#GenghizInLove: Episode 66

And then there was light.

#GenghizInLove: Episode 65

At first I thought it was the fireworks I had arranged, but then the blasts boomed louder, the walls began to shake, and the chandelier started showering sharp shards of glass all over the delirious assembly. Panic replaced ecstasy and the happy crowd became a frenzied mob desperately seeking escape. The exits were clogged by screaming swarms, pushing and shoving, trampling one another. And when the machine guns began their heavy clatter, the shrieks of terror and the wails of lament rose high with the sharp stink of cordite.

I saw Annichka cowering safely in a corner. The breath returned painfully to my lungs and I realized how much I had dreaded losing her again. I ran towards my darling and rocked her in my arms and wiped the tears away from her reddened eyes.

I felt a slap on my shoulder and I turned around. Xox loomed above me. He waved an arm at the maddened multitude and smiled widely. "Humans." He shook his head. "They need more vitamins."

"Humans?" I asked wonderingly. "Aren't you human?"

"Sometimes." Xox surveyed the scene of hysteria and chaos and smiled again. The grin seemed plastered to his face, the mocking amusement of an antique mask, the cruel serenity of a Buddha. "Did you put vitamins in the drinking water?"

"In the food for the reception as well," I confessed.

"Well done. In that case, we can leave soon, don't you think?"

I looked around. The untidy mounds of dead and wounded at the exits were slowly being pushed aside by the ugly snouts of field artillery pieces. And at the head of an army of purple jumpsuits were our old friends, the Cardinal now resplendent in white and gold Papal robes, Attila Ugh, his fangs flashing with malice and jubilation, Nero Insanetti gamboling along behind like an obsequious monkey, and a husky man with a hefty paunch and a drooping lower lip: the abominable Axel von Schadenfreude. And from another entrance, in the vanguard of another army, in raced a miniature tank, a motorized wheelchair carrying a roaring Rasputin resting a wicked-looking submachine gun on his plastered knees, his baleful eyes darting around, hunting without doubt for me. Just as Godfrey turned to point me out to Rasputin, I discreetly edged behind Lady Snatcher. "Yes. We should leave," I simpered. "How?"

"No problem." Xox pulled out a little device that resembled a remote control from the pocket of his trousers. "How does it work?" he mused. "Is it this button?" The chandelier came down with a colossal crash, along with a huge chunk of ceiling. The pillars supporting the rest of the ceiling began to wobble ominously. "Sorry. It's this button. There we go." A hole opened up in the parquet floor before us and a flight of stairs dropped into place. Xox politely offered his arm to Lady Snatcher. "Sorry about all the noise, dear lady. Let's continue somewhere quieter."

Xox and Lady Snatcher led the way. Lucy shepherded the other Big People along. I clasped Annichka and a trembling Barbie to my side and motioned frantically to Immanuel, Divka and Benito. The last thing I saw amidst the mayhem was Jesus in single combat with the Holy Roman Emperor. Numchuks whirling viciously like twin propellers, Jesus's face was a mask of intent and pleasurable concentration as he wreaked vengeance on Axel, who staggered about like a sleazy drunk, trying unsuccessfully to evade the brutal whipping. Axel looked like he was getting the short-end of the stick and I sighed with regret as Barbie and Annichka dragged me away from this satisfying spectacle. We followed the others through a damp catacomb. The murky maze meandered on through endless dank caverns, the eerie silence broken only by our heavy footfalls and the sound of distant water. Then the sodden track rose steeply and we were clambering along slippery ledges of hard rock. At last we emerged, breathing hard, into the light.

We were standing in the nave of the Cathedral, deep within the medieval fastness of the Castle. The flickering candlelight imbued the faces around me with a mysterious glow.

"Won't they follow us?" Benito asked.

"Probably." Xox didn't seem very worried.

"I ordered some nuclear weapons," I offered tentatively. "Should I call..."

"There's no need," Xox replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Our opponents must be celebrating their victory. Fighting is hungry work. They are feasting on the hors d'oeuvres that were arranged for our reception."

"You mean..."

Xox smiled. "They are almost certainly basking in peace and love even as we speak."

"So what do we do now?"

