Part 18

“Our plan is simple. We will provide at each Center full faculties for those who have listened to Cavesword and have responded to it by taking the better way. There will be a number of comfortable rooms where the suicidalist may receive his friends for a last visit. We’ll provide legal assistance to put his affairs in order. Not everyone of course will be worthy of us. Those who choose death merely to evade responsibility will be censured and restrained. But the deserving, those whose lives have been devoted and orderly, may come to us and receive the gift.”

I was appalled; before I could control myself I had said: “But the law! You just can’t let people kill themselves....”

“Why not?” Cave looked at me coldly and I saw, in the eyes of the others, concern and hostility. I had anticipated something like this ever since my talk with Paul but I had not thought it would come so swiftly or so boldly.

Paul spoke for Cave. “We’ve got the Congress and the Congress will make a law for us. For the time being, though, it _is_ against the present statutes; however, we’ve been assured by our lawyers that there isn’t much chance of their being invoked except perhaps in the remaining pockets of Christianity where we’ll go slow until we do have the necessary laws to protect us.”

At that moment the line which had, from the very beginning, been visibly drawn between me and them, became a wall apparent to everyone. Even Clarissa, my usual ally, fearless and sharp, did not speak out. They looked at me, all of them awaiting a sign; even Cave regarded me with curiosity.

My hand shook and I was forced to seize the edge of the table to steady myself. The sensation of cold glass and iron gave me a sudden courage. I brought Cave’s life to its end.

I turned to him and said, quietly, with all the firmness I could summon: “Then you’ll have to die as well as they, and soon.”

There was a shocked silence. Iris shut her eyes. Paul gasped and sat back abruptly in his chair. Cave turned white but he did not flinch. His eyes did not waver. They seized on mine, terrible and remote, full of power; with an effort, I looked past him. I still feared his gaze.

“What did you say?” The voice was curiously mild yet it increased rather than diminished the tension. We had reached the crisis, without a plan.

“You have removed the fear of death for which future generations will thank you, as I do. But you have gone too far ... all of you.” I looked about me at the pale faces; a faint wisp of new moon curled in the pale sky above. “Life is to be lived until the flesh no longer supports the life within. The meaning of life, Cave, is more life, not death. The enemy of life is death, an enemy not to be feared but no less hostile for all that, no less dangerous, no less wrong when the living choose it instead of life, either for themselves or for others. You’ve been able to dispel our fear of the common adversary; that was your great work in the world ... now you want to go further, to make love to this enemy we no longer fear, to mate with death ... and it is here that you, all of you, become the enemies of life.”

“Stop it!” Iris’s voice was high and clear. I did not look at her. All that I could do now was to force the climax.

“But sooner or later every act of human folly creates its own opposition. This will too, more soon than late, for if one can make any generality about human beings it is that they want _not_ to die. You cannot stampede them into death for long. They are enthusiastic now. They may not be soon ... unless of course there is some supreme example before them, one which you, Cave, can alone supply. _You_ will have to die by your own hand to show the virtue and the truth of all that you have said.”

I had gone as far as I could. I glanced at Iris while I spoke; she had grown white and old-looking and, while I watched her, I realized whom it was she resembled, the obscure nagging memory which had disturbed me all through dinner: she was like my mother, a woman long dead, one whose gentle blurred features had been strikingly similar to that frightened face which now stared at me as though I were a murderer.

Paul was the one who answered me. “You’re out of your mind, Gene,” he said, when my meaning had at least penetrated to them all. “It doesn’t follow in the least that Cave must die because others want to. The main work is still ahead of him. This country is only a corner of the world. There’s some of Europe and most of Asia and Africa still ahead of us. How can you even suggest he quit now and die?”

“The work will be done whether he lives or not, as you certainly know. He’s given it the first impetus. The rest is up to the others, to the ambitious, the inspired ... we’ve met enough of _them_ these last few years: they’re quite capable of finishing the work without us.”

“But it’s nothing without Cave.”

