Louse (23 page)

Mr. Louse turns and faces the wall of monitors and looks back at me, then goes to the monitors, touches a button, and watches all the screens go black. He then leads me back into the hall of mirrors. When we've walked a few steps he turns me around to face a mirror, to face my face and his face simultaneously. I look closely at mine, trying to make it mean something, thinking of the briefcase
in my hand and what it contains. All I can think of, however, is that Mr. Louse, though obviously fully capable of administering all this mischief, appears somewhat simpleminded.

“So then, I'm Mortimer Blank and you're Herman Q. Louse,” I say, sounding and still feeling somewhat mystified as to how this came to me in the manner it did.

“Yes,” he says.

“Mortimer Blank,” I repeat, trying to get used to the sound of the name.

“Yes,” he repeats.

“But why did I have your identity?”

“Because Poppy requested it.”

“Why?”

“In all honesty, I don't know,” he says, looking as bewildered as I feel. “In all honesty, I've never understood how his mind works. But if we really thought about it, you and I, I would imagine for the same reason Madame visits his chambers once a night.”

“I don't understand.”

“For starters, Madame is Poppy's mother.”

“But Poppy's mother is dead a long time already.”

“It isn't really his mother. It's Helga Zimmerwitz, the receptionist in Lounge Eighteen SR-Five.”

“The receptionist in Lounge Eighteen SR-Five?”

“It is part of her duty to play Madame.”

“Helga Zimmerwitz is Madame.”

“Yes, Madame. Like you're me, she's her—the symbolic representation of Poppy's mother.”

“As I'm the representation of you?”

“Yes.”

“And who are you to be so important to be represented?”

“Poppy's son.”

“Oh,” I say. I look Herman over more carefully, weighing the fact that this is Poppy's son.

“I can't say this for certain, but by taking the name of Poppy's son you provided him a certain fantasy of having his son attending to him.”

“But I look nothing like you.”

“I imagine it has nothing to do with that.”

“But why me?”

“I don't know,” he says shrugging his shoulders. “If I had to guess, because he felt you were the best person predisposed to do what you've done.”

“And that would be what?”

“Arriving here with this piece of paper,” he says, tapping his pocket with his bloated hand, looking at the pocket, looking at me.

“Why would he be interested in having you obtain that?”

“It's part of the plot.”

“Which part of the plot?”

“The part of the plot that follows his assisted suicide.”

I sigh at the thought of it, sigh at the thought of my part in it.

“Part of the plot was that he wished to die; and in the process of dying he wanted to be sure that I took what he believed belongs to me and doesn't belong to Mr. Sherwood or Dr. Barnum, or anyone else for that matter.”

“And so the number on that piece of paper represents your inheritance.”

“It is a code to a bank account on the tropical island of Z.”

“The tropical island of Z.?”

“Yes, located in the Gulf of R.”

“To which you'll go after Poppy's dead.”

“That's what he wishes.”

“But tell me something.”

“What?”

“I thought his entire purpose was to live. His ultimate purpose is to live.”

“Again, I really don't know,” he says, shaking his head. “I mean, perhaps. That's all I can say. I can't really say. I've never really been very good at understanding him entirely.”

“But all the precautions, all the compulsions, all the minutiae, are they not the signs of his will to live?”

“I mean, maybe there is death and then there's dying. It could be he's unafraid of death because he's already achieved infamy. With infamy, he'll remain immortal. To die is another thing. To die one must allow for one's final deterioration. This, until now, I don't know that he's ever accepted. Now, maybe he's accepted it. Had a change of heart, a revelation, or something to that effect.”

“A man like Herbert Horatio Blackwell has a fleeting change of heart, a revelation.”

“Like I said, I don't know. I can't begin to understand him. All I know is that one day while Helga Zimmerwitz knelt before him, he handed her my first orders and I have followed them one after the other with the hope that this would all come to some kind of end.”

“So you and Helga Zimmerwitz devised a plan to kill him.”

“No, Poppy devised the plan to have himself killed. Poppy has devised all the plans. All the plans involving yourself and the others. From the very beginning. From the very day you arrived. This has
been planned for a very long time. It's taken a very long time. Do you realize, I've been here for, I don't know how long, but ever since I have been here he has been planning, threatening to plan something like this. It's only now that he's gotten around to it. I mean, the codes alone. Do you know how long it took him to encrypt the codes so that I could move them through the computers without detection?”

Mr. Louse bites at one of his fingernails.

I shake my head. “I don't understand,” I say.

“As you've been giving Poppy a gradual overdose of Librium over the last several months, breaking him down bit by bit, I have been feeding codes into the computer, hiding the finances, rearranging them, you see?”

“No, I don't see.”

“This whole business regarding Paradise Beyond Paradise?”

“Yes?”

“Well, Paradise, was simply an expansion of G., only more elaborate, more complex, more populous, more contemporary. But Paradise Beyond Paradise, now that was to be cutting edge. I anonymously sent Sherwood and Barnum doctored books of finances and diagrams and convinced them that the conspiracy was taking place with all of those who have been arrested in the past several days. But in reality, there is no Paradise Beyond Paradise, just the idea of Paradise Beyond Paradise, in order to get them to believe that the great amount of money that has disappeared has disappeared. I mean, wouldn't you believe it?”

“I did.”

“You see. But they eventually began to catch on. Sherwood figured out that there was the slightest possibility that the whole thing was a deception and that the funds hadn't left G. at all.”

“Which is the truth?”

“Which is the truth. That's why Poppy ordered me to plant the bombs. For the likelihood they should figure this out, which he considered very likely, and which he, for the most part, planned.”

“Then there were bombs?”

“Yes. Mr. Moorcraft's bombs. My bombs. One and the same.”

“But now they have dismantled them.”

