Robert Pirsig - Lila. An Inquiry Into Morals

The Captain got up. I’ve got an appointment now. He picked up his coat. I’ll take care of the bill on the way out, he said. He looked at Lila real pissed. See you later, he said. Then he went.

Lila looked scared.

What the hell you up to, Lila? Jamie said.

You said you weren’t doing anything, she said. Why did you put him down like that? He didn’t do anything to you.

You know what he’s thinking, Jamie said.

You don’t know anything about him, Lila said. He’s just a nice man and a real gentleman.

Well, if you’re making it with this nice gentleman, what are you bringing him here for? If you’re making it with this nice old cracker you better keep right on making it with him, Lila, because you sure ain’t making it anywhere else.

I was just trying to do you a favor, Lila said.

What kind of favor is that?

Well, think about it, Lila said. What do you think is going to happen if we go sailing down to Florida with him? Do you think he’s going to live forever?

Jamie looked at Fatso to see if he heard what she was saying. Fats looked back at him the same way.

You mean you want me to be there to help in case he accidentally happens to fall overboard, or something? Jamie asked.

Yes.

Jamie looked at Fatso again and then looked down. He shook his head and laughed. Then he thought about it some more.

Then he looked up at her, Sometimes I think I’m bad, Lila, and then someone like you comes along and shows me how.

They talked about old times. Millie’s gone. Nobody knows where. Mindy got married, he told her. It’s no good any more, he told her. You don’t know how bad it’s got.

She didn’t listen. All she wanted to do was talk about Florida.

After she left Fatso asked, How long did you know her?

Long time, Jamie said. She used to be good. But she always talked back. That old fart she was with, that’s what she’s good for now. That’s her speed. With him. She walked out on me and I never did nothing to her. Now she should stay the hell away.

I’m so tired of them, Jamie said. Long time ago I used to think they was everything. You know, all the money and the big cars and the big smiles and the big-looking clothes. You know? Padded shoulders. I thought that was really it. Then I got to see what really went on with them and why they have to have all that — that money and boats and furs and padded shoulders and everything.

Why?

Why? Because if they ever lose that big money they got nothing. Under all that big money there is nothing there! Nobody! Nobody home.

I mean it, Jamie said. That’s what drives them people day and night. Trying to cover that up. What we know. They think they fool you. They ain’t foolin' nobody.

They know we got something they haven’t got. And they come here and they going to try to take it away from us. But they can’t figure out what it is. It just drives them crazy. What is it we got they can’t get away from us?

Fatso wondered how far the boat can go.

Did you hear what she said? Fatso asked. That boat can go all the way to South America.

Fatso said he heard about a man out on Long Island who buys boats, no questions.

How much do you think that boat is worth? Fatso said.

Sure would be nice to have a big boat like that, Fatso said. Go sailing down to Florida. Lots of nice stuff down there in Florida.

All kinds of stuff, Fatso said. You know Belford? He goes down to Andrews Island down there and gets all kind of good news. Can make a lot of money that way. If you was on a boat you might put some of that good news where nobody can find it and when you come back take it off again. Nobody know the difference.

Fatso smiled. And if they find it that nice friend of Lila might have to go to jail.

Jamie didn’t say any more to Fatso. But he was thinking.

It was a long way to the hotel but Phædrus felt like walking it. After that blow-up with Lila he needed to walk. This city always made him feel like walking. In the past whenever he’d come here he’d always walked everywhere. Tomorrow he’d be gone.

The skyscrapers rose up all around him now and the street was crowded with people and cars. About twenty or thirty blocks to go, he figured. But these were the short blocks going up and down the island, not the long blocks going across. He could feel himself speeding up.

The New York eyes were everywhere now. Quick, guarded, emotionless. Watch out, they said. Concentrate! Things happen fast around here… Don’t miss those horn honks!

This city! He would never get used to it. He always wanted to fill up with tranquilizers before he arrived. Some day he’d come here without being manic and overwhelmed, but that day hadn’t arrived. Always this wild crazy exhilarated feeling. Crowds, high speed, mental detachment.

It was these crazy skyscrapers. The 3-D. Not just in front of you and in back of you and right of you and left of you — above you and below you too. Thousands of people hundreds of feet up in the air talking on telephones and staring into computers and conferring with each other, as though it were normal. If you call that normal you call anything normal.

A light turned yellow. He hurried across… Drivers run you down and kill you here. That’s why you don’t take tranquilizers. Take tranquilizers and you just might get killed. This adrenalin is protection.

At the curb he hoisted his canvas bag full of mail on his shoulder so he could carry it better, then continued. There must be twenty pounds of mail in it, he thought, all the mail since Cleveland. He could spend the rest of the day reading it in his hotel room. He was so full from that lunch with his editor he could skip supper and just read until his famous visitor showed up.

The magazine interviews seemed to have gone well enough — predictable questions about what he was doing now (writing his next book); what his next book was about (Indians); and what changes had occurred since his first book was written. He knew what to tell them because he’d been a reporter himself once, but for some reason he didn’t tell them about the boat. That was something he didn’t want to share. He’d always heard celebrities led double lives. Here it was, happening… Junk in store windows… radios. Hand-calculators… A woman coming toward him hasn’t clicked yet, that quick New York dart-of-the-eyes, but she will… Here it comes… Click!… Then looks away… She passes by… Like the click of a candid-camera shutter…

This was manic New York, now. Later would come depressive New York. Now everything’s exciting because it’s so different. As soon as the excitement wears off depression will come. It always does.

Culture shock. People who live here all their lives don’t get that culture shock. They can’t go around being overwhelmed all the time. So to cope they seem to pick some small part of it all and try to be on top of that. But they miss something… Someone practicing the piano upstairs… Eee-oh-eee-oh… police wagon… White flowers, chrysanthemums, 70 dollars… Guy in the street on a skateboard, Korean-looking, headed for Leo Vito’s delicatessen. Transients, like himself, who are overwhelmed and get manic and depressive are maybe the ones who really understand the place, the only ones with the Zen shoshin, the beginner’s mind … There he goes… Lovers hand in hand. Not so young either… A pennant of some kind in a half-open window two stories up… Too far away to read. Will never know what it says.