I shrugged. I was suddenly relieved as the restraint of three furious years went in a rush. “I am as devoted to Cave as anyone,” I said (and I was, I think, honest). “I don’t want him to die but all of you in your madness have made it impossible for him to live. He’s gone now to the limit, to the last boundary: he is the son of death and each of you supports him. I don’t, for it was only my wish to make life better, not death desirable. I never really believed it would come to this: that you, Cave, would speak out for death, against life.” I raised my eyes to his. To my astonishment he had lowered his lids as though to hide from me, to shut me out. His head was shaking oddly from left to right and his lips were pressed tight together.

I struck again, without mercy. “But don’t stop now. You’ve got your wish. By all means, build palaces if you like for those who choose to die in your name. But remember that you will be their victim, too. The victim of their passionate trust. They will force you to lead the way and _you_ must be death’s lover, Cave.”

He opened his eyes and I was shocked to see them full of tears. “I’m not afraid,” he said.

NINE

1

A few days after our disastrous dinner, Clarissa came to me in my office. It was our first real meeting since her return from Europe. It was also my first meeting with any one of the directors for, since the scene on the penthouse terrace, none had come near me, not even Paul whom I usually saw at least once a day.

Clarissa seemed tired but fashionable in summer lace. She sat down heavily in the chair beside my desk and looked at me oddly. “Recriminations?” I asked cheerfully: the recent outburst had restored me to perfect health and equanimity. I was prepared for anything, especially battle.

“You’re an absolute fool and you know it,” she said at last. “I suppose there are wires in here, recording everything we say.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised. Fortunately, I have no secrets.”

“There’s no doubt of that,” she glared at me. “There was no need to rush things.”

“You mean you anticipated this?”

“What else? Where else could it lead? The same thing happened to Christ, you know. They kept pushing him to claim the kingdom. Finally, they pushed too hard and he was killed. It was the killing which perpetuated the legend.”

“And a number of other things.”

“In any case, it’s all gone too far. Also, I don’t think you even begin to see what you’ve done.”

“Done? I’ve merely brought the whole thing into the open ... as well as put myself on record as being opposed to this ... this passion for death.”

“That of course is nonsense. Just because a few nitwits....”

“A few? Have you seen the statistics? Every month there are a few hundred more and as soon as Stokharin gets his damned roadhouses for would-be suicides going we may find that....”

“I always assumed Paul made up the statistics. But even if they _are_ true, even if a few hundred thousand people decide to slip away every year, I am in favor of it. There are too many people as it is and most of them aren’t worth the room they take up. I suspect all this is just one of nature’s little devices to reduce the population ... like pederasty on those Greek islands.”

“You’re outrageous.”

“I’m perfectly rational which is more than I can say for you. Anyway, the reason I’ve come to see you today is, first, to warn you and, second, to say good-by.”

“Good-by? You’re not....”

“Going to kill myself?” she laughed. “Not in a hundred years ... though I must say lately I’ve begun to feel old. No, I’m going away. I’ve told Paul that I’ve had my fun, that you’re all on your own and that I want no part of what’s to come.”

“Where will you go?”

“Who knows? Now for the warning: Paul of course is furious at you and so is Iris.”

“Perfectly understandable. What did he say?”

“Nothing good. I talked to him this morning. I won’t enrage you by repeating all the expletives; it’s enough to say he’s eager to get you out of the way. He feels you’ve been a malcontent all along.”

“He’ll have trouble getting me to take Stokharin’s magic pill.”

“He may not leave it up to you,” said Clarissa significantly, and, inadvertently, I shuddered. I had of course wondered if they would dare go so far. I had doubted it but the matter-of-fact Clarissa enlightened me. “Watch out for him, especially if he becomes friendly. You must remember that with the country Cavite and with Paul in charge of the organization you haven’t much chance.”

“I’ll take what I have.”

Clarissa looked at me without, I could see, much hope; it was disagreeable. “What you don’t know, and this is my last good deed for in a sense I’m responsible for getting you into this, is that you accidentally gave the game away.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Paul has been planning for over a year to do away with Cave. He feels that Cave’s usefulness is over; he’s also uneasy about letting him loose in the world. Paul wants full control of the establishment and he can’t have it while Cave lives. Paul also realizes ... he’s much cleverer than you’ve ever thought, by the way ... that the Cavites need a symbol, some great sacrifice and obviously Cave’s suicide is the answer. It is Paul’s intention either to get Cave to kill himself or else to do it for him and then announce that Cave, of his own free will, chose to die.”

