Lanark_ a life in 4 books - Alasdair Gray [54]
“Ah, it could be easily destroyed if it was a simple murder machine. But it is like all machines, it profits those who own it, and nowadays many sections are owned by gentle, powerless people who don’t know they are cannibals and wouldn’t believe if you told them. It is also amazingly tolerant of anyone it considers human, and cures more people than you realize. Even the societies who denounce it would (most of them) collapse if it vanished, for it is an important source of knowledge and energy. That is why the director of the institute is also president of the council, though two thirds of the council detest him.”
“A specialist told me nobody is ever cured.”
Noakes glanced furtively at Rima and said in a low voice, “That specialist is employed to do what others try to prevent. Her view of our curative functions is necessarily pessimistic.”
“If all that is true, why warn folk against it at all?”
Noakes sat upright and said strongly, “Because it is mad with greed and spreading like cancer, because it is fouling the continents and destroying the handiwork of God! It is horrible for a priest to confess this, but sometimes I care less for those the institute eats than for the plants, beasts, pure air and water it destroys. I have nightmares of a world where nothing exists outside our corridors and everyone is a member of the staff. We eat worms grown in bottles. Between meals we perform Beethoven’s Choral Symphony for hours on end with Ozenfant conducting, while the viewing screens show ancient colour films of naked adolescents dancing through flowers and sunlight that no longer exist.”
Rima stopped eating and Lanark stared fearfully at the window. A dazzling sun rested on the horizon of a sea of clouds with an eagle speeding across it. Lanark pointed and said, “That is not? That is not a…?”
Noakes wiped his brow and said, “That is not a film. What I dread has not yet happened.”
He shut his suitcase and stood up, saying, “My health is poor. I embarrass you and embarrass myself. God bless you, my children.”
With thumb and forefinger he sketched a cross in the air above their heads and hurried out in a posture so like someone escaping that it would have been brutal to shout thank you or good-bye. Rima said, “Do you think he’s mad?”
“No. He’s been too decent.”
“Yes, he’s sweet, but I bet he never cures anyone.”
The nurses brought lunch and were told to take it away and not bring food again. Lanark and Rima ate a quarter of the salami, a little cheese and a few figs; then he helped her walk to the lavatory, where she bathed and he washed her back. They returned to bed and drank cherry brandy and kissed drowsily. The silver was starting to glow under her skin when he thought of something and said, “Rima, in the ignition chamber you sometimes called me Thaw.”
She pondered and said finally, “Yes, I dreamed a lot of strange things in that armour. You were called Thaw, or Coulter, and we stood on a bridge at night with the moon above us and an old man watching from among some trees. You wanted to kill me. I don’t remember the rest.”
“I wonder how I could discover more.”
“Why bother? Aren’t we happy, when we don’t quarrel?”
“Yes, but I’ll have to work soon and I’ve forgotten what I’m able to do. I should have asked Noakes if there was a way of learning about life before Unthank.”
“Call him on the radio.”
“No, I’ll call Munro. I’ve more confidence in Munro.”
He was linked to Munro with surprising speed and said, “I called to tell you we’re all right: we’ve our own supply of food.”
“Quite so. Is that your only reason for calling?”
“No. I’m wondering about the past, you see I can’t remember it ….”
There was crackling and a smooth voice said, “These are the archives. May I help?”
“I’m trying to find out about my past. My name is Lanark….” There was a loud whirring then the voice spoke in a quick monotone: “You reached Unthank on the 3rd day of the 10th month of the 1956th solar year of the Nazarene calendar. Calling yourself Lanark you attended the central social security office, were