CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Why was Keller so  blind, Simon?"

Simon loved Dawn's Glasgow-coloured intonation. She seemed

so...?...adorable...so relaxed sitting on the stool with her back to her drawing

board. Whole. That's what Dawn is. No attempt to push a point. To push a

fragment. Like Sarah Jenkins, Dawn is a real soul.

Simon shook his head...and pulled himself back...from the far past!.

"Yes...about Keller. He was enthralled by Gina's courage. She wasn't afraid to die.

He was. But although she wasn't afraid of death...she was terrified of love...but

Keller refused to see this. She'd been pulverised when Jason left her. That was

six years before Keller arrived.  Up to the time of the split-up with Jason, she'd

been an interior designer. After the fall...she got into opium...cocaine...pure

morphine...and then alcohol. To maintain her new glitzy life-style...she

became a high flying whore."  Simon sipped his herb tea and shook his head.

"Don't stop. I'm really listening."

"Of course it wasn't long before Keller became a hopeless degenerate junkie.

Then once it became obvious to Gina that Keller had become completely

dependent on her...she threw him out!...but he kept coming back...until the final

terrible ROW. At this point, Riley very subtly shifts the point of view...so we find

ourselves on Gina's side. I actually felt insane occupying her position...but I was

caught and had to read on. She tells him that just before the point when they

met...she'd made a decision...to kick her horrible way of life. So she'd thought

on meeting him, Keller was her way out. So she tells him that she hadn't been

looking for a partner...but to be saved.  The truth is, she tells him, she's on a solo

trip!  He's shocked and says he had no idea that that was where she was coming

from.  He tells her that he thought that she gloried in her way of life...an

atmosphere he'd been looking for...for he'd been looking for a rebellious amoral

woman who detested the status game...who in fact relished being on the

bottom...and who would be glad to cushion his fall.

Someone who could show him how to survive in the real animal world and have a

brilliant time there on the social bottom. Riley lets us see that Keller doesn't have

the guts to live out his own desires. She had no intention of being his mummy.

She was intent on going up...as he goes down...really down...dragged down by a

heavier addiction to morphine than Gina...and what prevents him snapping out of

it...is his addiction to his fantasy of her pornographic slut-power. Time and time

again he tries to trigger her back...to distract himself from his crippling

isolation...but every time he fails...because Gina's suffering is not born from

feeling isolated...but from the awakening of her conscience. She is now

completely convinced that loveless sex has poisoned her soul. It is obvious to

Gina that Keller had never experienced a shared moment of love. The word

love had no meaning for him. He pleads that he's under her power...precisely

because she never demanded love from him.

He tells her that he was hooked the first night they were together when she told

him `you don't have to pretend to love me in order to fuck me!'  He breaks down

and confesses that when a young boy he felt undermined by his mother always

asking if he loved her?  He grew up fearing anyone demanding `love' from him.

The concept of love haunted his emptiness...and created a dread of life.  

From early age he said he'd developed a theory that those who demanded

love...were soul-suckers. Vampires. He pleads that when he met her she

encouraged him by telling him that the `love business' was an emotional racket.

`Look whatever I said then is not where I'm living from now!' she screamed at him.

` You think I enjoyed being a whore?  I hated every minute of it. I did all of it

because I was numb...because I was terrified of feeling the pain of losing Jason.  

And now you think I'm going to support your cowardice!  You're completely fake

through and through.'  A fight breaks out. He overpowers her and tries to seduce

her. She pretends to agree and suggests they shoot up some morphine before

making it. He's incredibly relieved that she's come round. Lying naked on the bed

he waits for her to fix him. She tells him to lie on his tummy and she fixes him in

his bum. Within no time he croaks...overdosed."

Dawn shook her head and made a scowl "What a grim tale."

"Yes...but that's only one interpretation. Riley advises us to move back to page

seven. This is the point where the tale splits in two. On the right side of the open

book...when Keller sees Gina naked...and asks the question `would you have to

change your life to survive?' she replies `absolutely'.

So there's two versions of the story. The left side pages tells one story, the right a

completely different version. `What would you have to change?' Keller asks.

`Everything...my personality. Look at me. I've been a junkie and a whore for the

last six years. And why? Because all my life I've been obsessed by power. Even

when I was a kid I was pulling married men and reducing them to slaves.