I had the brief sensation of a man drowning. “How do you know all this?”

“I have two eyes; also, Iris told me.”

“She knows too?”

“Of course she knows! Why else do you think she’s so anxious to get Cave away from this place? She knows Paul can have him killed at any time and no one would be the wiser.”

I grunted with amazement: I understood now what it was that had happened on the terrace. I felt a perfect fool. Of them all I alone had been unaware of what was going on beneath the surface and, in my folly, I had detonated the situation without knowing it. “_He_ knows too?” I asked weakly.

“Of course he does; he’s on his guard every minute against Paul.”

“Why has no one ever told me this?”

Clarissa shrugged. “They had no idea which side you’d take. They still don’t know. Paul believes that you are with him and though he curses you for an impetuous fool, he’s decided that perhaps it’s a good idea now to bring all this into the open, at least among ourselves. He hopes for a majority vote in the directors’ meeting to force Cave to kill himself.”

“And Cave?”

“Has no wish to die ... sensible man.”

“I am a fool.”

“What I’ve always told you, dear.” Clarissa smiled at me. “I will say, though, that you are the only one of the lot who has acted for an impersonal reason, and certainly none of them understands you except me. I am on your side, in a way. Voluntary deaths don’t alarm me the way they do you but this obsession which Cave has of death being preferable to life may have ghastly consequences.”

“What can I do?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea. It’s enough that you were warned in advance.”

“What would _you_ do?”

“Exactly what I’m going to do: pull out for good and take a long trip.”

“I mean if you were I.”

She sighed. “Save your life, if possible; that’s all you can do.”

“I have a few weapons, you know. I have the _Journal_ and I’m a director. I have friends in every Center.” This was almost true. I had made a point of knowing as many Residents as possible. “I also have Iris and Cave on my side since I’m willing to do all I can to keep him alive, that he _not_ become a supreme symbol.”

“I wish you luck,” Clarissa was most cynical. She rose. “Now that I’ve done my bit of informing, I’m off.”

“Europe?”

“None of your business. But I _will_ tell you I won’t go back there: they’ve gone quite mad too. In Madrid I pretended to be a Catholic and I watched them put Cavites up before firing squads. Of course our people, despite persecution, are having a wonderfully _exciting_ time with passwords and peculiar college fraternity handclasps and so on.” She collected her gloves and handbag from the floor where, as usual, she had strewn them. “Well, now good-by.” She gave me a kiss; then she was gone. I never saw her again.

2

Events moved rapidly. I took to bolting my bedroom door at night and, during the day, I was careful always to have one or another of my assistants near me. It was a strange sensation to be living in a modern city with all its police and courts and yet to fear that, in a crisis, there would be no succor, no one to turn to for aid and protection. We were a separate government within the nation and the laws did not reach us.

The day after Clarissa had said good-by, Paul appeared in my office. I was surrounded by editors but at a look from him and a gesture from me they withdrew. We had each kept our secret, evidently, for none of those close to us in that building suspected that there had been a fatal division.

“I seem to be in disgrace,” I said, my forefinger delicately caressing the buzzer which I had built into the arm of my chair so that I might summon aid in the event that a visitor proved to be either a bore or a maniac, two types curiously drawn to enterprises such as ours.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Paul sat in a chair close to my own; I recall thinking, a little madly, that elephants are supposed to be at their most dangerous when they are quite still. Paul was noticeably controlled. Usually he managed to cross the room at least once for every full sentence; now he sat looking at me, his face without expression.

“I’ve seen no one since our dinner except Clarissa,” I explained; then I added, earnestly: “I wonder where she plans to go. She didn’t....”

“You’ve almost wrecked everything,” he said, his voice tight, unfamiliar in its tension.

“I didn’t want to,” I said, inaccurately. I was at the moment more terrified than I’d ever been, either before or since. I could get no real grip on him: the surface he presented me was as formidable, as granitic as a prison wall.

