“You need shovel? Some say no shovel, best results. But takes much longer.” Obviously PGC weren’t trying to take advantage of János’s inexperience in making his own golem. The benefits of coming to a reputable company.
“Hmm. I think shovel.”
“You need plastic mould to help shape body? We hire male, female, neuter, and hermaphrodite moulds. Remember, once lust-gigolem is active it can easily change sex.”
“Female mould.” He would start the gigolem the way he hoped she would continue.
The assistant brought out what looked like the hull of a simple boat, a bit larger than himself, and bright red, indented with a female form. Easy to carry, being plastic. Very visible. Had a paedophile ever tried to escape downstream in a mould along with a newly made prohibited paedogolem, hoping to escape confiscation of his illegal handiwork? Since no sails nor oars accompanied the mould, such an attempt seemed unwise. Unless, of course, an accomplice was waiting nearby downstream in a motor boat – the cunning of paedophiles was notorious; a mutable mud-boy-girl would be quite a prize.
Presently János was out on the widespread Somme-on-Vltava with his mould and shovel.
Various other Do-It-Yourself golem enthusiasts were busy, looking somewhat like gravediggers though in fact the very opposite, for from dirt they were assembling what would become a semblance of life.
János laboured for an hour. He heaped the mould high, then he used his hands to contour the back of the gigolem, paying particular attention to the buttocks.
With considerable effort he heaved the now-heavy mould on to its side so that the gigolem slid out. Any slumping out of shape should rectify itself once the Shem was in the mouth. He walked around the heap of clay-mud widdershins seven times shouting “Shanti Shanti, Dehat Dehat!” because you were supposed to do this. Then he washed his hands in a nearby trench. Due to lack of a towel he dried them on his own hair. Finally he produced the Shem and pushed it between the clay lips, as one would push a card into a cash dispenser.
The gigolem convulsed. Her breasts firmed, and other important parts too. And she arose, staggering upright and regarding him. To his eyes she was rather beautiful, her flesh halfway between Asian and Mulatto. Other eyes may have regarded her as a bit ugly or strange. Alternatively, her strangeness or ugliness possessed its own beauty. Most importantly, she was a she, and remained a she.
She needed a name.
“You are Patricia,” he said, and took her by the hand. Since this was a romantic gesture, almost womanly, dark hairs promptly began sprouting from Patricia’s breasts as she manifested reciprocal manliness.These fell off as soon as János experienced an annoyed surge of testosterone which almost made him slap her.
“By the way,” he told her, “I am János.”
“I am yours,” she said in a husky voice in Hungarian. “Mine are you.”Was Patricia experimenting with the grammar of his difficult language, or did she mean you are mine?
In that attic in the big house of Mrs Smetana, János experimented with Patricia.
The first sexual intercourse with any gigolem is always a delicate matter, for a reason quite the opposite to the reason why the first intercourse with another human being is – or had been – delicate.The uncertainty attendant on sexually joining with another human person resides in the fear of what he or she might think of you, the possibility of causing disappointment and not being liked. In a sexual joining with a gigolem this problem doesn’t exist because a gigolem isn’t a human person and cannot judge you. However, a gigolem becomes sexually what you unconsciously wish it to be, consequently that first encounter might reveal through the gigolem that your own sexual nature differs dramatically from the image you had of it. The perceptiveness of the mirror in which you risk seeing yourself is far greater than in the case of a human partner.This can generate greater anxiety.
Cautiously János kissed Patricia’s hand, then slowly ascended along the arm. As his lips travelled, the dark skin of the gigolem paled and blushed, as if the meat within might burn. A low manly rumble sounded within the gigolem, an omen of impending masculinization – which János aborted by gripping Patricia’s hair firmly, though not too violently. That rumble faded into the gentle moan of a female in heat. A breast inflated as he brought his lips close, and continued to inflate to a fair extent as he sucked the nipple, while her legs shortened just a little. Nothing comes from nothing, so the substance inflating the tits was necessarily subtracted from part of the body to which the lover was paying less attention. János intruded a hand between her thighs, to which her buttocks accordingly donated some substance. These weren’t major changes of dimension which would result in grotesquerie or the physically impossible, but the alterations were sufficient to satisfy the ordinary imaginative follies of the human mind transported by a stormy vortex of passion and somatic obsession towards another living being.