When you rang the bell I was masturbating in the bath.  Masturbating rather than

fixing. I haven't smacked up for 48 hours...not because I haven't got any gear...but

because I'm sick of it!  Sick of whoring...sick of being a sadist...sick of all the

creeps I hang out with...sick of my sick Self! I've been floating in that bath for 48

hours...doing a cold turkey. It's wiped me out. I need a whisky.' He stays with

her...and they actually help each other. He confesses his fear of surrendering to

love...and his perverted attraction to women who are into power rather than love.

Suddenly they both realise that the moment had come..."

Dawn looked suddenly pale as she waved her hand...as if from a distant hill.

"Please don't relate any more. I'll read it sometime".

"I'm sorry, I got carried away."

"You seem to have a very good memory...unless you're filling in gaps?" She gave

Simon a funny look.

"I suppose you could say that I've studied Riley's writings very closely.  I think

you'll find  that was a pretty accurate account. Of course he packs so much

more between the lines...for the soul to see."

"How about this question of love Simon?  Did Riley discover love in his life?"

Simon--barefooted--walked slowly to the kitchen area and deposited his empty

mug. "The answer is `I don't know`. Have you experienced love?"

Dawn--sitting on a big orange coloured bean bag--looking straight at Simon said,

"If love is the essence of reality...then yes, I've experienced a wee morsel of it.

Recently I've been hovering round the idea that the essence of real friendship is

absolute honesty. I think love is the power which flows between people who are

really honest with each other. It seems to be a space in which there is no fear. No

fear of being spontaneous. What I'm sure of...is love is not something I can own.

It's the life of a true we . Do you have that sort of a relationship with anyone?"

Simon, feeling quite staggered by Dawn's reply...thought for a long time before

saying, "I don't know. Maybe with Cesar."

"He seems very intense...quite honestly he frightens me...a little." She looked as

if she was ashamed of this admission.

"There's been times when I've found Cesar impossible...but then one day I

discovered the problem was my viewpoint. Since then he's helped me

enormously."

"How important is information to you?"

"I don't know."

"I mean...do you want to know about my past...in relationship to my desire to work

for the Institute?"

"What do you think about respectable people...who `think' they live good lives?"

"God! Is that me?"

"Is it?" asked Simon feeling he was at last seeing Dawn from a real unhypnotised

position.

"What are we talking about...my past...or how I am right now?"

"Well," said Simon...walking over to the sink to fill the electric kettle, "from what

place do you `understand' yourself now?"

Dawn looked down onto the abandoned tennis courts surrounded by elderberry

bushes, convulvolis, old prams and a completely trashed midnight blue transit

van. "I see. The past is forms without life. And we're conditioned to keep pouring

life into what can't live!  No, I'm not into suffocating inside of dead respectability.

Don't you think that the only way to not feed deadness is to be here now?"

"Yes, but there's a difference between the idea of` being here now' and actually

being here now. If I'm really being here now I am not performing. That's the point.

So, is it possible to educate kids...to NOT PERFORM...for any reward...however

subtle?"

Dawn turned from the window and started to walk around the room. "You obviously

believe it's possible."

"Okay...are there TEACHERS around to do this work?  No! So they have

to be created. That's the nub of the problem!"

"You mean they would have to have a real overview on this society?  To be not

caught up in it?"

"Cesar and I are on the lookout for really honest, hard working intelligent souls.

This is where  we have to begin."

"Well are we being honest...right now...I mean...with each other. I mean there

seems to be a dilemma. Like we're..."

"Stranded...without a script," muttered Simon whilst selecting a herb teabag. He

gestured whether Dawn wanted a drink. She nodded and added "wild Cherry.

But if you and Cesar intend to educate teachers...you've already got the

beginning of a script. I don't see how we can achieve anything with our lives

without a plan of action."

"Okay, see it this way. Not as a doing...but an undoing. A stripping off of our rags

of insanity. Cesar was stripped by his master...and he keeps stripping me."

"And are you going to strip me"?

Simon took a deep breath and stared...out the window. The kettle was boiling.

Without turning around to face Dawn...he switched it off. He turned away from his

insane, frustrated mind and said...very quietly, " I believe that you and I have been

given a golden opportunity to break the spell of the rapacious machine. Please

don't..."

