inside him. And I wouldn't take a night to guide him through an acid trip if I thought he was a waste of time. He's a beautiful cat, but he's still swimming around in a lot of shit.'
'Don't you?' she asked.
'Sure. And he gives me as much as I give him. The only difference is he doesn't know yet what he's got to give. I'm still a kid in many ways, but in some areas I don't have any confusion left.' He kept talking but his attention went inward again, and his words came out hollow, disconnected. 'I want him with us.'
Cynthia started. 'Us? Who is usV
'The people,' Conrad said. 'The real people.'
Something in his tone called forth a quality of conditioned hysteria that manifested itself as an attitude that might be found in one of the news magazines. His choice of terms gave rise to visions of conspiracy in Cynthia's consciousness and she recoiled slightly from the man who had so suddenly come to assume a demonic form, an agent from a dark underground. She wondered whether association with Conrad was dangerous, whether she and Aaron were being watched because of it, whether they could be arrested. The whole world of wire-tapping and midnight seizures, of narcotics scandals and bombs in cellars, which had been to her a dim tabloid melodrama, came to life in the form of a slender boy, someone who just six months earlier she would have called a hippie.
'Who are you?' she said.
Conrad laughed. It was a rare expression for him. 'I'm just me,' he said. 'I don't represent anybody, I don't belong to any organisation. I'm just one of the people. Us. There are no membership rolls or rules. There's just people. People who are alive. People who know, and don't keep pretending that the world is something other than it is. And we are the revolution, because we aren't dedicated to anything except life. All life. You know that if the oxygen-carbon cycle of the atmosphere is thrown too far off balance everything will die except certain primitive forms of moss. When Jesus said that the meek would inherit the earth he included more than just human beings in his vision.'
She shook her head, she had no experiential tools with which to grasp the concept he was shaping. 'It doesn't make sense,' she said.
He thought a moment and then laughed again. Think of the Mafia,' he said. They call their operation "our thing" and recognise one another by sight. Only we aren't interested in amassing power and wealth. We just want to derail the train the species is taking to its own doom.' He looked across the table and watched the woman with the wrinkled forehead and wondered how much of what he said could possibly penetrate the web of prejudices she had concerning his way of life, in what ways she was translating his words into ideas that did not accurately reflect the reality he was describing. 'We're just friends,' he said at last. 'We live any place, and we do many things. Some are farmers, some blow up banks, some run book stores, some deal dope. There are mothers and children. You know, we are a society. A network of friends. And when we meet one another, even though we've never met before, we know who we are.' He put his elbows on the table. 'The FBI now has special schools to teach their agents how to act like us. As though having love in your heart and intelligence in your eyes was something you could achieve on the basis of attempting to deceive your fellow human beings with the purpose of jailing them. They're incompetents who haven't worked out the principle of cause-and-effect on any higher level than by understanding that pulling a trigger will fire a gun.'
He sat back in his chair, his breath heavy in his chest, his golden hair shimmering like a halo and tumbling to his shoulders, his face glowing with exalted purpose. 'And when we meet people who want to break out of their bags, we help them. Only because we want life to continue.'
'You make it sound very altruistic,' she said. 'I thought you were doing this because you wanted to ball
'Don't you?' she asked.
'Sure. And he gives me as much as I give him. The only difference is he doesn't know yet what he's got to give. I'm still a kid in many ways, but in some areas I don't have any confusion left.' He kept talking but his attention went inward again, and his words came out hollow, disconnected. 'I want him with us.'
Cynthia started. 'Us? Who is usV
'The people,' Conrad said. 'The real people.'
Something in his tone called forth a quality of conditioned hysteria that manifested itself as an attitude that might be found in one of the news magazines. His choice of terms gave rise to visions of conspiracy in Cynthia's consciousness and she recoiled slightly from the man who had so suddenly come to assume a demonic form, an agent from a dark underground. She wondered whether association with Conrad was dangerous, whether she and Aaron were being watched because of it, whether they could be arrested. The whole world of wire-tapping and midnight seizures, of narcotics scandals and bombs in cellars, which had been to her a dim tabloid melodrama, came to life in the form of a slender boy, someone who just six months earlier she would have called a hippie.
'Who are you?' she said.
Conrad laughed. It was a rare expression for him. 'I'm just me,' he said. 'I don't represent anybody, I don't belong to any organisation. I'm just one of the people. Us. There are no membership rolls or rules. There's just people. People who are alive. People who know, and don't keep pretending that the world is something other than it is. And we are the revolution, because we aren't dedicated to anything except life. All life. You know that if the oxygen-carbon cycle of the atmosphere is thrown too far off balance everything will die except certain primitive forms of moss. When Jesus said that the meek would inherit the earth he included more than just human beings in his vision.'
She shook her head, she had no experiential tools with which to grasp the concept he was shaping. 'It doesn't make sense,' she said.
He thought a moment and then laughed again. Think of the Mafia,' he said. They call their operation "our thing" and recognise one another by sight. Only we aren't interested in amassing power and wealth. We just want to derail the train the species is taking to its own doom.' He looked across the table and watched the woman with the wrinkled forehead and wondered how much of what he said could possibly penetrate the web of prejudices she had concerning his way of life, in what ways she was translating his words into ideas that did not accurately reflect the reality he was describing. 'We're just friends,' he said at last. 'We live any place, and we do many things. Some are farmers, some blow up banks, some run book stores, some deal dope. There are mothers and children. You know, we are a society. A network of friends. And when we meet one another, even though we've never met before, we know who we are.' He put his elbows on the table. 'The FBI now has special schools to teach their agents how to act like us. As though having love in your heart and intelligence in your eyes was something you could achieve on the basis of attempting to deceive your fellow human beings with the purpose of jailing them. They're incompetents who haven't worked out the principle of cause-and-effect on any higher level than by understanding that pulling a trigger will fire a gun.'
He sat back in his chair, his breath heavy in his chest, his golden hair shimmering like a halo and tumbling to his shoulders, his face glowing with exalted purpose. 'And when we meet people who want to break out of their bags, we help them. Only because we want life to continue.'
'You make it sound very altruistic,' she said. 'I thought you were doing this because you wanted to ball
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