36 Arguments for the Existence of God - [22]
“Even your hunter-gatherers will know when Jonas Elijah Klapper dies.”
“If you think that, then you’re still delusional. I know he loomed larger than life itself for you and his other hierophants, but that was collective lunacy.”
“Granted. But he was still a monumental figure. He’ll get a major obituary in the Times.”
“There was nothing monumental about him besides his ego.”
“That’s not true. His memory was phenomenal.”
“Okay, the guy had memorized a lot of stuff. I think that’s what convinced you he was a genius.”
“Well, it certainly convinced him.”
“I once called him Gertrude Stein in drag, on account of his major project being to convince everyone else of his genius. It wounded you deeply.”
“You were always wounding me deeply when it came to Jonas Elijah Klapper.”
“Just so long as I never wounded you about anything important. What about that magnum opus he was working on? The magnum opus to top all magnum opera? Did it ever appear?”
“No.”
“On messianism, right? That was supposed to be his latest thunder -klap, right?”
“The Messianic Ideal in the Course of World History: 1750 B.C.E. to 1988 C.E.”
“He makes an earth-shattering discovery, so big he can’t even share it with his elected ones, and then he just shuts up about it? I think the only rational conclusion is that he’s dead.”
“Maybe he discovered his discovery wasn’t so great, after all.”
“Oh, come on, Cass. You know he wasn’t capable of self-criticism. The only proof that any one of his thoughts ever required was that he- had thought it. So you never tried to get in touch with him over all these years?”
“Lord, no.”
“You were cosmically furious.”
“Was I? I don’t remember that. I just remember being cosmically confused.”
“You’ve never been great about getting in touch with your anger. You were furious, all right, more on account of the others, especially Gideon Raven. You in touch with him?”
“Now and then. Who would have guessed what he’d make of himself after that disaster?”
“He’s certainly been productive, producing his pearls. I hope he’s happy as a clam.”
“Oyster.”
“What?”
“If he’s producing pearls, he’s an oyster, not a clam.”
“Are oysters happy?”
“Probably less happy than clams.”
“Who don’t have to produce any pearls for The New Yorker on deadline. Gideon’s always publishing there.”
“He’s one of the main horses in their stable.”
“He never got his doctorate, did he?”
“Not after putting in thirteen years with Klapper. He wasn’t going to start all over again.”
“It’s impressive, the niche he’s made for himself. What would you call him?”
“An intellectual-at-large. Klapper’s leaving him in the lurch was the best thing that could have happened to him, as it turned out.”
“Best thing that could have happened to you, too, as it turned out.”
“It was hard to see that at the time. Of course, he did offer to take me with him. I was the chosen one.”
“You had sense enough not to go.”
“I couldn’t very well do that to Gideon. He should have been the one. And, anyway, by that time I was pretty disillusioned.”
“‘Disillusioned’ doesn’t begin to capture it. You were devastated, desolated, devoured by the dentures of despair.”
“Not as devastated, desolated, and devoured as Gideon.”
“And then Lizzie left him, on top of it all. What a colossal mess that guru-with-the-kuru of yours created.”
“Kuru?”
“The human equivalent of mad-cow disease. You get it from eating the brains of your dead ancestors.”
He laughs, shaking his head at her deadly aim. “I’ve got to say, you’re the one who sounds furious.”
“I was back then, the whole time we were together.”
“Really? It’s amazing we had all the fun that we did.”
“Just think of the fun we could have now, with the Klap no longer in your life. Oh yeah. Now there’s Lucinda.”
“You know, I don’t think I ever really held Klapper responsible. He was in the grip of something inexorable.”
“No excuse. Some mental diseases are moral diseases, too. You can be insane and a mean, selfish bastard simultaneously.”
“I know you think so.”
“He was obscene.”
“I thought it was against the anthropologist code of ethics to call anything obscene.”
“Even among the Onuma”-these were her Amazonian people- “who don’t even have the concept of privacy, what with the guys running around with just a string holding up their foreskins and the women wearing just these little ruffly waistbands that don’t hide a thing, nobody would ever publicly masturbate the way Klapper did.”
“I assume you’re speaking metaphorically? That’s metaphorical masturbation?”
“With that tumescent ego standing in for the prize.” She looks at Cass’s face and laughs. “Okay, I’ll stop. Let me just say that I’m proud that I was never taken in by him. I never could believe how he took you in.”
“He took in a lot of better minds than mine.”
“All except the British!”
“Who seem to have lost, together with their empire, the ability to appreciate Jonas Elijah Klapper!”
Cass can barely get out the words from the laughter that’s choking him. Only Roz can get him choking on laughter.
“I’m glad to see that you can laugh about him now. That’s healthy!”