Later, when János turned Patricia so as to pay maximum virile attention to those buttocks which he had moulded with such great attention, her breasts and belly, invisible to him now, lost tone and thickness while the beautiful perfect buttocks inflated within their skin, stretching into a unique cloven sex-drum of female mystery inextinguishably tantalizing . . . at least until orgasm.
In the relaxed aftermath, János regarded his gigolem with an enchanted eye. Patricia had remained female during all their intercourse, a rare circumstance which few men could manage to experience.
Since so many Americans already lived in the Czech capital, and due to the million tourists who visited every year, the Creation Science Museum of Arkansas had recently opened a branch museum in Prague. So János took Patricia there the following morning to entertain and impress her.That ought to be just her sort of museum. God made Adam out of clay or mud. Maybe János would seem like a god.
In the foyer towered a life-size holographic dinosaur with big blunt stumpy teeth behind an illuminated sign: Vegetarian Tyrannosaurus Rex. Even as János watched, the holographic blunt teeth elongated into fierce daggers, and the sign changed to: Tyrannosaurus Rex After the Fall. Presently T. Rex became benign again. The dino still looked hungry, but now for a cabbage. Thank God for holography, otherwise two sets of different giant dentures, as well as chains and a pulley, would have been needed to produce the transformation.
A Schwarzenegger-golem wearing shorts printed with fig leaves – no, he must be Michelangelo’s Adam – beckoned tourists coyly towards the Chapel of Creation from Clay. The golem’s body language was definitely gay, and its name badge called it, not Arnie, but Cleopatra. In an affectedly dainty way, the muscular Schwarzenegger began to recite a commentary in English and Czech and German, although János only paid attention to the English.
“Darwinian scientists say that life arose from primeval soup—”
In a big transparent cauldron on the left side of the chapel, a soup of plastic alphabet pieces simmered, the four letters T, C, A and G moving around and around, constantly bumping into each other.
“The letters you see represent the very complicated bases of the genetic code DNA, namely Thymine, Cytosine, Adenine and Guanine. Darwinian scientists pretend that these substances could have formed at random out of chemicals in the sea – and then furthermore that these letters could have combined at random to form the vast catalogue of information that creates life!
“I ask you, could a million blind monkeys chained to typewriters for a billion years ever have written the complete Bible exactly word-perfectly? No way, I say!”
“This is boring,” said Patricia. “Fuck me.”
“No, wait a bit,” said János.
Adam-Schwarzenegger gestured to the right of the chapel at what looked like a printing press from ancient Babylon designed to produce cuneiform clay tablets.
“In the Bible it says, And the LORD God formed man from the clay of the ground.Wiser, more scientific scientists says that living cells first appeared in a special kind of clay – called montmorillonite, monty for short. Negatively charged layers o
f monty-clay crystals produce a sandwich of positive charge in between them, which is a very attractive environment for RNA. I ask you, which is the more sensible theory: soup – or sandwich?”
A terrible realization came to János, with the force of an anti-religious revelation – as if St Paul had arrived blind in Damascus and suddenly saw not the light but anti-light.
Of course all life on Earth arose from chemicals in the soup of the ancient sea! That’s where we all come from – and cats too, and rats and fish and spiders and cacti and cabbages – from chemical soup.What comes from clay – but only nowadays – is golem-life. If clay had caused life in the first place, we would all be golems (including golem-cats and golem-rats and so forth)!
