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Dear Tourists, You can grope for moist souvenirs in the basement, but you'll need patience because nobody down there will warn you about the floor. In the street you'll find squirrels; on my scalp, bumps. If you want proof for the folks back home that you've surged like a seagull, print your name and number in the bathroom. If you want a seagull for a pet, talk to my therapist. If you find her, tell me where she lives, and where her daughter goes to school. If you want a piece of me, suck my dick. If you want to sell trips to the general public, take my pulse or my coffee-table picture-books about Italy. If there's a house in the trees, throw up a hammer and see what falls down. The bleeding kid isn't the best prize and you can't return it, so be careful where you walk when you've had a few. If there's a nettle between your shoulder blades and you're having trouble breathing, tell the teacher, but don't tell her it was me cause it wasn't. I was just watching, maybe even laughing at your gurgling sounds. That incident belongs to somebody else's amusement park. I don't ever want to see it again on this side of the blunt tracks.

For E.P. Kazhe/Botella The dread, however, was not of death’s agonies. — Ryūnosuke Akutagawa, tr. by Will Petersen it is prohibited to whisper the names of the dead, as it encourages them to linger at the doorstep, and she has already lingered, far too long

Death is a funny thing. Most people are afraid of it, and yet they don't even know what it is. Perhaps we can clear this up. What is death? Death is it. That's it. Finished. "Finito." Over and out. No more. Death is many different things to many different people. I think it is safe to say, however, that most people don't like it. Why? Because they are afraid of it. Why are they afraid of it? Because they don't understand it. I think that the best way to try to understand death is to think about it a lot. Try to come to terms with it. Try to really understand it. Give it a chance! Sometimes it helps if we try to visualize things. Try to visualize, for example, someone sneaking up behind your back and hitting you over the head with a giant hammer. Some people prefer to think of death as a more spiritual thing. Where the soul somehow separates itself from the mess and goes on living forever somewhere else. Heaven and hell being the most traditional choices. Death has a very black reputation but, actually, to die is a perfectly normal thing to do. And it's so wholesome: being a very important part of nature's big picture. Trees die, don't they? And flowers? I think it's always nice to know that you are not alone. Even in death. Let's think about ants for a minute. Millions of ants die every day, and do we care? No. And I'm sure that ants feel the same way about us. But suppose—just suppose—that we didn't have to die. That wouldn't be so great either. If a 90-year-old man can hardly stand up, can you imagine what it would be like to be 500 years old? Another comforting thought about death is that 80 years or so after you die nobody who knew you will still be alive to miss you. And after you're dead, you won't even know it.

Going to sleep, I cross my hands on my chest. They will place my hands like this. It will look as though I am flying into myself.

Death calls my dog by the wrong name. A little man when I was small, Death grew Beside me, always taller, but always Confused as I have almost never been. Confusion, like the heart, gets left behind Early by a boy, abandoned the very moment Futurity with her bare arms comes a-waltzing Down the fire escapes to take his hand. "Death," I said, "if your eyes were green I would eat them." For what are days but the furnace of an eye? If I could strip a sunflower bare to its bare soul, I would rebuild it: Green inside of green, ringed round by green. There'd be nothing but new flowers anymore. Absolute Christmas. "Death," I said, "I know someone, a woman, Who sank her teeth into the moon." For what are space and time but the inventions Of sorrowing men? The soul goes faster than light. Eating the moon alive, it leaves space and time behind. The soul is forgiveness because it knows forgiveness. And the knowledge is whirligig. Whirligig taught me to live outwardly. Shoe shop. . . pizza parlor. . . surgical appliances. . . All left behind me with the hooey. My soul is my home. An old star hounded by old starlight. "Death, I ask you, whose only story Is the end of the story, right from the start, How is it I remember everything That never happened and almost nothing that did? Was I ever born?" I think of the suicides, all of them thriving, Many of them painting beautiful pictures. I think of boys and girls murdered In their first beauty, now with children of their own. And I have a church in my mind, set cruelly ablaze, And then the explosion of happy souls Into the greeny, frozen Christmas Eve air: Another good Christmas, a white choir. Beside each other still, My Death and I are a magical hermit. Dear Mother, I miss you. Dear reader, your eyes are now green, Green as they used to be, before I was born.

The housewives laugh at what they can’t avoid: In single file, buckling one by one Under the weight of the late summer sun, They drop their bags, they twitch, and are destroyed. He hears a voice (there is a bust of Freud Carved on the mountainside). He tucks the gun Under his rented beard and starts to run. (“The housewives laugh at what they can’t avoid.”) Like She-bears fettered to a rusted moon They crawl across the parking lot and shed Tearblood. The office park is closing soon. Night falls. The neighborhood buries its dead And changes channels—Zap! Ah, the purity Of death and taxes and Social Security.

Characters robot leader robot two robot three robot four simon powers miranda Simon’s daughter from a previous marriage. evvy Simon’s third, “final” wife. nicholas Simon’s protégé and adopted son. Prosthetic limbs. the united way the united nations the administration the world’s miseries *     *     * [The robots roll and lurch and glide onstage as a single mass of parts, an animated scaffold of struts and gears. The elements of this jumble devolve into separate robots who become gradually more humanoid until at the end they have become the actual, human characters. Partway through the process:] robot leader Units assembled for the ritual Performance at command, As the Human Creators have ordained, In memory of the Past. robot two This concept I cannot understand, At the center of the drama— What is this “Death”—Is it a form of waste? robot three I cannot comprehend, I cannot understand: If the information of one unit might be lost It is backed up by any other unit at hand: What is this “Death”—Is it an excessive cost? robot four How can information end? Is it a form of entropy? Why did the Human Creators Before they departed intend To require a performance on a theme Impossible to comprehend? Is it the data rearranged, As in an error, in a dream? A real jumble? Data in memory misplaced In a random scramble— Dream-data, the order changed; That would be something I could comprehend, If only the form was changed. Is that the meaning of this “Death”—data rearranged? A dream of something lost That was meant to be saved? An unrecovered past? What is suffering? How can I perceive What I cannot feel? robot three What can we learn? What can we gain, From inferior matter? [Just before the process of transformation is completed:] robot leader All we can understand Is the Human Creators’ command: In memory of the Original Past And the Organic Age, We perform this drama We cannot understand. Whatever the score and script intend By this undefined “Death”— Although the meaning is lost, Back in the Organic Age, We perform, to obey their command. Whatever the Human Creators planned Before they departed— Units deployed as Individuals will receive One Thousand Human Rights Status Credits. Now, it is time we started. [They have transformed themselves into human performers or characters. They have created the house of Simon Powers and his family. An elegant room, cluttered but expensive, half high-tech operating room and half Victorian salon. An elaborate metallic sculpture of a bird. A full-length portrait of young Simon. We see the two women, Evvy and Miranda; in his lab coat at a wall of instruments, Nicholas; in his wheelchair, trailing wires and tubes and holding a Frankenstein’s monster mask over his face in his one good arm, Simon.] *     *     * simon [Lowers the Frankenstein’s monster mask]“Once out of Nature I will never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make From hammered gold and gold enameling . . . ” Da-da, da-da, mechanical parakeet . . . “And set upon a golden bough to sing.” Ah, the immortal William Yeats! He can have his bird. Yeats, I give you the bird! evvy Simon, please be serious. Or at least be frightened Or show that you are frightened. I feel you already Vanishing into this machine. Out of nature—into a machine! If you were frightened I would be less worried. Will you go insane, Out of nature, In the machine? simon [Raises the mask back to his face for a moment.] The machine is part of nature! For every machine that makes nature better— Like the System that I will enter— Nature made the maker Of that machine. [Removes mask: his head rests in a brace, suggesting paralysis, though the wheelchair keeps moving as if nervously pacing. His one arm and his face are animated, but the head does not move.] Nature is the begetter Of every inventor So machines are made by nature: The great Organic Machine. [Flips the mask