talk to you later.”
***
At 6:00 p.m., I stepped into the bar. Mark sipped from a large mug in the same spot. In front of him lay an opened magazine as he examined bright yachts and spoke into a Bluetooth.
“I heard you are excited about the name Jennifer,” I said, kidding.
“What’s up, bro? Please take this. She is my pink honey. May I ask a favor?”
“Sure, about what?” I answered quietly.
“Can you guess her occupation?”
I didn’t expect such a question, and after the second sip of offered beer, I almost choked.
“Man, even while you look dire, you are handsome and able to crash any girl.”
“Okay, let your imagination fly. What is your guess,” he said with a smile.
“Is she younger than you?”
“Yes. I’m proud of a gross fifteen years.”
“She is in beauty or fashion business.”
“You are wrong. My darling is a criminal lawyer.”
“Shoot, man! I’m already in wonder.”
“She is my pearl of the truthful love. In these days, I’ve often thought, if I were born a poet or writer, I could create the best novella about love.”
“Oh man, besides many other talents, you are a big romantic. Women prosecutors or defense attorneys fall in love with outlaws.”
“I understand, but I never alleged an affection as somewhat serious. In the past, I’ve counted womens’ potential as only for sale.”
“Oh, Mister Adventure, are you asking for attention to philosophers linked to faith?”
“Sure. Or else, what distinguishes it from me?”
“Take it easy. Are you guessing the Supreme helps you or not?”
“Please, don’t make queer questions that hint at my tribulations from the past.”
“Sorry, but accept me as I am. You didn’t tell me anything about your illicit background. I mean, not even an episode.”
“Okay, approved. Every rewarding man has a strong personality. But about the story, we hadn’t a chance to get closer.”
“I comply too. Such as, isn’t love today a gift to restart life? What do you think if somebody helps you?”
“Do you mean the maker? Who knows?”
“As I recall, you were in prison for eight years?”
“Oh, you are recording info about me. Ha, I’m joking.”
“No complaints. I hope to respond just hastily. I hate boys with light-fingered hands.”
“Are you blaming or judging me for something?” he said with an austere expression.
“No. You’ve dazed me with a fabulous awareness about thinkers, but you forget the public count on the exclusive skills of mobsters. They, as psychologists and intellectuals, can talk about any theme of life, but folks still qualify them as bandits. Once, my brother told me, “Be careful, Mother Nature made these boys the best communicators. Whatever you question, remember, they want to draw earnest information about you.”
“Do you want to ask how I regretted my crimes and applied to God for mercy?”
“It’s obvious.”
“When I reached my ninth year, I helped in a mess, and it turned into a subroutine. My mom and uncle guided me. But despite habits of family, my father hesitated to visit a church and had austere support for that by my older brother.”
“They hated a Christian confession?”
“No. It mixed as unopened disregard with an extraordinary hatred, even to the genesis of religion. With no embarrassment, they laughed about the church’s houses, priest’s robes, and rituals, but they adored the golden icons or ornaments because they were yellow metal. Father, in an everyday mellow mood, called this clownery. Once, Mother said, ‘On Easter, our Lord, the gates to the Kingdom of Heaven open wider and invite to dispense pardon for hideous sinners like brigands, assassins, and crooks.’ Can you image what happened?”
“Let’s surmise, only dissent.”
“Yes. Father and brother barked at her almost in unison. They meant mother’s living in a mythical world because only they paid for everything. She experienced a heart attack and never returned to the normal. Soon, she died at age fifty-five. Is it average for a healthy woman to die at that age? I’m not justifying them, but those men followed nobody. Their gorged self-image, portrayed not to any doctrine. And it always appeared singular. That related pair envisaged things together. It’s better to say they digested the same values, imbibing no integrity for free. How has everything lasted? My father was convicted fifteen years ago. He died in jail after only a few months there. The buddy, in the crew of dope traffickers—as I was informed by his friends—got into a firefight with police officers in Germany. He received a large injury, but after surviving in the prison hospital, he was sentenced to twenty years.”
“Did he assassinate anyone? That is almost a penitentiary sentence.”
“Whatever. No one shared with me any information. Scout, I never grieved. I lost the relationship with these people.”
“Sorry about this, I wanted lust…”
“Victor, I’m different and better recite an episode from youth. My mind recalls a scandal when uncle and my father argued about Christianity. The phrase doesn’t kill, and many others, didn’t make Dad furious. He pretended that only weak beggars must obey the law. On the opposite side, influential individuals have fast gotten wealthy and now rule a world. He persisted that he didn't see a very profitable boss too devote to faith. Dad revered people the most who possessed huge amounts of money. To boot, my brother always supported Papa.”
