mongrels. Hysteria, neuronics, stratoanalysis, schizoanalysis, geotraumatics. Through Misinterpretations, imaginary convergences, forced couplings and other shady maneuvers, lacking in the principal behavior expected of a scholar. They claimed to have invented a discipline referred to by various names at various times. Yet no one clearly understood what the goals, methods or principles of this new discipline were. And yet, there was something important here, something on the verge of being forgotten. There would have been no trace. The geocosmic theory of trauma would not even have been a memory if it weren't for the
work of the Plutonics Committee. Not that it was easy. An indirect approach was necessary. A contemporary advocate, a new candidate, if he didn't exist, he had to be invented. And this time, something had to get through. The committee had its eye on the widest possible target market. So the primary task was an understanding of how ideas travel, and epidemiology of the concept. It obviously couldn't be an academic. Things have changed. Freaks like Landon Persani wouldn't even get through the doors of a university these days. No. It would have to be an outsider.
Exotic even. Some peculiar maverick. Self-taught. No qualifications. A lone voice who comes out of nowhere. He, or she, must be credibly unreachable. Hidden away. Somewhere on the axis of evil, maybe, to add some political intrigue. A persecuted dissident, scouring the outer reaches of the web to find other sick-minded individuals. He comes across Land, retired from philosophy and now promulgating conspiracy theory and peddling new occultist speculations. Land passes on the last Barker manuscript to him. Then he discovers Parsani's notebooks in Iran, realizes the Badkin-Kane connection,
and begins to piece it together. It could have happened that way. move him to the Far East, someplace where no one ever goes. Not even China or Japan. Malaysia. Construct his writings in a kind of tortured gnomic style that combines extreme etymological acuity with a sick imagination that comes from watching too many cheap horror movies. Anyhow, he's probably sick in some way. Insomniac, delirious, unable to function normally, sick with some kind of Middle Eastern fever. That could be the case. Invisible, his character must exude a kind of enigmatic charisma and an aura of exoticism.
Since he comes from outside, almost anything would be credible. Keep him hidden for as long as possible. Unseen, but effective. Personal appearances made and cancelled. Visa problems. Poor health. Whatever it takes. If it gets to the stage where he does have to appear, it has to be done well. No expense spared. But, above all, the texts keep coming. The idea is insidious, exerting a subterranean influence. All that is necessary is that he exists long enough to effectuate Inception. Once the ideas take, once the ideas are embedded, he can easily be retired.
Anything could happen to a freak like that. It's true, the committee took risks, carried away with their creation. they ventured a few unnecessarily baroque twists. A fictional quantity expounding the theory of his own hyperstitional inexistence. A puppet who tells us what is pulling our strings. In the end, no one would be crazy enough to believe it wasn't true.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I was born. And there I died. It was only a moment for you. You don't notice. Thank you.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Here with you. Where? Dulled trees. Have you been here before? Yes. When? When were you born? A long ago. Where? When? Tell me. Madeline, tell me. No. Madeline, tell me what it is. Where do you go? No, I can't tell you. What? What? Please don't ask me. Please don't ask me. You even have...
It was over. Only later would all of this take on concrete meaning. The double articulated mask had come undone, and so had the gloves and tunic from which liquids escaped. Disarticulated, deterritorialized, Nagarstani muttered that he was taking the Earth with him.