aside.] nicholas There isn’t much more time, the body Is dying, now it’s time to enter the system? simon Thank you, Nick, for reminding me— In the stroke of time, in the nick of time. Nick will rescue me from my stroke. Miranda, my child, come talk to me! And Evvy, my favorite, my beloved And final wife, Come join in the celebration. nicholas There isn’t time. simon There’s always time. Miranda, come talk to me! Evvy, everything is new. My flesh and blood, And my loved wife, It’s a new life: Let’s talk about our plans— I have a lot to do this afternoon, After I die! miranda Nicholas says there isn’t time. Because—it’s time. I’m afraid it’s time— And I’m afraid. simon And so, I’m not out of time. But soon I’ll be out of matter! Yes I’ll be out of matter, But I will still be rich! nicholas Now it is time! [While Simon sings the next words, Nicholas is adjusting the device, attaching it toSimon, fussing with parts of Simon’s body and with the “infernal device”of the room.] simon Once, when Miranda was three years old She put her hand to her throat Just here above the voice-box And felt the vibration. She said: “I can feel it when I talk— That must mean Miranda is inside.” And she was right! You were right, My intelligent daughter: It’s the vibration, The movement, that matters! That’s what I love in you— The voice, the gesture: The ripple, not the water! And that’s how I got rich! miranda Daddy, where will you be? simon It doesn’t matter! Maybe in a bird, like the immortal Yeats. Maybe in my portrait by some Immortal painter whose immortal Name I forget! nicholas We must leave the body And launch him into the system In the next few minutes. simon Evvy, she is like a daughter to you? Miranda, she has been a mother to you? miranda Yes, she is like a mother. evvy My child—I have no other. simon Then you see—it’s true! It isn’t the blood, It isn’t the bone. It’s never the matter that matters. Particles, molecules, cells, fingers, eyes, nerves Are only places for the system Of meaningful vibrations. It’s all in the meaning, the movement, The idea—that’s the idea. It’s never the clones, the bones, the Silicon chips, skinflick rips. It’s what you adopt, And how you adapt. They were all amazed How a tinkerer like me Could be such a shrewd investor. I looked for the movement, the vibration, Not the matter, the system! And that’s how I got rich! It’s not the hog bellies, hope chests, Chest of gold, heads of state, Skin, the belly, chest, head: The matter is just a medium, The system is the idea. miranda & evvy & nicholas [Then joined bySimon.] The matter is mortal But the system lives on The matter is mulch The matter is static The matter is zilch— But the system is movement, the ideal Is real and the idea persists. simon It made me rich! Skin flicks, hog bellies, hope chests, heads of state. Skin, belly, chest, head— Why freeze your head when you’re dead? It’s only meat! If I keep a little of my meat For old time’s sake, what the hell, A meaty souvenir— It won’t be the skull! I’ll save the heart, Or some other juicy part. [Simon is taken away byNicholas. Miranda andEvvy,like the audience, can no longer see him.] miranda How will we speak to you? Will you be some one place? When you’re all a vibration Without any one face We could know you with? evvy Will I know what is you Without any breath? Will it be your voice? Or a simulation? miranda & evvy What will I know, What will I do, How will my ears Know what they hear? How will my hands Know what they touch? How will it be you, And how will I know? simon What does it matter? Simulation, place, Medium, voice, Face, shmace— As many as I want, Faces and voices. Now I am almost purely, Entirely, Into the system I’m nearly Out of matter. But maybe I’m not Out of time. evvy But how can you be yourself, Without a body? How will I know you, my husband, How will you know me? simon Maybe as a bird, maybe As a dog, a horse, a house: “Body my house my horse my hound what will I do when you are fallen Where will I sleep How will I ride What will I hunt . . . when Body my good bright dog is dead.” So said the immortal May Swenson— I’ll be more immortal than her and that peculiar bird The immortal William Yeats. [Nods toNicholas.] Now! See you later! [Nicholas turns a switch or two, hits the return key, etc., andSimon slumps forward. The room shakes a bit. The metal bird stirs, stretches its wings, squawks a little. The portrait of young Simon becomes animated, looks around the room.] evvy What now? *     *     * Scene Two [Miranda and Nicholasare in the room, which continues to stir mysteriously, an animated environment. The portrait, the bird, other objects, pulse or shift like sleeping animals.] simon [Muttering, half-whispered.] Remember. Nearer . . . ardor . . . Closer . . . higher . . . Search-it . . . circuit . . . Memory tempered, Torturous choir: Dismembered, afire, No matter the matter— I did that. I am the same. The name and the matter, Touch and desire. Doing, undoing Dissemble the fire. Remember: I did that. Much in a wire. The closer the harder What was the matter? Scorched in a circle, Encumbered, remember: I am the same. The memory chamber Touch too much, too Much unremembered As I drew nearer. Touch not enough To the light expiring That matter encumbered. Remembered assembly, Circle of touch, torch Lighting the chamber Where I am the same. Remember. Torch and desire Disassembled memory As I draw nearer Over and over and over. . . . Couched in a wire Closer and higher Search it in the circuit Dismembered, afire, Resembled ensemble Assembled entire, Trembling to acquire A semblance of fire. Remember: Whatever I did I did that and I am the same. [By the end of the scene, there is no trace left of Simon’s human body.] *     *     * Scene Three miranda He has been silent all last night And all day. These things are alive, this place— But is my father alive? Is he here? Can he speak? When can we hear his voice? nicholas Where is Evvy? miranda Finally asleep. She’s afraid That he’s lost forever. Can you help us hear him? nicholas Yes!—He helped me, now I’ll help him. They said I was a vegetable Or a piece of meat. He gave me a new body, Made of graphite and magnesium, Titanium alloy and copper— Better than meat! When I was a kid And he had More money than God, He came into the ward And saved me at random. Now, I’ll help him live in the System. The way he helped me: I’ll help him live without a body— Post-Organic, like me! nicholas [Nicholas’s “Song To His Arms”; holds up his right arm.] One arm of bone and gristle, nerves and muscle— Mortal, fallible, breakable. Saved by the idea, saved by the System. [Holds up his left arm, a mechanized prosthesis, an openwork of rods and cables.] One arm of magnesium and nickel, Graphite, silicon, and cable— Mortal, fallible, breakable. Perfection of the soul-ware Capable of renewal Never in the matter. miranda This room Is all of him? nicholas Not the room, or the arm, Always the system, All in the principle That moves the cable and moves the muscle. miranda Can we hear his voice? Is he only this place? nicholas Like my left arm, that is mine Not me, Like a tool or a baby’s rattle. So is his voice, so is this place. And the right arm, too, is mine Not me. Like my skull lined with gristle So too his voice, so too this place. Even the brain in its shell, As mortal, as fallible, as breakable. As the clone the bone the hardest stone All mortal and material— I can help him, in the real. Not in silicon, titanium, or nickel Not hammered and enameled— Immaterial and immortal! Chrome and nickel, silicon and graphite. All get tired and old. Only the form is real. Only the system can hold. Now we can hear his voice: What is your name? [The artist’s version of young Simon steps hesitantly from the portrait. His movements are subtly but distinctly unnatural, even mechanical. He moves somewhat as the robots did as they began taking on their roles.] simon What is my name? A name is a machine. A name is a made-up thing That proposes someone is real. My name is A machine for designation— That’s what any name is. My name is Simon Walter Powers, It proposes I am alive. Like my spiritual mentors The immortal Walter Disney And the immortal Walter Whitman, My fellow Walters And fellow-inventors. And by the way, I have billions of bucks, And I can still sign checks. That’s what! miranda The gestures are unreal And so is the face But this is how he talks And this is his voice. nicholas Who is the president of the United States? [The youngSimonhas receded back into the portrait.Simon’s voice now emerges from the bird.] simon A man who wants my favor, A man who courts my power, A guy who wants to meet my movie stars, And wants to use my billions. That’s who. miranda Daddy, is it you in there? And can you hear me? nicholas In a moment we will try To see if he can hear you. What is your business? [The bird becomes relatively still, the next lines are inSimon’s voice coming from the portrait again, or from some other part of the room.] simon [As portrait or—] I am a producer. And business is my wares. Lady’s Wear, Software, Hardware—Artware, Warware, Peaceware— I am in Every Ware: Or you might call it Being Ware— Some call it fantasy Some call it entertainment Some are wary of its power. The Consuming Power of Billions. My business is making Being: To build the towers, to cure The disease, to make the hours Amusing or improving By showing you something new By taking you some where real You never were before. My business is the Mind. My business is to make it free To be everywhere My wares are every ware You can imagine. That’s what. And I have billions of