"Continue our little discussion, of course." Xox waved his arm around the cathedral. "Nice and quiet here besides a few inveterate worshippers who are used to noisy tourists."

"We could have lunch in the Castle with Wenceslas," Divka offered.

"What a very good idea," Xox beamed. "I haven't seen the President since I introduced him to vitamins. He should be most amused by all this."

"What about the university?" Immanuel asked.

"Experiment's over anyway," Otto growled. "Time to get down to the serious work."

I blinked. "You mean spreading the Nice pill all over the world?"

"You would like to put it into the drinking water, wouldn't you?" Xox winked at me. "Plop. Just like that." I blushed and hung my head. "Do you have any plans for your future?"

I shook my head. "Not really. Do you want me to go around poisoning the wells?"

"Oh no, my dear fellow." Xox seemed amused. "I have bought several mineral water companies for that purpose."

"You're going to sell the Nice water?"

"Of course." Xox spread his hands. "People are so suspicious of free things. They prefer to pay. This funny illusion of choice. So we will launch a world-wide marketing campaign with all the top models and we will charge outrageous prices. While the concept of money lasts."

"And then?"

"When money dies, so will notions of ownership. Do you have feel particularly possessive about your body, for instance? Do you need it for any special purpose?"

I looked over at Annichka. We grimaced apologetically. "Well, actually..."

"Don't worry. You can have your body most of the time," Xox said reassuringly. "I just want the use of it every once in a while." He patted his considerable belly. "Middle-aged spread, you know. No matter how much tennis you play..."

"Can I have the use of your body?" I asked cautiously, remembering the vigor and enthusiasm of his prolonged coupling with Lucy.

"Why, of course!" Xox cried. "And you are welcome to use the Learjet and the penthouse in New York and the mansion in Tuscany and the private beach in the Caribbean. Just as I can stuff myself with pizza and whisky when I am in your youthful body. It's like time-sharing. So convenient to exchange bodies periodically."

"What about Annichka?"

"Anastasia shares that body, doesn't she?" Lucy smiled at Annichka. "I've always wanted to be a redhead. Would you two mind if I joined you as well, darling?"

"Come to think of it, I'm getting tired of hobbling around with walking sticks," Hell growled unexpectedly. "Think I'll join you also. And I'm sure Rudolphine could use a vacation from Pipi periodically. Hard work, being an airhead."

Annichka burst into a radiant smile. "It sounds like fun!" my darling squealed. "Like playing with lots of crayons!"

Of course I couldn't refuse after that. I knew that no confusion of bodies could really affect us. Anastasia and I would be together, always. Xox pulled out a small box encrusted with precious stones, opened it, and handed glittering golden pills all around. "Nirvana," Xox murmured. "This is what Murti Bing and his team were working on."

"Utterly marvelous," Lady Snatcher pronounced abruptly. "May I have one too?"

"Why not?" Xox grinned. "The more, the merrier."

We raised the golden pills to our lips and smiled at one another. As I swallowed, I saw myself as through a glass, darkly, in a Tibetan monastery, meditating. But then the vision changed. The world was stifled by mushroom clouds and engulfed in flames and the screams of the damned rose high, a dim echo reaching even the arid desert plateau where I was wandering in a blind daze. And then I am among a band of fierce bearded warriors standing around a tank, scratching their heads. "Can you drive?" they demand. "Of course," I reply, a single tear of redemption coursing down my dusty cheek. And I turn the key in the ignition and the engine splutters to a start and we rumble off. "Callooh, callay!" the warriors chortle in their joy, whipping up their horses and riding along. "We have a khan!" And the cry resounds in the frozen air, as we ride off towards the rich cities of the setting sun, and more horsemen will join their number, the warriors of the indomitable sacker of cities, the father of dynasties, the immortal Genghiz...

My vision swirled away in a flash of color and I returned. The world was illuminated from within. I saw the reality of forms and shapes, the incessant movement and interaction of minute particles, the evanescence of monads. And I knew that there were other channels for anger and war, for peace and love, and that I could surf effortlessly between these myriad levels.

But then Xox pulled out the remote control from his pocket and pointed it at me and pressed a button.

