to kiss the sky. Thousands of years of classifying the world by
category and causality had suddenly been washed away like
remnants of an overcooked casserole. A crazed ambiguity rushed in
to fill the vacuum.
“Yes,” Bidden went on, “and I just wanted to say that we couldn’t
have done it without you, the…”
A young man leapt up on stage and pulled the microphone away
from him.
“Morris Bidden for God! I vote for Morris Bidden!” he screamed,
“For fucking God!” He put his arm around Morris and tried to kiss
him. Bidden pushed him violently away and as he fell into the
audience he was caught and rolled back over the sea of outstretched
hands. This looked entertaining and impelled several other people to
jump up on stage and try the same thing. As he pushed them all away,
they too took running jumps and landed safely on the mass of
cradling palms.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Morris yelled. Security guards
rushed out on stage to protect the frightened and unwilling guru,
now cowering behind the drum set.
Roy meanwhile was also cowering, but deep inside his own mind.
He had fallen into a hole so profound and empty that it seemed he
would soon fall out the other side of the earth. Everywhere he looked
he saw demons: incognizant minions of the demiurge, all unaware
that their strings were being pulled by the fallacy of charisma and the
charisma of fallacy. He saw them as marionettes. He could now
literally see the cords tied to their hands and feet, controlling their
actions. What was he doing here among the fallen? It was his special
burden to be lucid among the blind but without the power to change
anything.
He looked down at the paper cup in his hand and stared into the
demonlaced coffee. His own reflection glared back. It spoke:
“You’re just as full of shit as they are,” it said.
“Huh?” Roy replied.
“You blame them. Followers. Inauthentic. Slaves. But are you
any better? You want to make them like you? Psychotic? Miserable?
They seem happier.”
“I just want to bring good back into the world. The true and the
beautiful.”
“And how is buying coffee going to make that happen? Pardon
my modesty, but I’m just a cup of coffee, after all.”
ABYSSINIA
180
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