rr.armageddonthemusical-第41节

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digs　have　been　closed　for　twenty　years。　But　I'm　still　here。　Boring？　A　pointless　existence？　Twenty　years？　funny　you　should　mention　it。　Do　I　get　resentful？　Do　I　get　resentful？　Sitting　here　looking　at　these　four　walls；　while　my　life　ticks　away？　What？
　　　So　regarding　this　object；　this　very　last　object　that　I　ever　recorded。　And　which　by　implication　would　indeed　appear　to　be　the　very　object　you　seek。　And　which　you　would　like　me　to　show　you。　Buddy；　it　would　be　more　than　my　job's　worth　to　pull　a　stunt　like　that。　And　I'm　not　messing。　The　Suburban　Book　of　the　Dead
　　　'There　now；'　said　Mungo。　'Did　I　or　did　I　not　tell　you　not　to　panic？'　The　board　members　responded　somewhat　indifferently　to　Mungo's　question。　It　was　almost　as　if　they　needed　a　mite　more　convincing。
　　　Jason　put　up　his　hand　to　speak。　'Sir；　the　fortuitous　survival　of　Dan　et　al　does；　if　I　might　dare　voice　the　feelings　of　the　entire　board…'　（the　entire　board　made　'no　such　thing'　rumblings）'…does　take　a　fair　bit　of　swallowing；　credibility　wise。'　
　　　'Let　us　not　beat　about　the　bush；　Morgawr；'　Mungo　dusted　pollen　from　his　lapel；　'something　specific　on　your　mind？'　
　　　'Well。。。　er。。。'　Jason　stared　about　at　the　surviving　board　members。　Their　faces　said；　'Go　on；　fuck　yourself　up。'　'Ah；　nothing。　A　lucky　chance。　Fortuitous　is　the　word　I　shall　stand　by。'　
　　　'Good。　Now　regarding　your　technical　staff。　How　long　before　they　will　be　ready　for　the　off？'　
　　　'An　hour；　sir。　Two　at　the　most。'　
　　　'And　Morgawr；　you　are　totally　au　fait　with　the　situation；　plotwise？'　
　　　'Oh　yes；　sir。'　Jason's　face　bobbed　up　and　down。　'Armageddon；　that's　what　it's　all　about　now；　eh？'　
　　　Mungo　made　a　thoughtful　face。　'Yes；　well　it　is　and　it　isn't。'　
　　　'It　is　and　it　isn't。'　Morgawr　tried　to　look　enlightened。　'It　is　Armageddon；　but　it's　not　Armageddon。　Yes　I　see。　I　know　it's　not　the　Armageddon。　Which　is　to　say；　that　although　it　is　our　Armageddon；　which　will　appear　to　be　their　Armageddon；　it　is　not　really　the　Armageddon。　Which　is　what　you　are　saying；　is　it　not？'　
　　　'What　I　am　saying　is　that　whoever's　Armageddon　it　turns　out　to　be；　it　must　have　a　happy　ending。　One　which　will　satisfy　the　backers；　the　Holy　Writ　and　the　viewing　public。　Raise　the　ratings；　not　infuriate　the　advertisers；　and　allow　me　to　sleep　peacefully　in　my　bed；　should　I　ever　wish　so　to　do。　This　is　the　kind　of　scenario；　in　fact　the　exact　scenario　which　you　envisage；　is　it　not？'　
　　　'Well。。。'　said　Jason　Morgawr。　'Well。。。'　
　　　The　doors　of　the　Dalai's　private　lift　opened　into　his　equally　private　apartments。　These　occupied　the　entire　floor　toward　the　very　apex　of　the　Nemesis　pyramid。　The　four　glazed；　sloping　walls　displayed　the　panorama　of　endless　blue；　beneath　which；　and　in　terrible　contrast；　the　artificial　cloud　heaved　like　a　poison　sea。
　　　Gloria　took　a　step　forward　but　checked　herself。　Dan's　presence　still　hung　in　the　air。　An　unsavoury　psychic　miasma。　It　said；　'Just　you　try　it。'　Gloria　trembled；　assailed　by　sudden　doubt。　She　had　done　the　unthinkable。　She　had　murdered　the　World's　foremost　religious　figure。　The　man　which　many　regarded　as　God。　That　he　was　unquestionably　a　merciless　tyrant　hardly　seemed　to　e　into　it。　He　was　worshipped；　adored。　Gloria　Mundi　had　murdered　God。