"I'm sorry," she whispered sunk deep in the bean cushion. "It is a machine...you're

right!." Simon turned to face Dawn...leaning his back against the kitchen counter.

"I'm sorry Simon. I've been trained to lie...from the beginning. "

"We all believe that we've got to lie to survive. It's a constant subliminal

command...transmitted by almost every human gesture one encounters."

"I'm sorry. Shall I pour the tea?"

"No I'll do it."

"What's the machine telling you to do?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I want to know if it operates in you in the same way as it operates in me."

Walking across the room holding Dawn's cup of  wild cherry tea, Simon said very

precisely, " of course it operates the same way. It says `touch her...and you won't

feel caught any more. She'll understand. What's the point in avoiding what's

obvious? Close the gap...and sit down beside her'. That's what it's saying."  

Simon handed Dawn the tea and returned to the counter...and gazed at Dawn.  He

had surprised himself. There was not a trace of a hook in his delivery. He had

actually been honest...yet as he took in Dawn's emanations...he was suddenly

vividly reminded of the Golden Goddess who had deified his eternal moment in

Edinburgh. His breathing became markedly deeper. She was here...now. He

could smell her distinctive fragrance.

"My machine says, `this man is very attracted to you. He wants to be intimate with

you...but he's frightened of giving himself to a woman. Afraid of getting caught.

Afraid he'll betray himself. Help him to feel relaxed. Show him he has nothing to

lose. He hasn't got a wife...so there's no reason to feel guilt. Instead of waiting for

him to break free of his fear...invite him to come  close to you. Let him know that

you're available. That you like him.'... How's that?"

Still magnetised by his memory of the Edinburgh event, Simon whispered, "the

machine's going to go crazy if we don't do what it suggests. We're not supposed

to reveal to each other it's strategies."

"I feel scared Simon. Scared to break free of the machine's hypnotic hold. God,

it's so clever. It's rhymed `hold' with `bold'. `Be BOLD', it says. `He's yearning to

see you naked!" She stood up and tugged off her black cardigan.

"Don't obey, Dawn!" This time Simon didn't whisper. "Please!"

"That's what the voice is saying...`don't obey his fear. Play. What's wrong with

playing?  Why suppress what's natural? You weren't born with clothes on. You've

got a lovely body. Why hide it from this man who will get so much pleasure

watching you very slowly undress. Take responsibility...turn him on. Exhibit your

erotic abilities. Don't be ashamed of your needs. Yes you need to be touched.

Wanted. Caressed. Loved.'.........Well?"

"Pretty conventional stuff. The machine just wants us to acknowledge it's the

dominating force in our lives. In fact it's maintaining that it gives us life. It's a lie

and I'm not going to succumb...even if this means that you're going to feel

rejected and hurt...and then get angry and send me negative vibes."  Simon

shook his head and sipped his lemon balm tea. Whilst the mad machine

searched to get him hooked he drank in the power of the real Goddess.

"I don't want to send you negative vibes Simon. Look I'm not actually undressing.

I'm not obeying what it's saying...but I feel...stranded...now I can't perform!" She

slumped back into the depths of the bean cushion...and looking forlorn sipped her

wild cherry tea.

"Look...it's all about breaking out of our self destructive habits...through creating a

real overview. The machine operates on the assumption that you believe that its

advice comes from a wise overview...but it's only your ego that believes that the

machine can give you a superior overview. That's what every ego wants...so it can

control other egos. But all the machine can supply is different angles...which

other egos have used...in the past. A real overview is born of the decision to not

deceive your Self."

"I know what you're saying Simon...but it's so scary...it's like we're all plugged into

one vast de-humanising process...and the first time I realised that I almost came

completely unglued. A year or so ago I was waiting for the underground at

Leicester Square. The platforms were very crowded. I felt

oppressed...angry...with my crummy life...when suddenly I SAW that all the grey

looking creatures were all plugged in to the same broadcast! Unconsciously...they

all supported one another in their unacknowledged submission to the machine. I

mean I could actually SEE them...giving each other knowing looks...gestures, etc,

etc. It was horrifying. Suddenly, all at once...without choosing it I was out

and...above it all. It was like I had become a spy. An out of the body spy. But who

for? I wish I could say for Truth...or Love. I s'pose I'd become a spy for a

possible overview. But what frightened me most was seeing how I was attached

to that horrible conned-senses-mind...as Greg Riley called it. I didn't want to let it

go...even though I could see it's reptilian nature. I could feel the fear of being free

of fear. The fear of being...ALONE...in my overview. "

"That's the script which keeps you enslaved. It's the fear of being a true individual.