“Who told you? Iris? Cave? or were you spying?” Each question was fired at me like a bullet.

“Spying on whom?”

“On me, damn you!” Then it broke. The taut line of control which had held in check his anger and his fear broke all at once and the torrent flowed, reckless and overpowering: “You meddling idiot! You spied on me; you found out; you thought you’d be able to stall things by springing it like that. Well, you failed.” I recall thinking, quite calmly, how much I preferred his face in the congested ugliness of rage to its ordinary banality of expression. I was relieved, too, by the storm. I could handle him when he was out of control. I considered my counteroffensive while he shouted at me, accused me of hostility to him, of deviationism from Cavesword and of numerous other crimes. He stopped, finally, for lack of breath.

“I gather,” I said, my voice shaking a little from excitement, “that at some point recently you decided that Cave should apply Cavesword to himself and die, providing us with a splendid example, an undying (I mean no pun) symbol.”

“You know you found out and decided to get in on the act, to force my hand. Now he’ll never do it.”

That was it then. I was relieved to be no longer in the dark. “Cave has refused to kill himself?”

“You bet your sweet life he has.” Paul was beginning to recover his usual poise. “Your little scene gave him the excuse he needed: 'Gene’s right.’” Paul imitated Cave’s voice with startling accuracy and malice. “'Gene’s right. I never did mean for everybody to kill themselves off ... where’d the world be if _that_ happened? Just a few people. That’s all.’ And he’s damned if he’s going to be one of them. 'Hate to set that sort of example.’”

“Well, you’ll have to try something else then.”

“Why did you do it?” Paul’s voice became petulant. “Did Iris put you up to it?”

“Nobody put me up to it.”

“You mean to sit there and try to make me believe that it just occurred to you, like that, to suggest Cave would have to kill himself if he encouraged suicide?”

“I mean that it occurred to me exactly like that.” I looked at Paul with vivid loathing. “Can’t you understand even the obvious relationship between cause and effect? With this plan of Stokharin’s you’ll make it impossible for Cave _not_ to commit suicide and, when he does, you will have an international death cult which I shall do my best to combat.”

Paul’s hands began nervously to play with his tie, his lapels: I wondered if he’d come armed. I placed my finger lightly upon the buzzer. Implacably, we faced one another.

“You are not truly Cavesword” was all that he said.

“We won’t argue about that. I’m merely explaining to you why I said what I did and why I intend to keep Cave alive as long as possible. Alive and hostile to you, to your peculiar interpretation of his word.”

Paul looked suddenly disconsolate. “I’ve done what I thought best. I feel Cave should show us all the way. I feel it’s both logical and necessary to the Establishment that he give back his life publicly.”

“But he doesn’t want to.”

“That is the part I can’t understand. Cavesword is that death is not to be feared but embraced yet he, the man who has really changed the world, refuses to die.”

“Perhaps he feels he has more work to do. More places to see. Perhaps, Paul, he doesn’t trust you ... doesn’t want to leave you in control of the Establishment.”

“I’m willing to get out if that’s all that’s stopping him.” But the insincerity of this protestation was too apparent for either of us to contemplate for long.

“I don’t care what his motives are. I don’t care if he himself is terrified of dying (and I have a hunch that that is the real reason for his hesitancy) but I _do_ know that I don’t want him dead by his own hand.”

“You’re quite sure of that?”

“Absolutely sure. I’m a director of the Establishment and don’t forget it, Paul: it’s Iris, Cave and I against you and Stokharin. You may control the organization but we have Cave himself.” I gathered courage in my desperation. I purposely sounded as though I were in warm concert with the others.

“I realize all that.” Paul was suddenly meek, conciliatory, sublimely treacherous. “But you must allow me as much sincerity as you withhold for yourself. I want to do what’s best. I think he should die and I’ve done everything to persuade him. He was near agreement when you upset everything.”

“For which I’m happy ... though it was something of an accident. Are you sure that it is only for the sake of Cavesword you want him dead?”

“What other possible reason?” He looked at me indignantly. I could not be sure whether he was telling the truth or not. I doubted it.

