Page 232 - Some Dance to Remember

202 Jack Fritscher

Tinker Bell live. Then he grew up to be Tinker Bell, and he had to keep
lovers loving, readers reading, people clapping. Or he knew he’d die.
He turned all his attention to keep Kick kicking.
Solly was skeptical. “I think differently from Kick. No matter how
massive his muscle, he’ll die. You’ll die. We’ll all die. The universe will die.
Eventually the expanding universe will reach, how can I put it so you’ll
understand, its muscular extreme, and then collapse in on itself not at the
same rate it expanded, but faster, cataclysmically faster.”
“Stop playing When Worlds Collide.” Ryan felt a certain triangular
tension.
Kick.
Himself.
Solly.
He’d think about it later.
The Dianabol worked. Their visualizations worked. Kick grew. His
arms pumped bigger. His veins read like road maps around his muscle.
His penis hung thicker and longer. His sexual appetite was insatiable. He
was wearing even Ryan out.
“I wanted more,” Ryan told Solly, “and now I’m getting it.”
“Spare me,” Solly said.
Bodybuilding is the sport of evolving gods. That is the romance of
bodybuilding. That is its hubris. Ask Yukio Mishima. Mortal men lift
weights against gravity’s downward pull, using earth’s gravity to build
muscle that will make them like the immortal gods themselves. Body-
building is a rebellious, Faustian, Luciferian act. To achieve the golden
bridge to immortality, anything is permitted.
“How you use your body,” Solly repeated, “is the ultimate political
act. I may not be fond of Kick, but I can appreciate, maybe more than he
can, what he is doing.”
“What’s he doing?” Ryan asked. “I’m supposed to be the activist. Not
him.”
“Believe it or not,” Solly said, “I’ve always loved bodybuilders in gen-
eral, if not Kick in particular. There comes a point in size and power
and Look when they transcend themselves. They go over the edge. They
become gods of their kind. They achieve Universal Appeal. Kick, con-
sciously or subconsciously, has become the man you idealized in your
Manifesto. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you should get down on your
knees to him.”
“I do,” Ryan said.
“I know.”

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