“It gave them something to do. It gave them a sense of accomplishment. It was at this point that Poppy ordered you to inject his lethal dosage of Librium, which Barnum and Sherwood happily observed from the monitors in Sherwood's office. They believed Poppy was killing himself before they could do as they pleased with him. Now, with Poppy dying, Mr. Sherwood, pleased as punch, invited you to join him in his office in order to make you a trustee.”

“But for what purpose? They had what they wanted. What could I give them that they didn't already have?”

“Herman Q. Louse. They needed Herman Q. Louse, his name, face, and body to retrieve the floating finances.”

“But I thought I was Mortimer Blank.”

“You are Mortimer Blank, Mortimer,” Herman says as he takes a breath. “But, before you became Mortimer Blank again, you were still Herman Q. Louse, and Herman Q. Louse retains the rights to the Executive Lottery.”

“Retains the rights? I don't understand ‘Retains the rights'?”

“In other words, the man designated as Herman Q. Louse retains the rights to the Executive Controlling Partnership of the Resort Town of G.”

“Which means?”

“In reality, there is no Executive Lottery. Herman Q. Louse is Poppy's son and Herman Q. Louse inherits the Executiveship. All the lawyers would say so. All the lawyers would insist. They were made to believe this. They believe this. All the lawyers together have power whether they know it or not.”

“So then, what you're saying is that they were planning to swap me for you.”

“So if I were ever to come out to claim what's mine…”

“They would do away with you and be left with me?”

“Their puppet.”

“Their pawn,” I say, wondering whose puppet I would rather be, wondering what exactly I have worked toward.

“That's why you became a trustee last night.”

And now I can partially see what he's getting at.

“To make me eligible for the Executive Lottery.”

“Precisely.”

“But, if you don't mind my saying so, why should Herman Q. Louse win the Executive Lottery if the Executive Lottery is open to all trustees?”

“As I said, because I'm the executor and all the lawyers say so and therefore…”

“The Executive Lottery really
doesn't
exist.”

“Exactly. The Executive Lottery doesn't exist. The computer says so. Intelligence says so. All the lawyers say so. Pan Opticon says so. Barnum and Sherwood say so.”

“But if everyone believes it exists, doesn't it exist?”

“Yes, until Pan Opticon changes the news and then, you know…”

“It no longer exists.”

“That's just how it is.”

“Nothing is absolute.”

“No need for revolutions, upheavals, etcetera. But you know what? It doesn't matter any longer. None of it really mattered to begin with.”

“And why not?”

“Because Poppy had them all drugged while you were drugging him.”

“Them?”

“Yes, Sherwood and Barnum were drugged by Bender and Godmeyer, and Bender and Godmeyer were drugged by Sherwood and Barnum.”

“Drugged?”

“Yes, drugged dead. Once and for all. Poppy managed to set the two against the two with rumors and reports within their own ranks.”

“Dead?”

“Yes, dead.”

“And the others? All the others?”

“No no no. Only Barnum and Sherwood, Godmeyer and Bender, and some others in Internal Affairs and Intelligence, Detentions, Sales. No no no, the others are going through withdrawal.”

“Like me?”

“Only you started sooner. It was planned that way.”

“Then why bother with all the rest of this?”

“If I knew I would tell you. Probably, if I had to guess—to keep me preoccupied.”

“And that would be enough of a reason?”

“Everything is enough of a reason.”

“In any case, you were saying earlier about the codes. Why me and the others and the codes?”

“The codes? They've been circulating through the system, hidden in various places at various points in time. That's why Poppy needed the others, you see. You and the others, when you were admitted to G., each of you were encrypted with a series of internal codes. But before you were moved from admittance to indoctrination, all of you mysteriously disappeared from your quarters and some days later reappeared in the wings of Paradise.”

Herman looks away as I think about what he's saying and understand the significance of it. And I can see myself walking through the desert under the giant structure; I can see us huddling in the wings.

“While you and the others,” Herman continues uncomfortably, “had apparently escaped, your numerical codes hung in limbo long enough so that I could assign the new encrypted codes to your internal documents. This way when you returned I would be able to shuffle the funds from one to the other through the Controller's office, in which Poppy always assigned one of you, one of the ones with the proper code.”

“Why wouldn't he allow you to control the Controller's office?”

“For the same reason I couldn't control the Controller's office from here. Poppy was afraid I would make a blunder or take the money prematurely, foil his plans. Oh, he couldn't stand it if he were foiled. And it is for this reason that you became a trustee tonight. You see?”

“No, I still don't see.”

“He substituted you for me in the computer and tried to replace your codes at that time so that when the money finally came to you they could trace it back to me.”

“Why couldn't you just substitute it back?”

“I just couldn't. I wasn't able. The Controller who was controlled by Poppy had it locked up.”

“Which left you where?”

“Between me and you. If I wanted what I wanted I needed you, Herman Q. Louse, Trustee, your body, shape, and form. That's why Poppy took the precaution to make you Herman Q. Louse. He was hedging his bets. Whomever has the code of Herman Q. Louse when Poppy dies automatically ascends to the position of Executive Controlling Partner and in our plot, the key to the Controller's office.”

“Then it had nothing to do with Poppy's fantasy?”

“No, nothing at all, really. Only that Barnum and Sherwood believed it. But really it was just so when you walked into the Controller's office it was you transferring what was yours to a bank on the tropical island of Z.”

“But really, you transferring what was yours.”

“Yes, in a manner of speaking.”

“So you couldn't get to what they knew you wanted without me.”

“I think you've got it.”

“But what reason would you have for escaping without the money?”

“Theoretically, no reason at all.”

“And that's why I became you and you became Mr. Moorcraft and Mortimer Blank became the figure of ridicule.”

“Yes.”

“So you're taking the money,” I confirm.