Clay and mud sandwiches must have tried to make life, like MacDonald’s taking over the world, but sandwiches had lost out to soup. Nevertheless, lurking in mud and clay there remained an alternative pathway of golem-evolution. And now it was coming into reality. Because gigolems mated with men and women, and because of the need for walking-wombs, clay-life was sexually contaminating the human race! Maybe this was why vaginas were migrating, to try to escape, due to feminine intuition.
All of a sudden János felt polluted by Patricia.
He cried out at Adam-Schwarzenegger, “Your Creationist God is the God of golems and gigolems, not of human beings! You Creationists all worship a false creation!”
János had to express this concept in Hungarian, which nobody except other Hungarians can understand. Nevertheless, a security-golem came into the chapel. What occurred in the museum must be monitored by multilingual security computers. This big brawny gay golem wore a name badge: Brünnhilde.
Brünnhilde approached on massive legs, gesturing menacingly. In Hungarian, then English, he-she declared:
“We don’t want Darwinian preachers here! This is a place of science and there’s no space for the mystic fantasies of Darwinism!”
János retorted: “My world is the one that evolved over billions of years through natural selection and produced human beings.The creationist world is that of the golems!”
János’s counter-enlightenment was now accompanied by a strange sense of déjà vu, as if something that happened in the past had been suppressed from conscious memory but now returned hauntingly. He thought to himself: It’s as if two parallel worlds have overlapped and are melting together – the world of the humans and the world of the golems. How on Earth could this have happened?
“I told you,” Patricia said, “you should have fucked me.”
Then János had no more time for thinking, because Brünnhilde was upon him. Close up, he-she stank of mud, not because he-she was made from mud, but due to nasal hallucination since the very existence of golems and gigolems suddenly stank for János. Brünnhilde was one and a half times his size, so she had no difficulty pushing him into a corner of the room. She? She? He-she had definitely become she. Holding János in one hand like a naughty boy, she pulled his trousers and underpants down. He thought she was going to smack him on the bottom, just as his mother had sometimes done. But then Brünnhilde exposed herself, and what smacked János, not upon the bottom but upon the front, were mighty and female genitalia. These sucked his balls and penis into them completely and munched. Fortunately her vagina was not dentata.
Presently she ejected him – and that was because she was now becoming male, her vagina filling and turning inside-out to become a stiff penis, which with gigolems was possible. Brünnhilde turned János round and buggered him, which felt as if a large living turd was returning to its bowel repeatedly.
The other visitors to the museum were taking souvenir photos and exclaiming. In a society lacking coherent vaginas and sexual certainties of any kind, bodily violation was not infrequent, so nobody should have been surprised. But tourists must let themselves be surprised by what is perfectly normal – that’s their role. A latecomer, who had missed most of the spectacle, asked Brünnhilde when the next violation was scheduled.
Afterwards, János felt as anyone would feel after being violated by a lump of mud – soiled. Dirtier than he’d ever felt in his life.
He was ashamed and furious at the same time.
Holding his trousers tightly at the waist in case they got pulled down again, he headed for the office of the museum’s director while Patricia followed him.
Here it was: Dr Vaclav Sládek, Director.
Dr Sládek wore a thin waxed moustache and a monocle. Also, a dark suit with thin stripes. And, for that matter, a sky-blue shirt and purple bow tie. His dark hair was oiled and combed back.
“I have been violated front and rear by your security-golem!” expostulated János.
“By security?” said Dr Sládek. “That sounds like safe sex. You won’t become pregnant.”
“In public!” roared János.
“Did you want it in private?”
“I want compensation for humiliation.”
“My dear fellow, there’s no possibility of that. A gigolem exhibits sexual behaviour in sympathy with the subconscious needs of a human being. Subconsciously you must have wished to be violated, and in such a way. Legally, the golem can’t be blamed, nor its owners sued.”
“I’m not gay! Not even my subconscious is gay.Why would I want to be violated by a gay golem?”
“You said you were violated at the front as well. Obviously the gigolem was making an effort to suit you.”
“Why are the staff here gay golems? I thought creation churches didn’t like homosexuality.”