#GenghizInLove: Episode 64

"Peace and love!" Xox proclaimed. The words reverberated through the auditorium. Xox beamed at the excited faces before him. "Are you well fed? Are your heads clear? Do you help one another? Are you happy?"

"Yes!" the students responded in enthusiastic unison. There were some scattered shouts of "Give us a million dollars and we'll be even happier!" Xox peered benevolently down.

"A million dollars?" Xox grinned. "What do you say to a hundred billion?" An awed gasp ran through the audience. "I hereby offer the University of Truth and Justice a permanent endowment of a hundred billion dollars." Xox turned to Otto Hell who was comfortably slumped in his chair, arms folded behind his head, snoring. "Lord Hades, as the rector of the university, do you accept?"

Hell noisily blew his nose into a disgusting snot-rag and heaved himself up with his walking sticks. "I do," he announced gruffly. The two men shook hands. "should also make another announcement. The University of Truth and Justice has been given a Presidential charter by Good King Wenceslas as a personal expression of his support. Gives us city-state status like the Vatikan. Means we can do whatever we want. 'Course we do already." The auditorium shook with thunderous applause. A couple of enthusiastic students began an impromptu Cossack dance. Hell thumped the podium with his stick. "Xox. Get on with it."

Xox nodded. "I will tell you a little story. Once upon a time a group of men sat by a lake, smoking cigars and drinking whisky while pretending to fish. They started talking, about their mutual business interests, about their families, about the meaning of life. They agreed that the state of the world was bad and that the future would be even worse. Was it possible to prevent humans from wiping themselves off the earth? Was it even desirable? Some held the view that we were a race of greedy irritable stupid apes who deserved to die out. Good riddance to bad rubbish, and why not exploit other monkeys meanwhile. Others were more charitable. Perhaps it was the mellowing effect of the fine single malt whisky they were drinking. They felt that humanity deserved another chance. They resolved to provide it." Xox smiled at the hushed audience. "I should mention that these men were all billionaires. We form a little group called MIDAS."

Xox took a long drink of water. I glanced over at Benito. He nodded back. "Perhaps it was already too late. Perhaps the balance had tilted and the apocalypse had already occurred. We agreed that we still had to try. Perhaps technology could still help. We decided to fund experiments in cutting edge science and technology. Some of these experiments have not succeeded quite as well as we had hoped. Space travel, for instance…" Xox flipped his fingers. A miniature rocket came whizzing noisily around the corner and crashed into the podium with a deafening explosion. Xox shrugged and spread his hands. "Other projects have been rather more successful." He flipped his fingers again. Gold coins cascaded down from the ceiling. I covered my head and ducked for shelter while everyone scrambled about desperately. Lady Snatcher was on her hands and knees, grasping and shoving with the rest of them, protectively grasping her pile of bullion to her bosom. Xox waited until the tumult had died down and everyone was back in their seats again, fingering their booty. "As you see, I have been investing in gold recently. Of course this worried a few people…" Xox smiled benevolently at Terence. "The secret services of the West were rather concerned, especially after MIDAS cornered most of the world's gold supplies. The decision by the European central bank to dispose of its gold holdings was most helpful. The secret services have been wondering just exactly why these crazy billionaires have been buying gold. The Sultan of Arabia has been most nervous. And with good reason. This is why."

Xox flipped his fingers again. A large white screen fell into view, covered with neatly scribbled equations and complicated calculations. The more diligent students began frantically copying. "A new formula for solar energy. While inexpensive to produce and completely environmentally friendly, these new solar cells do require a certain amount of gold. Unfortunately, human beings place a quite inexplicable premium on the value of this metal. So we bought it all. In this alchemical process the earth's gold will now help us to benefit fully from the sun's gold. And the energy we generate will go to water pumps and desalination plants in the third world. Nobody will ever die of thirst or tainted water again. Or of over-work. One of MIDAS's most active members is a great engineer in Japan. For thirty years now, Tamato-san has been developing industrial robots in his factory near Mount Fuji. He has finally made the ultimate breakthrough. Artificial intelligence of such a level that the robots can design other robots of ever increasing intelligence. Assembling each other in the darkness with complete efficiency. Factories throughout the world will be revolutionised by this combination of inexhaustible energy and intelligent labour. The age of the machine is over and the age of the robot has begun."

