The Story of B (Ishmael 2) - Page 32

“That’s right. The Zeugen too were nomadic herders, and when they looked at the Tak revolution, they didn’t see a technological advance or anything remotely like a technological advance. What they saw was an overturning of the order of the universe. They saw, as you have, that totalitarian agriculture isn’t about food, it’s about power—power over who lives and who dies in the world. Is it clear why they would see it that way?”

“Talk about it some.”

“The easiest way to see it is by example. According to totalitarian agriculture, cows may live but wolves must die. According to totalitarian agriculture, chickens may live but foxes must die. According to totalitarian agriculture, wheat may live but chinch bugs must die. Anything we eat may live, but anything that eats our food must die—and not merely on an ad hoc basis. Our posture is not, ‘If a coyote attacks my herd, I’ll kill it,’ our posture is, ‘Let’s wipe coyotes off the face of the earth.’ When it came to wolves and cows, we said, ‘Let the wolves be destroyed,’ and the wolves were destroyed, and we said, ‘Let there be cows by the billion,’ and there were cows by the billion.”

“Okay, I get it.”

“Who ordinarily wields this power?”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at it from the point of view of some nomadic herders of ten thousand years ago. Who decides who lives and dies on this planet?”

“The gods.”

“Of course. Now, the way the Zeugen imagined it, the gods have a special knowledge that enables them to rule the world. This knowledge includes the knowledge of who should live and who should die, but it embraces much more than that. This is the general knowledge the gods employ in every choice they make. What the Zeugen perceived is this, that every choice the gods make is good for one creature but evil for another, and if you think about it, it really can’t be otherwise. If the quail goes out to hunt and the gods send it a grasshopper, then this is good for the quail but evil for the grasshopper. And if the fox goes out to hunt, and the gods send it a quail, then this is good for the fox but evil for the quail. And vice versa, of course. If the fox goes out to hunt, and the gods withhold the quail, then this is good for the quail but evil for the fox. Do you see what I mean?”

“Of course.”

“When the Zeugen saw what the Tak were up to, they said to themselves, ‘These people have eaten at the gods’ own tree of wisdom, the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.’”

I said, “Yipes.” I’m not sure I ever uttered that syllable before in my life, but I did then. “Where did you get this?”

“This is one of Ishmael’s contributions.”

“Have you ever tried it out on a biblical scholar?”

B nodded. “Biblical scholars have seen it, and so far none has found any reason to quarrel with it. One said it was the only explanation he’d ever seen that makes sense.”

“It’s the only one I’ve seen that makes sense, and I’ve seen them all.”

I remember sitting there frozen for two or three minutes while I tried to work out all the implications of this new interpretation of the story of the Fall. When at last I shook my head and gave up, B went on.

“I felt I had to bring this out in order to drive home the point I’ve been trying to make about this revolution. Even the authors of the story in Genesis described it as a matter of changed minds. What they saw being born in their neighbors was not a new lifestyle but a new mind-set, a mind-set that made us out to be as wise as the gods, that made the world out to be a piece of human property, that gave us the power of life and death over the world. They thought this new mindset would be the death of Adam—and events are proving them right.”

I threw down my napkin and said, “I’m full up.”

B gave me a look of frowning puzzlement.

“That’s all I can take for tonight,” I told him.

“But it’s early!”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but I can’t take in any more, and I’ve got to figure out how this is going to be transmitted to Fr. Lulfre. I can’t just send him a transcript of the tape. If he got the idea that I was becoming the sorcerer’s apprentice, he’d pull me out in an instant.”

B shrugged. “I agree. We can’t risk that.”

We arranged to meet for dinner the next day.

When I got back to my room, I resisted the temptation offered by the bed. I wanted to get a fax off to Fr. Lulfre by three or four in the morning so as to maintain the pattern I’d established in previous days.

It was my thought to translate my conversation with B into a series of vignettes in the style of the gospels—“A man came up to Jesus and said …” or “Jesus was met by a large crowd, one of whom shouted …” I’m not sure I produced anything very convincing. On the other hand, why would Fr. Lulfre suspect me of fabrication? (Answer: Because his thought processes are nothing remotely like mine.)

It’s five A.M. and I feel wired as tight as a harpsichord. I hope a slug of whiskey will let me sleep.

Tuesday, May 21

Faith and its degrees

Tags: Daniel Quinn Ishmael Classics
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