Chapter 35

Good health is nothing more than the slowest possible rate at which you can die.

That's only one of the peculiar thoughts that crossed my mind while I lay flat on my back on the cellar floor, surrounded by a couple dozen silently sarcastic and pitifully empty bottles.

I'd been down there for close on to three hours after leaving Peggy in the care of Izzy and Lilly; and in the course of those three hours I'd done a lot of drinking and one hell of a lot more completely cockeyed thinking. The two eventually congealed, leaving me with several relatively sublime and pointlessly philosophic platitudes:

• The biggest pain in the ass you'll probably ever have to deal with watches you from the mirror every morning.

• Good judgment comes from experience, and most of that comes from bad judgment.

• If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop digging.

I realized, laying there on the cellar floor, that I'd put myself in a fairly deep hole. I hadn't intended to, but ... well, the best laid plans and all that sort of shit.

It was time to stop digging, stick my head up out of the hole, take a look around and see what was what.

What was I trying to accomplish by taking over the government, apart from proving to myself that I could? More importantly, what the hell was I going to do with the damn thing once I had it?

Admittedly, it'd seemed like a pretty good idea at the time; but like so many ambitious dreams, the wanting and getting turned out to be infinitely more satisfying than the actual having.

I was a hair's breadth from having it all. It was there, waiting, begging to be plucked ... I could taste it.

It was either that, or the slightly sour aftertaste of the ninth bottle of dry red wine I'd just polished off.

There are people who like running things, being in charge. I'm not one of them. I'm one of those folks who prefer to do what they want, when they want, because they want to, not because they have to. Deep down, I think the vast majority of people feel pretty much the same way I do. They simply want to be left alone and allowed to get on with the business of living.

Personally, I really dislike it when supposedly grown people come to me for instructions, direction or approval. I'm not the stuff that leaders are made of. I was aware of this long before I went into the army, and everything I'd experienced in the years that followed only served to confirm and reinforce that belief.

What do I want? What do you want? What do you want from me?

You want laws to cover every possible human action ... great! Pass 'em ... see if I care. Just don't expect me to follow them.

You want to build a bridge that goes nowhere and serves no purpose ... do it. Just don't expect me to praise or pay for it.

You want to start a war in a part of the world that the average person can't even locate on a map ... fine and dandy. But if you think I'm gonna go and fight it for you—think again! Get someone else, 'cause I just don't give a fuck!

I'd spent eight years of my life, eight goddamned years, fighting a losing battle that only a handful of people even knew was being fought. For what? What had I achieved?

Apathy.

That's what I'd ended up with ... apathy. Of all the fucking emotions available to me, that's the one I'd ended up with. That, and the thinnest, most frazzled thread of hope I could envision.

I used to care about justice. But years of pointless struggling had convinced me at last that there was no such thing, and that there never would be.

Not if I was the only one interested.

I used to care about truth. After eight years in D.C. I couldn't even be sure what that meant. I wasn't sure I'd ever known.

Pontius Pilate is famously reported to have asked, 'What is Truth? Is Truth unchanging law?'

Brilliant question. Brilliant! 'Is Truth unchanging law?'

Probably.

Facts are what they are, but the way we interpret their relevance and significance ... that's always changing. Truth, in my opinion, couldn't be like that; it had to be constant and eternal. Otherwise what would be the point? Truth could not be subjective or relative, fragile or fleeting, abstract and intangible. It had to be more inflexible and unbending than diamond, and less malleable than humanity's vision of God.

"'In every age there have been Sages who had mastered the absolute and yet could teach but relative truths. For none yet, born of mortal woman in our race, has, or could have given out, the whole and the final truth to another man, for every one of us has to find that (to him) final knowledge in himself. As no two minds can be absolutely alike, each has to receive the supreme illumination through itself, according to its capacity, and from no human light. The greatest adept living can reveal of the Universal Truth only so much as the mind he is impressing it upon can assimilate, and no more.' " I declaimed resonantly to the ceiling.

The ceiling ignored me.

I didn't blame it one little bit.

"Is that one of yours, or a quote?" a small voice asked from the vicinity of the stairs.

I lifted my head off the floor just enough to peer over my chest. Peggy sat on the third stair from the bottom, her knees tucked up beneath her chin, wearing what looked like one of my ragged old work-around-the-house shirts.

She looked tired. There were dark bags under her eyes, lines across her forehead and at the corners of her mouth. Her hair was a wild mess, more like a bramble patch than anything else.

She was still beautiful, but she looked tired and felt exactly the same.

"Something I read a long time ago, called 'What is Truth' by H.P. Blavatsky."

"Who's he?"

"She. He's a she. Apart from that little bit of trivia..." I shrugged and put my head back on the floor. "I didn't care enough at the time to dig deeper."

"Did she know the Truth?"

"I seriously doubt it."

