Lanark_ a life in 4 books - Alasdair Gray [37]
It took a while to see things clearly. The thunder had ended, but throughout the apartment instruments were jangling and thrumming in sympathy. Lanark noticed Munro still sitting beside him. There was sweat on his brow and he was industriously polishing his spectacles with a handkerchief. The blank screen was cracked from side to side but the microphone hung neatly under it. Ozenfant stood at a distance examining a fiddle. “See!” he cried. “The Α-string has snapped. Yet some assert that a Stradivarius is without a soul.”
Munro said, “I am no judge of salamanders, but that vibration seemed abnormally strong.”
“Indeed yes. There were over a million megatherms in that small blast.”
“Surely not!”
“Certainly. I will prove it.”
Ozenfant produced his radio and said, “Ozenfant will speak with engineer Johnson…. Johnson, hello, you have received our salamander; what is he worth? … Oh, I see. Anyway, he cracked my viewing lens, so replace it soon, please.”
Ozenfant pocketed the radio and said briskly, “Not quite a million megatherms, but it will suffice for a month or two.” He bent and hoisted up a harp which had fallen on its side. Lanark said sharply, “That heat is used?”
“Of course. Somehow we must warm ourselves.”
“That is atrocious!”
“Why?”
Lanark started stammering then forced himself to speak slowly. “I knew people deteriorate. That is dismal but not surprising. But for cheerful healthy folk to profit by it is atrocious!”
“What would you prefer? A world with a cesspool under it where the helplessly corrupt would fall and fester eternally? That is a very old-fashioned model of the universe.”
“And very poor housekeeping,” said Munro, standing up. “We could cure nobody if we did not utilize our failures. I must go now. Lanark, your department and mine have different staff clubs but if you ever leave the institute we will meet again. Professor Ozenfant is your adviser now, so good luck, and try not to be violent.”
Lanark was so keen to learn if the last remark was a joke that he stared hard into Munro’s calm benign face and let his hand be gravely shaken without saying a word. Ozenfant murmured, “Excellent advice.”
He uncovered a door and Munro went through it.
Ozenfant returned to the centre of the room chuckling and rubbing his hands. He said, “You noticed the sweat on his brow? He did not like what he saw; he is a rigorist, Lanark. He cannot sympathize with our disease.”
“What is a rigorist?”
“One who bargains with his heat. Rigorists do not hold their heat in, they give it away, but only in exchange for fresh supplies. They are very dependable people, and when they go bad they crumble into crystals essential for making communication circuits, but when you and I went bad we took a different path. That is why an exploding salamander exalts us. We feel in our bowels the rightness of such nemesis. You were exalted, were you not?”
“I was excited, and I regret it.”
“Your regret serves no purpose. And now perhaps you wish to meet your patient.”
Ozenfant lifted the corner of another tapestry, uncovered a low circular door and said, “Her chamber is through here.” “But what have I to do?”
“Since you are only able to talk, you must talk.”
“What about?”
“I cannot say. A good doctor does not carry a remedy to his patient, he lets the patient teach him what the remedy is. I drove someone salamander today because I understood my cure better than my invalid. I often make these mistakes because I know I am very wise. You know you are ignorant, which should be an advantage.”
Lanark stood with his hands in his pockets, biting his lower lip