It Takes a Thief

by Niels Hammer

  “Then why don’t you do something about it? Join a political party, like I have done.”

  The sneering of the convenient defence – choosing not to see – to shun responsibility – to postpone –

  “I would like to, but is there any political party that deals with reality? Politicians are concerned with self-promotion, greed, the interests of multinational corporations and the perpetuation of ignorance, though at the very best maybe they display a penchant for cosmetic surgery here and there.”

  “Anyway, I think I do what I can.”

  “And that is very commendable for no one is more mistaken than he who refrains from doing anything because he only can do a little.”

  “Burke’s always right; but what do you do?”

  Her head coquettishly aslant – the inquisitive yellow gleam in her pupils – to doubt his motives – his integrity – while asserting herself and her well-paved way ahead as golden means.

  “Guarding the Hot Gates though fully aware of the end.”

  “Do you see yourself as a hero?”

  Her pious wish – to sharpen her nails. Laughing softly. It was symptomatic – ad hominem – but conveniently forgetting the issue – yet she might have been slightly piqued by his critique.

  “No, rather as a court fool.”

  “At the court of whom?”

  The habits of the bench and the bar came again to the fore.

  “De l’ignorante et sotte multitude Dont le plus lourd sera receu pour juge.”

  “But we live in a democracy, my dear.”

  “No, we don’t. We live a an hideous mixture of an ochlocracy and a ploutocracy.”

  “It’s probably the least unacceptable solution?”

  “No, not really, but it’s one that will make the survival of all species of Mammals impossible.”

  Die Umwertung aller Werte – but prompted by hope – natural instincts – she shook her head in denial of the obvious so that the pleasant blindness could be maintained to-day as well but maybe she had caught a sense of doubt that in due time would grow.

  “What’s your remedy then?”

  “This, cheers! And don’t take it too seriously. In another fifty million years life will renew itself. The Sun has enough hydrogen left for another two or three billion years though it will in seven hundred million years become so hot that the oceans will boil away. This time-span is the only comfort worth anything. Nevertheless, I’m of course doing what I can, L’Union Internationale pour la conservation de la nature, Snow Leopard Trust et cetera, but my limited means do not match my unlimited wishes.”

  “So you don’t think we are clever enough to survive?”

  Her disguised aggression – tinged by a narrow note of existential doubt and externalised by delicately raised eyebrows. She clung to the wreck of her image of the world – but the storm gathered strength. Even Matthew – ὅτι βλέποντες οὐ βλέπουσιν καὶ ἀκούοντες οὐκ ἀκούουσιν ούδὲ συνίουσιν.

  “No, for we see without seeing and we hear without hearing or comprehending. So the blind and the deaf are not witnessing the destruction of a planet. ’Tis the times plague that madmen leade the blind.”

  “So, you see, it hasn’t changed much, and maybe you’re so pessimistic because you’re a pessimist or even a misanthrope at heart. Your perspective is merely reflecting a projection?”

  “Unfortunately not; I am rather optimistic and enjoying life while it lasts. My perspective, which is seen from a third person point of view, has been formed by conclusions reached in research but corroborated by the changes for the worse I have seen myself, both here and everywhere else.”

  “It’s not the picture that emerges from the daily news. Do you think it’s a deliberate cover-up?”

  Her laughter was pleasant but mocking. A most trustworthy defence mechanism.

  “No, of course not. It’s not a cover-up and it’s not deliberate. No one wants to hear bad news, and the commercial enterprises that drive the printed and electronic media are intent on one thing and on one thing only, namely to sell and sell quickly. Bad news about lack of resources, increasing stupidity, dumbing down, omnipresent Gleichschaltung, deteriorating living standards, real austerity, climate change, very bleak prospects for the future do not sell, and therefore you will only see a very weak reflection of reality in these dissipators of the irrelevance, gossip and make-believe that modulate the mental landscape of the ignorant majority.”

  “I just couldn’t go on living if I shared your dismal views, I think.”

  “And I think you could if you decided to wake up for the icy water of that which is also feels clarifying. It removes the dusty cobweb of lies, convenience, laziness and self-interest that holds the attention captive daily.”

  “So do you honestly think that I’m just hiding my head in the sand like an ostrich and that all my community work is in vain?”

  Find them – human kind cannot –

  “An Ostrich does not hide his or her head in the sand. No sane animal disregards reality for disregarding reality, a precipice, a wild fire, means death and no animal wants to die. Your community work does someone some good, and doing someone some good is vastly better than not doing anybody any good at all, but you might reconsider your priorities. What is absolutely essential now and what is not? The evidence is there for all of us to see but it is far more convenient to pretend that God still is in his heaven and that all is well with the world in spite of the fact that we have murdered God, though only to jump down into an abyss of meaninglessness from which we cannot escape.”

  Gilbert joined them – taking Charlotte by her mauve-sleeved arm. Familiarity of perspectives in some quarters and in some quarters only.