"Other experiments in biotechnology and genetics continue. Soon we will have cures for all the major diseases. We will be able to turn back the biological clock. Humans will be able to live forever in perfect health. But will we be happy?" Xox paused and gazed at his silent audience. "Technology can help to some extent. It can eliminate work, hunger and disease. But are human beings ready for eternal life and freedom? No compulsion to go to the office or factory, no desperate desire to buy all the satisfaction one can cram into a short ninety-year life-span, no greed or need that cannot be indulged in an eternity of leisure. Will we use our new freedom to develop all our skills and talents and to build bridges amongst ourselves? Or will we continue to struggle in a mindset forged in the age of scarcity, fighting and struggling like monkeys in a cage, unable to comprehend the new reality of endless possibility, the simple mind-blowing fact that the door to our cage has finally been opened? Will we struggle even harder and longer for primacy amongst ourselves, now that we can fight for all eternity? The members of MIDAS agreed that no technological advance would ever help if humans were not altered in some profound essential way. But how do you tame an angry monkey?"

"Cut off his balls!" a girlish voice pleaded.

"Starve him into submission!" someone boomed.

"Give him drugs!" Immanuel shouted happily.

Xox grinned at Immanuel. "That is exactly what we did. To all of you. We experimented with a new generation of drugs that make people gentler, kinder, and smarter. With irreversible effect. The ultimate alchemy, the transformation of the human soul. And you are the result!"

The spectators looked at one another in a dumbfounded daze. Immanuel broke the nervous hush. "Hooray!" he cheered loudly and began to clap. Others joined in. The tentative applause grew louder.

"And so I give you a toast!" Xox said loudly, raising his glass of vitamin-rich water. "Let us all drink to Peace and Love! For now and forever!"

A deafening chant resounded through the hall. "Peace and love! Truth and Justice! Peace and love!" Even Lady Snatcher and Monsieur Jacques were affected by the hypnotic atmosphere and the drinking water: the scowling old witch lost her ferocious squint and kissed her arch-adversary on his bureaucratic cheek. Jean Rameau reached over and shook the hand of his nemesis, Gunther Otto Troll. The huge hall was saturated with vibrations of goodwill and bliss.

Until the explosions started.

#GenghizInLove: Episode 63

And after Terence had taken his vitamin like a good boy and calmed down, we all trooped out of Xox's suite down to the elegant auditorium of the University of Truth and Justice. The mahogany walls and parquet floors glittered with fresh polish, the baize on the conference table shone under the bright lights like a meadow in spring, the microphones amplified without dissonance, and the eager young faces in the audience looked scrubbed and spruce. The string quartet fell silent as Xox and Hell walked onto the stage.

A hand grabbed my jacket. I turned sharply around. God smiled lazily at me, amidst a bristling forest of microphones and video-cameras. "What are you doing here?" I hissed.

Godfrey smirked at the notebook ostentatiously perched on his lap. "Covering this event for The Sociologist, my dear fellow," he purred. "Jenkins was most insistent. Wouldn't miss it for all the world."

"Godfrey, are you up to mischief again?"

"As always, old chap. How else to overcome boredom?"

I spotted Jesus and Barbie in the third row of the auditorium. Barbie was dressed in black and her eyelids were swollen and puffy. "We'll have to have a long chat about boredom sometime, God. I've got to run."

"Of course. Enjoy yourself… for now. This bash promises to be most interesting."

I went up to Barbie and hugged her. "Jesus just told me Luke was dead," she said in a barely audible voice. "I can't believe it…"

"I know, honey," I said sadly. Barbie's tears coursed down my neck. At length she let go and reached into my pocket for a handkerchief. "Keep it," I said, after she had blown her nose noisily. Barbie smiled at me through her tears: it was an old joke between us ever since my twelfth birthday when she had given me a dozen beautifully embroidered handkerchiefs laced with sneezing powder. I delved into my other pocket and found a tube of vitamins. "Take one now, sweetie. You'll feel better..."

