Microsoft Word - ebooksclub.org__The_Dice_Man.rtf

by PV

`The concept of the dicelife doesn’t fascinate you?’

  ��f course it does. You’ve turned yourself into a sort of computer like our air force use in Vietnam. Only instead of trying to kill the maximum number of the enemy, you program yourself to drop your bombs at random.’

  `You miss the point. Since there is no real enemy, all of life’s wars are games, and the dicelife permits a variety of war games instead of the continual sluggish trench warfare of the typical life.’

  “`There is no enemy,”’ he quoted quietly, looking at the floor in front of him. ` “There is no enemy.” If there’s one thing that makes me want to puke more than anything else it’s people who think there is no enemy. Your dicelife is a hundred times as sick as my father even. He’s blind, so he’s got an excuse, but you! “No enemy! ”’ And Eric writhed in his chair, his face distorted with tension. He twisted his muscular body upward until he was standing, his neck still rolling tensely, his eyes on the ceiling. Clenching his fists he finally held himself reasonably quiet.

  `You big fool,’ he said. `This world is a madhouse with killers loose, torturers, sick depraved sadists running churches, corporations, countries. It could be different, could be better, and you sit on your lump of fat and toss dice.’

  I didn’t say anything since I was not in the mood for a wrestling match and was, as I listened, for some reason feeling guilty.

  `You know this hospital is a farce, but tragic suffering - a tragic farce. You know there are nuts running this place -

  nuts! - not even counting you! - that makes most inmates look like Ozzie and Marriat and David and Ricky. You know what American racism is. You know what the war in Vietnam is. And you toss dice! You toss dice!’ He banged both fists down on the desk before me two, three, four times, his long hair falling forward at each blow like a black mantilla.

  Then he stopped.

  ��‘m leaving, Doc,’ he said to me calmly. ��‘m going out into the world and try to make it better. You can stay here and drop your random bombs.’

  `Just a minute, Eric.’

  I stood up. `Before you go-‘

  ��‘m leaving. Thanks for the pot, thanks for the silences, thanks even for the games, but don’t say another word about tossing your fucking dice, or I’ll kill you.’

  ��ric. . I’m … You’re…’

  He left.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Dr. Rhinehart should have known when Mr. Mann summoned him to his office at QSH that there was trouble. And seeing old Cobblestone erect and solemn as he entered made Dr. Rhinehart certain there was trouble. Dr. Cobblestone is tall and thin and gray-haired, and Dr. Mann is short and plump and balding, but their facial expressions were identical: stern, firm, severe. Being called to a director’s office at QSH reminded Rhinehart of being summoned to the principal’s office at age eight for winning money off sixth graders at craps. His problems hadn’t changed much.

  `What’s this about dice, young man?’ Dr. Cobblestone asked sharply, leaning forward in his chair and banging once noisily on the floor the cane he held upright between his legs. He was the senior director of the hospital.

  `Dice?’ asked Dr. Rhinehart, a puzzled expression on his face. He was wearing blue jeans, a white T-shirt and sneakers, a dice decision which had made Dr. Mann pale when he had entered the office. Dr. Cobblestone had not seemed to notice.

  �� think we ought to take things in the order you suggested earlier,’ Dr. Mann said to his co-director.

  ��h yes. Yes, indeed: Dr. Cobblestone banged his cane again as if it were some accepted signal for the restarting of a game. `What’s this we’ve heard about your using prostitutes and homosexuals in your sex research?’

  Dr. Rhinehart didn’t answer immediately but looked intently from one stern face to another. He said quietly: `The research will be detailed in our report. Is there anything wrong?’

  `Dr. Felloni says she has withdrawn entirely from the project,’ said Dr. Mann.

  ‘Ahh. She’s back from Zurich?’

  ‘She states she withdraw because subjects were being asked to commit immoral acts,’ said Dr. Cobblestone.

  `The subjects of the experiment was sexual change.’

  `Were the subjects asked to commit immoral acts?’ Dr. Cobblestone continued.

  `The instructions made it clear that they didn’t have to do anything they didn’t want to.’