“Many other reasons. For one thing you would be his heir, in complete control of the Establishment; and that of course is something worth inheriting.”

Paul shrugged convincingly. “I’m as much in charge now as I would be with him dead,” he said with a certain truth. “I’m interested in Cavesword, not in Cave. If his death enhances and establishes the Word more securely then I must do all I can to convince him to take that course.”

“There is another way,” I said, smiling at the pleasant thought.

“Another way?”

“To convince us of your dedication and sincerity to Cavesword.”

“What’s that?”

“You kill _yourself_, Paul.”

There was a long silence. I pressed the buzzer and my secretary came in. Without a word, Paul left.

Immediately afterwards, I took the private elevator to Cave’s penthouse. Two guards stopped me while I was announced by a third. After a short delay, I was admitted to Cave’s study, but not to Cave; instead, Iris received me.

“I know what’s happening,” I said. “Where is he?”

“Obviously you do.” Her voice was cold. She did not ask me to sit down. Awkwardly, I faced her at the room’s center.

“We must stop him.”

“John? Stop him from what?”

“Doing what Paul wants him to do.”

“And what you want as well.”

“You’re mistaken. I thought I made myself clear the other night. But though my timing was apparently bad, under _no_ circumstances do I want him to die.”

“You made your speech to force him.”

“And Paul thinks I made it to stop him.” I couldn’t help smiling. “I am, it seems, everyone’s enemy.”

“Paul has told me everything. How you and he and Stokharin all decided, without consulting us, that John should die.”

I was astonished at Paul’s boldness. Could he really be moving so swiftly? How else explain such a prodigious lie? I told her quickly, urgently what I felt, what I had said to Paul and he to me. She heard me to the end without expressing either belief or disbelief. When I’d finished she turned away from me and went to the window where, through yellow glass, the city rose upon the band of horizon.

“It’s too late,” she said, evenly. “I hadn’t expected this. Perhaps you’re telling me the truth ... if you are, you’ve made a terrible mistake.” She turned about suddenly, with a precision which was almost military. “He’s going to do it.”

The awful words fell like a weight upon a scale. I felt blindly for a chair and sat down, all strength gone. “Stop him,” I said, all that I could say. “Stop him.”

“It’s too late for that.” She took pity on me. “I think you’re telling me the truth. Gene.” She came over to where I was sitting and looked down at me gently. “I’m sorry I accused you. I should have realized Paul was lying.”

“_You_ can stop him.”

“I can’t. I’ve tried but I can’t.” Her control was extraordinary. I did not then guess the reason for her calm, her strength.

“Then I must try.” I stood up. She backed away at the expression on my face.

“You can’t do anything. He won’t see you. He won’t see anyone but me.”

“I thought he told Paul he agreed with me, that he didn’t want to ... to countenance all this, that he....”

“At first he took your side, if it is really what you yourself feel: then he thought about it and ... this morning he decided to go ahead with Paul’s plan.”

I was confused. “Does Paul know?”

Iris smiled wanly. “John is reserving for himself the pleasure of doing what he must do without Paul’s assistance.”

“Or knowledge?”

Iris shrugged. “Paul will find out about it this evening, I suppose. There will be an announcement. John’s secretary is getting it ready now ... one for the public and another for the Establishment.”

“When will it happen?”

“Tomorrow. I go with him, Gene.”

“You? You’re not going to die too?”

“I don’t see that it makes much difference what I do when John dies.”

“You can’t leave us now. You can’t leave Paul in charge of everything. He’s a dangerous man. Why, if....”

“You’ll be able to handle him.” It was perfectly apparent to me that she was no longer interested in me or in the others; not even in the fate of the work we had begun.

“It’s finished, if you go too,” I said bleakly. “Together we could control Paul; alone, I’d not last ten days. Iris, let me talk to him.”

“I can’t. I won’t.”

I contemplated pushing by her and searching the penthouse but there were guards everywhere and I had no wish to be shot myself on such an errand.

She guessed my thought and said, quickly “There’s no possible way for you or anyone to get through to him. Sometime tonight or tomorrow he will leave and that’s the end.”