Christine Brooke-Rose - The Brooke-Rose Omnibus

— But don’t you think there have been enough investigations?

— I don’t accept that. Though it is certainly a viewpoint.

— What do you accept?

— I would say that if the situation does not visibly improve we shall have to consider taking action.

— What sort of action have you in mind?

— Well of course I would have to consult with my committee. Well of course I would have to consult with my cabinet.

— And what action do you suppose your cabinet has in mind?

— Well of course we do not envisage anything as drastic as breaking diplomatic relations with reality, indeed we rather depend on these good relations. We shall do everything in our power to exhaust all possible constitutional means first.

— And then?

— Well, then we shall have to consider taking action.

— I see. What about you sir, do you vote for the Government in power?

— I am the Government in power.

— And you, do you vote for or against the Government in power?

— Last time I was sweet, lick me now, said the salt.

— What do you have against authority?

— I never said I was against.

— So you vote for the Government?

— I never said that.

— Do you prefer to satisfy demand or demand satisfaction?

— I don’t accept that.

— Do you prefer to satisfy demand or demand satisfaction?

— What’s the catch?

— Just answer the question.

— To satisfy demand.

— Would you rather support medical treatment of criminals or medical treatment of politicians?

— Er … politicians.

— What do you have against criminals, don’t you think they need medical treatment as much as anyone else?

— It is certainly a viewpoint.

Inside the jellyfish on the monitor, which is looking heavenwards, another jellyfish can be seen in profile, with the black tentacles flowing up and backwards, then another in quarter profile. The glowing basalt face immediately ahead smiles like a flash-bulb breaking. The black eyes in the pinkish whites gleam with triumph, the triumph perhaps of the fanatic inventor astonished by his own machine, astonished that it works.

— What about you sir, would you rather support the refugee programme or food for the victims of the population explosion?

— Er … food.

— So you like your food?

— No.

— Why are you against the refugees? Are you afraid they will increase the unemployment problem? Your own personal unemployment problem?

— No, of course not. I didn’t mean –

— Do you like reading books?

— Oh, no, I don’t read books, I assure you.

— But don’t you want to improve yourself? Or do you prefer nine-pin bowling with the gang?

— Oh no, I mean, I suppose, I like some books, it depends.

— So you don’t like nine-pin bowling with the gang?

— I … I like, ideally I would like, best I mean, nine-pin bowling on my own, and, secondly, reading books with the gang.

— Do you like laughing?

— Of course. I mean, not immoderately.

— So you often feel excluded from group laughter? Now will you look up at the monitor screen. Do you like it all in red? Or do you prefer it in blue? Pink? Or brown? Violet? Or white? Green? Yellow? Thank you. Do you prefer wood or metal? The sky or the earth? Fire or water? Thank you. Do you love Mrs. Mgulu or Mr. Swaminathan best?

— I love Mrs. Mgulu best and Mr. Swaminathan a little bit more.

— That’s a very good answer! Has someone told you the way to answer that question?

— No. It’s all my own work. My head hurts.

— It’s the mental enema. Hold it just a little longer, we’re nearly through. Do you put your wife and children above your country?

— Yes. No, I mean. In an emergency –

— You have no children, have you?

— Not … now.

— And your country is? … Humanity? Come come. What did you say? Afro-Eurasia. Good. Tell me, what are those innumerable little monomanias I see in your head, no, don’t look up at the monitor, they’re like crushed pieces of paper, or flowers, half-started letters and daydreams. You are given to writing little notes?

— Only in my head.

— Do you think an oral tradition is superior to a written civilization?

— I, no. I wouldn’t say that.

— So you believe in acting out?

— Only in my head.

— Did you enjoy the displacement?

— No.

— Did you enjoy Mrs. Ned?

— The sequence was a failure. Her deep love is too white, too dirty grey I mean, like the convolutions of the brain.

— Do you prefer history or progress?

— There is no such thing as history, save in the privacy of concupiscence.

— This … is … the privacy of concupiscence. I am your doctor, father, God. I build you up. I know everything about you. Your profile is coming up very clearly indeed on the oscillograph, and the profile provokes its own continuation, did you know that, the profile moulds you as it oscillates? Diagnosis provokes its own cause, did you know that? To put it more succinctly, diagnosis prognosticates aetiology, and certainly your depth-psychology personae are most revealing, if somewhat banal, no, don’t look up at the monitor, you see, it only makes the eyes of the jellyfish look heavenwards, but we know the jellyfish is only looking at itself, don’t we? And the jellyfish cannot meet its own eyes. That’s right, you look into the camera with the little red light on, the eyes on the monitor are no longer looking heavenwards but straight out. Of course you can’t see them looking straight out unless you look up in which case they look up too. You cannot catch yourself. But the meeting is not compulsory. Now then, tell me, because you can tell me, you know, what is your occupation?

— Odd … job … man.

— Very nice too. And what was your occupation, before?

— I was a self-made man.

— A contradiction in terms.

— I was chosen among five thousand as the most balanced and normal of men, to be one of twelve representing my country on a special mission in space.

— What were you really?

— An analyser.

— Deeper.

— A synthesiser.

— Deeper.

— An alchemist, lick me now, said the salt.

— Deeper.

Yet another profile is added inside the jellyfish, the outer face of which still looks heavenwards. There must be ten profiles in there at least. Or twenty.

— I don’t know. What’s that flickering light? The sun flickers through the quick plane trees.

— Don’t worry about that. It’s just to increase the neural electricity you give out which helps the oscillograph. Go on.

— An electrician. A builder.

— Deeper.

— A welder.

— Come, come, no false shame. Take off those identities.

— I don’t know. I really don’t know. I see a huge triangle, orange, and a yellow shower, and circles, red … oh.

— Do you love anyone at all?

— Second … law of … thermodynamics … subject to, the whole universe …

— Will you lay down the white man’s burden?

— He is dying. Absolve him … That are heavy laden. Take it up, take it up for me … Oh, father, doctor, touch me, cure me, oh Mr. Swaminathan, I love you.

— Mr. Blob. Thank you very much.

— Oh … Is it over?

— Yes. Mr. Umbassa, would you remove those contraptions from the patient please.

— Is that … all?

— What more d’you want? It was a long run. We have our methods, you know. Besides, there’s a long queue, as you’re well aware, you must have been in it at least two hours.

— Doctor. Is there a secret?

— A secret?

— I mean, what is the answer?

— The answer? The answer’s in biochemistry of course. Here’s a prescription. Take two once a day every morning before breakfast. They’ll cheer you up and help you to cope.