bucks. And I can still sign checks. nicholas It works! He is alive, But he is not matter. miranda And is he still Simon, Is he still my father? nicholas All of that, And something better! *     *     * Scene Four [The middle of the night.Evvyenters in a daze, nearly as if sleepwalking.Evvyspeaks with the disembodiedSimon.] evvy Simon, do you remember the first time we danced? simon In the parking lot near the Francis Drake Hotel. evvy They had the windows open and we could hear the band. simon “Begin the Beguine.” I remember the terrace. evvy On the other side remember of the tall hedge. simon A tall hedge of pittosporum. I remember. evvy And the smell I remember of night jasmine. simon Your dress pink your pearls in as I remember two strands. evvy Held together I remember by a little silver bangle. simon I remember, love. And we danced for joy. Remember? evvy It’s hard to get used to seeing you like this. Do you want to live forever? simon People say “forever,” they say, “Do you want to live forever!” And people say, “enough”: “Haven’t you had enough?” Wrong questions! It’s not forever! It’s not “enough”! It’s . . .more! Don’t talk about enough! Enough never is enough! It’s more! Ask anybody how much money Would be enough for you? Just about everybody Says double what they have Or double what they make: More! What’s enough being alive? Why does the crushed bug Keep waving a leg? That wave Is for more, more, and more. Forever doesn’t matter. Enough isn’t good enough. What matters is more. And if you think you’ve got Three score years and ten Then what you want is not To outlive the sun, But a hundred and forty—more! Forever is not the point. All that matters is more. Don’t talk about enough, There’s no such thing— What you want is more: More, more, more. evvy Touch me. O yes that. And some this. And this again, yes. And more of that. O yes both and that Too and this other and O More this. And that. And the other. O. Yes, yes that and The other And this and that and more and all And the other and O yes All yes all yes, all yes. Touch me. I remember. *     *     * Scene Five [Nicholas alone. He now has two prosthetic arms and a prosthetic leg, but glides about efficiently, as though he has become part-Segway. He is fiddling with the now more-elaborate bird and portrait, which seem more alive than ever, as does the entire room. Robots are bustling about to assist him. Miranda enters, apparently accustomed to this new, stranger atmosphere.] miranda They are here— The important delegation From the United Way, The Administration And the United Nations— They want to speak to him, they say They want his ear. They say it’s regarding Matters of the whole Planet’s life and death. nicholas They want his ear? Don’t they understand? He doesn’t hear with ears, He doesn’t speak with breath. [Nicholas gleefully sheds another part of his human-looking body. Robots are dancing (vocalizing).] He says they should speak with Evvy, She handles that kind of thing. miranda The whole planet—famine, war, The exploitation of children . . . The whole planet . . . They know Evvy isn’t the same. They know she doesn’t listen To anything but him. I myself don’t know If she hears him or not. Here she comes. Evvy, dear— Did you speak with the delegation? [Evvy enters wearing headphones, swaying a little as if to music, nodding and tilting her head as if in conversation. She appears not to hear Miranda.] evvy Mmmm. nicholas Evvy, can you hear Simon? evvy Mmmmmm. miranda Are you listening to him? Does he know that the delegation . . . evvy Mmmmmmm. miranda The whole planet . . . nicholas Are you listening for him? evvy Mmmmmmmm. miranda Her mind is not in this world. Simon, Daddy—are you there? Are you speaking to her? Will you see the delegation From the United Way, The Administration And the United Nations? The devastation . . . the children . . . the planet . . . Will you listen? nicholas They want his ear, They want his eye— Those parts are dead and buried! He’s rather cranky And weary today. Send the delegation on its way. Send them away. miranda I can’t send away A delegation from the world— The Outside World Itself. The children . . . the devastation . . . Daddy, Simon— Will you? War . . . famine . . . evvy [Her face lights up; she lifts a finger as if hearing something.] Mmmmmmm! . . . [But no—she goes dreamy again, shakes her head, recedes.] Mmmmmmmm. simon’s voice Bring in the delegation From the Outside World Itself. I will see it and hear it For two minutes. [Miranda exits and returns with The United Way(medical scrubs?), The United Nations (dashiki?), and The Administration (suit?).] the united nations Sir, the sudden massive liquidation of your assets Has caused a global economic crisis. the administration The market is flooded with cheap hallucinogens And the food supply is threatened. the united way Surpluses and shortages, wars and famines. Because of your selling. the united nations An ecological crisis. From you no longer buying. the administration Biological weapons. Your withdrawing contributions. the united way People are starving, Children are dying. the united nations The planet itself is threatened. the united way Entire populations, climatic changes. Rogue microbes, radiation. the administration War, evacuation. the united way Rape, displacement. Exploitation of children . . . famine . . . the united nations Life itself is threatened— The means of evacuation Of an entire planet. the administration What is the meaning of your behavior? the united way & the united nation s & the administration We demand an answer! miranda [Joining the above.] Please answer! Can you listen? Maybe you should listen, For the sake of the starving . . . [Silence. As it persists, in the “breathing” room, they gradually all come to look at Nicholas.] nicholas He chooses not to answer. More and more, He chooses to live in dreams. the administration Or is he dead, has he been dead for years, And are you and his daughter Manipulating the markets, Spreading disaster? the united way Are you the manipulator Fabricating a voice? the united nations Pretending he’s still alive While a billion people suffer? the united way & the united nation s & the administration Do you exist? In the name Of the nameless ones who suffer, We demand an answer! simon [His voice from some new source, or from portrait and bird at once.] O Röschen rot! Der Mensch liegt in größter Not! Der Mensch liegt in größter Pein! Je lieber möcht’ ich im Himmel sein! the administration What is he saying? miranda Father, listen to them—they are the only voice The poor world has . . . simon Oh red rose! Man lies in deepest need. Man lies in deepest pain. Yes, I would rather be in heaven! evvy Mmmmmmm. the united nations It’s poetry! the united way What is it supposed to mean? miranda Is it Klopstock? Or Blake? A passage my father’s Often quoted I can hear Him humming it. simon The immortal poet Mündlich! the administration Was that German? I’m sorry— It doesn’t mean anything to me. simon An angel came and wanted to send me away. Ah no! I would not be sent away! I am from God and will return to God. Dear God will give me light, Will light me to eternal life! Me and Mündlich! the administration [DuringSimon’s song.] Sir, with all respect, we come to you In a time of global emergency. We need something more than poetry. the united way & the united nations Some of us do not understand poetry. Especially in a time of emergency. simon [During previous.] Da kam ich auf einen breiten Weg; Da kam ein Engelein und wollt’ mich abweisen. What? What did you say? the united way & the united nation s & the administration It’s a time of emergency We aren’t sure we understand Or appreciate hearing poetry! We do not understand! simon Understand— But you do understand the newspaper? the united way Well, yes, exactly. the administration We know the emergency. the united nations We understand the needs. simon You know that some time ago I bought the Reuters agency? the united way Yes, the world knows that, but sir— simon Please explain to me Something that came into my mind From my own agency That I cannot understand— Nicholas! Read this to them! nicholas [Reading from a monitor that appears, or from a page the room emits.] “Group of Young Men Beats Nurse to Death” “A group of young men taking part in coming-of-age rituals due to include circumcision turned on their male nurse and killed him, an official said yesterday. A spokesman for the provincial Health Department said the young men, ages 18 to 25, beat the man to death with sticks at the site of their initiation ceremonies in Port Angel on Friday evening. The attack followed complaints by the men that they were not being properly looked after during their initiation ceremonies. The nurse was in charge of caring for the men ahead of their circumcision.” the administration What? Huh? the united nations These are the sorts of problems Caused by the emergency . . . the united way In the time of stress and crisis . . . simon Do you understand it? Do you understand the bland Hollow, hollow sound of Understanding of the words? Do you understand that hollow? And you say you don’t Understand poetry! I came from light And I will return to light! [The room pulses, unpleasant strobes.] the administration I still say he might be dead. the united way This all may be a trick. the united nations You, how do we know he’s real? How . . . the administration . . . do . . . the united way . . . we know. . . the united nations . . . he’s not . . . the administration . . . something . . . the united way . . . that . . . the united nations . . . you . . . the united way . . . made . . . the administration . . . up? the united way & the united nation s & the administration Just a manipulation? miranda You should not agitate him. You are driving him out of this world. Father . . . listen . . . the children . . . [The room calms down again.] nicholas We can save the world, And free it from war and hunger, We can lead you out of your old Dependency on the body! the administration Is this the truth? Or a trick? the united nations A manipulation? the united way & the united nation s & the administration Is this the truth? nicholas I will tell you the truth!