  `Dr. Felloni reports that the project encouraged young people to fornicate,’ said Dr. Mann neutrally.

  `She should know. She helped me draw up the instructions.’

  `Does the project encourage young people to fornicate?’ asked Dr. Cobblestone.

  ��nd old people t-Look, I think perhaps you ought to ask to have a copy of my research report when it’s finished.’

  The two stern faces had not relaxed, and Dr. Cobblestone went on ��ne of your subjects claims that he was raped.’

  `That’s true,’ replied Dr. Rhinehart. `But our investigation indicated that he either fantasized or prevaricated the rape to suppress his active unconscious participation in the act of which he complains.’

  `What’s that?’ said Dr. Cobblestone, irritably cupping an ear at Dr. Rhinehart.

  `He enjoyed being laid and is lying about the rape.’

  ��h. Thank you.’

  `You realize, Luke,’ said Dr. Mann, `that in letting you use some of our patients here at QSH for your research that we are legally and morally responsible for what occurs in that research.’

  �� understand.’

  `Certain attendants and nurses have reported that a large number of patients were volunteering for your sex research project and have claimed that prostitutes were being supplied to the patients.’

  `You can read my report when it’s done.’

  Dr. Cobblestone banged his cane a third time.

  �� report has reached us that you yourself participated in … as … as … in this experiment.’

  `Naturally.’

  `Naturally?’ asked Dr. Mann.

  �� participated in the experiment’

  ‘But our report stated that…’ Dr. Cobblestone’s face grew red with his exasperation at not finding the right words. `… that you interacted with the subjects . . sexually.’

  ‘Ahh,’ said Dr. Rhinehart.

  `Well?’ asked Dr. Mann.

  `Some neurotic young person I presume is the author of this slander?’ said Dr. Rhinehart.

  `Yes, yes,’ said Dr. Cobblestone quickly.

  `Projecting his latent desires onto the dreaded authority figure?’ Dr. Rhinehart went on.

  `Precisely,’ said Dr. Cobblestone, relaxing just a bit.

  `Tragic. Is someone trying to help him?’

  `Yes,’ replied Dr. Cobblestone. `Yes. Dr. Vener has … How did you know it was a young man?’

  ‘George Lovelace Ray O’Reilly. Projection, compensation, displacement, anal-cathexis.’

  ��h, yes.’

  ��s there anything else?’ said Dr. Rhinehart, making motions of rising to leave.

  ��‘m afraid there is, Luke,’ said Dr. Mann.

  �� see.’

  Dr. Cobblestone gripped his cane carefully in both hands and, aiming, banged it a fourth time on the floor between his legs.

  `What’s this about dice, young man?’ he asked.

  `Dice?’

  ‘One of your patients has complained that you’re making him play some strange game with dice.’

  `The new one, Mr. Spezio?’

  `Yes.’

  `We have patients working with clay, cloth, paper, wood, leather, beads, cardboard, lathes, wire … I saw no reason not to let a few select patients begin playing with dice.’

  �� see,’ said Dr. Cobblestone.’

  `Why?’ asked Dr. Mann blandly.

  `You can read my report when it’s done.’

  No one spoke for a while.

  ��nything else?’ Dr. Rhinehart asked at last.

  The two old
er men glanced uneasily at each other and Dr. Cobblestone cleared his throat.

  `Your general behavior lately, Luke,’ said Dr. Mann.

  ��hhh.’

  ‘Your impolite and … unusual behavior in our last board meeting,’ said Dr. Cobblestone.

  `Yes.’

  `Your erratic, socially upsetting eccentricities,’ said Dr. Mann.

  `Your interruption of Dr. Wink,’ added Dr. Cobblestone.

  `We’ve received complaints from a few nurses here at QSH, several board members naturally, from Mr. Spezio, and…’

  ��nd?’ suggested Dr. Rhinehart.

  ��nd I myself am not blind.’

  ‘Ahh.’

  `Batman over the telephone is not my idea of a joke.’

  There was a silence.

  `Your behavior has been undignified and unprofessional,’ said Dr. Cobblestone.

  Silence.

