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In a way, it was a relief not having any allies any more. Now if I fucked up, I fucked up on my own. I wouldn’t drag a lot of people through the shit with me. But maybe it was just a holding action. They were putting me in cold storage and going out to get more allies.

Clunk, into that little room. Cuzzzunk, a huge mother bolt ran the whole width of the door. A separation chamber? No one could breathe the sort of stuff I had to breathe to keep alive.

A soft voice through the door: “Mr. Vonnegut, would you like something to eat?”

“If you can cook it, honey, I can fuck it.”

One of the many worst things about being nuts was being so goddamned important. Who was I that such powerful mysterious forces were buggering around with my life? One team would come through cramming my head full of new knowledge, the next would sneak in and erase all the new stuff plus a lot of the old. I’d be crucified and resurrected several times a day.

If I died lots of wonderful things would happen. If I died lots of awful things would happen. I was a rag doll between two bull mastiffs with very little way to know which one I wanted to get me, let alone have any say in the matter.

NOW IS THE TIME FOR GODS TO STAND UP FOR BASTARDS. The voice didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me it was Shakespeare.

As usual, it seemed like the voices were trying to help, trying to give me some clue about what was going on. As usual, it didn’t help much. Who was and who wasn’t a bastard? What sort of things are gods and bastards going to do? When is now?

“Now is the time for gods to stand up for bastards.” Hmmmm. Is this good news or bad news? Am I a bastard or am I one of the guys the bastards and gods are going to kick the shit out of? How do you tell? Even biologically it’s hard to be absolutely sure, and I doubt that that’s what’s the issue. It seems too petty for the gods to get caught up in.

If bastard just means mean nasty people, I don’t see why the gods would feel the need to stand up for them. Mean nasty people seem to be doing just fine without any help. After a certain amount of time of the gods standing up for a bastard, wouldn’t he stop being a bastard and become more and more legitimate? And then wouldn’t the people the gods had not stood up for become bastards? Is a bastard’s legitimate issue a bastard or legitimate? A bastard’s bastard?

Some sort of social upheaval? It’s only fair but it will probably be pretty violent and ugly. Bastards aren’t called bastards for nothing. But all in all I’m more or less inclined to go along with the idea. It’ll give everyone a chance to walk around in the other guy’s shoes.

Philosophical sympathies for and against gods standing up for bastards aside for the moment, just where does this leave me? Inasmuch as I am a white middle-class American heterosexual male, I guess I’ll get my ass kicked in. Inasmuch as I’m a down-under hippie revolutionary, alienated from the reins of power and persecuted by cops, I imagine I’m eligible for some sort of aid under the gods-for-bastards program. I guess what it boils down to is whether or not I’ve shat on more people than have shat on me.

If there’s going to be any fairness to this thing at all, it will have to be on a situational basis. Though I suppose bringing fairness into it will probably be considered whining and not very wise, as most notions of fairness and morality are used against bastards to support the status quo.

My best bet is probably to rid myself of any notions of entitlement I might have hanging around. Just a little added incentive to carry out the sort of overhaul I’ve always had in mind. What I’ll really get my ass kicked in for is any notion that I’m Virginia’s legitimate lover. That makes Vincent eligible for support under this gods-for-bastards program. The same probably holds true for poor Ma in the Pops-and-new-woman situation. I should just forget Virginia and go bust up someone else’s thing.

I was sorry I inherited money, but glad my bundle wasn’t a super-whopper. Sorry I owned a car, but glad it was just a VW.

HOLLYWOOD