Actually the fear you felt...you were creating...to keep you within the space of the

de-humanising broadcast. The subliminal broadcast is transmitted on the fear

wavelength."

"How do you manage to stay in your overview?"

"Look don't imagine that I can't fuck up...because it's easy...but not very long ago I

became much more reliable through keeping to an important decision."

"What was that...to give up sex?"

"No...I suddenly gave up smoking."

"God, how did you do it? I kicked coke and smack...but I can't kick tobacco."

"It just happened to me. It was like...it was just taken away from me."

"How do you mean...just taken away from you?"

"Well for years I'd been pretending to my Self that I was choosing to

smoke...instead of admitting I was hooked!  My will was being sapped...and I was

lying about it. So I was inwardly dying...and afraid to look...when one

day...whilst rolling up a fag in the company of Annie and Cesar...an inner

voice rang out very clear and said, `if you take one more puff of tobacco...ever

again in your lifetime...you should confess to everyone that you're not a student of

spiritual awareness...but a slave of habit!' My life STOPPED! The future looked

unbearably bleak. Everyone I knew smoked. Cesar like a chimney...Annie a fair

bit. So...looking...as it were towards the horizon...it seemed hopeless...but from a

vertical position...I was being addressed from above...from my higher

Self...and I saw this was the moment to grasp...and grow in. I said to Cesar and

Annie, `if either of you ever sees me take as much as one puff of

tobacco...denounce me as a phoney. Take no notice of anything I say or write.

Treat me as a hypocrite.' They looked unsure of their ground...and made

no comment. But at the end of that day...I had more energy than when I woke up

that morning. Why?

Because that decision point became a rock on which my new life was being built.

My life was now growing upwards...drawn up by the overview...and that was the

first real decision I ever made in my life."

"You're kidding. That can't be true." Dawn looked slightly cross as she got up and

put her black cardigan back on.

"I'm not lying...of course...up to that point...I'd thought I'd made a lot of decisions

in my life...but actually they were not decisions...but manipulations...changes of

appearances...strategic re-arrangements.  I'll explain. First, imagine that this flat is

my mind...then, upto the moment of that real decision...all the previous so called

decisions...were simply me occupying different positions...in the same space. "

Simon walked around the flat to demonstrate the point he was trying to make.

"Look you see...whether I'm here standing...or sitting on the loo...or making

tea...I'm still in the same mind-space...but when I made that vow to never smoke

again...I walked out of that `mind'...totally...and without me being in it...it

collapsed."

"Are you telling me that you smoked for years...and now you have no urge at all?"

"None! I know...it's a real miracle. I tell you...I don't even have the thought to

smoke. The self that smoked...no longer exists...in me. That's the truth."

"But you must have tremendous will power."

"No it doesn't work like that...at least that's not my experience. At the point at

which I made the decision...I had hardly any will power at all. It wasn't a question

of will power but of staying within the space of the overview...and by doing

that...energy started accumulating...around the decision...which has of course

strengthened my will." Simon returned to the counter...and sat on it.

"I see what you mean. You don't have to have strong will power to start off with. It

comes from keeping steady within the insight."

Simon gave Dawn a warm smile, then looking directly into her eyes he said very

quietly, "It's a wonderful feeling...being freed from pretence."

"Well Mr Mathews, are you capable of touching me from your free position?" She

hung her head...as if she was a dejected prisoner. Simon almost fell for that one.

He actually jumped down from the counter...and was about to move towards the

temptress...when he realised the trick.

Walking back towards the window he replied in a slightly mocking voice, "And who

used you to ask that question Miss Sarah Jenkins?"

"Sarah Jenkins! Why d'you call me that?"

"I'm sorry. It was a joke."

"Well I don't get it."

"No...it was sort of a private joke. Sarah Jenkins was an important figure in Greg

Riley's life. A bit of a distraction really. I'm sorry."

