True to his word, Mr Ryan has his cold shower. It does the trick.
He feels much better. Humming to himself he enters his own cabin, selects the tape of Messiaen's Turangalila Symphony and sits down to listen to the strange and beautiful melodies of the Ondes Martenot.
By the Sixth Movement (Jardin du sommeil d'amour) he is asleep...
*
The gallery is vast and made of solid platinum.
He paces it.
It is the bridge of a massive ship. But the ship does not sail across the ocean. It sails through foliage. Dark, tangled foliage.
Foliage that the Douanier himself might have painted. Menacing foliage.
Perhaps it is a jungle river. A river like the Amazon or one of those mysterious, unmapped rivers of New Guinea that, as a boy, he had wished to explore.
Ship... foliage... river...
He is alone on the ship, but for the sound of the engines, strangely melodic, and the cries of the unseen birds in the jungle.
He leans over the rail of the bridge, looking for the waters of the river. But there are no waters. Beneath the ship is only vegetation, crushed and bent by the passage of the great vessel.
The ship rolls.
He falls and from somewhere comes a sound that is oddly sympathetic. Something is pitying him.
He rejects the pity.
He falls to the ground and the ship passes on.
He is alone in the jungle and he hears the sounds of lumbering monsters in the murk. He searches with his eyes for the monsters, but he cannot see them, cannot trace the origin of their noise.
A woman appears. She is dark, lush, exotic. She parts her red lips and takes him by the hand into the shadowy darkness of the tropical foliage. Birds continue to cry and to squawk. He begins to kiss her wet, hot mouth. He feels her hand on his penis. He runs his hand into her crutch and her pants are wet with her juices. He tries to make love to her, but for some reason she is wary, expecting discovery. She will not remove her clothing. They make love as best they can. Then she gets up and leads him through the dark jungle corridors into a clearing.
They are in a bar. Girls—club hostesses or prostitutes, he cannot tell—fill the place. There are a few men. Probably ponces or gigolos. He feels at ease here. He relaxes. He puts his arm around the dark woman and puts his other arm around a young blonde with a lined, decaying face. Someone he knew.
All the faces, in fact, are familiar. He tries to remember them.
He concentrates on remembering them. Dimly he begins to remember them...
*
AFTER THE FAIR THEY WERE ALL LEAD
Q: PLEASE DEFINE SPECIFIC SITUATION
ARDOUR THE MORE THEY SANG AHEAD
Q: PLEASE DEFINE SPECIFIC SITUATION
AH DO RE ME FA SO LA TI DI
Q: PLEASE DEFINE SPECIFIC SITUATION
ARIA ARIADNE ANIARA LEONARA CARMEN AMEN
A: AMEN
*
AMEN.
AMEN. AMEN. AMEN.
AMEN.
*
SUGGEST HOLD ON TIGHT
SUGGEST HOLD ON TIGHT
SUGGEST HOLD ON TIGHT
*
KEEP GOING
E O
E I
P N
G
G
O K
I E
N E
GOING KEEP
*
THE SPACESHIP HOPE DEMPSEY IS EN ROUTE
FOR MUNICH 15040 THE SPACESHIP
HOPE DEMPSEY IS EN ROUTE FOR MUNICH
15040 IS GOING
EN ROUTE FOR MUNICH 15040 THE SPACE-
SHIP NOWHERE
FOR MUNICH 15040 THE SPACESHIP
MUST
HOPE DEMPSEY IS EN ROUTE BE
SAFE
FOR MUNICH 15040 MUST
THE SPACESHIP
KEEP THEM
SPACESHIP
SAFE
SPACESHIP
SPACE SAFE
SHIP KEEP THEM
SAFE SAFE
SHIP THE SPACESHIP HOPE DEMPSEY IS EN
SAFE ROUTE FOR MUNICH 15040 AND
SHAPE TRAVELLING AT POINT NINE OF C
SHIP WE ARE ALL COMFORTABLE
SHAPE WE ARE ALL
SPACE SAFE
SHAPE SPACESHIP SAFE
SHIP SAFESHIPSAFE
SHAPE SAFESHIPSHAPE
SAFE
SAFE
SAFE
SAFE
SAFE
SHIP
SHIP
SHIP
SHIP
SHAPE
SAFE
SHIP
SHIP
SAFE
SAFE
SHIP
SHIP
SAFE
SAFE
SHIP
SHIP
SAFE
SAFE
SHIP
SHIP
SAFE
SAFE
SHIP
SWEET
SAFE
SHIP
SPACE
SAIL
SPACE
SNAIL
PACE
SAFE
PACE
SNAIL
PACE