Read Online The illuminatus! trilogy by Robert Shea, Robert Anton Wilson - Free Book Online
Authors: Robert Shea, Robert Anton Wilson
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, Fantasy, Science fiction; American, Visionary & Metaphysical
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everything than anybody else on God’s green earth. I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about.
“What do you mean, bugs?” I asked. It was better than talking about money.
“The john,” he said with a know-it-all grin. “He’s important, you said. So his house has bugs. He probably keeps taking them out, and the FBI keeps coming back and putting in new ones. I bet he was very quiet when he was making it with you, right?” I nodded, remembering. “See. He couldn’t stand the thought of those Feds eavesdropping on the other end of the wire. Just like Mai—like a guy I know in the Syndicate. He’s so afraid of bugs he won’t hold a business talk anywhere but the bathroom in his hotel suite with all four faucets going full blast and both of us whispering. Running water screws up a bug more than playing loud music on the radio, for some scientific reason.”
“Bugs,” I said suddenly. “That’s it.” The other kind of bugs. I was remembering Charley raving about fluoridation: “And we’re all classified as mental cases, because a few right-wing nuts fifteen or twenty years ago who said fluoridation was a communist plot to poison us. Now, anybody who criticizes fluoridation is supposed to be just as bananas as God’s Lightning. Good Lord, if anybody wants to do us in without firing a shot, I could—” and he caught himself, hid something that almost showed on his face, and ended like his brain was walking on one foot, “I could point to a dozen things in any chemistry book more effective than fluoride.” But he wasn’t thinking of chemicals, he was thinking of those little bugs, microbes is the word, and that’s what he was working on. I could feelthat flash I always get when I read something in a John, like if he had more money than he let on, or he’d caught his wife spreading for the milkman and was doing it to get even, or he was really a faggola and was just proving to himself that he wasn’t
completely
a faggola. “My God,” I said, “Carmel, I read about those microbe bugs in the
Enquirer
. If they have an accident out there, this whole town goes, and the state with it, and God knows how many other states. Jesus, no wonder he keeps washing his hands!”
“Germ warfare?” Carmel said, thinking fast. “God, I’ll bet this town is crawling with Russian spies trying to find out what’s going
on
out there. And I’ve got a direct lead for them. But how the hell do you meet a Russian spy, or a Chinese spy for that matter? You can’t just advertise in a newspaper. Hell. Maybe if I went down to the university and talked to some of those freaking commie students….”
I was shocked. “Carmel! You can’t sell your own country like that!”
“The hell I can’t. The Statue of Liberty is just another broad, and I’ll take what I can get for her. Don’t be a fool.” He reached in his jacket pocket and took out a caramel candy like he always did when he was excited. “I’ll—bet somebody in the Mob will know. They know everything. Jesus, there has to be
some
way of cashing in on this.”
The President’s actual television broadcast was transmitted to the world at 10:30
p.m.
EST, March 31
. The Russians and Chinese were given twenty-four hours to get out of Fernando Poo or the skies over Santa Isobel would begin raining nuclear missiles: “This is
darn
serious,” the Chief Executive said, “and America will not shirk its responsibility to the freedom-loving people of Fernando Poo!” The broadcast concluded at 11 p.m. EST, and within two minutes people attempting to get reservations on trains, planes, busses or car pools to Canada had virtually every telephone wire in the country overloaded.
In Moscow, where it was ten the next morning, the Premier called a conference and said crisply, “That character in Washington is a mental lunatic, and he means it. Get our men out of Fernando Poo right away, then find out who authorized sending them in there in the first placeand
“What do you mean, bugs?” I asked. It was better than talking about money.
“The john,” he said with a know-it-all grin. “He’s important, you said. So his house has bugs. He probably keeps taking them out, and the FBI keeps coming back and putting in new ones. I bet he was very quiet when he was making it with you, right?” I nodded, remembering. “See. He couldn’t stand the thought of those Feds eavesdropping on the other end of the wire. Just like Mai—like a guy I know in the Syndicate. He’s so afraid of bugs he won’t hold a business talk anywhere but the bathroom in his hotel suite with all four faucets going full blast and both of us whispering. Running water screws up a bug more than playing loud music on the radio, for some scientific reason.”
“Bugs,” I said suddenly. “That’s it.” The other kind of bugs. I was remembering Charley raving about fluoridation: “And we’re all classified as mental cases, because a few right-wing nuts fifteen or twenty years ago who said fluoridation was a communist plot to poison us. Now, anybody who criticizes fluoridation is supposed to be just as bananas as God’s Lightning. Good Lord, if anybody wants to do us in without firing a shot, I could—” and he caught himself, hid something that almost showed on his face, and ended like his brain was walking on one foot, “I could point to a dozen things in any chemistry book more effective than fluoride.” But he wasn’t thinking of chemicals, he was thinking of those little bugs, microbes is the word, and that’s what he was working on. I could feelthat flash I always get when I read something in a John, like if he had more money than he let on, or he’d caught his wife spreading for the milkman and was doing it to get even, or he was really a faggola and was just proving to himself that he wasn’t
completely
a faggola. “My God,” I said, “Carmel, I read about those microbe bugs in the
Enquirer
. If they have an accident out there, this whole town goes, and the state with it, and God knows how many other states. Jesus, no wonder he keeps washing his hands!”
“Germ warfare?” Carmel said, thinking fast. “God, I’ll bet this town is crawling with Russian spies trying to find out what’s going
on
out there. And I’ve got a direct lead for them. But how the hell do you meet a Russian spy, or a Chinese spy for that matter? You can’t just advertise in a newspaper. Hell. Maybe if I went down to the university and talked to some of those freaking commie students….”
I was shocked. “Carmel! You can’t sell your own country like that!”
“The hell I can’t. The Statue of Liberty is just another broad, and I’ll take what I can get for her. Don’t be a fool.” He reached in his jacket pocket and took out a caramel candy like he always did when he was excited. “I’ll—bet somebody in the Mob will know. They know everything. Jesus, there has to be
some
way of cashing in on this.”
The President’s actual television broadcast was transmitted to the world at 10:30
p.m.
EST, March 31
. The Russians and Chinese were given twenty-four hours to get out of Fernando Poo or the skies over Santa Isobel would begin raining nuclear missiles: “This is
darn
serious,” the Chief Executive said, “and America will not shirk its responsibility to the freedom-loving people of Fernando Poo!” The broadcast concluded at 11 p.m. EST, and within two minutes people attempting to get reservations on trains, planes, busses or car pools to Canada had virtually every telephone wire in the country overloaded.
In Moscow, where it was ten the next morning, the Premier called a conference and said crisply, “That character in Washington is a mental lunatic, and he means it. Get our men out of Fernando Poo right away, then find out who authorized sending them in there in the first placeand
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