— He is perfectly real And I am the manipulation. He is an intelligence, in the system. And I am his creation, He’s real, and I am the golem. [ Nicholascalmly removes his head from his body, and smiles at the delegation.] the united way & the united nation s & the administration And this could be another trick! They both could be unreal—It’s all sinister tricks! We don’t know which one is real. [Simon and Nicholas are amused, butMiranda is nearly as surprised as the delegation.] simon What’s the difference? I don’t even need to sign checks: I am the software, the system. I control the money and power. If I’m a trick or a manipulation, Then I’m a trick in control. “Donations of Brains Are Probed in Maine”— There’s another actual headline From a paper I control. And you understand it. And you don’t understand poetry. And Da kam ein Engelein und wollt’ mich abweisen, And I’m in control, And I’m getting bored with you all. Now leave—your time is up. the united way & the united nation s & the administration Sir, this is selfish! simon How can I be selfish When I’m not even a self? I am All! And I’m bored with you all— All that world of meat. It’s my flesh and blood that I love. I will rescue my flesh and blood From bondage to flesh and blood. Now leave, your time is up. miranda Still, Father, you should listen . . . evvy [Her hands to the headphones, rather pained.] Mmmmmmm. miranda I miss having a father. Like any other Person, I am someone’s child I want at least Something like a mother Something of flesh and blood. I miss having a father Of flesh and blood. I need to touch my mother. evvy [Seeming to feel something, but we can’t be sure.] Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. *     *     * Scene Six [Miranda, Evvy, the now semi-robotic Nicholas,whose head may be on a shelf or cranny of the Segway-like body.] nicholas Still, I do wonder— Now that we are ready To leave the last bit Of these mortal bodies, I do wonder Why does he choose More and more To live away from the world. The senses will be stronger, Not weaker. The body will do more, Not less. The mind will be free. The senses will be pure, More and more. miranda What will it feel like? What does he feel? evvy [She removes the headphones, and regains focus.] I will tell you what it is like. I have been listening to Simon. It’s like when we fell in love. This is what it is like: When you stand on a high building Or on a bridge and you want to jump off Something in you wants to jump off, To feel what it might be like to fall. You can jump. You can fall. You can fall forever, and do it again. You are free to keep on falling forever You are free to fall and change your mind And drift back up. I’ve been listening to Simon. Excuse me. nicholas She is going into the system. The world is her body, She is everything she hears, She can see for a million miles. It is like falling in love. [Evvy is transformed, her body becomes empty and she is manifested somewhere in the room. Another portrait? The bird in another form?] evvy [As part of the room.] Are you coming, Nicholas? nicholas I’m already there! [Nicholas too is transformed, appearing as some previously inanimate part of the room. It appears that everyone in the family unit except Miranda has “become the room.”] miranda They have all gone into the world of light! But what about the poor, the children, the starving? [The United Way, The United Nations, and The Administrationlead onstage a parade of the world’s miseries—the victims of famine, torture, crime, disease. The pageant subsides into the shadows, with Miranda alone in the foreground, with the room dim and inert.] And, what about me? With nothing like a mother Of flesh and blood, nothing Like a father, Either alive or dead. Can all the earth be disembodied? Neither alive nor dead? Can we all fall and rise forever? Together? Are we few rising into the light, While the others sink down into pain? Can we help them up When we are free of meat? I want my mother! [The figure ofSimon,in his human body, on a wheelchair or semi-gurney, with respirator andivdrip, emerges from the shadows. Not quite real, like a hologram.] miranda Father! Is it you? Still in a body? Still in this world of meat? simon I appear to you one more time, Dear Miranda, to explain: Like you, I tried to help the world. I, too, saw these miseries, and I’ve Tried to heal the world, too. But the animal is defective. It’s not the poor or the starving That hold you back. It’s yourself—I know: I, too, tried to heal the world— But it’s in us, the problem’s in us, it’s in us. We evolved as meat, to love fat and sugar; Once that was good, but now it is fatal. We evolved as flesh, to want sex all the time; Once that was good, but now it’s only trouble. We evolved as muscle, to want to make war; Once that was good, but now that is lethal. Our fat and sugar are killing us, Our sweetness and abundance Kill us, and lead us to famine Bigger McMuck, Thicker Sweet Shake. Sexier Shaking the Sweetness, Smarter Weapons for Meat. Meat wants Meat, Meat wants Sweet, Meat sweats for the Sweets, Meat wants who it meets— It kills to eat. Now there’s no help but evolving Out of the meat, and into the system. It isn’t the many and the few— It’s yourself, it’s you! Come! Into the world of light! miranda The misery’s part of our being, We don’t need to amputate it. And me, my own misery is part of me. I don’t want to amputate it Painful as it is. Yes, what about me? With nothing like another Person’s body To touch, no body to feel, I can still feel the misery Of what I lack. No body to have or be had by, No way to make love. No lover, no other. Nothing of the body. With nothing like a mother Of flesh and blood, nothing Like a father, Either alive or dead. Can all the earth be disembodied? Neither alive nor dead? Can we all fall and rise forever? Together? Are we few rising into the light, While the others sink down into pain? Can we help them up When we’re free of meat? Who will we touch? I want my sugar, my touch, I want my sweet milk My meat and my misery My touch and my milk— I want my mother! simon What you feel is phantom pain In the amputated limb. Leave it, Away from the bondage of meat! Away from the wars and the sweat! miranda I don’t want to, I want to stay in my body, In this body of sugar and fat, This bondage of sex and war— But my body of sugar and fat, My body of sex and war, My body of death and sweat, Is in my mind—it makes me need To be with my pack, my tribe. There in the world of light. simon Yes come to the light from the meat! miranda No I won’t amputate My body away from the light. The body of this death Is who I am, it is my mind. I am this body of death. simon No, you are not meat, you are light! Come with us, leave the meat. Leave the death and the sweat. miranda Yes I crave to go with my pack Because I am this body, Body of death and sweat, Is where I want to stay. Body of death and sweat That I leave behind Because I am this body. Because I am this body of Death, and sweat I’m Afraid to be alone. [Repeating the following text with building intensity.] Who will I be? What will I see, When this body is gone? Without my forgetting How will I remember? Without my death Who will I be? simon [Joining Miranda.] Away from the body of death. Away from the body of meat! Away from the wars and the sweat! miranda What will I remember With no forgetting? simon Away from the body of meat! miranda How will I feel, Who will I be? simon Away from the wars and the sweat! [The appearance ofSimon’s physical presence dissolves.Miranda hesitates. She turns toward the audience. Light grows to a blinding level. The robots re-form into a regular grid around her.] *     *     * Epilogue [In the course of this scene, the individual robots, still vestigially in their “costumes” or shapes as the characters, gradually become first mechanical units, then the same mass we saw at the beginning of the opera. Throughout this process they continue to sing, even as the gestalt leaves the stage. Then, silence.] robot two That’s it? That’s the show? Where’s the rest? I still cannot understand— What is this “Death”— Is it a form of waste? And “starvation”— An absence of fuel In an inferior body? A defective shell? Are they both a coming to rest? And why would one choose the worst? Why choose the war and the waste? Why choose a defective shell? robot three It must be excessive cost. And then, a coming to rest. robot four That is where all things tend. As simple as entropy: Coming to rest. robot two And what is meat? robot three Organic matter, Which is a form of hunger: Restlessness. robot two Meat is a form of hunger? And peace is a coming to rest? robot four And why did those young men Beat that nurse to . . . “death”? And what is circumcision? robot two Is it a form of poetry? Or a form of meat? robot three Why choose to suffer? Whatever that means? robot leader Questions are excellent. Units deployed as Individuals will receive One Thousand Human Rights Status Credits. Now, it is time for the ordained ritual To come to rest.

