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Authors: Michael Moorcock
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nodded vigorously, inviting them, by her example, to smile. “It did me. I daren’t ask what diverting the Nile’s going to cost. But it’s guaranteed terrorist free.”
“Gosh,” said Jerry. Major Nye peered gravely down at his horse’s mane.
“We are born unconscious and we die unconscious.” Karen von Krupp gestured with her whip. “In between we suffer precisely because we are conscious, whereas the other creatures with whom we share this unhappy planet are unconscious forever, no? I was not. I am. I shall not be. Is this the past, present and future? Is this what we desire from Time?”
“Rather.” Bessy nodded for good luck, approval and physical power. All the things deprived her in her childhood. Massive tears of self-pity ran rhythmically down her face. “This heat! These allergies!”
“I must apologize, dear lady. I’m not following you, I fear.”
“This hotel I’m talking about. Two big pyramids. Sheraton are interested already.”
“Ah, but the security.” Karen von Krupp laid her whip against her beautiful leg and arranged her pleated skirt. “These days. What can you guarantee?”
“No problem. Indonesians. Germans. French. British. The cream of the crop.”
“I prefer Nubians,” said Jerry.
“These will be as stated. No Saudis or Pashtoon, either. That’s non-negotiable.”
Jerry looked up. From the far horizon came the steady thump of helicopter engines, then the sharper thwacking oftheir blades. He had a feeling about this. “Nubians or nothing,” he said. And began to run back towards his camel.
Almost at ground level, rising and falling with the dunes, eight engines roaring in a terrible, shrill chorus, the massive, two-tiered monster of mankind’s miserable imagination, the Dornier DoX flying boat appeared over the oasis and attempted to land on the brackish water from which their camels were now shying. Their clothing and harnesses were whipped by the wind from its propellers. As soon as she had made a pass or two over the watering hole and failed, the Dornier lumbered up into the air and out of sight, still seeking to complete the round-the-world-flight she had begun to break when she set out from the Bavarian lakes four and a half years ago.
“What I can’t work out,” said Jerry, “is how it took them so long to get the power-weight ratio right.”
He cocked his head, listening for the plane’s return.
“I wonder who’s flying her this evening.”
2. THE BRANDY AND SELTZER BOYS
According to quantum theory, a card perfectly balanced on its edge will fall down in what is known as a “superposition”— the card really is in two places at once. If a gambler bets money on the queen landing face up, the gambler’s own state changes to become a superposition of two possible outcomes—winning or losing the bet in either of these parallel worlds, the gambler is unaware of the other outcome and feels as if the card fell randomly.
—Nature
, July 5, 2007
“W E NEED RITUALS , Jerry. We need repetition. We need music and mythology and the constant reassurance that at certain times of the day we can visit the waterhole in safety. Without ritual, we are worthless. That’s what the torturer knows when he takes away even the consistent repetition of our torment.” Bunny Burroughs ordered another beer. There were still a few minutes to Curtain Up. This was to be the first time Gloria Cornish and Una Persson had appeared on the same stage. A revival.
The Arcadians
.
“These are on me.” Jerry signed for the bill. “Repetition is a kind of death. It’s what hopeless people do—what loonies do—sitting and rocking and muttering the same meaningless mantras over and over again. That’s not conscious life.”
“We don’t
want
conscious life.” Miss Brunner, coming in late, gave her coat to Bishop Beesley to take to the cloakroom. “Have I got time for a quick G&T? We don’t want real variety. From the catchphrase of the comedian to the reiteration of
“Gosh,” said Jerry. Major Nye peered gravely down at his horse’s mane.
“We are born unconscious and we die unconscious.” Karen von Krupp gestured with her whip. “In between we suffer precisely because we are conscious, whereas the other creatures with whom we share this unhappy planet are unconscious forever, no? I was not. I am. I shall not be. Is this the past, present and future? Is this what we desire from Time?”
“Rather.” Bessy nodded for good luck, approval and physical power. All the things deprived her in her childhood. Massive tears of self-pity ran rhythmically down her face. “This heat! These allergies!”
“I must apologize, dear lady. I’m not following you, I fear.”
“This hotel I’m talking about. Two big pyramids. Sheraton are interested already.”
“Ah, but the security.” Karen von Krupp laid her whip against her beautiful leg and arranged her pleated skirt. “These days. What can you guarantee?”
“No problem. Indonesians. Germans. French. British. The cream of the crop.”
“I prefer Nubians,” said Jerry.
“These will be as stated. No Saudis or Pashtoon, either. That’s non-negotiable.”
Jerry looked up. From the far horizon came the steady thump of helicopter engines, then the sharper thwacking oftheir blades. He had a feeling about this. “Nubians or nothing,” he said. And began to run back towards his camel.
Almost at ground level, rising and falling with the dunes, eight engines roaring in a terrible, shrill chorus, the massive, two-tiered monster of mankind’s miserable imagination, the Dornier DoX flying boat appeared over the oasis and attempted to land on the brackish water from which their camels were now shying. Their clothing and harnesses were whipped by the wind from its propellers. As soon as she had made a pass or two over the watering hole and failed, the Dornier lumbered up into the air and out of sight, still seeking to complete the round-the-world-flight she had begun to break when she set out from the Bavarian lakes four and a half years ago.
“What I can’t work out,” said Jerry, “is how it took them so long to get the power-weight ratio right.”
He cocked his head, listening for the plane’s return.
“I wonder who’s flying her this evening.”
2. THE BRANDY AND SELTZER BOYS
According to quantum theory, a card perfectly balanced on its edge will fall down in what is known as a “superposition”— the card really is in two places at once. If a gambler bets money on the queen landing face up, the gambler’s own state changes to become a superposition of two possible outcomes—winning or losing the bet in either of these parallel worlds, the gambler is unaware of the other outcome and feels as if the card fell randomly.
—Nature
, July 5, 2007
“W E NEED RITUALS , Jerry. We need repetition. We need music and mythology and the constant reassurance that at certain times of the day we can visit the waterhole in safety. Without ritual, we are worthless. That’s what the torturer knows when he takes away even the consistent repetition of our torment.” Bunny Burroughs ordered another beer. There were still a few minutes to Curtain Up. This was to be the first time Gloria Cornish and Una Persson had appeared on the same stage. A revival.
The Arcadians
.
“These are on me.” Jerry signed for the bill. “Repetition is a kind of death. It’s what hopeless people do—what loonies do—sitting and rocking and muttering the same meaningless mantras over and over again. That’s not conscious life.”
“We don’t
want
conscious life.” Miss Brunner, coming in late, gave her coat to Bishop Beesley to take to the cloakroom. “Have I got time for a quick G&T? We don’t want real variety. From the catchphrase of the comedian to the reiteration of
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