“If you have to slaughter, do it for a million at least. Ha-ha.”
“My brother used to say, ‘If you need to knock off, don’t do it for cheap, and prep for a resonant shot. He was already a pro,” Mark finished, upset.
“Now, I verified it was your way. That’s called titles of the stake. Are you assuming that?”
“No. We differ from each other like a sharp splinter from a big oak bat. That’s why I never listened to those bullocks. And it wasn’t pleasuring to realize how quick they turned into insolent, barefaced cynics.”
“It comes up as your environment, but what was your voice?”
“Boy, they weren’t my surroundings. My mother convinced all of us, ‘Do not lose sight of the creator!’ But no one listened, sorry, including me. On one occasion, my father boasted that my cousin—a local ringleader—borrowed considerable money from him. Dad opened a fancy restaurant and disbursed back a high percentage. His profit jumped incredibly. Various mobsters often organized their conventions in Dad’s saloon. Many of them, only for one drop-by, arrived from remote areas. They tried my father’s hospitality and conducted their shady deals. Once, he cogitated aloud, ‘If business blossoms and green stuff flows like a river, everyone in the family must be happy.’ The blameless sneaking around with immoral people brought everything to a downfall later. My elder brother of seven years, was a hot supporter of Dad. One holiday, this arrogant chap spoke with a malicious voice, ‘Bro, if a magic wave comes overnight and Earth’s thieves—by far-fetched discharge—stop, steal, and slay, do you know what will happen?’ Then he laughed and explained. ‘On one condition that the entire world dismisses the world’s criminals from jail, it could be a mind-boggling revolution. Can you imagine armies of attorneys, judges, confinement wards, reporters, and the courts’ workforce suiting the unemployed and needless? What then?’”
“Oh, such a speech sounds like an ideal but sad, as it is acclaimed by an apprentice robber. Also, that confirms the axiom: ‘It’s urgent to investigate how crime is committed, but more important is the process of castigation.’ But man, excuse me. Could you tell me when your first overstep of the law was?”
“You won’t wear this. I lost days of how
the tragedy of my life—such enterprise—began. Maybe it’s better if I retell my views before I become trapped in that black room of dancing.”
“Good, I will bring more drafts and promise to stay patient.” I looked forward to hearing the trickery.
“That’s all right. After my sixteenth birthday, I grew to a high grade of intelligence. In that time materialized a big interest in the physical life of Christ. My first inquiry was whether Jesus existed as a historical person. I met one utterance written in Holy Bible in Matthew 5:39, ‘But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek.’ That question bothered me for years. A hundred times, I asked myself, Retrieve, but from what? Later, like many commentators, whoever I talked to, strived to put in my mind the same idea about choosing not to act.”
“Are you continuing disagreement?” I said instigating him.
“No, it all changed. While my hard way was a severe spiraled adventure, life tested me from all sides. I tuned myself to develop moral strength. Many situations taught that only hard-conduct mistakes form a man’s nature. I didn’t block those voluble clauses because I never oppose the Almighty. And. I hold that way, even though I had monsters in the family—excluding Mom. I have not at all offended the Lord by a single word.”
“Sorry to interrupt you again. I kept the same way, but can you imagine I met video with one physicist-atomist? He declared in a TV program, ‘Whatever controversy about God on Earth will continue. I’ve never seen a scholar or anybody else provide scientific proof for the Supreme’s nonexistence. So far, no one has found any proof,’” I quoted outright and noted the look of wonder in Mark’s eyes.
“Thanks for an astonishing comment. However, I don’t intend to analyze your canons of faith in depth. Was it my error? Yes. When I prepared myself to take a peculiar direction, like studying philosophy, I stepped into the goal of bodybuilding. As unoriginal as it may seem, Arnold Schwarzenegger became my idol. So, in the gym, I tortured my corpus by exercising like a horse. Once I resolved that muscles have nothing to do with the real broil, I trained myself to react with my hands and legs. After years of wrestling and taekwondo, I stood on kickboxing. There were bright minutes of personal triumph, master’s recognition, and participation in championships. Sometimes, I fought in international competition. My group had a lot of awards and never enough money. I became frustrated by such conditions and perceived, somewhat infuriated, breaths inside me. My plan was a list of a hundred connections. As a few years passed, I gathered data that expanded into a diverse system of information. I opened files for the phone numbers, e-mail addresses, personal web pages, and private things about influential people. I know the whole idea sounds illegal. When you think only in such a direction, one day you spontaneously get extra information. I didn’t expect it could inveigle the pathway of electronic crime.”
Figures of the One Must Go Page 4