"I'm confused Simon. I've completely lost the thread...of what we're supposed to

be doing." Dawn stood up...as if she'd suddenly discovered that she'd been

sitting on a drawing pin!  Then she moved towards...stopped...then moved

towards...stopped...then walked briskly to the bathroom...leaving Simon a sitting

duck for the machine. `What you've done is driven her away. She hasn't gone to

the loo for a pee...but to cry...or masturbate...or both.  You don't care about other

people's needs...especially women's. Actually you hate Dawn...because you find

her very attractive.

So really you're glad she pulled away. You're stupid enough to think you're strong

in the face of temptation!  You fail to grasp that a mature man could still be true to

himself...could still give love...even in the face of unloving temptations. You don't

have to be a prig...just because you can't handle your own sexuality.'

Simon paced around until he suddenly took in the ornate writing desk.

He couldn't understand how he hadn't seen it before. Could Dawn have not

wanted him to see it?  

That's another mad idea. But then...he was suddenly at sea...on reading the title of

Dawn's typed manuscript. He wasn't just at  sea. He felt himself being pulled into

a vortex of paranoia as he read  `The Dark side of Yesterday':-  an examination of

the many covert forms of hypnotism employed by women in the field of sexual

politics by Dawn Sangster Ph.D.

He felt wrecked. Utterly wrecked. Trembling...he couldn't muster the courage to

turn the page. He just stood trembling...reading the title page...over and over.

"It's going to be published in the New Yorker next month. You look frightened."

"I am...the machine's been getting at me."

"Me too. I didn't need to go to the loo. I was trying to outwit the machine...which

was telling me you were trying to make me feel randy. That you're trying to control

me with your subtle use of power. It said `he's trying to seduce you with his tales

of strength. Don't be afraid of him...really he's weak...and needs to be

touched...just like you'. I thought I'd masturbate...and get it over with...then I

saw that that was a machine suggestion...so I've returned...to find you reading my

piece on female tactics!"

Simon just stared feeling distraught as Dawn appeared. Finally he muttered, "I

was only looking at the title page...I've only just noticed the writing desk."

"It was my mother's." Dawn's voice faded into a long pause. "This is ridiculous

Simon...I'm getting wound up. D'you want to read my article?"

"Dawn...when was the last time...you had an orgasm?"

"For God's sake Simon! What are you up to?"

"I don't know...I didn't know I was going to say that. I'm sorry."

"O don't say sorry for speaking your mind. Your mind! My mind! The machine

mind! Who cares! I had a minor orgasm last night...and the night before...and the

night before that. I have a wank every night before I fall asleep...if I'm on my own

Mr Mathews...which of late I usually am.  I've been wanking on my own since I was

ten...and I'm not in the least ashamed of giving myself pleasure. I'm a pleasure

junkie. Who isn't?  I used to be a smack junkie...then a speedball junkie...and now

being a disenchanted bi-sexual I'm a beached solo junkie...so do I get the job?"  

Dawn stood close up to Simon and stared into his eyes...her long fingered white

hands pushed onto her shapely hips.

"And who were you channelling then?" he asked very calmly...after a long pause.

Dawn collapsed onto the crunchy cushion and started sobbing. In Simon's head,

the machine said `give the poor girl a chance. She'll end up hating you if you're

not more careful. She doesn't really understand all this Clever Dick crap about

`the machine'.  She might have a philosophy degree and read a few of Riley's

books...but she's essentially a woman, man! For God's sake show some

warmth!'

Still sobbing she spluttered, "thanks...for not getting ensnared."

"Well...Miss Dawn Sangster...Ph.D.  It was you who said this is a golden

opportunity to break through."

"Christ...it's incredible the way we idiots so easily live on a surface mocked up by

second-hand concepts. I mean...I might have said that...I did...but I had no idea

what that would entail? Is that true? I don't know...I think I

guessed...maybe...look...I see that it's not a question of what we do...or

don't do...it's a question of where we're at when we decide...or if we do do it...it's a

question of where we do it from! Christ...every time I end a sentence with a

preposition...I hear my English mistress telling me off!"

