Robert Pirsig - Lila. An Inquiry Into Morals

Now he remembered he had seen them before, in Oswego, on a large boat called the Karma, and they had seemed a little clannish.

They act like they don’t think much of this place, Capella said.

They just want to get south, Rigel said.

There’s something about them though, Capella said. Like they don’t approve of what they see.

Well, I approve of that, Rigel said.

What do you mean? Capella asked.

They’re moral people, Rigel said. We could use a little of that.

One of the Canadians who had been studying jukebox selections had pushed some buttons and lights now radiated from it and rotated around the room.

A blast of noise hit them. The speaker was set way too loud. Phædrus tried to say something to Capella. Capella cupped his hand to his ear and laughed. Phædrus threw up his hands and they both sat back and listened and drank their ale.

More people had come in and now the place was really getting crowded; a lot of local people it seemed like, but they seemed to mix with the sailors just fine, as though they were used to each other. With all the ale and noise and friendliness of strangers this was beginning to be sort of a great little joint. He drank and listened and watched little patches of light from some sort of disco machine attached to the jukebox circle around on the ceiling.

His thoughts began to drift. He thought of what Rigel had said. The East was a different country. The difference was hard to identify — you felt it more than you saw it.

Some of the Hudson valley architecture had a Currier-and-Ives feeling of the early 1800s, a feeling of slow, decent, orderly life that preceded the Industrial Revolution. Minnesota, where Phædrus came from, never shared that. It was mostly forests and Indians and log cabins back then.

Traveling across America by water was like going back in time and seeing how it must have been long ago. He was following old trade routes that were used before railways became dominant. It was amazing how parts of this river still looked the same as the old Hudson River school of painting showed it, with beautiful forests, and mountains in the distance.

As the boat moved south he’d seen a growing aura of social structure, particularly in the mansions that had become more numerous. Their styles were getting more and more removed from the frontier. They were getting closer and closer to Europe.

Two of the Canadians at the bar were a man and a woman up against each other so close you couldn’t have slipped a letter-opener between them. When the music stopped Phædrus motioned to Rigel and Capella to notice them. The man had his hand on the woman’s thigh and the woman was smiling and drinking as though nothing was happening.

Phædrus asked Rigel, Are these some of your moral Canadians?

Capella laughed.

Rigel glanced over for a second and glanced back with a frown. There are two kinds, he said. The one kind disapproves of this country for all the junk they find here, and the other kind loves this country for all the junk they find here.

He motioned with his head to the two and was going to say something but then the music and the lights started up again and he threw up his hands and Capella laughed and they sat back again.

After a while, it began to feel cold. The door was open. A woman stood there, her eyes combing the room as though she was looking for someone.

Someone shouted, CLOSE THE DOOR!

The woman and Rigel looked at each other for a long time. It looked as though he was the one she was looking for but then she kept on looking.

CLOSE THE DOOR! someone else shouted.

They’re talking to you, Lila, Rigel said.

Apparently she saw what she was looking for because suddenly her entire expression turned furious. She slammed the door with all her might.

That SUIT you? she shouted.

Rigel looked at her without expression and then turned back to the table.

The music stopped. Phædrus asked with a wink, Is that one of the ones who love us?

No, she’s not even a Canadian, Rigel said.

Phædrus asked, Who is she? Rigel didn’t say anything.

Where’s she from?

Don’t have anything to do with her, Rigel said.

Suddenly they were hit again by another blast of noise.

TAKE A BREAK!… it blared out.

The colored lights flashed around the room again.

LET’S GET TOGETHER!…

ME AND YOU!

Capella held up an ale can questioningly to see if anyone wanted more. Phædrus nodded yes and Capella went off.

AND DO THE THING…

AND DO THE THING…

THAT WE LIKE…

TO DO!…

Rigel said something, but Phædrus couldn’t hear him. The tall Canadian with the roving hand and his girlfriend were on the dance floor. He watched them for a while, and as you might know, they were good.

DO A LITTLE DANCE…

MAKE A LITTLE LOVE…

GET DOWN TONIGHT…

GET DOWN TONIGHT

Sensual. Short driving bursts of sound. A black sermon, up from the ghetto.

He watched Lila, who was now sitting by herself at the bar. Something about her really held his attention. Sex, he guessed.

She had the usual junk cosmetics; blond tinted hair, red nails, nothing original, except that it all came out X-rated. You just sort of felt instantly right away without having to think twice about it what it was she did best. But there was something in her expression that looked almost explosive.

When the music stopped the sexy Canadian and his girl came off from the dance floor. They saw her and almost stopped, then went forward slowly to the bar. Then Phædrus saw her say something to them and three people around them suddenly stiffened. The man turned around and actually looked scared. He took his arm off the girlfriend and turned to Lila. He must have been the one Lila was looking for. He said something to her and she said something back to him and then he nodded and nodded again, then he and the woman looked at each other and turned to the bar and said nothing to Lila at all. The others around them gradually turned back to talking again.

This ale was getting to Phædrus. Still his head seemed strangely clear.

He studied Lila some more: her legs were crossed and her skirt was above her knees. Wide hips. Shiny satin blouse. V-necked and tucked tight into a belt. Under it was a bustline that was hard to look away from. It was a defiant kind of vulgarity, a kind of Mae West thing. She looked a little like Mae West. C’mon and do something, if you’ve got the nerve, she seemed to say.

Some X-rated thoughts passed through his mind. Whatever it is that’s aroused by these cues isn’t put off by any lack of originality. They were doing all kinds of things to his endocrine system. He’d been alone on the water a long time.

DO A LITTLE DANCE…

MAKE A LITTLE LOVE…

GET DOWN TONIGHT…

GET DOWN TONIGHT…

Do you know her? he shouted at Rigel.

Rigel shook his head. Don’t have anything to do with her!

Where’s she from?

The sewer! Rigel said.

Rigel gave him a narrow-eyed glance. Rigel sure was giving a lot of advice tonight.

The door opened and more people came in. Capella returned with an armload of cans.

DO A LITTLE DANCE…

MAKE A LITTLE LOVE…

Capella shouted in Phædrus' ear, NICE, QUIET, REFINED PLACE WE PICKED!!!

Phædrus nodded up and down and smiled.

He could see Lila start to talk to one of the other men at the bar and the man seemed to answer familiarly. But the others kept a distance and held their faces stiff as though they were on guard against something.