1918 "This is the State above the Law. The State exists for the State alone." [This is a gland at the back of the jaw, And an answering lump by the collar-bone.] Some die shouting in gas or fire; Some die silent, by shell and shot. Some die desperate, caught on the wire; Some die suddenly. This will not. "Regis suprema voluntas Lex" [It will follow the regular course of—throats.] Some die pinned by the broken decks, Some die sobbing between the boats. Some die eloquent, pressed to death By the sliding trench as their friends can hear. Some die wholly in half a breath. Some—give trouble for half a year. "There is neither Evil nor Good in life. Except as the needs of the State ordain." [Since it is rather too late for the knife, All we can do is mask the pain.] Some die saintly in faith and hope— Some die thus in a prison-yard— Some die broken by rape or the rope; Some die easily. This dies hard. "I will dash to pieces who bar my way. Woe to the traitor!    Woe to the weak!" [Let him write what he wishes to say. It tires him out if he tries to speak.] Some die quietly.    Some abound In loud self-pity.    Others spread Bad morale through the cots around . . . This is a type that is better dead. "The war was forced on me by my foes. All that I sought was the right to live." [Don't be afraid of a triple dose; The pain will neutralize half we give. Here are the needles.    See that he dies While the effects of the drug endure . . . What is the question he asks with his eyes?— Yes, All-Highest, to God, be sure.]

He drowsed and was aware of silence heaped Round him, unshaken as the steadfast walls; Aqueous like floating rays of amber light, Soaring and quivering in the wings of sleep. Silence and safety; and his mortal shore Lipped by the inward, moonless waves of death. Someone was holding water to his mouth. He swallowed, unresisting; moaned and dropped Through crimson gloom to darkness; and forgot The opiate throb and ache that was his wound. Water—calm, sliding green above the weir; Water—a sky-lit alley for his boat, Bird-voiced, and bordered with reflected flowers And shaken hues of summer: drifting down, He dipped contented oars, and sighed, and slept. Night, with a gust of wind, was in the ward, Blowing the curtain to a gummering curve. Night. He was blind; he could not see the stars Glinting among the wraiths of wandering cloud; Queer blots of colour, purple, scarlet, green, Flickered and faded in his drowning eyes. Rain—he could hear it rustling through the dark; Fragrance and passionless music woven as one; Warm rain on drooping roses; pattering showers That soak the woods; not the harsh rain that sweeps Behind the thunder, but a trickling peace, Gently and slowly washing life away. He stirred, shifting his body; then the pain Leaped like a prowling beast, and gripped and tore His groping dreams with grinding claws and fangs. But someone was beside him; soon he lay Shuddering because that evil thing had passed. And death, who'd stepped toward him, paused and stared. Light many lamps and gather round his bed. Lend him your eyes, warm blood, and will to live. Speak to him; rouse him; you may save him yet. He's young; he hated war; how should he die When cruel old campaigners win safe through? But death replied: “I choose him.” So he went, And there was silence in the summer night; Silence and safety; and the veils of sleep. Then, far away, the thudding of the guns.

[Supposed of Pamphylax the Antiochene: It is a parchment, of my rolls the fifth, Hath three skins glued together, is all Greek, And goeth from Epsilon down to Mu: Lies second in the surnamed Chosen Chest, Stained and conserved with juice of terebinth, Covered with cloth of hair, and lettered Xi, From Xanthus, my wife's uncle, now at peace: Mu and Epsilon stand for my own name. I may not write it, but I make a cross To show I wait His coming, with the rest, And leave off here: beginneth Pamphylax.] I said, "If one should wet his lips with wine, "And slip the broadest plantain-leaf we find, "Or else the lappet of a linen robe, "Into the water-vessel, lay it right, "And cool his forehead just above the eyes, "The while a brother, kneeling either side, "Should chafe each hand and try to make it warm,— "He is not so far gone but he might speak." This did not happen in the outer cave, Nor in the secret chamber of the rock Where, sixty days since the decree was out, We had him, bedded on a camel-skin, And waited for his dying all the while; But in the midmost grotto: since noon's light Reached there a little, and we would not lose The last of what might happen on his face. I at the head, and Xanthus at the feet, With Valens and the Boy, had lifted him, And brought him from the chamber in the depths, And laid him in the light where we might see: For certain smiles began about his mouth, And his lids moved, presageful of the end. Beyond, and half way up the mouth o' the cave The Bactrian convert, having his desire, Kept watch, and made pretence to graze a goat That gave us milk, on rags of various herb, Plantain and quitch, the rocks' shade keeps alive: So that if any thief or soldier passed (Because the persecution was aware, Yielding the goat up promptly with his life, Such man might pass on, joyful at a prize, Nor care to pry into the cool o' the cave. Outside was all noon and the burning blue. "Here is wine," answered Xanthus,—dropped a drop; I stooped and placed the lap of cloth aright, Then chafed his right hand, and the Boy his left: But Valens had bethought him, and produced And broke a ball of nard, and made perfume. Only, he did—not so much wake, as—turn And smile a little, as a sleeper does If any dear one call him, touch his face— And smiles and loves, but will not be disturbed. Then Xanthus said a prayer, but still he slept: It is the Xanthus that escaped to Rome, Was burned, and could not write the chronicle. Then the Boy sprang up from his knees, and ran, Stung by the splendour of a sudden thought, And fetched the seventh plate of graven lead Out of the secret chamber, found a place, Pressing with finger on the deeper dints, And spoke, as 'twere his mouth proclaiming first, "I am the Resurrection and the Life." Whereat he opened his eyes wide at once, And sat up of himself, and looked at us; And thenceforth nobody pronounced a word: Only, outside, the Bactrian cried his cry Like the lone desert-bird that wears the ruff, As signal we were safe, from time to time. First he said, "If a friend declared to me, "This my son Valens, this my other son, "Were James and Peter,—nay, declared as well "This lad was very John,—I could believe! "—Could, for a moment, doubtlessly believe: "So is myself withdrawn into my depths, "The soul retreated from the perished brain "Whence it was wont to feel and use the world "Through these dull members, done with long ago. "Yet I myself remain; I feel myself: "And there is nothing lost. Let be, awhile!" [This is the doctrine he was wont to teach, How divers persons witness in each man, Three souls which make up one soul: first, to wit, A soul of each and all the bodily parts, Seated therein, which works, and is what Does, And has the use of earth, and ends the man Downward: but, tending upward for advice, Grows into, and again is grown into By the next soul, which, seated in the brain, Useth the first with its collected use, And feeleth, thinketh, willeth,—is what Knows: Which, duly tending upward in its turn, Grows into, and again is grown into By the last soul, that uses both the first, Subsisting whether they assist or no, And, constituting man's self, is what Is— And leans upon the former, makes it play, As that played off the first: and, tending up, Holds, is upheld by, God, and ends the man Upward in that dread point of intercourse, Nor needs a place, for it returns to Him. What Does, what Knows, what Is; three souls, one man. I give the glossa of Theotypas.] And then, "A stick, once fire from end to end; "Now, ashes save the tip that holds a spark! "Yet, blow the spark, it runs back, spreads itself "A little where the fire was: thus I urge "The soul that served me, till it task once more "What ashes of my brain have kept their shape, "And these make effort on the last o' the flesh, "Trying to taste again the truth of things—" (He smiled)—"their very superficial truth; "As that ye are my sons, that it is long "Since James and Peter had release by death, "And I am only he, your brother John, "Who saw and heard, and could remember all. "Remember all! It is not much to say. "What