Doors slammed and necks craned as the other Big People were ceremoniously announced. First came a dumpy lady with golden bouffant hair fluffed out over a bloated purple face stuck in a severe scowl. Her protuberant blue eyes and protruding front teeth made her resemble a pugnacious old rabbit. "Her Grace, Lady Snatcher!" And immediately after: "His Excellency, Monsieur Jacques!" The President of Europe, a nondescript politician with silvery hair and stern spectacles strutted down to the stage and waved his arms in the air, clumsily, like an ageing rock star. An excited murmur ran through the audience as the two principal antagonists took their seats on stage.

"Herr Gunther Otto Troll!" I liked the icy attack glare in Troll's frosty blue eyes when he saw the last guest arrive, the disgraced chairman of Banque Eurolux, Jean Rameau, a pudgy person of indeterminate age and gender, sweating profusely as he wiped his pasty jowls. In the row in front, Marya Madlenova spit disdainfully in Rameau's direction. Madlenova was holding hands with Professor Flysenko, our sociologist-in-residence and world-famous expert on prostitution. Madlenova and Flysenko glowered at me: I smiled back and mentally wished them luck. I felt exhilarated. The speakers were clearing their throats and a few were already drinking their doctored water. An expectant hush descended over the audience. The Big Bash was about to begin.

Rameau's keynote address began with platitudes and degenerated into clichés: a jumble of banker-talk and Eurocratese. "Convergence of economic cycles… Synchronisation of fiscal laws and tax regimes… Public policy capacity building… Deeper versus wider… The best is yet to come…." After ten minutes of pompous pronouncements on the challenges facing Central Europe, my eyes glazed over. I was impatiently waiting for Fyodor and his friends to take up the rather over-ripe tomatoes I had thoughtfully arranged in hampers by their seats, when Rameau's drone came to a startled halt.

"Excuse my ignorance, Rameau," Troll interrupted curtly. "How long has Banque Eurolux been around?"

"Almost two years."

"Your institution was supposed to provide capital to small businesses in the post-communist countries. How many loans have you made in these two years?"

Rameau flushed. "None. But…"

"What was your bank's budget last year?"

"Four billion euros."

"And how much of it was spent in Central Europe?"

"None. I must protest…"

"How much money did you spend on decorating your offices last year?"

"I cannot recall…"

"Answer the bloody question!" Hell growled.

"About two and a half billion," Rameau conceded sulkily.

"And how much was spent on staff salaries and bonuses?"

"Just under two billion."

"How much did you make?"

"This is unbearable," Rameau protested. "I did not come here to be insulted in this fashion…"

"That's true," Hell replied. "You came here because it was a chance to rehabilitate your sleazy reputation. Here's your chance. Answer the question!"

"My remuneration last year was approximately half a billion," Rameau replied, glaring at Troll. "And it was approved by the Banque's board of directors. Including His Excellency, Monsieur Jacques…"

"So your budget was four billion and your costs were four and a half billion. Leaving a deficit of half a billion," Troll said silkily. "The same amount as your personal take. Quite a banker, Monsieur Rameau. Or should I say bank-robber?"

"Just as we have said all these years," Lady Snatcher snarled stridently. "Pigs wallowing in the trough. Salami and all that European nastiness! Waste of good tax-payer money! This would never have happened while we were around…"

"Actually, Madame, the Banque Eurolux was established at the last European meeting you attended as Prime Minister," Monsieur Jacques interpolated. "I remember it well. You assaulted me violently with your handbag."

"We don't remember you." Lady Snatcher glared at Monsieur Jacques. "You a Frog or a Kraut?"

"Neither, Madame," Monsieur Jacques replied with dignity. "I am Belgian."

"In that case you don't count. Another European nobody. At all those meetings we were forced to attend there was never anyone who could stand up to us. European men have no balls."

"It is true that rates of testicular cancer have risen sharply in Europe while sperm counts keep falling," Monsieur Jacques conceded. "However…"

"All this garbage you Euro-fags eat," Lady Snatcher continued, unmoved. "Garlic and salami. What's wrong with good old sausage? Solid British fare is what you need. Bangers and mash. Steak and kidney pie. Bubble and squeak. Toad in the hole. Pre-packaged microwave dinners. Doesn't appeal to all you snail-eaters though. Always nibbling on brie and sucking up to your farmers."

