THIRTY-FOUR
THE CARRIER OF LIGHT AND POWER

In the words of the old hymn, there’s more than one way to fuck a duck. I battered my head on Lipgloss’s clubfooted prose, mindful of Grady’s gloomy threats. I spent an entire afternoon deciphering about a dozen pages, with the Reverend a witness to the struggle, dawdling breathlessly for some word of praise. I waited for a segue to my target, and, finally, after a few false starts, I found one.

“It’s fascinating,” I told him.

“Wait till you get to the oral histories,” he said, preening with pleasure. “It’s steamier than the Boccaccio of Decameron. What these guys try to do with their tools you wouldn’t believe.”

“That’s what interests me,” I said. “Tools. And building materials.” I put down the legal pad and plucked at my lower lip, evidence of deep thinking. “I suppose you devote some space to them?”

He frowned. “It’s in there somewhere,” he said helpfully. “You’ll just have to plow on till you come to it.”

“It’s hard to wait,” I said. “I got this limited attention span.”

No answer.

“So tell me,” I persisted, “how did these people manage to construct the sheik’s palace, for example, without lumber or steel or…”

“You know what they use.”

“But how do they hold it together? What’s the glue, the adhesive?”

“Beats me,” he said. “I think it’s in here somewhere.”

“But you don’t remember exactly.”

“Can’t say that I do.”

Some sudden incongruous twist of mind tilted my probe to Chatterton. “Is it possible,” I digressed, “that the… the edifice complex of the Assos could be in any way connected to the building of the pyramids? With acoustics, maybe?”

“Why? Would that encourage you to write my screenplay?”

He was searching for any convergence that might whet my appetite for his script. Hell with that. “Tell you what—I just remembered—I got to wash my socks.”

“When will you be back?”

“Soon as I… soon as I get my glasses from the States. I’m practically blind, you know. That’s why I have such trouble reading your material.”

“When do you expect your glasses?”

“You never can tell. You know how the mail is these days. Gone to pot since the Pony Express.” I got to my feet. He was watching me suspiciously. Small wonder.

“In the meantime…?” he asked.

“I’ll make do with one of those white canes.”

“I mean, what am I to do in the meantime?”

I froze. “You hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“I thought it was a plane. With my glasses on it.”

“I thought it was that durned music.”

“I got to check it out. The sooner I get my glasses, the sooner I’ll be back.” I moved toward the door and sprinted for safety.

When I walked into our scratch-house, Val said, “Grady’s been looking for you.”

“What now?”

“What’s ethnography?”