Lanark_ a life in 4 books - Alasdair Gray [273]
“I have begun to notice that recently,” said Lanark, after a pause.
“I’m sorry old man, it isn’t your fault. Anyway, I’m trying to make you angry.”
“Why?”
“I want you to raise hell at this banquet.”
“Why? I won’t do it, but why?”
“Because this has been the smoothest, politest, most docile assembly in history. The delegates have handled each other as gently as unexploded bombs. All the dirty deals and greedy devices have been worked out in secret committees with nobody watching, nobody complaining, nobody reporting. We need somebody, just once, to embarrass these bastards with a bit of the truth.”
“Sludden told me to do that.”
“His reasons are not my reasons.”
“Yes. He was a politician, you are a journalist, and I like neither of you. I like nobody except my son, and I’m afraid I’ll never see him again. So I care for nothing.”
The car was passing down a quiet street. Gay parked it suddenly by a vast brick wall and folded her arms on the wheel.
She said quietly, “This is terrible. In the days of the old Elite you were a definite, independent sort of man in your limited way. I was slightly afraid of you. I envied you. I was a silly weakling then, the mouthpiece of someone who despised me. And now that I’ve lost my looks and gained some sense and self-confidence you’ve gone as feeble as putty. Did Rima chew your balls off?”
“Please don’t talk like that.”
Gay sighed and said, “Where will we go?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re my passenger. Where do you want me to drive you?”
“Nowhere.”
“All right,” she said, reaching into the back seat. “Here’s your briefcase. My daughter found it somewhere. It was empty, apart from a scientific dictionary and this pass with your name on it.” She stuck a long strip of plastic into his breast pocket.
“Get out.”
He got out and stood on the kerb, trying to find comfort in the familiar smoothness of the briefcase handle. He expected the car to drive away but Gay got out too. She took his arm and led him to a double door, the only feature in a wilderness of wall. He said, “What place is this?” but she hummed softly to herself and touched a bell button. Each wing of the door suddenly swung inward and Lanark was appalled by the sight of two tight-mouthed security men. They spoke sharply and simultaneously, the voices springing from their shirtfronts:
“Pass, please.”
“You can see it in his pocket,” said Gay.
“Identify self.”
“He’s the Unthank delegate, slightly late, and I’m from the press.”
“Delegate may enter. No press may enter without the red card. No press may enter without the red card. Delegate may enter.”
They moved apart, leaving a narrow space between them. Gay said, “Well, goodbye, Lanark. I’m sorry I won’t be able to twist your arm when the right moment comes. But if you manage to improvise some guts, old man, I’ll certainly hear about it.”
She turned and walked away.
“Delegate may enter. Or Not,” said the security men. “Delegate may enter. Or not. Invite expression of intention by progression or retrogression. Request expression of intention. Demand expression of intention. Command expression of intention!”
Lanark stood and pondered.
“Think hard!” said the security men. “In default of expression of intention, delegate demoted to condition of obstruction. Think hard! In def of exp of int del dem to con of ob think, conofobthink, conofobthink.”
And although it made him shudder, he stepped through the narrow space between them because he could think of nowhere else to go.
CHAPTER 43.
Explanation
A concrete floor, dusty and stained by pigeon droppings, lay under a high roof upheld by iron girders. From the doorway a long blue carpet ran into the shadowy distance. He walked down this till it touched a similar carpet at right angles. He turned the corner