"Do you?"

I sighed softly. "I wish. I don't think there is such a thing; at least not the capital 'T' kind."

"That bothers you a lot, doesn't it?"

"I don't know why it should, but yeah, it does."

"You prefer absolutes; good and evil, right and wrong, justice and injustice. They make life simpler, choices less confusing, decisions less troubling ... clearer. Gray areas suck."

"But nothing is absolute, is it? Everything changes."

"'Fraid so lover."

"Everything's relative. Even the truth."

"It is if you can't define it so that everyone says 'Yup, that's the Truth alright'."

"Well, so much for truth."

There was a long empty silence.

"Absolute Truth doesn't have to be the end-all be-all of your life. What about the more tangible things that make life worth living? Aren't they worth fighting for?"

"I think so, but what's the point? We're fighting the same battles today, and for the same reasons, that our great-great-great grandparents did. It never stops. There's no end to it."

"And why is that?"

"Because we're, all of us, fighting for exactly the same reasons, trying to achieve the exact same goals. Everyone's right and at the same time we're all wrong. It's insane."

"If that's true, and I'm not suggesting it isn't, but if it's true then how would you stop it?"

"Well, if Blavatsky's right, you can't."

"Who says she's right? You're not just going to take her word for what's possible and what's not, are you?"

I lifted my head again and then sat up, elbows on my knees.

"She's not the only one, you know."

"So what? You're not actually suggesting that just because a lot of supposedly smart people say something can't be done that they're right?"

I frowned. "There are things that can't be done."

Peggy smiled crookedly. "So says the man who can turn himself into a walking, talking tiki-torch; the man who can cure insanity and kill with a single emotion. Tell me again about things that can't be done."

I shook my head and frowned. How could I respond to something like that?

"Your problem has nothing to do with a fruitless search for Ultimate Truth, or being unable to make up your mind about taking over the world."

"Oh?" I cocked my head to one side and stared at her.

"Nope. There's really two problems, but let's ignore the first one for now."

"Okaaaay." I drawled suspiciously. "So what's the second one?"

"You're spoiled."

My right eyebrow rose up sharply.

"Say what?"

"You heard me. You. Are. Spoiled."

"Spoiled?"

"When was the last time anyone told you no and you had to accept it? When was the last time anyone refused you something you really wanted? Face it, lover, you've gotten to the point where being denied anything, even something as abstract and unreachable as Truth, sets you to pouting and moping like a little boy who's been told he can't have a cookie."

... !

Sonofabitch!

I sat there for what seemed like a very long time, thinking, remembering, putting fragments of memories together in various configurations and analyzing the results.

No!

But...

Yes?

Maybe...

Maybe?

"Maybe." I rasped softly.

Peggy's crooked smile straightened.

"Maybe ... what?" she coaxed gently.

"Maybe you're right." I admitted between clenched teeth.

She stood up, the tails of my old shirt slid down her thighs to hang just above her knees. She looked so damn cute and sexy; it was a real effort to remain annoyed and irritated.

Peggy stepped down off the stairs and walked slowly towards me. I've always enjoyed watching her walk, hips swaying, shoulders rising and shifting ... how someone who appears to be so sweet and innocent manages to exude sexual promise the way she does still boggles my mind.

I put my mind on pause and just enjoyed the show.

Peggy brushed those bottles lying in her path to one side with a dainty foot, knelt down beside me, bent over and kissed me on the forehead.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"It wasn't ten seconds ago." She grinned and patted my chest with one hand.

"You are such a pig."

"A spoiled pig." I reminded her. "Besides, I said maybe. Maybe is not a confession or an admission ... it's a maybe." Peggy just kept on grinning, quietly wallowing in her silent and unacknowledged (at least by me) victory. "So ... what, and I just know I'm gonna regret asking, was the first problem?"

Her grin faded a little.

"You aren't going to like it." she warned me.

"Can't imagine why ... seeing how I got such a kick outta being called spoiled. Come on, let's have it."

Peggy's eyes, usually so bright and filled with joy lost their sheen.

"What?" Fear began to bubble up from deep within her. I could hardly believe it. Peggy was afraid ... of me, of how I'd react. I wasn't angry, or raising my voice, or on fire or anything, but she was afraid. "Come on half-pint. Just be honest with me."

Peggy took a deep breath. "For as long as I've known you, the one topic you harp on the most, after justice, is freedom. Yours, mine, Izzy's, Lilly's ... but it's just not true, and you don't even seem to realize it."

I frowned. Then I shook my head. "How do you figure?"

"Ike, you don't believe in freedom. Honey, you're a fascist at heart."

I frowned even harder.

"I'm a fascist?"