  `You can read my report when it’s done,’ said Dr. Rhinehart finally.

  Silence.

  `Your report?’ asked Dr. Cobblestone.

  ��‘m writing an article on the variety of human response to socially eccentric behavior.’

  `Yes, yes, I see,’ said Dr. Cobblestone.

  `My hypothesis is-‘

  `No more, Luke,’ said Dr. Mann.

  `Pardon?’

  `No more. You’ve just about convinced everyone, but Jake that you’re splitting apart. He alone has faith’

  `My hypothesis is-‘

  ‘No more. Your friends have protected you all they’re going to. Either back into the old Luke Rhinehart or you’re finished as a psychiatrist’ Dr. Cobblestone arose solemnly.

  ��nd if you wish to bring up your idea for some sort of new center to help our patients you must have it placed on the agenda before our meeting.’

  �� understand,’ said Dr. Rhinehart, also standing.

  `No, more, Luke,’ said Dr. Mann.

  Dr. Rhinehart understood.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  I should have known when Lil sat me down on the armchair opposite her without even touching her champagne that there was trouble. As part of a one-in-six die decision I had been courting her anew with all the unselfish and romantic love I could imagine, and we’d been having a marvelous week. I’d climaxed four days of traditional courting (two plays, a concert, an evening of love on hashish) by suggesting that we end Love Lil Week by taking a three-day skiing holiday at a Canadian ski resort. I had bought her flowers at the airport and champagne for our first night. It had begun snowing thickly after we arrived and although the next day we both skied like untrained walruses, we soon made an art out of tumbling. The snow fell lightly and wetly in the afternoon and we removed our skis and made snowballs and wrestled and rolled and munched the snow more or less like a couple of aged dogs reliving their puppyhood, I a Saint Bernard and she a collie. She was pretty and bright-eyed and girlishly athletic, and I was handsome and affectionate and boyishly uncoordinated, and we enjoyed playing together again. We danced before a roaring fire and drank more champagne and played brilliant bridge against a couple from Boston and made sweet love under a foot-high mountain of blankets and slept the sleep of the just.

  We did the same the next day and the next, and on our last evening, a little high on champagne and marijuana, we spent half an hour holding hands in front of the fire and another ten minutes sitting on our bed with the lights off staring out our window at the moonlight lighting in pale blue the slopes of snow which stretched away from the hotel. I’d opened yet another bottle of champagne and felt warm and complete and serene. The touch of Lil’s hand seemed holy.

  But then Lil asked me to sit opposite her in the armchair and shook her head when I tried to hand her a glass of champagne, and I knew there was trouble.

  After turning on the bedside lamp. I looked up at her and was surprised to see tears in her eyes. She reached forward and took one of my hands and drew it to her face. Her lips touched my fingers delicately and she looked into my eyes. She smiled, slightly, lovingly, but with a tear running down one side of her face.

  `Luke,’ she said, and she paused for several seconds looking into my eyes. `What have you been acting so strangely for so long now?’

  ‘Ah Lil,’ I began, ��‘d like to tell you …’ and I stopped.

  �� know you aren’t really unbalanced,’ she went on. ��t’s some . . theory you’re working on, isn’t it?’

  The warmth I’d been feeling froze, the lover solidified to stone. Sitting mute, hand being held, was a wary dice man.

  `Please tell me,’ she said. She was wetting her lips and squeezing my hand.

  `Luke, we’re together again. I feel so whole, so full of love for you, yet … I know that tomorrow, the next day, you may change again. Everything that has made these last few days so sweet will disappear. And I don’t know why: And I won’t know why.’

  Maybe Lil could become the Dice Woman. It sounded like the name of a villainess on the Batman show but it offered me at the moment the only rationalization I could find for betraying the secret of my life and permitting me to hold Lil’s happiness and love. I wavered. The band downstairs was playing a waltz. It wasn’t too modern a ski resort..

  ��…’ I started. The dice man still fought.

  `Tell me,’ she said.

  ��‘ve been experimenting, Lil,’ I began for a third time, `with practicing eccentric behavior, unusual roles, attitudes, emotions - in order to discover the variety of human nature.’