“My dear fellow . . .” The director took a lace fan from his desk and wafted it. “This museum is concerned with the creation of life. In most creatures higher than the amoeba this tends to involve sexual activity. Frequent sexual activity. The employment of neuter golems could seem a snub to God. Therefore the personnel must have genders.Yet they mustn’t present any menace to the sacred femininity of women tourists!”
“A Schwarzenegger called Cleopatra is absurd!”
“No, this reflects the dualistic principle of the universe, the mysterious principle which forces into existence the contrary of everything. It’s like matter and anti-matter. We need gay golems here to demonstrate this.”
“I want Brünnhilde destroyed.”
“Spiritually, a gigolem is merely the psychic extension of the human being who uses it, so in a sense, dear sir, you’re saying that you should be destroyed – that you should be punished.”
“I already have been punished!”
“Are you a masochist? It’s a banal logical error to imagine that gay gigolems are useful to heterosexual masochists. A gay gigolem would avoid inflicting sadism on a heterosexual masochist, in order to fulfil his desires by denying them. By the way, did you know that the United States has stationed thousands of gay gigolems in Antarctica for obscure purposes of homeland security? What is needed is an association for the protection of gay inhuman rights.”
János realized that Dr Sládek himself secretly wished to be a gay gigolem. He wondered what happened in the museum after the doors were closed to the public each evening.
“Come home and fuck my vagina,” said Patricia.
Dr Sládek shuddered delicately.
Later, in the comfort of the little flat of Mrs Smetana, János idly indulged in pseudo-philosophical thoughts:
“Dust thou art, to dust returnest,” he recited, a universally popular line from the once much admired American poet Longfellow, which joined up Genesis 2:7 – “the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground” – with Ecclesiastes 12:1 – “then shall the dust return to the earth as it was.”
And what was dust, if not dry mud? Therefore meat was derived from mud, the basic element of gigolems. Creationism was right! In the beginning there was the primordial sandwich, not the fucking soup.
The violation performed by Brünnhilde seemed to have temporarily obliterated the evolutionary anti-enlightenment that had caught him in the museum. Much worse, it had taken away from him for the moment a
ny desire to make love with Patricia. This was perfectly understandable in someone who had just been violated by a gay gigolem. Obviously János was being inhibited by a fear that sexual relations with his hitherto straight gigolem might result in a repetition of that violation, this time by Patricia. A mysterious mechanism of the human subconscious means that repetition of known experiences can be reassuring, even if the experiences are unpleasant. Although János felt exonerated of responsibility for being violated in the first place – despite the insinuations of Dr Sládek! – to be re-violated due to complicity on the part of his subconscious would be intolerable.
János was not at all satisfied with how his romantic journey to Prague was proceeding. He shut Patricia inside the wardrobe. That was like banishing her into a dark subconscious from which she must not escape. Could it be that golems were nothing but the embodiments of the collective subconscious of mankind? Or might human beings be the embodiment of the subconscious of golems? Who was dreaming whom?
As a way of getting out of himself for a while, János quit the house. People often leave home in the more or less vain attempt to leave themselves behind. This scarcely ever works.
The Sex Centre of Prague, close to the river Vltava at Bubenské nábř, had for many years been a sex-for-cash-supermarket based on the principles of fast-food and the assembly line. Human beings and gigolems alike flaunted their charms inside little cabins with only space for a bed. You could peep through a window, if the curtain wasn’t closed, to admire the merchandise before entering and enjoying it. Half of the hookers were human, strictly over 70, and the rest were gigolems, all looking beautiful.
János wandered lazily through the corridors where God’s loving bounty was on offer. Now and then someone quickly entered or quit a cabin. János realized that in fact he hadn’t come to this place to watch the prostitutes, but their clients. Was he hoping to see something of himself in them? Interest in other people is a delusion, if you only try to see aspects of yourself reflected in them.
Since he had travelled through Freudian Vienna on the way to Prague, he thought, Perhaps I need a psychoanalygolem.
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