Peggy nodded her head fractionally. "The things you believe in are justice, responsibility and accountability; none of which are even remotely compatible with the idea of freedom. Real freedom means that anyone can do anything they want to. Anything. Real freedom means no law, no accountability, no responsibility, and no justice. Real freedom would be pretty much the same as what used to be called the State of Nature."

I felt my face relax, the frown melted away gradually as barely remembered words flashed thru my mind and escaped across my lips.

"'Nature has no principles; she furnishes us with no reason to believe that human life is to be respected. Nature, in her indifference, makes no distinction between good or evil.'"

Peggy nodded her agreement. "Part of you would really enjoy that kind of freedom. But only a part. The rest of you despises even the idea; it couldn't begin to tolerate the reality. That part wants rules, guidelines, boundaries ... laws that clearly distinguish between good and evil. People invented the concepts of good and evil to protect them from the random chaos of nature. And whether you're willing to admit it or not, you represent both sides of the equation. One way or another, you're gonna have to make up your mind; which side are you on? Freedom or Order?"

"It's not that clear cut a choice and you know it." I slowly replied. "Neither option is intrinsically good or evil."

She took a deep breath. "You're a smart man Ike, so tell me; what is good? Define it for me."

"Good is what gives me pleasure." I said automatically, not even bothering to think about it.

"So then evil would be everything that doesn't give you pleasure?"

I rolled my head to side and thought.

"No. Evil has a different feel to it than that."

"So then evil isn't the opposite of good, is it?"

"Not if we define it like that."

"You defined it, I just asked the question. Now, does everything that gives you pleasure give me pleasure?"

My frown returned. "No."

"So good is not an absolute?"

"I'll concede the point to my learned opponent."

Peggy smirked ... just a little ... before continuing on.

"Justice gives pleasure to only one side of an argument, so how can it be good for everyone? Accountability, responsibility ... I suppose there might be some sort of satisfaction in there someplace, but pleasure?"

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Peggy's fingers drummed lightly over my heart.

"Do you see where I'm going with this baby?"

Yeah, I saw it. Like the light at the end of an endlessly dark tunnel. Like an oncoming truck, headlights locked on a spot right between my eyes.

"The things I believe in are unnatural and evil." I replied slowly.

"Hardly evil. Remember, nature makes no distinction. Only people do. Maybe they're just bad. But they are most definitely unnatural." she suggested. "You pride yourself on being a good man; a fair, just and kind man. But that isn't true either, is it?"

I swallowed hard. When I opened my eyes I saw Peggy's sad, tear filled eyes watching me.

"I've felt the real you, and he's about as unnatural as they come. He doesn't want freedom, he wants order. His order. The three of us, we've watched you struggle with him for a long time now. I know you, Ike Blacktower, and you're losing."

Peggy put her hands on my shoulders, pushed me back until I laid back down on the floor, with her kneeling beside and over me.

"You're the kindest, sweetest, most compassionate and forgiving person I've ever known. Disgustingly so at times, but you're also the coldest, meanest, most vicious, cruel and indifferent creature that ever lived. You're many things, my love, but good ain't one of 'em."

She lowered her mouth over my own and pressed her lips lightly against mine. Two teardrops fell from her cheek, landed in front of my ear and trickled down my neck into my hair.

Peggy lifted her head briefly then kissed me once again before sitting back on her heels.

"A great man cannot afford to be a good man." she said, and then wiped the remaining tears from her eyes with the sleeves of my shirt.

I lay on my back quietly for some time, just looking at her and considering her words.

For a few moments I actually missed not being able to talk things over with the voices in my head.

Funny ... I'd told the girls so many times that I wasn't as good as they made me out to be. I guess that, in a way, I'd been doing it the same way a fat person makes jokes about their weight, as a way of lessening the hurt and taking the weapon out of the hands of potential assailants.

Was I a good man?

Apparently not.

Peggy was right, I didn't believe in freedom. Hell, I'd gone out of my way to take it from an awful lot of people. Justice and accountability, while desirable in the abstract, was in reality a twin bladed dagger in the heart of freedom.

"Fascist?" I asked quizzically.

Peggy sniffed and then smiled as she rubbed beneath her nose.

"Maybe fascist is a little harsh. How 'bout autocrat?"

I winced.

Domineering, dictatorial, tyrannical, authoritarian, imperious, self-willed, officious, strict, severe, dogmatic, despotic, inquisitorial, authoritative, overbearing, peremptory, arrogant, repressive, harsh, inflexible, arbitrary, oppressive, cruel, grinding, exacting, unrelenting, heavy-handed, iron-handed, megalomaniacal, monomaniacal, power-crazed, power-mad, petulant, willful, headstrong, highhanded, bossy...

Not much of an improvement really, and not what I'd call a litany of positive personality traits.

Still...

I was nowhere near as bad as all that ... was I? I'd always had a pretty clear picture of who I was, what I wanted and how I planned to get it.

Power-mad?

