RIDERS OF THE PURPLE WAGE or The Great Gavage

The Director gestures at the police to remove Runic. Ruskinson is still shouting, although the cameras are pointing at Runic or Luscus. One of the Young Radishes, Huga Wells-Erb Heinsturbury, the science-fiction authoress, is shaking with hysteria generated by Runic's voice and with a lust for revenge. She is sneaking up on a _Time_ fido man. _Time_ has long ago ceased to be a magazine, since there are no magazines, but became a government-supported communications bureau. _Time_ is an example of Uncle Sam's left-hand, right-hand, hands-off policy of providing communications bureaus with all they need and at the same time permitting the bureau executives to determine the bureau policies. Thus, government provision and free speech are united. This is fine, in theory, anyway.

_Time_ has preserved several of its original policies, that is, truth and objectivity must be sacrificed for the sake of a witticism and science-fiction must be put down. Time has sneered at every one of Heinsturbury's works, and so she is out to get some personal satisfaction for the hurt caused by the unfair reviews.

"_Quid nunc? Cui bono_?

Time? Space? Substance? Accident?

When you die -- Hell? Nirvana?

Nothing is nothing to think about.

The canons of philosophy boom.

Their projectiles are duds.

The ammo heaps of theology blow up,

Set off by the saboteur Reason.

"Call me Ephraim, for I was halted

At the Ford of God and could not tongue

The sibilance to let me pass.

Well, I can't pronounce shibboleth,

But I can say shit!"

Huga Wells-Erb Heinsturbury kicks the _Time_ fido man in the balls. He throws up his hands, and the football-shaped, football-sized camera sails from his hands and strikes a youth on the head. The youth is a Young Radish, Ludwig Euterpe Mahlzart. He is smoldering with rage because of the damnation of his tone poem, _Jetting The Stuff Of Future Hells_, and the camera is the extra fuel needed to make him blaze up uncontrollably. He punches the chief musical critic in his fat belly.

Huga, not the _Time_ man, is screaming with pain. Her bare toes have struck the hard plastic armor with which the _Time_ man, recipient of many such a kick, protects his genitals. Huga hops around on one foot while holding the injured foot in her hands. She twirls into a girl, and there is a chain effect. A man falls against the _Time_ man, who is stooping over to pick up his camera.

"Ahaaa!" Huga screams and tears off the _Time_ man's helmet and straddles him and beats him over the head with the optical end of the camera. Since the solid-state camera is still working, it is sending to billions of viewers some very intriguing, if dizzying, pictures. Blood obscures one side of the picture, but not so much that the viewers are wholly cheated. And then they get another novel shot as the camera flies into the air again, turning over and over.

A bolgan has shoved his shock-stick against her back, causing her to stiffen and propel the camera in a high arc behind her. Huga's current lover grapples with the bolgan; they roll on the floor; a Westwood juvenile picks up the shock-stick and has a fine time goosing the adults around him until a local youth jumps him.

"Riots are the opium of the people," the police chief groans. He calls in all units and puts in a call to the chief of police of West-wood, who is, however, having his own troubles.

Runic beats his breast and howls

"Sir, I exist! And don't tell me,

As you did Crane, that that creates

No obligation in you towards me.

I am a man; I am unique.

I've thrown the Bread out the window,

Pissed in the Wine, pulled the plug

From the bottom of the Ark, cut the Tree

For firewood, and if there were a Holy

Ghost, I'd goose him.

But I know that it all does not mean

A God damned thing,

That nothing means nothing,

That is is is and not-is not is is-not

That a rose is a rose is a

That we are here and will not be

And that is all we can know!"

Ruskinson sees Chib coming towards him, squawks, and tries to escape. Chib seizes the canvas of _Dogmas from a Dog_ and batters Ruskinson over the head with it. Luscus protests in horror, not because of the damage done to Ruskinson but because the painting might be damaged. Chib turns around and batters Luscus in the stomach with the oval's edge.

"The earth lurches like a ship going down,

Its back almost broken by the flood of

Excrement from the heavens and the deeps,

What God in His terrible munificence

Has granted on hearing Ahab cry,

Bullshit! Bullshit!

"I weep to think that this is Man

And this his end. But wait!

On the crest of the flood, a three-master

Of antique shape. The Flying Dutchman!

And Ahab is astride a ship's deck once more.

Laugh, you Fates, and mock, you Norns!

For I am Ahab and I am Man,

And though I ca

Through the wall of What Seems

To grab a handful of What Is,

Yet, I will keep on punching.

And I and my crew will not give up,

Though the timbers split beneath our feet

And we sink to become indistinguishable

From the general excrement.

"For a moment that will burn on the

Eye of God forever, Ahab stands

Outlined against the blaze of Orion,

Fist clenched, a bloody phallus,

Like Zeus exhibiting the trophy of

The unma

And then he and his crew and ship

Dip and hurtle headlong over

The edge of the world.

And from what I hear, they are still

F

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Chib is shocked into a quivering mass by a jolt from a bolgan's electrical riot stick. While he is recovering, he hears his Grandpa's voice issuing from the transceiver in his hat.

"Chib, come quick! Accipiter has broken in and is trying to get through the door of my room!"

Chib gets up and fights and shoves his way to the exit. When he arrives, panting, at his home he finds that the door to Grandpa's room has been opened. The IRB men and electronic technicians are standing in the hallway. Chib bursts into Grandpa's room. Accipiter is standing in its middle and is quivering and pale. Nervous stone. He sees Chib and shrinks back, saying, "It wasn't my fault. I had to break in. It was the only way I could find out for sure. It wasn't my fault; I didn't touch him."

Chib's throat is closing in on itself. He ca

THROUGH BALAKLAVAS OF HATE, THEY CHARGE TOWARDS GOD

For most of my life, I have seen only a truly devout few and a great majority of truly indifferent. But there is a new spirit abroad. So many young men and women have revived, not a love for God, but a violent antipathy towards Him. This excites and restores me. Youths like my grandson and Runic shout blasphemies and so worship Him. If they did not believe, they would never think about Him. I now have some confidence in the future.

TO THE STICKS VIA THE STYX

Dressed in black, Chib and his mother go down the tube entrance to level 13B. It's luminous-walled, spacious, and the fare is free. Chib tells the ticket-fido his destination. Behind the wall, the protein computer, no larger than a human brain, calculates. A coded ticket slides out of a slot. Chib takes the ticket, and they go to the bay, a great incurve, where he sticks the ticket into a slot. Another ticket protrudes, and a mechanical voice repeats the information on the ticket in World and LA English, in case they can't read.