Within the church itself, the Quiet Women see the wound in my side as a sign of the sin of having done the Somersault. Having the wound disappear right now, at the point where I've decided to build the Church of the New Man, would fit right in with their doctrine. However, I'm not building up the Church of the New Man in order to directly praise the power of the tran- scendent. I'm doing it as one of many antichrists. So I'm certainly not plan- ning to reverse the Somersault.
"Having said that, the transcendent has, as I inaugurate my church, chosen this time to heal the wound that has troubled me over the past decade.
Considered in that light, the significance of your cancer suddenly disappear- ing becomes clear. You're painting what will be the central icon of our new movement. As you neared completion of it you were overwhelmed by pain.
And once you recovered, your cancer was gone. The transcendent smiles down on your work, Professor, and in order to lift you up so you could complete the painting, it took away your cancer. That makes eminent sense. In the building of the Church of the New Man we'll be engaged in from now on, the transcendent is indifferent about whether I'm a faithful follower or whether, as an antichrist, I'm trying to regain the will I had in the Somer- sault. The transcendent is absolutely self-centered. It doesn't stand on the side of those who are trying to do good.
"Just like the journalists I mentioned, the Almighty is bereft of imagi- nation. Spinoza's completely right on this point. If you call the transcendent God, then you're saying God has no imagination. Every time I read the sec- tion of the Gospels where Jesus is crucified, I find myself thinking that God's son has no imagination. For Christ, there is only this world God made-that is, God itself and His designs. 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?'
Jesus cries out, but he accepts everything that happens to him.
"The antichrist, in contrast, does have imagination. Imagination, in fact, is all he has. And my Church of the New Man will be built in this way-as the church of the antichrist. Once you've grown used to the cancer's having left your body, Professor, I ask that you do your utmost for our new church."
Morio stood up from his chair over by the wall and with small steps slowly made his way past Kizu to stand in front of Patron. Then he sat down at Patron's feet and laid one hand reverently on Patron's left knee. Patron gently brought his fingers together and tousled Morio's hair. Patron turned his gaze from the portrait of himself to the still incomplete full tableau.
"But there's no need for me to preach to you about the transcendent,"
Patron went on. "You've gotten close to us through Ikuo. And I suspect you'll continue working for his sake. That being the case, I don't need to be too concerned about this. To tell the truth, Ikuo's still something of a mys- tery to me. But I do know he's putting everything he has into our church, doing all he can to pave the way for the summer conference that will de- cide our future.
"And in your triptych, won't you be showing the relationship between Ikuo and myself, the antichrist of the Church of the New Man?"
29: LESSONS LEARNED
1
The Technicians' carpentry team was up on stepladders, pounding thick red concrete nails into the wall of the chapel. It was something any amateur could do, and Kizu found it amusing that they approached the task as some specialized, highly complicated assignment. No matter what was going on these days, you could count on a Technician to be there.
The completed triptych was being mounted on the narrow wall near the piano. There were two chairs beside the piano, one the performer's seat occupied by Ikuo, the other by Morio, as they sat there expectantly. At some distance away from them, in the front row of the chairs used for meetings, sat Gii and Isamu, as well as a third Firefly, who'd helped Ikuo transport the painting from the studio, all of them watching the Technicians go about their job.
For the time being bereft of work, Kizu sat there looking at the antique silver spirit level, decorated with line drawings of lilies, that Gii had brought over. Gii had casually mentioned that it had been handed down to him by his mother and was part of the legacy left behind by the diplomat who had lived in the house on the north shore, the one who'd designed the beds in the style of rustic Eastern European furniture.
The Fireflies were called over to carry the triptych to just below where the nails had been set. Gii leaped nimbly on a stepladder, set the level on the top of the painting to be sure it was hanging straight, and signaled to the Technicians. The way Gii maneuvered the little tool had all the winsome- ness that Kizu had sensed the first time he met the young man, and he could feel the pride Ikuo had as he looked on.
When they'd set the painting right where they wanted it, Ikuo returned to the piano. A sheaf of copies of Morio's compositions lay there. Ikuo chose one piece and began playing, freely changing the speed, emphasizing the lower register as he played it through twice. Instead of sitting beside Ikuo as one might expect, Morio was up and moving about, silent and agile despite his impaired legs. Absorbed in the music, he moved in diagonal lines, tracing a pentagon in the circle of the chapel walls, as if stepping on the shadows cast by the aerial dome of the ceiling.
Since the chapel was built as a perfect circle with a radius of fifty feet, ordinary sounds would focus on one point and a flattering echo would be produced, which originally made it impossible to hold concerts. All sorts of changes had been made to modify this since the building was first built- porous boards placed to absorb sound on the ceiling and up to about twelve feet above the floor; the walls all redone to diffuse sound evenly. Even the windows and the entrance door were set slightly out of alignment with one another to improve the acoustics. But now in the midst of this carefully de- signed space they were about to hang a six-by-sixteen-foot painting, plus two side panels each half again as large. So the first thing they wanted to do after hanging the painting was to have Ikuo play the piano while Morio, with his sensitive ears, checked for a flattering echo.
Soon Morio, his whole body showing a sense of relief, went back and sat beside Ikuo. He tucked his legs up under him like a monkey settling in and listened to the rest of his composition. He couldn't have been happier.
The rest of the people standing about here and there in the chapel also turned their attention to the music, all the while gazing up at the triptych.
Gii came over next to Kizu and said, "Morio doesn't hear any echoes."
One of three Technicians sitting nearby said to his companions, "If they put it in a heavy frame with glass it might have a different effect altogether."
"We won't be using a frame," Gii said, speaking as an equal to the older Technicians, "so go ahead and attach it permanently."
The three of them watched as the painting was being moved, and every- one could hear Gii express his unease to Isamu and his other companion.
"Why do they have to say such pointless things?"
"It's not pointless, is it?" Isamu was concerned that Gii's voice might carry to those in front.
"It is too pointless," Gii insisted. "We know that sound isn't reverberat- ing. What's the point of suggesting we put it in a frame and glass and see if we can make it echo? Let's go," he said decisively.
As Gii, Isamu, and the other Firefly got up to leave, Ikuo, who was straightening up the copies of Morio's music, called out to them. "Would you please go over and tell Dancer to come and take a look at where they've hung the painting?"
"Will do," Gii replied. He'd been twirling the silver spirit level in front of him, between his thumb and middle finger, but stopped as he answered.