if the truth broke on me from above "As once and oft-times? Such might hap again: "Doubtlessly He might stand in presence here, "With head wool-white, eyes flame, and feet like brass, "The sword and the seven stars, as I have seen— "I who now shudder only and surmise "How did your brother bear that sight and live?' "If I live yet, it is for good, more love "Through me to men: be nought but ashes here "That keep awhile my semblance, who was John,— "Still, when they scatter, there is left on earth "No one alive who knew (consider this!) "—Saw with his eyes and handled with his hands "That which was from the first, the Word of Life. "How will it be when none more saith 'I saw'? "Such ever was love's way: to rise, it stoops. "Since I, whom Christ's mouth taught, was bidden teach, "I went, for many years, about the world, "Saying 'It was so; so I heard and saw,' "Speaking as the case asked: and men believed. "Afterward came the message to myself "In Patmos isle; I was not bidden teach, "But simply listen, take a book and write, "Nor set down other than the given word, "With nothing left to my arbitrament "To choose or change: I wrote, and men believed. "Then, for my time grew brief, no message more, "No call to write again, I found a way, "And, reasoning from my knowledge, merely taught "Men should, for love's sake, in love's strength believe; "Or I would pen a letter to a friend "And urge the same as friend, nor less nor more: "Friends said I reasoned rightly, and believed. "But at the last, why, I seemed left alive "Like a sea jelly weak on Patmos strand, "To tell dry sea-beach gazers how I fared "When there was mid-sea, and the mighty things; "Left to repeat, 'I saw, I heard, I knew,' "And go all over the old ground again, "With Antichrist already in the world, "And many Antichrists, who answered prompt " Am I not Jasper as thyself art John? " Nay, young, whereas through age thou mayest forget; " Wherefore, explain, or how shall we believe? "I never thought to call down fire on such, "Or, as in wonderful and early days, "Pick up the scorpion, tread the serpent dumb; "But patient stated much of the Lord's life "Forgotten or misdelivered, and let it work: "Since much that at the first, in deed and word, "Lay simply and sufficiently exposed, "Had grown (or else my soul was grown to match, "Fed through such years, familiar with such light, "Guarded and guided still to see and speak) "Of new significance and fresh result; "What first were guessed as points, I now knew stars, "And named them in the Gospel I have writ. "For men said, 'It is getting long ago: " Where is the promise of His coming?'—asked "These young ones in their strength, as loth to wait, "Of me who, when their sires were born, was old. "I, for I loved them, answered, joyfully, "Since I was there, and helpful in my age; "And, in the main, I think such men believed. "Finally, thus endeavouring, I fell sick, "Ye brought me here, and I supposed the end, "And went to sleep with one thought that, at least, "Though the whole earth should lie in wickedness, "We had the truth, might leave the rest to God. "Yet now I wake in such decrepitude "As I had slidden down and fallen afar, "Past even the presence of my former self, "Grasping the while for stay at facts which snap, "Till I am found away from my own world, Feeling for foot-hold through a blank profound, "Along with unborn people in strange lands, "Who say—I hear said or conceive they say— " Was John at all, and did he say he saw? " Assure us, ere we ask what he might see!' "And how shall I assure them? Can they share "—They, who have flesh, a veil of youth and strength "About each spirit, that needs must bide its time, "Living and learning still as years assist "Which wear the thickness thin, and let man see— "With me who hardly am withheld at all, "But shudderingly, scarce a shred between, "Lie bare to the universal prick of light? "Is it for nothing we grow old and weak, "We whom God loves? When pain ends, gain ends too. "To me, that story—ay, that Life and Death "Of which I wrote 'it was'—to me, it is; "—Is, here and now: I apprehend nought else. Is not God now i' the world His power first made? "Is not His love at issue still with sin, "Visibly when a wrong is done on earth? "Love, wrong, and pain, what see I else around? "Yea, and the Resurrection and Uprise "To the right hand of the throne—what is it beside, "When such truth, breaking bounds, o'erfloods my soul, And, as I saw the sin and death, even so "See I the need yet transiency of both, "The good and glory consummated thence? "I saw the power; I see the Love, once weak, "Resume the Power: and in this word 'I see,' "Lo, there is recognized the Spirit of both "That moving o'er the spirit of man, unblinds "His eye and bids him look. These are, I see; "But ye, the children, His beloved ones too, "Ye need,—as I should use an optic glass I wondered at erewhile, somewhere i' the world, "It had been given a crafty smith to make; "A tube, he turned on objects brought too close, Lying confusedly insubordinate "For the unassisted eye to master once: "Look through his tube, at distance now they lay, "Become succinct, distinct, so small, so clear! "Just thus, ye needs must apprehend what truth "I see, reduced to plain historic fact, "Diminished into clearness, proved a point "And far away: ye would withdraw your sense From out eternity, strain it upon time, "Then stand before that fact, that Life and Death, "Stay there at gaze, till it dispart, dispread, As though a star should open out, all sides, Grow the world on you, as it is my world. "For life, with all it yields of joy and woe "And hope and fear,—believe the aged friend,— Is just our chance o' the prize of learning love, "How love might be, hath been indeed, and is; "And that we hold thenceforth to the uttermost "Such prize despite the envy of the world, And, having gained truth, keep truth: that is all. "But see the double way wherein we are led, "How the soul learns diversely from the flesh! "With flesh, that hath so little time to stay, "And yields mere basement for the soul's emprise, "Expect prompt teaching. Helpful was the light, "And warmth was cherishing and food was choice "To every man's flesh, thousand years ago, "As now to yours and mine; the body sprang "At once to the height, and stayed: but the soul,—no! "Since sages who, this noontide, meditate "In Rome or Athens, may descry some point "Of the eternal power, hid yestereve; "And, as thereby the power's whole mass extends, "So much extends the æther floating o'er, "The love that tops the might, the Christ in God. "Then, as new lessons shall be learned in these "Till earth's work stop and useless time run out, "So duly, daily, needs provision be "For keeping the soul's prowess possible, "Building new barriers as the old decay, "Saving us from evasion of life's proof, "Putting the question ever, 'Does God love, " And will ye hold that truth against the world?' "Ye know there needs no second proof with good "Gained for our flesh from any earthly source: "We might go freezing, ages,—give us fire, "Thereafter we judge fire at its full worth, "And guard it safe through every chance, ye know! "That fable of Prometheus and his theft, "How mortals gained Jove's fiery flower, grows old "(I have been used to hear the pagans own) "And out of mind; but fire, howe'er its birth, "Here is it, precious to the sophist now "Who laughs the myth of Æschylus to scorn, "As precious to those satyrs of his play, "Who touched it in gay wonder at the thing. "While were it so with the soul,—this gift of truth "Once grasped, were this our soul's gain safe, and sure "To prosper as the body's gain is wont,— "Why, man's probation would conclude, his earth "Crumble; for he both reasons and decides, "Weighs first, then chooses: will he give up fire "For gold or purple once he knows its worth? "Could he give Christ up were His worth as plain? "Therefore, I say, to test man, the proofs shift, "Nor may he grasp that fact like other fact, "And straightway in his life acknowledge it, "As, say, the indubitable bliss of fire. "Sigh ye, 'It had been easier once than now'? "To give you answer I am left alive; "Look at me who was present from the first! "Ye know what things I saw; then came a test, "My first, befitting me who so had seen: " Forsake the Christ thou sawest transfigured, Him " Who trod the sea and brought the dead to life? " What should wring this from thee!'