thisottoman, this thirty-two-inch TV screen, this mug of steaming cocoa—and clumps of dogs’ hair.
Clara opened the door carefully. It was hollow core, and the neighbor’s water heater was inside it, as Suds,
mirabile dictu,
could clearly see
with someone else’s mind.
If she slammed it, it might rupture the cold water inlet at the bottom hinge; that would flood the hallway, which was also a parking garage and the dentist/landlord’s waiting room, when it wasn’t part of a cow.
Suds sensed Clara’s feelings as if they were flavors of gum in his mouth. In fact, when he smacked his lips, Clara winced and wiped his saliva off her forehead; she mistook it for sweat.
Bobo Shin was close behind. “Please do not stop suddenly. I do not want to collide with you. I dislike having other people inside me—even you, rice cake… Are we there?”
“Yes, of course, Roshi,” said Clara,
as Suds had known she would, since he had felt her form the words in her mind.
“Of course we’re there. This must be No Mind’s home. It’s a question of which way to look so that we align with it.”
Bobo Shin shrieked, and the six monks who had tramped right on inside his buttocks and thighs backed off, penetrating Mukan—sweet-faced, younger than the rest—who carried Rinzai on his shoulders. There was no physical shock, but Mukan fell, and Rinzai fell on top of him. They fell into an old news report, a loop continuously available for reference by suburbanites. Parts of Rinzai were the announcer’s low tones. Mukan’s intestines provided visual images and acted as a tweeter.
#
City Planning has declared that the special status of the suburb vis-a-vis City entry is being revoked, and that henceforth suburbers will be required to apply at Control with all other aspirants, including hicks. This development has been long anticipated, since technological advances in hypostatic and hypodynamic technology has rendered obsolete the older transcategorical simulations on which the suburb is based.
‘Suburban life is absolutely crow,’ a senior Planner commented today. ‘When the transcats were first encountered, various attempts were made to utilize the insights we gained from that intercourse. Perhaps in our efforts to speed the process, we were too hasty in granting patents and permissions to create interpenetrating and disjoint human structures.
‘Souls remaining in the suburbs just want the appearance of zens, of enlightened beings, without having to trouble themselves about its actual accomplishment. Let’s face it—the suburb is not a halfway point to the City. It is its own dead end. We don’t want splicing and overlapping. We want real interbeing.’
City Planning has declared that the special status of the suburb vis-a-vis City entry is being revoked, and that henceforth suburbers will be required to apply…
#
Suds, in spite of himself, felt everything Bobo Shin was thinking. Bobo Shin didn’t want to look behind him to see what had happened. He was afraid to move his eyes; he had just begun to get used to the puppy wagging his esophagus. “Each of you, turn your back toward me and look out.” Bobo Shin made no effort to project his voice; it was everywhere. “Scan up and down along your own radius from me. Look for No Mind.”
“Don’t budge, Suds,” Virya whispered, crouching low—or high, or flush to the wall. “You’re safe there. You’re just shit and soup bones as far as they can see.”
“This drives me crazy,” said Suds through an orifice somewhere, he no longer knew how. “You’re Thursdays! Can you believe it? You’re Thursdays from the neck up.”
“No. Look at the note my hip is. Thursdays fall on Wednesday mornings here. There’s not enough time for Thursday to have a separate day all to itself. It makes perfect sense, Sudsy. Think about it.”
“No.”
Mukan and Rinzai lined up with the others, a circle facing out, like the Seven Samurai. One by one, they dropped to their
Clara opened the door carefully. It was hollow core, and the neighbor’s water heater was inside it, as Suds,
mirabile dictu,
could clearly see
with someone else’s mind.
If she slammed it, it might rupture the cold water inlet at the bottom hinge; that would flood the hallway, which was also a parking garage and the dentist/landlord’s waiting room, when it wasn’t part of a cow.
Suds sensed Clara’s feelings as if they were flavors of gum in his mouth. In fact, when he smacked his lips, Clara winced and wiped his saliva off her forehead; she mistook it for sweat.
Bobo Shin was close behind. “Please do not stop suddenly. I do not want to collide with you. I dislike having other people inside me—even you, rice cake… Are we there?”
“Yes, of course, Roshi,” said Clara,
as Suds had known she would, since he had felt her form the words in her mind.
“Of course we’re there. This must be No Mind’s home. It’s a question of which way to look so that we align with it.”
Bobo Shin shrieked, and the six monks who had tramped right on inside his buttocks and thighs backed off, penetrating Mukan—sweet-faced, younger than the rest—who carried Rinzai on his shoulders. There was no physical shock, but Mukan fell, and Rinzai fell on top of him. They fell into an old news report, a loop continuously available for reference by suburbanites. Parts of Rinzai were the announcer’s low tones. Mukan’s intestines provided visual images and acted as a tweeter.
#
City Planning has declared that the special status of the suburb vis-a-vis City entry is being revoked, and that henceforth suburbers will be required to apply at Control with all other aspirants, including hicks. This development has been long anticipated, since technological advances in hypostatic and hypodynamic technology has rendered obsolete the older transcategorical simulations on which the suburb is based.
‘Suburban life is absolutely crow,’ a senior Planner commented today. ‘When the transcats were first encountered, various attempts were made to utilize the insights we gained from that intercourse. Perhaps in our efforts to speed the process, we were too hasty in granting patents and permissions to create interpenetrating and disjoint human structures.
‘Souls remaining in the suburbs just want the appearance of zens, of enlightened beings, without having to trouble themselves about its actual accomplishment. Let’s face it—the suburb is not a halfway point to the City. It is its own dead end. We don’t want splicing and overlapping. We want real interbeing.’
City Planning has declared that the special status of the suburb vis-a-vis City entry is being revoked, and that henceforth suburbers will be required to apply…
#
Suds, in spite of himself, felt everything Bobo Shin was thinking. Bobo Shin didn’t want to look behind him to see what had happened. He was afraid to move his eyes; he had just begun to get used to the puppy wagging his esophagus. “Each of you, turn your back toward me and look out.” Bobo Shin made no effort to project his voice; it was everywhere. “Scan up and down along your own radius from me. Look for No Mind.”
“Don’t budge, Suds,” Virya whispered, crouching low—or high, or flush to the wall. “You’re safe there. You’re just shit and soup bones as far as they can see.”
“This drives me crazy,” said Suds through an orifice somewhere, he no longer knew how. “You’re Thursdays! Can you believe it? You’re Thursdays from the neck up.”
“No. Look at the note my hip is. Thursdays fall on Wednesday mornings here. There’s not enough time for Thursday to have a separate day all to itself. It makes perfect sense, Sudsy. Think about it.”
“No.”
Mukan and Rinzai lined up with the others, a circle facing out, like the Seven Samurai. One by one, they dropped to their
Similar Books