　　　And　for　what？　For　the　mon　good？　For　the　sake　of　mankind？　The　future　of　the　race？　Gloria　shook　her　head。　Out　of　revenge；　out　of　a　lust　for　power。　And　now　she　had　it；　what　was　she　going　to　do　with　it？　She　realized　for　the　first　time　that　she　really　had　no　idea　at　all。
　　　'e　on　dear；　I'll　fix　us　both　a　drink。'　Ms　Vrillium　placed　a　fleshy　palm　upon　the　small　of　Gloria's　back。
　　　'Be　careful。'　
　　　'Careful？'　Ms　Vrillium　marched　from　the　lift；　the　martial　clicks　of　her　steel　heels　losing　themselves　in　the　rich　pile　of　the　carpet。
　　　'Can't　you　feel　him？'　Gloria　was　suddenly　afraid。
　　　'I　can　smell　that　filthy　musk　he　pomaded　himself　with。　But　nothing　more。　e　on　dear；　first　night　nerves　is　all。'　
　　　With　faltering　steps　Gloria　entered　the　apartment。　She　had　seen　it　all　before。　The　fine　hangings。　The　quilted　sofas；　their　covers　woven　from　the　feathers　of　birds　a　century　dead。　The　high…domed　display　cases；　clustered　with　enigmatic　antiques。　The　kilims　and　curios。　Seen　it　all　before。　But　somehow　never　really　seen　it。　Never　in　depth；　in　clarity。　Seen　what　it　represented。　What　He　represented。
　　　'Permanence；'　Dan　had　said。　'Safety；　the　status　quo。　I　am　part　of　all　this；　a　metaphor；　a　symbol。　A　whatnot。'　
　　　Ms　Vrillium　rattled　the　neck　of　a　Venetian　decanter　into　a　silvered　goblet。　'We'll　have　that　out　of　here　for　a　kick　off。'　She　addressed　her　words　to　a　full…length　portrait　of　the　lad　himself。
　　　'His　painting？'　The　voice　was　half　gone　in　Gloria's　throat。
　　　'Painting　nothing。　That　dear　is　what　they　call　a　patchwork　quilt　and　it　is　patched　from　human　skins。'　
　　　Gloria　felt　very　sick　indeed。
　　　The　ongoing　situation　currently　ongoing　between　the　Fundamentalists　and　the　Jesuits　was　stepping　up　apace。　Although　the　weaponry　involved　was　somewhat　cobwebby　and　of　dubious　serviceability；　the　protagonists　went　about　their　respective　businesses　with　a　will。　For　when　both　parties　have　God　on　their　side；　both　can　be　equally　assured　of　winning。
　　　There　had　already　been　several　unfortunate　incidents　involving　certain　'Smart'　weapons　systems。　Having　had　five　decades　to　meditate　upon　their　own　smartness；　these　appeared　to　have　reached　states　of　enlightenment　which　put　them　above　the　whim　of　mortal　man。　Thus；　few；　if　any；　ever　found　their　allotted　targets。
　　　Then；　there　was　the　matter　of　the　anti…missile　missiles；　the　anti…missile…missile　missiles；　the　holographically…projected　decoy　missiles；　the　holographically…projected　decoy　confusion　missiles；　the　jamming　systems；　the　anti…jamming　rejamming　systems　and　the　systems　which　did　nothing　in　particular　but　were　still　exciting　for　all　of　that。　Adding　to　all　this　were　the　systems　which　failed　immediately；　those　which　reserved　their　malfunctionings　until　the　vital　moment　and　those；　which　included　most　of　the　foregoing；　which　required　the　skilled　hand　of　the　highly…trained　expert。　A　breed　now　long　gone　to　dust。
