“So, tell me, John. This Strike of yours, to teach the world a lesson by destroying America. It goes well, yes?”
Glatt’s face, an expressionless array of flat planes and sharp angles, accommodated itself to the sipping of a vodka gimlet prepared with the highest competence by Juan, the Filipino bartender, as he replied, “Yes.”
“You mean it was your idea?” Angel asked in a tone of surprise.
“Yes.”
“But don’t you think it’s sad, that people are so bummed up in their heads about everything?” the girl inquired in a juvenile tone of voice. “I mean, ‘cause, like, when nobody has a job, and everybody is intolerant of everyone’s race and creed and everything, and everyone’s poor and sleeping in the bus station and everything, isn’t that, like, bad?”
“No, Angel,” Dragnie said, her gaze fixed on Nathan A. Banden. “What would be bad is if they slept in the train station.”
A burst of knowing laughter greeted this observation—laughter from everyone in attendance except Angel Human, who did not understand the allusion, and Nathan A. Banden, who looked uncomfortably from Dragnie to Angel and back again.
“Besides, Miss Human, what is ‘bad’ about freedom?” Glatt remained impassive, his expression displaying the confidence borne of the unyielding certitude that, while other men could be wrong about some things, he never could, because he knew he was right. “Is it ‘bad’ that men be free to suffer?”
“Uhm?”
“’Uhm’ indeed, Angel,” Dragnie said. “Nathan, you didn’t tell me that your girlfriend possessed such a keen theoretical mind. I can see what attracts you to her.”
“Now see here, Dragnie—“
“Is it ‘bad’ that each man be liberated from the atavistic shackles of a cowardly social order whose inability to accept reality was for centuries faked out and smushed over by the empty cliché that ‘man is a social animal’?” Glatt asked aloud.
“Ehrm?”
“But see here, John,” Derek Maxwell said. “If man isn’t a social animal, what is he?”
“He is an individual,” Glatt said. “He has always been an individual, even from the time he was a little baby. And everything he has done, from the invention of the English muffin to the creation of the atomic bomb, he has done on his own, without help from anyone.”
Andrea Smith looked mischievous as she said, “Not even… from society?”
“Society is a myth, my dear,” Alan Greenback purred. “Society is what we call it when two individuals stop strangling each other and break for lunch.”
“Oh, come, Alan. Don’t you think you’re being a bit reductive?” Grace Adams, the unforgettable star of movies, said. “Even you must admit that civilization is the result of society going to work each day creating industry and agriculture, and then coming home and enjoying ample leisure and cultural activities.”
“I admit no such thing, Grace,” Greenback twinkled genially. “Ask the philosophy boys and they’ll tell you to ask the anthropology boys, who’ll tell you that civilization’s spent the last two thousand years sitting on its hands and playing pinochle.”
“Is that not a contradiction?” the ballerina with the French name said. “One gentleman, he says one thing. The other gentleman, he says another thing.”
Perplexedly, Angel Human said, “Fahm?”
“Don’t say anything,” Nathan A. Banden told her.
“There is no such thing as contradiction,” Glatt declared with finality. “Reality—real reality—permits no disagreements.”
“I am not seeing it that way,” Nils Nilssonsonson said.
“Then you are wrong,” Glatt replied. “Reality is binary and absolute. That is why opinion is something properly confined to animals and, to a lesser extent, plants. Something either is true, or it is not true. Either something exists, or it does not. If it does not exist, we say, ‘Hey, what happened to it?’ Then we discover that it does exist, and we say, ‘Oh, never mind, here it is.’”
“I don’t do that,” Angel said.
“Oh just shut up,” Banden muttered. “Let them talk.”
“Na-than,” the girl whined. “Be nice.”
“The morality of reason rests on the axiom that existence exists,” Glatt continued. “All of the problems of the world, throughout history, are the result of men seeking to deny this fundamental truth. Their evasions and denials take several forms. Some men say, ‘Existence has never existed, so we may as well enslave mankind.’ Others aver, ‘Existence used to exist, but it went away.’ Still others claim, ‘Existence does not exist yet, but we expect it to exist in about fifteen minutes.’ All of these are gross misconceptions. For either existence exists, or it does not. And we know that existence does exist. We know it exists because we can go outside and point to it. We go outside. I point to something. You say, ‘What is that?’ I say, ‘That is the thing that exists.’ You say, ‘Oh, of course. Thank you.’ I say, ‘You’re welcome.’ And all the while we feel free to ignore the underlying fact that if the thing did not exist we would not be talking about it. This holds true for everything in human history except unicorns. They do not exist but we are compelled to talk about them from time to time. And when we do, we are not conscious. Any man who discusses unicorns is, by definition, asleep. Besides, it is impossible that existence not exist. To the man who says, ‘Existence does not exist’ we say: then what does? That man is invariably at a loss to reply.”
“Bravo, John Glatt,” Paul Rogers, the brilliant physicist, said. “Let me, if you will, extend your thinking. It is man’s capacity for reason that keeps him from being a crazy person. That is why the businessman is the highest form of human being. No lunatic can be a businessman, else the other businessman with whom he attempts to deal will say, ‘You are insane, and I will not deal with you.’”
“I don’t understand this kind of talk,” Angel Human said.
“Just pay attention and keep your mouth shut,” Nathan A. Banden hissed at her.
“Nathan?” Andrea Smith murmured. “Your girlfriend gives some appearance of being stupid. One is tempted to conclude that you are stupid, too.”
“I am not stupid!” Banden cried. “Please, sir, continue.”
Rogers smiled. “Thank you. Now, we are a society run by businessmen, and by corporations, who are identical to businessmen except that they wear buildings instead of suits. This means we are a rational society. And, since no businessman is in the business of causing human suffering, it follows that anyone suffering in society is not a businessman, and therefore is not rational, and thus can be said to be insane.”
Everyone raised their glass in a silent congratulatory toast—everyone, that is, with the exception of Angel Human. The girl suddenly leaped to her feet and addressed the others in a tone of anger common to those unaware of the fact that their code of morality is inferior to those of the superior people to whom she speaks. “How can you people talk this way?” she demanded. “People who’ve lost their jobs… people who’ve lost their homes… people who’re living on the streets and in tents out in fields—they’re not insane! They’re just poor!”