"For not conforming to the rules of the machine...which is not actually concerned

about correct grammar...but the rules are used to undermine potential original

expression. You've got to be second-hand to survive!  Language is being used to

robot-eyes the mind. Our aim is to educate parents and children into the methods

of the machine...that is...how to live free of its deadly embrace."

Simon shrugged and sat down on a green soft cushion about ten feet from Dawn

still sobbing in the pit of the bean bag. "Personally, I don't like the atmosphere

evoked by the word `institution'.  It stinks of the old hierarchical push-it -down-

your-throat trip. I think we only really learn what's important...when the so called

`teacher' is also learning at the same time. Both teacher and pupil have to be

open to each other's essence...for anything real to happen."

"Simon...does that apply to us...now?"

"Yes and no. We're both learner/teachers. Yes, you're right...the child/teacher

situation should be the same...but the problem is...the beginning of the teaching

requires learning how to create the necessary conditions...for learning. How can

the atmosphere of intelligent trust be created...where real intimacy is allowed to

flourish?"

Very long pause. Neither moving. Both uncomfortably aware of the machine

`anxious' to give advice.

Breaking the long awkward silence Dawn said, "the machine says...`real intimacy

is too demanding...too intense for ordinary kids and teachers. There's not enough

TIME for this approach."

Relaxing, Simon reflected upon the greenness of Dawn's eyes...( he had

previously thought they were blue)...and the light quiver of the delicate lashes as

she spoke in her soft Glasgow accent.

The machine suggested he inspect the foot-wide gap between her knees.

Explore the shadows in which her pale thighs were hid. Refraining...he reflected

upon her vulnerability...recalling the lines:-

And slender she is

Not breaking into brittle defences.

She is not parched if not described.

Her medium is stillness

Reflecting the swirl

In our chasms.

"The education process Cesar and I have in mind...should release the soul from

the idea that there is a scarcity of time. Release the soul from the `scared city of

time'. And that releases one from calculating how much such an education costs?  

Every circumstance will be dealt with...as we meet it. Yes...we'll make it up as we

go along. All we need is the right circumstances for core to core transmission.

The machine operates through mere personality exchange. Through our

ignorance of who we really are.  We've been hypnotised to mediate our lives

through a theory of meaning.

Through a belief system which produces a false constructed `self' which you are

encouraged to believe is your real Self!  So what is urgently required...is

opportunities for young beings to create their own personalities.  Personalities

which can channel their unformed essence. You see...a real creative personality

enables one to develop one's basic essence...and bring it into LIFE!"

"And what the machine does," said Dawn getting up and walking to the window,

" is force us to wear off-the-peg personalities...which mis-represent our

essence...and so choke it. Shall we go for a walk on Hampstead Heath?"

Simon smiled. "Maybe later...when I've got some clothes to wear."

"Fuck I'm so ASLEEP!  I've just been absent-mindedly admiring your brown hairy

legs and your elegant arches...and completely overlooked the fact that you're

wearing my bath towel. How can I be so thick?"  Dawn shook her head so hard her

golden hair revealed the light playing with her gold and silver ear rings. Simon lay

back and studied the cracks in the stained white ceiling.

"Truthfully...do I have any chance Simon?"

"None of us realises how deeply we are asleep. It's so hard to stay AWAKE!

Why? Because the truly awakened state...leaves no trace of its perfume...to linger

in the superficial personality. The killing machine has no access whatsoever to the

taste of real LIFE. NONE!"  Simon sat up and met Dawn's perplexed stare. He

began to worry that he was going too fast. She looked like she was going over the

edge.

"Simon...I'm afraid to admit that I AM A MACHINE. It's a terrible...frightening

condition...to FACE up to!"......Then the dam broke...and the tears

gushed...gushed...gushed.

"If you want to taste freedom...you have to face reality...not your interpretation. It's

the act of facing...which awakens."

In between deep sobs she wobbled out the words..."Where do I look from?"

"Honesty. Absolute honesty."

Suddenly she was kneeling in front of Simon...holding his clammy hands...crying

completely unself-consciously...her hot forehead on his towelled knees...his

forehead now on her sweet smelling crown...and more tears...yes...real tears...his

tears...moistening her dyed hair...which now smelt like sunbaked summer wheat

after a shower. Then they were laughing...glimpsing each other's essence...

sharing what is beyond words.