　　　One　further　point　is　worthy　of　note。　Both　the　edifices　now　currently　under　bombardment　had　withstood　the　now　legendary　Nuclear　Holocaust　Event；　a　time　when　men　really　knew　how　to　chuck　the　sophisticated　widow…making　hardware　about。　The　bumps　and　grinds　now　currently　on　the　go　appeared　to　pose　but　little　threat　in　the　'laying　waste　to'　department。
　　　L。　Ron　Hubbard　the　twenty…third；　sensing　that　Dan's　tragic　demise　might　well　afford　the　opportunity　for　him　to　elevate　himself　from　the　role　of　two…dimensional　character　with　hardly　a　sub…plot　to　call　his　own　to　that　of　major　protagonist；　paced　the　war…room　floor　unaided。　The　Hubbards　never　got　wherever　they　got　by　thinking　small。
　　　'Ma　many　great　times　granpappy　would　have　known　how　to　kick　ass　with　these　no…count　low…lifes；'　he　drawled　southernly。　'All　fair　game　to　great　times　grampah。'　The　sharp　young　men　with　the　far…away　stares　bent　low　over　their　instrument　panels　and　said　nothing。　One　didn't　take　liberties　with　the　mighty　L。　Ron。　Not　any　liberties。　Not　nohow。
　　　'All　this　bin　a　long　time　ing；'　quoth　the　great　man；　as　his　personal　stenographers　keyed　up　their　shorthand　puters；　eager　to　take　down　his　each　and　every　holy　word。　'In　a　world　gone　all　to　hell　with　avarice　and　greed　and　never　a　hint　of　a　takeaway　tandoori　or　a　Colonel　Sanders（tm）　Chicken　Nugget　；　a　world　of　heartache　and　gloom；　where　few　other　than　me　ever　glimpse　the　higher　truths；　such　a　world　as　this；　my　friends；　and　such　a　time　as　this；　and　did　I　ever　tell　you　about　the　time　my　great　times　granpapa　once　sailed　a　ship　halfway　around　the　world　and　stopped　off　at　this　little　island　where　the　natives　prepare　a　special　brand　of　lobster　which　they　take　in　a　sauce　of。。。'　And　it　went　on　much　in　the　same　fashion；　as　it　always　did　and　no　doubt　always　would；　which　gives　the　reader　a　fair　idea　why　L。　Ron　really　didn't　merit　a　more　prominent　part。　And　why　his　forthing　assassination　at　the　hands　of　a　jealous　drug…crazed　continuity　girl　over　a　love…triangle　incident；　which　had　nothing　whatever　to　do　with　the　controlling　theme　of　this　book；　would　go　for　the　most　part　unrecorded；　but；　that　is；　for　a　brief　mention　of　the　sickening　squelch　made　by　his　lifeless　body　as　it　struck　the　floor。
　　　Pope　Joan　had　always　envisaged　her　role　in　the　film　version　being　played　by　Meryl　Streep。　Or　if　Meryl　wasn't　available；　then　at　the　very　least　by　that　fine　character　actor　Mr　Michael　O'Hagan。　Now　she　knelt　in　silent　prayer。　Joan　hadn't　had　much　to　say　as　yet；　and　sadly　for　her　she　wouldn't　have　much　more；　as　it　happened。　But；　as　she　had　always　believed；　it　was　in　the　way　that　lines　were　spoken　that　turned　the　words　into　an　artform。　In　the　connotation　rather　than　the　denotation。　She　considered　language　a　means　to　convey；　rather　than　an　end　in　itself。　And　though　the　song　is　ended；　the　melody　lingers　on。　And　so　forth。
　　　'Although　I　have　the　body　of　a　weak　and　frail　woman；'　she　began。
　　　Back　in　Aunty　Norma's　bunker　imponderables　were　being　pondered。　Four　men　were　huddled　in　the　furthest　corner　from　the　bomb…bunged　door。　They　prised　possibly　the　most　unlikely　quartet　in　literary　history。　Being：　a　risen…from…the…ranks　bunker…boy；　whose　promotional　p