"The rural lifestyle is an integral part of the European dream!" Monsieur Jacques protested. "Our farmers need all the subsidies they can get. The European landscape would not be the same without them!"

"Who needs landscape?" Lady Snatcher replied robustly. "Come to think of it, who needs farmers? Put the lazy layabouts to work. Let them build roads. Sixteen lane concrete highways stretching over hill and dale, packed from bumper to bumper with motorists safely sheltered in the privacy and security of their automobiles."

"But public transport is vital for our society. Standing shoulder to shoulder in a crowded metro builds strong feelings of community!"

"This illusion of community is all a gigantic left-wing conspiracy," Lady Snatcher declared darkly. "We defeated communism single-handed. President Reagan helped a bit. Now you Europeans are trying to revive this monstrous notion that we have something in common with one another. But we will never give in!!"

"Social harmonisation is key to solving the problems of unrestricted capitalism. The crisis of homelessness…"

"The homeless are a good measure of a vibrant economy. Look at New York City!"

But what about single mothers? Starving children…"

"Women should know how to keep hold of their husbands. By the balls, if necessary. And children should work. Builds discipline. Look at the Third World! In Victorian times, Britain was like that." Lady Snatcher sighed with regret. "Ordinary people knew where they belonged. In the factory and in the slum. And if they didn't work they went to the poor house or to jail. Debtors were hanged and we sent thieves to Australia. It worked so well! But then we grew soft and brought in all these communist laws abolishing child labour and capital punishment. Look at the result! Whiny little namby-pambies bleating for more art lessons!"

"Artists are an indispensable element of the social fabric." Monsieur Jacques was scrabbling about for words. " The glory of European culture… Leonardo da Vinci!"

"Leonardo was a military technician. Proves our point exactly. Get rid of cultural subsidies and put more money in the military! All these artists hanging around like pests ever since we stopped killing off one another. Bring back the age of patronage. Instead of messing about with all this abstract nonsense, let them paint us!"

"Have you no feeling for social justice?" Monsieur Jacques, asked, appalled.

"That's what those weak little men said when they deposed us." Lady Snatcher laughed harshly. "But they did not succeed. We will never surrender! We have been re-grouping, gathering about us the best and brightest, the most ruthless entrepreneurial spirits of our time. Now we are informed that there is a new Holy Roman Emperor in Vienna, and a new Pope. At last Europe emerges again in its true colours. A Katholic conspiracy to suppress individualism and substitute dogma and corruption instead of the joys of consumerism and the free market. We welcome this development. Your hornet's nest of namby-pamby social democrats will be squeezed from either side by the true believers. And when the bureaucratic nobodies fall away, there will be at last the final battle, the ultimate showdown between gallant Britain and the Evil Empire. Like a second Churchill, we will be acclaimed again as England's ruler; like another great Queen, we will send forth our brave pirates to demolish the Katholic Armada. In that last Crusade, the free market shall prevail once and for all, and the Margarine Age shall begin!"

"You are deranged, Madame." Monsieur Jacques was shaking like a leaf. "This is my worst nightmare. Please, Monsieur Xox, put an end to this mad cow's ravings!"

"Roast beef builds character, little man!" Lady Snatcher bellowed back. "You're probably a vegetarian. Snivelling like a Hindu!"

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" the students chanted, inciting the two opponents. Tomatoes and rotten eggs whizzed through the air, smearing the glittering stage. Lady Snatcher rolled up the sleeves of her blood-red jacket, revealing powerful blacksmith arms. Monsieur Jacques loosened his tie with shaking hands and gulped down a glass of water. Lady Snatcher sneered and threw down a beer. The atmosphere in the room was electric.

Just then Xox stood up and held up his hand. "What a thoroughly enjoyable debate." He smiled at the audience. "I have always held that we are what we eat. Lady Snatcher is living proof. Put down those tomatoes for a moment. Shall I tell you a story?"

"Story! Story!" the audience chanted. The lights in the auditorium dimmed, and a single spotlight shone on Xox's gleaming head. He stood there in the silence, an enigmatic portly figure, one hand playing in the pocket of his grey suit, and began.