  “What are you two discussing so earnestly?”

  The light touch. The less said about life’s miseries the better – but the water had almost reached his nostrils so he was standing on tiptoe.

  “Ralph has just told me that the sun has enough hydrogen left for three billion years but that long before that it will become so hot that the oceans will boil away, so even if we destroy ourselves and the entire surface of the planet within the next century there is, in the long run, abundant cause for optimism.”

  “Yes, I know. It’s always very invigorating to be exposed to a scud of his chilly perspectives.”

  “It’s probably more pleasant to live in a candy-floss fairy land with both eyes tightly shut.”

  “At least if one wants to avoid becoming too bitter for the taste.”

  “Indeed, and to sell illusions to the affluent parasites who have to rely on the local gaudy weathercocks in order to know what’s in and what’s out.”

  “Sour grapes? But that’s of course what I have to do, at least sometimes, for a living.”

  “No, rotten rather; but honesty and humour are the saving graces.”

  “As long as you do not lie to yourself it does not matter how much you lie to others.”

  “Exactly!”

  “How disgustingly cynical you are, but dinner is served so we had better sit down right away.”

  “Honest rather, but it’s also dangerous for the lies thrown to the world might in the end, even if strict precautions are taken, by a sort of subconscious repercussion, have a distorting effect on one’s own perception of truth and honesty, both rather obsolete terms.”

  “It’s a delicate balance. The increasing demands of Cæsar, the totalitarian state, the enemy.”

  “Yes, it’s nearly impossible to avoid prostituting oneself as everything is based on prostitution.”

  “There’s nothing sacred left, oh new slave world, and surveillance ad infinitum.”

  Gilbert’s hearty laugh was touched from afar by a quiet note of a faint blue sadness – his basic humanity still glittered in the dark – but timely attention – ho
lding the awkwardly tall chair for Sally as she wriggled in between the oaken table and the softly padded seat with the grace of flowing waters.

  “Bourgogne or Bordeaux?”

  “Bordeaux, please! And I hear that you and Jennifer made both sauce and salad when Peregrine fled the righteous fury of his wife.”

  “Anagkē prevailed as she always does. We had to act straightaway to save our dinner.”

  Her appreciation was tinted by indulgence for humour was also defensive but her integrity was inflexible though feminine. Suffused by the smell of roasted meat the air was ruffled by cat’s paws of laughter or moved as waves by voices to the timbre and colour of the emotions –

  “No, the length to which he was prepared to go when she discovered what actually had happened was ridiculous, at least that is what it appears to be now, but at the time – ”

  “Here, there’s a nice piece of red meat and some of your own sauce and salad.”

  Hunger – real hunger – was the best spice. The attention in which a raconteuse wallowed was directly proportional to the juiciness of her news. Taking off his shoes he felt more at ease with his toes bathing in the fresh evening air that came wafting in through the curtains.

  “Excellent! I’m hungry like a wintry Wolf. I was out last night looking for the Barn Owl that haunts the churchyard, otherwise, as I think you know, I’m up at half past three so that I can paddle around on the Broad, listen to the warblers and study the changes in the light.”

  “I wish I had the guts to do that as well, but in the morning I’m partly unconscious. It’s a family trait, I cannot help it, or I think I cannot help it. But I would really like to join you in the evening though if you think it’s worth while?”

  “The mornings are by far the best, just around sunrise, but we could always listen to the birds in the evening. They are at their best just now. But if it’s windy or if there’s heavy rain they do not sing as it would be a waste of energy.”

  “What about to-morrow or the day after to-morrow if the weather turns out to be fine?”

  “Certainly, whenever you want to come.”

  “I don’t think I can persuade Gilbert to join us though.”

  “Never mind. He loves to talk. And it’s necessary to keep quiet and to move silently, in fact, to be inconspicuous if not invisible.”

  Chewing eagerly she could hardly wait for she was still as curious as a child.

  “Can you manage to do that?”

  Interest and scepticism combined. Hemispherical balance and congruence with the limbic system.

  “No, all I can do is to take the greatest care, and it’s also difficult for me to get up that early. But once I’ve had a cup of tea or two and am outside it’s fine, but when I wake, often in the middle of a dream, it’s quite awful, especially as my dreams are drenched with colours in the morning.”

  “That may be because you remember your morning dreams much better than the dreams you’ve had earlier in the night.”

  A significant glance from the depth of her experience hinted at something he did not know.

  “That would be very likely.”

  A clear cold mountain spring – he would suddenly like to – love to –

  “I have recently had sustained lucid dreams and it’s a revelation, rather like opening a hatch to my subconscious processes.”

  Her levelled enthusiasm – her authentic –

  “How do you do that?”