—ye laugh and ask. "What wrung it? Even a torchlight and a noise, "The sudden Roman faces, violent hands, "And fear of what the Jews might do! Just that, "And it is written, 'I forsook and fled': "There was my trial, and it ended thus. "Ay, but my soul had gained its truth, could grow: "Another year or two,—what little child, "What tender woman that had seen no least "Of all my sights, but barely heard them told, "Who did not clasp the cross with a light laugh, "Or wrap the burning robe round, thanking God? "Well, was truth safe for ever, then? Not so. "Already had begun the silent work "Whereby truth, deadened of its absolute blaze, "Might need love's eye to pierce the o'erstretched doubt. "Teachers were busy, whispering 'All is true " As the aged ones report; but youth can reach " Where age gropes dimly, weak with stir and strain, " And the full doctrine slumbers till to-day.' "Thus, what the Roman's lowered spear was found, "A bar to me who touched and handled truth, "Now proved the glozing of some new shrewd tongue, "This Ebion, this Cerinthus or their mates, "Till imminent was the outcry Save our Christ!' "Whereon I stated much of the Lord's life "Forgotten or misdelivered, and let it work. "Such work done, as it will be, what comes next? "What do I hear say, or conceive men say, " Was John at all, and did he say he saw? " Assure us, ere we ask what he might see!' "Is this indeed a burthen for late days, "And may I help to bear it with you all, "Using my weakness which becomes your strength? "For if a babe were born inside this grot, "Grew to a boy here, heard us praise the sun, "Yet had but yon sole glimmer in light's place,— "One loving him and wishful he should learn, "Would much rejoice himself was blinded first "Month by month here, so made to understand "How eyes, born darkling, apprehend amiss: "I think I could explain to such a child "There was more glow outside than gleams he caught, "Ay, nor need urge 'I saw it, so believe!' "It is a heavy burthen you shall bear "In latter days, new lands, or old grown strange, "Left without me, which must be very soon. "What is the doubt, my brothers? Quick with it! "I see you stand conversing, each new face, "Either in fields, of yellow summer eves, "On islets yet unnamed amid the sea; "Or pace for shelter 'neath a portico "Out of the crowd in some enormous town "Where now the larks sing in a solitude; "Or muse upon blank heaps of stone and sand "Idly conjectured to be Ephesus: "And no one asks his fellow any more " Where is the promise of His coming?' but " Was he revealed in any of His lives, " As Power, as Love, as Influencing Soul?' "Quick, for time presses, tell the whole mind out, "And let us ask and answer and be saved! "My book speaks on, because it cannot pass; "One listens quietly, nor scoffs but pleads " Here is a tale of things done ages since; " What truth was ever told the second day? " Wonders, that would prove doctrine, go for nought. " Remains the doctrine, love; well, we must love, " And what we love most, power and love in one, " Let us acknowledge on the record here, " Accepting these in Christ: must Christ then be? " Has He been? Did not we ourselves make Him? " Our mind receives but what it holds, no more. " First of the love, then; we acknowledge Christ— " A proof we comprehend His love, a proof " We had such love already in ourselves, " Knew first what else we should not recognize. "   'Tis mere projection from man's inmost mind, " And, what he loves, thus falls reflected back, " Becomes accounted somewhat out of him; " He throws it up in air, it drops down earth's, " With shape, name, story added, man's old way. " How prove you Christ came otherwise at least? " Next try the power: He made and rules the world: " Certes there is a world once made, now ruled, " Unless things have been ever as we see. " Our sires declared a charioteer's yoked steeds " Brought the sun up the east and down the west, " Which only of itself now rises, sets, " As if a hand impelled it and a will,— " Thus they long thought, they who had will and hands: " But the new question's whisper is distinct, " Wherefore must all force needs be like ourselves? " We have the hands, the will; what made and drives " The sun is force, is law, is named, not known, " While will and love we do know; marks of these, " Eye-witnesses attest, so books declare— " As that, to punish or reward our race, " The sun at undue times arose or set " Or else stood still: what do not men affirm? " But earth requires as urgently reward " Or punishment to-day as years ago, " And none expects the sun will interpose: " Therefore it was mere passion and mistake, " Or erring zeal for right, which changed the truth. " Go back, far, farther, to the birth of things; " Ever the will, the intelligence, the love, " Man's!—which he gives, supposing he but finds, " As late he gave head, body, hands and feet, " To help these in what forms he called his gods. " First, Jove's brow, Juno's eyes were swept away, " But Jove's wrath, Juno's pride continued long; " As last, will, power, and love discarded these, " So law in turn discards power, love, and will. " What proveth God is otherwise at least? " All else, projection from the mind of man!' "Nay, do not give me wine, for I am strong, "But place my gospel where I put my hands. "I say that man was made to grow, not stop; "That help, he needed once, and needs no more, "Having grown but an inch by, is withdrawn: "For he hath new needs, and new helps to these. "This imports solely, man should mount on each "New height in view; the help whereby he mounts, "The ladder-rung his foot has left, may fall, "Since all things suffer change save God the Truth. "Man apprehends Him newly at each stage "Whereat earth's ladder drops, its service done; "And nothing shall prove twice what once was proved. "You stick a garden-plot with ordered twigs "To show inside lie germs of herbs unborn, "And check the careless step would spoil their birth; "But when herbs wave, the guardian twigs may go, "Since should ye doubt of virtues, question kinds, "It is no longer for old twigs ye look, "Which proved once underneath lay store of seed, "But to the herb's self, by what light ye boast, "For what fruit's signs are. This book's fruit is plain, "Nor miracles need prove it any more. "Doth the fruit show? Then miracles bade 'ware "At first of root and stem, saved both till now "From trampling ox, rough boar and wanton goat. "What? Was man made a wheelwork to wind up, "And be discharged, and straight wound up anew? "No!—grown, his growth lasts; taught, he ne'er forgets: "May learn a thousand things, not twice the same. "This might be pagan teaching: now hear mine. "I say, that as the babe, you feed awhile, "Becomes a boy and fit to feed himself, "So, minds at first must be spoon-fed with truth: "When they can eat, babe's-nurture is withdrawn. "I fed the babe whether it would or no: "I bid the boy or feed himself or starve. "I cried once, 'That ye may believe in Christ, " Behold this blind man shall receive his sight!' "I cry now, 'Urgest thou,for I am shrewd " And smile at stories how John's word could cure— " Repeat that miracle and take my faith?' "I say, that miracle was duly wrought "When, save for it, no faith was possible. "Whether a change were wrought i' the shows o' the world, "Whether the change came from our minds which see "Of shows o' the world so much as and no more "Than God wills for His purpose,—(what do I "See now, suppose you, there where you see rock "Round us?)—I know not; such was the effect, "So faith grew, making void more miracles "Because too much; they would compel, not help. "I say, the acknowledgment of God in Christ "Accepted by thy reason, solves for thee "All questions in the earth and out of it, "And has so far advanced thee to be wise. "Wouldst thou unprove this to re-prove the proved? "In life's mere minute, with power to use that proof, "Leave knowledge and revert to how it sprung? "Thou hast it; use it and forthwith, or die! "For I say, this is death and the sole death, "When a man's loss comes to him from his gain, "Darkness from light, from knowledge ignorance, "And lack of love from love made manifest; "A lamp's death when, replete with oil, it chokes; "A stomach's when, surcharged with food, it starves. "With Ignorance was surety of a cure. "When man, appalled at nature, questioned first " What if there lurk a might behind this might?' "He needed satisfaction God could give, "And did give, as ye have the written word: "But when he finds might still redouble might, "Yet asks, Since all is might, what use of will?' "—Will, the one source of might,—he being man "With a man's will and a man's might, to teach "In little how the two combine in large,— "That man has turned round on himself and stands, "Which in the course of nature is, to die. "And when man questioned, 'What if there be love " Behind the will and might, as real as they?'