  I paused: wide-eyed she waited for what I was going to say. Narrow-eyed, so did I. I reached to my side and turned off the light again. Our faces, separated by only three feet, were still quite visible in the moonlight.

  �� didn’t want to tell you until … I had learned whether the experiment had value: you might have rejected me, fought the experiment, ended our love.’

  ��h no I wouldn’t.’

  �� knew a moment would come when I could tell you everything. Last week I decided to end the experiment for a while so we could be together again.’

  Her grip on my hand was frightening.

  �� would have gone along,’ she said. �� would have, sweetheart. Those asses think you’re losing your mind. I would have laughed at them if I knew. [Pause] Why? You should have told me.’

  �� know that now. I knew that as soon as I freed myself ‘from the experiment: I should have done it all with you. ‘But.. Still staring, her eyes glittering in the moonlight, she seemed nervous, uncertain, curious. `What were the kind … kinds of experiments?’

  I was so pale and stonelike in the moonlight I imagine I looked like an abandoned statue.

  ��h, going to places I’d never seen before, pretending to be someone different from myself to see people’s reactions.

  Experimenting with food, fasting, drugs, even getting drunk that time was a conscious experiment.’

  `Really?’

  And she smiled, tears wetting her cheeks and chin, like a child in the rain. ��t proved that when I’m drunk I act like other people that are drunk.’

  ��h Luke, why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘The mad scientist in me insisted that if I revealed to you that I was experimenting, your reaction would be experimentally useless and a wealth of evidence would be missing.’

  ��nd … and the experiment is … over?’

  ‘No,’ I answered. `No, Lil, it isn’t. But now we’ll begin … experimenting together, and the loneliness we’ve both felt will end.’

  `But…’

  `What is it, honey?’

  ‘Will our life like the last few days end too?’

  A roar of laughter came from the assembled guests downstairs. `Sounds like they’re having a good time,’ I said.

  `Will this end?’ she asked again softly.

  ��f course it will, honey,’ I said, trying to dare look at her. ��t would end whether I returned to experimenting or not, you know that. The good things we�
��ve felt these last few days have come because they follow such hell. One doesn’t have to be a scientist to know that bliss doesn’t last.’

  She came forward heavily into my arms, sobbing.

  �� want it to last. I want it to last,’ she said.

  I stroked her, kissed her, mumbled sweet nothings, felt numbly that I was handling the situation horribly, felt terrible. A part of me imagined drawing Lit into even more radical dice deals than I could manage alone; perhaps I’d even change her. Another part of me felt utterly abandoned by everyone.

  She down-shifted from sobs to sniffles, then left me to trot to the bathroom. When she returned to her same spot on the bed with her face and hair tidied up, I was surprised to see that she was looking at me coldly.

  `Have you kept a written record of these experiments?’ she asked.

  ��f some. And I’ve written brief essays of analysis of various hypotheses I’ve been testing.’

  `Have you experimented with me?’

  ��f course I have, honey. Since it’s me I experiment with, and me lives with you, you’ve been affected by many of the experiments.’

  �� mean have you directly experimented. .. tried to get me to do things?’

  �� . .. no, no, I haven’t’ `Have you experimented with sex? With other women?’

  Bingo! I hesitated.

  My male friends, attention. There are some questions which demand any answer except hesitation. `Do you love me?’ for example, is not a question; it is intended as a stimulus in the stimulus-response sequenc��Do-you-love-me?-Oh-my precious yes.’

  `Did you sleep with her?’ demands a yes-or-no answer immediately: hedging implies guilt. `Have you experimented with other women?’ demanded an immediate answer of `Yes, of course, honey, and it’s made me closer to you than ever.’

  This would bring tears, slaps, revilings, withdrawal and eventually, curiosity and reconciliation. Hesitation on ‘the other hand …

  Hesitation brought Lil leaping to her feet.

  `You Goddamn bastard,’ she said.

  `Don’t touch me: `You don’t even know what the experiments were.’

  �� know your mind. I know … oh my God … I know … Arlene! You and Arlene!’ She was rigid and trembling.