  “A friend of mine in Ajaccio sent me some mandragora sprouts and I planted them in the hot-house in February. A month ago I began taking a small amount of fresh leaves and the effects are intriguing. I’m half awake and conscious of my dreams so I remember all the details. However, I also write them down in order to see if there are recurrent motives or if the colours should change with time. I imagine that they might, at the end of a year or so, show some difference, if not an actual development; though it’s still a bit early to say if they do. So far, however, I have had about fifteen very lucid dreams. I mean, the colours are translucent and the details sharp, and though some dreams are pretty straightforward there are others that seem to be mysterious or obscure. It’s like an exploration, a discovery of my own nature, hidden motives, wishes, longings, fears and idiosyncrasies, but also of my relationship with other people.”

  “How would you compare it with mescaline or psilocybin, for example?”

  “It’s not in the same category.”

  “I’ve only once, many years ago now, eaten fresh Henbane leaves. They contain two of the same alkaloids as Mandrake, atropine and scopolamine, which has an extra oxygen on the tropane ring; it was quite awful, with intense and factual hallucinations spiced by a vast thirst.”

  “Factual hallucinations?”

  “At the time I took them to be real. I ate strawberries, I tasted strawberries but there were no strawberries. There was also a sense of nausea, not ordinary nausea, but a nausea of cosmic proportions as if with Morning Glory seeds; but all such distortions of reality are evolutionarily designed to be frightening as the brain’s reconfiguration of reality is twisted, tordue.”

  “You must have taken far too much. I go into a light sleep, and then I dream.”

  “Do you have experiences comparable to those of the mediaeval witches who dreamt of flying in connection with sexual stimulation?”

  “I have not had any flying dreams, but I have certainly felt sexually stimulated.”

  “Don’t tell me about it.”

  The shaded light in her eyes made him move his toes slowly up and down alongside her ankle as a Cat might to solicit a tactile response – but he had reacted without consciously deciding to act for her glance had released a spontaneous reflex in his parasympathetic nervous system – so she must have touched him so deeply that his basic notions – his fixed ideas – and his preconceived conceptions about his intentions and interests as well as his sense of the social sectio aurea had been rendered supererogatory. Free will? Pleased with the power of her femininity she laughed gently. Responsibility for having blue eyes or for giving a kiss – there was hardly any difference in degree.

  “You’ll not miss anything really, and the witches’ orgy with the Devil was caused by sexual repression, so when the floodgates were thrown wide open, the poor women became overwhelmed and interpreted their experiences in the terms of the prevailing myth.”

  Her light accept of his response had come in the same way as when Dandelions unfolded their yolk-yellow petals to the early morning sunlight – and he pressed shin up against her knee to accelerate the interchange of reciprocity. There was no Way back – never – and time remained unidirectional. The ubiquitous thermal radiation of three degrees Kelvin was proof enough.

  “The stronger the social tabu is, the more violent the reaction will have to be. People were healthier in Tahiti and Rarotonga than in Tokyo or Wien.”

  “Or in London, for that matter.”

  “That was also Cook’s impression.”

  The blacklight of her belladonna pupils – she would come as far as he wanted or even further – but considering the potential repercussions he would have to let her take the initiative as a confirmation – so becoming aware of his tentative hesitation – his unwillingness to influence her intention to come closer – she moved her elbow – behind the curtain of the flaxen table cloth – along his hip to enclose him in her hand and seal the tryst of the following evening – but also to reassure him of the fact that she – being fully conscious of the potential developments of her decision – acted in tune with her inner standing wave and hence without misgivings.

  “So did your dreams mainly appear in grey before you began using Mandrake leaves?”

  “Only rarely did I have dreams with weak colours, usually they were greyish or indefinite.”

  “We have a dream, the Greeks see a dream. Using the term to see a dream indicates
that the visual impressions are strong, but it is the affective states that form the images that are important. As you see colours now it shows that we dream in colours but that our subsequent awareness is blunted. However, dreams are mainly visual expressions or manifestations of one or two of the nine or ten primary affective states as they constitute subconscious and conscious reality, both for us and other Mammals, but presumably also for birds, at least for Passerines.”

  The titillation could soon become irresistible so her smile was both teasing and serene.

  “The emphasis used to be on cognition, now the emotions seem to be more important, though of course that was always the case on a real and personal level; but it’s depressing to see how easily the academy can be led astray.”

  “Its constituents are more prone to follow what is à la mode than anybody in la haute couture.”

  The overtones of his carefree laughter – tolling resignation – but their conclusions were identical – as they had to be.

  “Like the quiet majority from which they think themselves distinguished they lack the individuation necessary for independent reflection.”

  “Those who accept ignorance stumble around in the dark, but those who deal in learning are blinded by utter darkness.”

  Lifting the silvery fork upon which a sauce-drenched bloody slice of slightly raw red meat dangled up to her glistening teeth – which would masticate the dead tissue to digestible fragments – she laughed with the knowledge of how easily she could cure his despondency if she continued to play.