Page 43 - Psychoceramics and the Test of Fire

Cabalocracy and the Hall of Mirrors

and tried to find a copy of it, but couldn’t. I did try.” I ended with
that lame coda to evince sympathy. It worked.
“I know. By now my work has been reduced to a catchphrase.”
Curtis Capra crossed his legs. His voice wasn’t muffled now. He
spoke quickly and clearly, clipping each sentence as if impatient to
begin the next. “But what are you after? Why do you think I have the
answers?”
Oops. Tone down the flattery. “Of course, I can’t really have an
opinion until I know more about your ideas. I’ve spent a lot of time
chasing my tail looking for enlightenment about what seems rather
obvious: the layers of official explanation, denial, claim and
counterclaim concerning the real control of human destiny are very
unsatisfactory. If you’re not a total believer in the establishment’s
version of history and you’re not utterly cynical to the point of
writing off any in-depth analysis, then you’re left with a stewpot of
raw data, half-cooked conspiracies and professional bitterness. You,
sir, seem to have grasped the absurdity of the process and offer a new
way of looking at things. I wouldn’t bother you if I could get your
writings any other way. In fact, I had despaired of ever finding out
more until I saw your notice in Startling Stories.”
Capra transferred the leg-cross from left to right. His chair had
more padding than mine, fair enough considering the differential in
flank flesh between us. That left hand stayed in the pocket, and it
began to worry me.
“I might have a copy of that paper around here somewhere. But I
wrote it years ago, and since then I’ve refined my theory a little.
Perhaps I can simply give you a précis of the thesis. Someday I’ll be
able to republish it in a revised edition.”
He raised his eyebrows interrogatively. He had no idea just how
quickly “someday” would be upon him. But first he had to sell me a
product for which I had no use and would gladly purchase blind.
“Oh, yes, Mr. Capra. I’ve waited a long time to hear this!”
“Fine. I can spare a few minutes: you seem like an intelligent
fellow. Not many people have gotten through that door. Now listen
carefully. My training as a sifter of intelligence taught me not to put
the horse before the cart, to commit to an explanation of the data
that would unconsciously distort further analysis by what is called
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