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Authors: Philip K. Dick
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to be gone how long?" Jeff said.
"Until Tim figures out the meaning of the Zadokite Documents and how they pertain to Christianity."
"Shit," Jeff said.
"What's 'Q'?" I said.
"'Q,'" Jeff echoed.
"Tim said that preliminary reports, based on fragmentary translations of some documents—"
"'Q' is the hypothetical source for the Synoptics." His voice was brutal and rough.
"What are the Synoptics?"
"The first three Gospels. Matthew, Mark and Luke. They supposedly come from one source, probably Aramaic. Nobody's ever been able to prove it."
"Well," I said, "Tim told me on the phone the other night while you were in class that the translators in London think that the Zadokite Documents contain—not just Q—but the material Q is based on. They're not sure. Tim sounded more excited than I ever heard him sound before."
"But the Zadokite Documents date from two hundred years before Christ."
"That's probably why he was so excited."
Jeff said, "I want to go along."
"You can't," I said.
"Why not?" Raising his voice, he said, "Why don't I get to go if she gets to go? I'm his son!"
"He's straining the Bishop's Discretionary Fund as it is. They're going to be staying several months; it's going to cost a whole lot."
Jeff walked out of the living room. I continued reading. After a time, I realized I was hearing a strange sound; I lowered my copy of
Howard the Duck
and listened.
In the kitchen, in the darkness, by himself, my husband was crying.
One of the strangest and most perplexing accounts I ever read concerning my husband's suicide was that he, Jeff Archer, Bishop Timothy Archer's son, killed himself because he was afraid he was a homosexual. Some book written a number of years after his death—after all three of them had died—mangled the facts so thoroughly that, when you had finished reading it (I don't even remember the title or who wrote it) you knew less about Jeff and Bishop Archer and Kirsten Lundborg than before you started. It is like information theory; it is noise driving out signal. But it is noise posing as signal so you do not even recognize it as noise. The intelligence agencies call it disinformation, something the Soviet Bloc relies on heavily. If you can float enough disinformation into circulation you will totally abolish everyone's contact with reality, probably your own included.
Jeff held two mutually exclusive views toward his father's mistress. On the one hand she sexually stimulated him, so he felt strongly but wickedly attracted to her. On the other hand he loathed her and hated her and resented her for—he supposed—replacing him in terms of Tim's interest and affections.
But it did not end even there ... although I didn't discern the rest until years had passed. Beyond and above being jealous of Kirsten, he was jealous of—well, Jeff had it all screwed up; I can't really untangle it. One has to bear in mind the special problems in being the son of a man whose picture has appeared on the cover of
Time
and
Newsweek
and who gets interviewed by David Frost, shows up on the Johnny Carson program, gets political cartoons in major newspapers devoted to him—what in Christ's name do
you
do, as the son?
For one week Jeff joined them in England, and regarding that week I know little; Jeff came back mute and withdrawn, and that was when he headed for the hotel room in which he shot himself in the face one late night. I am not going to go into my feelings about that as a way of killing yourself. It did bring the bishop back from London within a matter of hours, which, in a certain sense, the suicide was all about.
In a very real sense, it also had to do with Q, or rather the source of Q, now referred to in the newspaper articles as U.Q., which is
Ur-Quelle
in German: Original Source. Behind Q lay the
Ur-Quelle,
and this is what led Timothy Archer to London and several months in a hotel with his mistress, ostensibly his business agent and general secretary.
No one had ever expected the
"Until Tim figures out the meaning of the Zadokite Documents and how they pertain to Christianity."
"Shit," Jeff said.
"What's 'Q'?" I said.
"'Q,'" Jeff echoed.
"Tim said that preliminary reports, based on fragmentary translations of some documents—"
"'Q' is the hypothetical source for the Synoptics." His voice was brutal and rough.
"What are the Synoptics?"
"The first three Gospels. Matthew, Mark and Luke. They supposedly come from one source, probably Aramaic. Nobody's ever been able to prove it."
"Well," I said, "Tim told me on the phone the other night while you were in class that the translators in London think that the Zadokite Documents contain—not just Q—but the material Q is based on. They're not sure. Tim sounded more excited than I ever heard him sound before."
"But the Zadokite Documents date from two hundred years before Christ."
"That's probably why he was so excited."
Jeff said, "I want to go along."
"You can't," I said.
"Why not?" Raising his voice, he said, "Why don't I get to go if she gets to go? I'm his son!"
"He's straining the Bishop's Discretionary Fund as it is. They're going to be staying several months; it's going to cost a whole lot."
Jeff walked out of the living room. I continued reading. After a time, I realized I was hearing a strange sound; I lowered my copy of
Howard the Duck
and listened.
In the kitchen, in the darkness, by himself, my husband was crying.
One of the strangest and most perplexing accounts I ever read concerning my husband's suicide was that he, Jeff Archer, Bishop Timothy Archer's son, killed himself because he was afraid he was a homosexual. Some book written a number of years after his death—after all three of them had died—mangled the facts so thoroughly that, when you had finished reading it (I don't even remember the title or who wrote it) you knew less about Jeff and Bishop Archer and Kirsten Lundborg than before you started. It is like information theory; it is noise driving out signal. But it is noise posing as signal so you do not even recognize it as noise. The intelligence agencies call it disinformation, something the Soviet Bloc relies on heavily. If you can float enough disinformation into circulation you will totally abolish everyone's contact with reality, probably your own included.
Jeff held two mutually exclusive views toward his father's mistress. On the one hand she sexually stimulated him, so he felt strongly but wickedly attracted to her. On the other hand he loathed her and hated her and resented her for—he supposed—replacing him in terms of Tim's interest and affections.
But it did not end even there ... although I didn't discern the rest until years had passed. Beyond and above being jealous of Kirsten, he was jealous of—well, Jeff had it all screwed up; I can't really untangle it. One has to bear in mind the special problems in being the son of a man whose picture has appeared on the cover of
Time
and
Newsweek
and who gets interviewed by David Frost, shows up on the Johnny Carson program, gets political cartoons in major newspapers devoted to him—what in Christ's name do
you
do, as the son?
For one week Jeff joined them in England, and regarding that week I know little; Jeff came back mute and withdrawn, and that was when he headed for the hotel room in which he shot himself in the face one late night. I am not going to go into my feelings about that as a way of killing yourself. It did bring the bishop back from London within a matter of hours, which, in a certain sense, the suicide was all about.
In a very real sense, it also had to do with Q, or rather the source of Q, now referred to in the newspaper articles as U.Q., which is
Ur-Quelle
in German: Original Source. Behind Q lay the
Ur-Quelle,
and this is what led Timothy Archer to London and several months in a hotel with his mistress, ostensibly his business agent and general secretary.
No one had ever expected the
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