I looked up at Peggy, who was still wiping her face with the sleeves of my shirt.

"Girls always fall for the bad-boy, don't they?" I asked rhetorically. "But am I evil?"

She sniffled and wiped her nose.

"Nature makes no..." she began to quote once again. I cut her off.

"The hell with nature; am I evil?"

"I don't know if I can answer that." She paused and looked away. "I just don't know." she said after a moment's thought. "You made Izzy quit her job at the academy. She loved it there. And you made me give up my practice, just when I was getting things sorted out the way I wanted. Damnit Ike, I worked hard to make something of myself and you just snatched it out of my hands and tossed it away, like it didn't even matter. Those are not the actions of a good man."

"Great men need love too you know."

"I do love you."

I shook my head. "All I feel right now are fear, anger, mistrust and sadness. No love, Peggy, none at all."

I closed my eyes, thinking furiously. My thoughts raced faster and faster; images, memories, sensations and feelings flying thru my mind so quickly it was difficult to keep track of each one.

"Chose a side..." I whispered to the ceiling. Freedom or Order. Chaos or Law.

All my life I've had problems dealing with established authority. I don't trust, have never trusted, authority figures. And I didn't need a PhD in psychology to understand where all that animosity originated; first my father then my brother and sister. I'd gotten to the point where their ability to act as authoritarians was non-existent, and I won't pretend that I missed those good old days, because I don't. What I did miss was feeling justified in my rebelliousness. I'd lost that along the way, probably around the time I'd become an authority figure in my own right.

I'd become what I hated. I'd struggled so long against order and law, struggled for freedom, chaos and indeterminacy, and look what happened.

Power longs for order, for structure, because they increase, support and reinforce power.

"What is there to choose between?" I mumbled.

Order holds the universe together, chaos or entropy tears it apart. According to science, eventually entropy wins. We're born, we live and we die. Eventually. Some sooner than others, some later, but eventually everything comes apart.

I felt the air around me grow chill as my mind fought to bring order to the rampant chaos lurking within. My breathing slowed significantly, as did my heartbeat and the blood in my veins thickened and became sluggish sludge.

But did it have to be that way? Did chaos have to win?

I sure as hell wasn't coming apart at the same rate as most of the people around me. Time. I had time on my side. I could try different things, wait and see how they worked out, and if they didn't come out the way I wanted...

I exhaled slowly thru my nose.

"Who says I have to choose? Nature is what it is, humanity is what it is... and so am I. Apart, separate, distinct; I'll decide what I want. But only if I want, and only when I want."

The memories, thoughts and feelings flashed by even faster, but as the cold worked its way thru me my mind sharpened and everything moved into clear focus ... the individual pieces fell into place so quickly and with such precision that I couldn't believe I'd missed it before.

"Good, bad, evil ... they're all meaningless distinctions dependant on an arbitrary, and equally meaningless, middle ground. An unoccupied norm. I couldn't exist there ... no irrationally sane person could."

A voice broke my concentration, a distant, barely recognized sound that vied for my attention and was nearly lost in the hurricane of information whizzing thru my mind.

I opened my eyes, which seemed to take forever. It was as though the eyelids each weighed a pound apiece. The overhead lighting, which I knew to be barely sufficient to illuminate the cellar, blazed like noon-day sunlight and stabbed painfully all the way to back to my retinal nerves.

Peggy was leaning over and hammering on my chest with her fists, her face contorted into a mask of pure rage.

"Don't you fuckin' do this you sonofabitch!" she screamed again and again in time with the impact of each fist on my sternum.

I could just barely feel the blows as they landed. The shirt I had on gave me more in the way of physical sensation than her hands did.

"Knock it off, will you?" I said slowly. The words fell from my lips like two chunks of concrete dropped on a bag of sand.

I sat upright, which felt and sounded very much like folding a plank in two as my clothing crackled and complained. Peggy fell back, her rage replaced by fear, and scrambled away towards the stairs.

"You think you know me, huh?" I enquired, rolling to one side.

"Ike, please..."

I put my hands down on the floor and pushed myself up, getting to my feet. My hands and forearms were an icy blue shade that reminded me of pictures I'd seen of arctic fissures.

"A great man cannot afford to be a good man ... isn't that what you said?"

Peggy shivered and began backing up the stairs using her hands and the heels of her feet.

"By extension, you imply that I am a great man, and as such, in no way obliged to be good. In fact, one might even suggest that these so-called great men of yours were duty bound to be anything other than good."

I felt a shifting of emotions within the upper reaches of the house. I tilted my head, as though listening to a distant sound, and smiled thinly.

"Your sisters are coming." I whispered, and the words formed a dull thin white vapor cloud when they hit the air. I turned my attention back to the small woman who was awkwardly crawling up the stairs on her back. "Running away, half-pint? That's not like you. You're not afraid of me, are you?"