“Yes.”
“I guess that’s because of centuries of Christian teaching. It was the early Church people who advanced the concept of duality in the human being. The body of unworthy material and the pure spirit. They saw man as broken up in two parts, two conflicting parts. The body dragged the soul down into sin. The soul was lucky when it managed to get away from the body.”
Barbara said nothing.
“It’s an idea that’s quite persuasive. It follows us around everywhere. Even the most advanced Westerners automatically accept the Christian duality. Like Freud. He assumed the unconscious was evil because it was associated with body instincts and passions. That’s following right along in the Christian spirit.”
Carl waited for Barbara to say something. She was gazing past him, cigarette smoke drifting around her. The room was beginning to become comfortably warm. By his feet the little electric heater glowed and simmered.
“But actually there’s no reason why we should accept the Christian dichotomy. The concept of the innate depravity of man’s natural instincts, his bodily needs. Eating, sleeping, reproduction. All natural functions. Spinoza demonstrated that. He advanced the concept of man as a whole, a single entity of body and mind working as a unit, together. Neither part bad. He pointed out that no one had ever seen a body without a mind, or a mind working without a body. We know them only together. So how could we talk about them as if they were distinct things? He had an interesting thought there, don’t you agree? Doesn’t that sound like a realistic appraisal?”
“It sounds all right.”
“It’s a monistic concept. Supplanting the dualism of the Christians.” Carl babbled on, faster and faster, his words running together. He could not seem to stop. In a remote, detached way he wondered about it. Why was he going on so? What was the matter with him? But on he went, in a frenzy of theory and interpretation. His mind raced wildly, embracing whole vast concepts at one fell swoop. The mysteries of the universe dissolved around him, showering their secrets in his lap. He was drowning in an ocean of perceptions. All the while Barbara said nothing. She sat smoking silently, staring ahead, into the half-darkness of the room.
At last Carl slowed down to a stop. He threw himself down in a chair, exhausted. All at once he was completely worn out. His mind was vacant. Empty.
“Is it true?” Barbara said. “They’re here?”
Carl stirred. “They?”
“The yuks.”
“Verne says one came. He talked to him today.”
Barbara put her cigarette out and lit another. She leaned back again, against the wall, her arms folded, smoke drifting up.
“What are you thinking about?” Carl asked.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing at all?”
“About my life.”
“You sound so unhappy.”
“I took the wrong path. That god damn Verne Tildon was responsible.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. You saw him tonight. You saw how he is. He wanted me to be that way.”
“He did?”
“Of course. He wanted me to live like that. With him. I was something to satisfy his physical needs. Something he could pick up and use when he felt like it.”
Barbara leaped to her feet and crossed the room to the heater. She yanked the plug out.
“It’s too damn hot in here.”
Carl nodded.
“What a stupid thing to look back on. It was years ago. Everything is so damn stupid.” She raised the shade and stared out the window at the night. “So they’re here. Well, they can have everything. Why they want it I don’t know. A dirty, empty ruin. They’re welcome to it.” She put her fingers against the glass. “It’s cold outside.”
Carl got to his feet. “Cold and late.”
Barbara turned from the window. “Cold and late. You know, we have many things in common. You make me feel better. I feel better being with you.”
Carl flushed with pleasure. “I’m glad.”
Barbara paced back and forth. “I’ll be quite ready to turn things over to them. They can take it all. Dirty, cold, barren old place. How do we leave here? Is there a car? How do we get away?”
“Ed Forester left us a truck. Verne knows where it is. It’s in one of the sheds someplace.”
“We’ll leave together. When we get in India we can take the same train. The two of us. We can go all the way back to the States together. The same train, the same boat. What do you say? Do you want to do that?”
“That would be fine.”
“Yes. Yes, it would be fine. It’s a long way. A long way to go. It’s a cruel world, Carl. A little warmth won’t do any harm.”
Carl agreed.
Barbara turned suddenly toward him. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. You don’t have to go back with me.”
“I’d like to.”
“It’ll be a long trip.”
“I really would like to.”
“All right. We’ll go back together.”
Carl was pleased. “We can talk. We’ll be able to talk about things on the way.”
“Is that what it means to you?”
Carl hesitated. “Why, I—”
“Just talking? Nothing more than that?”
Carl twisted in embarrassment. “Of course it’s more than that. Naturally. That goes without saying.”
Neither of them spoke. The room was silent. With the heater unplugged the room began to grow cold again. The night air was coming back, seeping through the cracks in the walls, under the window, under the door. Carl was cold and tired. He moved toward the door. He felt numb. So many things had happened so quickly.
“I should be going back to my room. I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow. I hate to go.” He lingered. “I hope he’s still asleep. Maybe I’ll move my bed to the far end of the dorm. It smells. It reeks.”
“They’ll be here soon. You won’t have to stand it much longer.”
“That’s right. Any time now, I suppose.” He took hold of the doorknob.
“Stay a while longer,” Barbara said.
Carl hesitated. He wanted very much to go back to his room and throw himself into bed. “It’s so late.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Go to bed.”
Barbara nodded. Her face was expressionless. He waited a moment and then opened the door.
“Good night.”
“Good night, Carl.”
Carl smiled. She did not smile back. Was she mad at him? He was too exhausted to think about it. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He went slowly down the hall, his hands deep in his pockets. Cold night air blew around him. The hall was bleak and dim. Deserted. He came to the top of the stairs and started down, holding onto the banister.
Behind him there was a sound. He looked back.
Barbara was standing in the corridor, at the door of her room, outlined in the light. She was watching him.
“What is it?” He came back a little way.
“You forgot your book.”
Foolish embarrassment flooded over him. “Oh. I did, didn’t I?” He hurried back, along the hall toward her. “That’s what I came over for.”
Barbara stepped aside. Carl entered the room, looking around.
“Where is it?”
“On the dresser.”
Carl found the brown paper package lying where he had put it. He picked it up in his hands and stood holding it. The room was silent. Barbara came in from the hall and walked over to the window.