‘This from a man on academic probation for who knows the length.’
Something involving Freer and a saline-moistened cattle-prod refused to quite mentally gel. There was still none of Tenuate’s stomachless verve or well-being, just a glittered hum in his head and sinuses that felt like wind-tunnels. Pemulis tended to be a mouth-breather. The Viking raised one leg to fart toward Pemulis in a vaudevillian way, getting a laugh from Csikszentmihalyi and Rader, who’d mostly undressed and taken seats on the bench opposite Pemulis and Postal Weight, towels hung unwinding in their hands, watching, and were only every once in a while and in a halfhearted way pretending to look like they were getting ready to snap each other.
‘I’m not a math person, Dad says,’ said Postal Weight. Again the nose made the words come out dot and bath and persod. Csikszentmihalyi feinted a lunge and then really lunged and there was brief flurry of terrycloth.
Pemulis unzipped the cover. ‘The axiom. The lemma. Listen: “If two different sets of parametric equations represent the same curve J, but the curve is traced in opposite directions in the two cases, then the two sets of equations produce values for a line integral over J that are negatives of each other.” Not “If thus-and-such.” Not “unless a gladhand-ing commercial realtor from Boardman MN in $400 Banfi loafers changes his mind.” Always and ever. As in puts the am a priori. An honest lamp in the inkiest black, Tod-dleposter.’
There were voices and running feet like some sort of ruckus. McKenna stuck his head in and looked wildly around and withdrew without saying anything. Csikszentmihalyi went out after him. Freer and Rader both said What the fuck. Pemulis had only one button of his fly buttoned and was pointing at the ceiling with a finger:
‘… Only that at times like this, when you’re directionless in a dark wood, trust to the abstract deductive. When driven to your knees, kneel and revere the double S. Leap like a knight of faith into the arms of Peano, Leibniz, Hubert, L’Hôpital. You will be lifted up. Fourier, Gauss, LaPlace, Rickey. Borne up. Never let fall. Wiener, Reimann, Frege, Green.’
Csikszentmihalyi came back in with Ortho Stice, their color high.
Pemulis compulsively zips and unzips zippers, is the reason why he wears only button-fly pants and tennis shorts.
Cs/yi said ‘There is expression. You must immediately come.’
Freer turned from the mirror, both hands on a comb. ‘What the fuck’s going on?’
‘John Wayne is insanely holding forth innermost thoughts for public ears.’
‘Never trust the father you can see,’ Pemulis told Possalthwaite.
Stice was already on his way back out and said over his shoulder, ‘Troeltsch’s got Wayne on the air and Wayne’s lost his mind.’
a. Like dry loamy clay, highly absorbent, used by some for traction on their grips, eschewed by others because it has a lot of aluminum silicates and the Y.T.M.P.’s ‘aluminum-causes-impotence’ panic still weighs hard on some pubescent players’ minds.
b. A good many seniors’ schedules have no last-period classes, or have Independent-Study stuff slated for last period, and when two of these seniors — e.g. Pemulis & Freer — are scheduled for a P.M. challenge-match, they get to start at 1430h. instead of 1515h., and usually then finish up early, which is a great perk, given that they’ll get to hit both the weight room and the locker room at slack and empty times.
c. An advantage of competitive mediocrity is you get to sit in the stands and get lots of sun on your feet and chest, because you’re knocked out of competition by like the second round. Hence grotesquely pale feet are sort of a perverse mark of competitive status, maybe like toothlessness in hockey or something.
d. Specially engineered to react very fast with the hydrolytic enzyme esterase and thus to be completely out of the tissues within 36 hrs.
e. Q.v. Note 22 supra.
f. For example, during the first month of last summer’s Euroclay junket, at some prearranged signal the male 16s would all hunch and hop around brachiatishly with their knuckles just off the ground in a circle, hitting their chests and going ‘Er ah ee oo ah,’ over and over, until prorector N. Hartigan finally lost his patience as they did it again in the line for Customs at L’Aéroport Orly and had hysterics so gruesome in someone that tall that the practice stopped as mysteriously as it’d started.
[325] (whose theories of detection and interview are strongly informed by the b/w noir films Tine so enjoyed as a boy late at night on local broadcast television, and misses)
[326] (and then some)
[327] Bolex H64, -32 and -16 models come with a turret that accepts three C-mount lenses, which gives the models a kind of multi-eyed, alien-facial look.
[328] (though never unveiled)
[329] (which is actually complete horseshit, but goes unchallenged by the O.U.S. operatives, who are pretty savvy at choosing their heuristic battles)
[330] (given the guy’s track record with ingestion)
[331] Picaresque pretty obviously referring to the comic-Surrealist tradition of Bay Area avant-gardeists like Peterson & Broughton, since Peterson’s Potted Psalm’s mother-and-Death stuff and The Cage’s cranial-imprisonment and disconnected-eyeball stuff are pretty obvious touchstones in a lot of Himself’s more parodic-slapstick productions.
[332] 17 NOV. Y.D.A.U.
‘Gracious me and mine,’ Pemulis said, clutching the ankle of the leg he’d crossed to keep the foot from joggling.
‘Rusk and Charles and Mrs. Incandenza are with him now. Schtitt’s been up to see him. Loach has done a thorough reflex-check. John Wayne’s going to be OK.’
‘Well thank heavens for that load off everyone’s mind,’ Pemulis said.
It was Pemulis, deLint, Nwangi, and Watson in the Dean of Academic Affairs’ Office. Mrs. Inc’s ventilator hissed and something up in there whirred a little. DeLint was behind the high desk, looking like a mean little boy. Nobody’d said if anybody higher up than deLint was going to show. Pemulis didn’t know if this was good or bad.
‘Let’s make perfectly sure we got this in order and in your words.’ Nwangi and Watson were window-dressing. This was A. deLint’s show. His face kind of came apart when he smiled. ‘With no prior knowledge of anything untoward, you’re pulled from the locker room and stand out in the hall with several other students, which is your first knowledge anything’s untoward with Wayne.’
Pemulis figured none of the administrators had heard the thing; they always shut their soundproof doors at I435h.; Pemulis had no idea what Wayne’s said about anything, or Jim Troeltsch, who very prudently hasn’t shown facial-feature one in their room since the apocalyptic broadcast. It’d taken Pemulis about half the salivaless sprint up to B-204 to figure out what had happened and to find his pilfered Tenuates in the little pecker’s Sel-dane bottle. Pemulis sort of shuddered to imagine the impact of the ‘drine on Wayne’s cherry-red and virgin bloodstream. The slight whir of his cortex working at full speed was masked by the hiss of the ventilator and the sound of whistles and play and Schtitt’s megaphone outside.
‘I’m in there suiting up waiting for Freer and doing a little B.B.-intervention on Pos-salthwaite who was in crisis and Zoltan and The Darkness come like spasming in saying Troeltsch’d jury-rigged the Duke into candid sharing for the WETA broadcast.’