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	It all comes together. Don't fall. Each of us carries a
stick of dynamite. Concealed on his person. That does
several things. One it forms a bond. Two it makes you
feel special. Three it's mute articulation of the conditions
we live in today I mean not only us but everybody the
zeitgeist you might say if not the human condition
itself and keeps you in touch with reality. This is your
stick.  Don't fall. We know one among us is a government
agent that's inevitable. Maybe it's you. Maybe it's me. The
way we deal with that is as long as everyone does his job
what's the difference. You're either part of the plot or
part of the counterplot. Everybody's got to be either one
or the other they all have their own opinions about which
they are. Personally that's not part of my assignment. Part
of it is having meets. This is a meet. The way you have
meets is you take out your stick of dynamite that's your
i. d. Don't fall. This is a two person meet there are
bigger ones. When we get all our dynamite together we have
a bomb. Then we set it off. It's all chance. Don't trust
anyone you don't know that's the big thing. It's all who
you like who you can work with who you fuck. Personal
affinity. Of course we don't have real names we have
aliases. Today I'm Harrold. Two r's. Tomorrow I might be
someone else. Don't fall. Of course all this probably
sounds wacky to you. That's because none of it is true.
It's just a joke a way we have of testing people's
reactions. The dynamite stick's a dud. Light the fuse and
see. Or maybe you better not. Maybe it'll blow your head
off. Well you never know till you try. Right?
	I'm disappointed says President Nixon. They edge
across the window ledge seven floors up working their way
to the left dynamite sticks in one hand the other bloodied
fingertips clutching grips in stone. Beneath them long
rolling lawn red brick slate shrubbery crowds of
disconsolate children clump disperse circulate. Reports
of fires firebombs bomb scares window smashing assaults.
	I'm disappointed she repeats. Oops. She lurches
sickeningly as her foot slips on the edge does an odd
dance with the wall ends holding on with both hands feet
firm dynamite clamped between her teeth.
	Don't fall says Harrold.
	I find this ridiculous mumbles President Nixon
dynamite wobbling in her mouth. I come here to meet the
Admiral and I find myself creeping across a window ledge
with a stick of dynamite between my teeth. This isn't
what I have in mind. At all. At all at all. What I want
is wisdom. Enlightenment. How to live. I want to talk
to the Admiral.
	Harrold guffaws. I can tell you what he's going to
say he mimics the old man. Plenny smokin drinkin fuckin.
That's what he always says. He's just an old man.
	They reach a window. Harrold winks and motions her
to look inside. Inside a blond girl nude to the waist and
wearing bobbysox hovers over a scrawny adolescent boy tied
to a wooden chair his head hanging like a wilted flower.
As they watch she grabs him by the jaws with one hand
forcing his mouth open inserts a gleaming knife and severs
his tongue. Blood covers his chin the severed tongue
bounces off his chest and lands in his lap where it wags
horribly several times in a growing pool of blood. Then
she takes hold of her breast and shoves it in the boy's
mouth which makes sucking motions.
	President Nixon looks from the window to Harrold. Is
this true she says.

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