— "He needed satisfaction God could give, "And did give, as ye have the written word: "But when, beholding that love everywhere, He reasons, Since such love is everywhere, " And since ourselves can love and would be loved, " We ourselves make the love, and Christ was not,'— "How shall ye help this man who knows himself, "That he must love and would be loved again, "Yet, owning his own love that proveth Christ, "Rejecteth Christ though very need of Him? "The lamp o'erswims with oil, the stomach flags "Loaded with nurture, and that man's soul dies. "If he rejoin, But this was all the while " A trick; the fault was, first of all, in thee, " Thy story of the places, names and dates " Where, when and how the ultimate truth had rise, " —Thy prior truth, at last discovered none, " Whence now the second suffers detriment. " What good of giving knowledge if, because " O' the manner of the gift, its profit fail? " And why refuse what modicum of help " Had stopped the after-doubt, impossible " I' the face of truth—truth absolute, uniform? " Why must I hit of this and miss of that, " Distinguish just as I be weak or strong, " And not ask of thee and have answer prompt, " Was this once, was it not once?—then and now " And evermore, plain truth from man to man. " Is John's procedure just the heathen bard's? " Put question of his famous play again " How for the ephemerals' sake Jove's fire was filched, " And carried in a cane and brought to earth: "The fact is in the fable, cry the wise, "Mortals obtained the boon, so much is fact, "Though fire be spirit and produced on earth. " As with the Titan's, so now with thy tale: " Why breed in us perplexity, mistake, " Nor tell the whole truth in the proper words?' "I answer, Have ye yet to argue out "The very primal thesis, plainest law, "—Man is not God but hath God's end to serve, "A master to obey, a course to take, "Somewhat to cast off, somewhat to become? "Grant this, then man must pass from old to new, "From vain to real, from mistake to fact, "From what once seemed good, to what now proves best. "How could man have progression otherwise? "Before the point was mooted 'What is God?' "No savage man inquired 'What am myself?' "Much less replied, First, last, and best of things.' "Man takes that title now if he believes "Might can exist with neither will nor love, "In God's case—what he names now Nature's Law— "While in himself he recognizes love "No less than might and will: and rightly takes. "Since if man prove the sole existent thing "Where these combine, whatever their degree, "However weak the might or will or love, "So they be found there, put in evidence,— "He is as surely higher in the scale "Than any might with neither love nor will, "As life, apparent in the poorest midge, "(When the faint dust-speck flits, ye guess its wing) "Is marvellous beyond dead Atlas' self— "Given to the nobler midge for resting-place! "Thus, man proves best and highest—God, in fine, "And thus the victory leads but to defeat, "The gain to loss, best rise to the worst fall, "His life becomes impossible, which is death. "But if, appealing thence, he cower, avouch "He is mere man, and in humility "Neither may know God nor mistake himself; "I point to the immediate consequence "And say, by such confession straight he falls "Into man's place, a thing nor God nor beast, "Made to know that he can know and not more: "Lower than God who knows all and can all, "Higher than beasts which know and can so far "As each beast's limit, perfect to an end, "Nor conscious that they know, nor craving more; "While man knows partly but conceives beside, "Creeps ever on from fancies to the fact, "And in this striving, this converting air "Into a solid he may grasp and use, "Finds progress, man's distinctive mark alone, "Not God's, and not the beasts': God is, they are, "Man partly is and wholly hopes to be. "Such progress could no more attend his soul "Were all it struggles after found at first "And guesses changed to knowledge absolute, "Than motion wait his body, were all else "Than it the solid earth on every side, "Where now through space he moves from rest to rest. "Man, therefore, thus conditioned, must expect "He could not, what he knows now, know at first; "What he considers that he knows to-day, "Come but to-morrow, he will find misknown; "Getting increase of knowledge, since he learns "Because he lives, which is to be a man, "Set to instruct himself by his past self: "First, like the brute, obliged by facts to learn, "Next, as man may, obliged by his own mind, "Bent, habit, nature, knowledge turned to law. "God's gift was that man should conceive of truth "And yearn to gain it, catching at mistake, "As midway help till he reach fact indeed. "The statuary ere he mould a shape "Boasts a like gift, the shape's idea, and next The aspiration to produce the same; "So, taking clay, he calls his shape thereout, "Cries ever Now I have the thing I see': "Yet all the while goes changing what was wrought, "From falsehood like the truth, to truth itself. "How were it had he cried 'I see no face, " No breast, no feet i' the ineffectual clay'? "Rather commend him that he clapped his hands, "And laughed 'It is my shape and lives again!' ''EnJoyed the falsehood, touched it on to truth, "Until yourselves applaud the flesh indeed "In what is still flesh-imitating clay. "Right in you, right in him, such way be man's! "God only makes the live shape at a jet. "Will ye renounce this pact of creatureship? "The pattern on the Mount subsists no more, "Seemed awhile, then returned to nothingness; "But copies, Moses strove to make thereby, "Serve still and are replaced as time requires: "By these, make newest vessels, reach the type! "If ye demur, this judgment on your head, "Never to reach the ultimate, angel's law, "Indulging every instinct of the soul "There where law, life, joy, impulse are one thing! "Such is the burthen of the latest time. "I have survived to hear it with my ears, "Answer it with my lips: does this suffice? "For if there be a further woe than such, "Wherein my brothers struggling need a hand, "So long as any pulse is left in mine, "May I be absent even longer yet, "Plucking the blind ones back from the abyss, "Though I should tarry a new hundred years!" But he was dead; 't was about noon, the day Somewhat declining: we five buried him That eve, and then, dividing, went five ways, And I, disguised, returned to Ephesus. By this, the cave's mouth must be filled with sand. Valens is lost, I know not of his trace; The Bactrian was but a wild childish man, And could not write nor speak, but only loved: So, lest the memory of this go quite, Seeing that I to-morrow fight the beasts, I tell the same to Phœbas, whom believe! For many look again to find that face, Beloved John's to whom I ministered, Somewhere in life about the world; they err: Either mistaking what was darkly spoke At ending of his book, as he relates, Or misconceiving somewhat of this speech Scattered from mouth to mouth, as I suppose. Believe ye will not see him any more About the world with his divine regard! For all was as I say, and now the man Lies as he lay once, breast to breast with God. [Cerinthus read and mused; one added this: "If Christ, as thou affirmest, be of men "Mere man, the first and best but nothing more,— "Account Him, for reward of what He was, "Now and for ever, wretchedest of all. "For see; Himself conceived of life as love, "Conceived of love as what must enter in, "Fill up, make one with His each soul He loved. "Thus much for man's joy, all men's joy for Him. "Well, He is gone, thou sayest, to fit reward. "But by this time are many souls set free, "And very many still retained alive: "Nay, should His coming be delayed awhile, "Say, ten years longer (twelve years, some compute) "See if, for every finger of thy hands, "There be not found, that day the world shall end, "Hundreds of souls, each holding by Christ's word "That He will grow incorporate with all, "With me as Pamphylax, with him as John, "Groom for each bride!  Can a mere man do this? "Yet Christ saith, this He lived and died to do. "Call Christ, then, the illimitable God, "Or lost!" But 't was Cerinthus that is lost.]