Outer Banks (4 page)

1.

The Green Man was not the real name of the Youth in the Green Suit. Prince Egress had first called him that, rather publicly, and consequently most people took it to be his real name. But, as one may recall, the truth is that he had many names, none of them legal. He was, in all respects, an
alias,
a true underground man. It's not even clear that he was a
man;
he may have been a woman, as well. Thus he was the definitive guerrilla, a person with absolutely no past.

All this, but nothing more than this, was known to the king within hours of the youth's arrival in court and his presentation there of his odd request, or, as some said, his demand. The king, after the youth had spoken, had leaned over to his chief of intelligence, the well-known Grand Inquisitor, and had said to him,—I want that kid's past on my desk this afternoon!

But all he got was an empty manila envelope.

—All right, the king had said, after his rage had fled,—then watch him. The bastard's got to have a
present
!

2.

The youth is extremely attractive, to men as to women, although it's not exactly sexual. They stare at him unabashedly wherever he goes. Of medium height and build, he moves with
extraordinary grace and purposefulness and seems thus to be both a taller and a stronger person than he probably is. His “costume,” upon close examination, turns out to be hand-tailored, somewhat conservatively designed, of a lightweight, finely woven fabric imported either from the Middle East or North Africa, possibly from Greece. The youth himself, however, is a Nordic type. The color of his suit is forest green and is not “slick” or “shiny,” as was thought, a mere illusion caused by the way in which the finely woven cloth reflects light. The general impression given to strangers by the youth is that of a person with immense, unquestioned authority. It is not yet clear, however, what exactly his authority is over, for he seems to disdain exerting it.

3.

After completing his address to the king, immediately the youth, hereinafter referred to as the Subject, departs from the court. The crowd eagerly backs off to make way for him. Outside, in the great yard, he is seen talking with Genghis, the Royal Dwarf. A fragment of their conversation luckily is overheard and taken down:

At this point, the Subject departs from the dwarf, heading downtown.

4.

At a busy, downtown intersection, the Subject seems bewildered, as if he is not familiar with the plan of the city. He notices an adolescent girl standing near him, waiting for the light to change. She is wearing a short red skirt, a football player's sweater many sizes too large for her with a huge, red A sewn onto the front, and saddleshoes. She is a schoolgirl.

—Can you tell me where the gymnasium is located? the Subject asks her.

—Hi! she replies.—I'm 37-24-37! Terrific, huh?

—I'm trying to locate the gymnasium. I want to see the famous Prince Orgone run and jump and throw.

—Jeepers, my daddy says I've got the body of Raquel Welch, the personality of Marie Wilson, and the brains of a quail! I
love
the prince! I've got all his records! Do you
know
the prince? Jessum, how em-barrassing! I'm 34-27-34! I mean, 37-24-37! How em-barrassing! I can't even remember my own name!

—Are you all right? he asks.

—I'm dying! she cries, and noticing the light has turned green, she scampers across the street, scattering books and papers behind her as she runs. The Subject speaks to no one else and succeeds in getting to the gymnasium on his own.

5.

The Subject wears his hair in current fashion. He has little or no facial hair and no distinguishing facial marks, scars, moles, warts, or tattoos. He is quite harmless-looking. Except for his obvious intensity and the fact that none of his graces appear to have been learned (the final grace), he looks like a young man or woman in the diplomatic service. Thus, even though he does not present the proper identification papers, he is waved into the
gymnasium area by the guard, is issued a “Distinguished Visitor” pass, and is given the run of the place.

It should be noted that everywhere he goes, the Subject inadvertently reveals flaws, oversights, and malfunctions in the various systems. It is not clear whether this is intentional. If not, he might be of immense use to the systems.

Conclusion: The Subject warrants further study.

6.

He leans against the chain link fence that encloses the playground behind the gymnasium proper and watches the Crown Prince run, jump, and throw. When the prince has completed his exercises and has gone into the showers, the Subject departs, and, as he departs, he drops, or perhaps throws, to the ground the small piece of paper on which he earlier was observed writing:

On the strength of this note, the Subject is arrested and imprisoned, where he presently languishes unafraid.

7.

F
IRST
I
NTERROGATION

8.

S
ECOND
I
NTERROGATION

9.

T
HIRD
I
NTERROGATION

10.

F
OURTH
I
NTERROGATION

11.

F
IFTH
I
NTERROGATION

12.

S
IXTH
I
NTERROGATION

1.

The Loon, because of his job as janitor, or custodian, for the Star Chamber, a position obtained for him by the king, had no difficulty in keeping abreast of developments. He knew more about what was going on than did the king himself. Unlike the king, however, he didn't care about what was going on, which is why the king had appointed him to this somewhat delicate post in the first place. The king had many faults, but he knew how to maintain security. He knew that every morning, after a night of cleaning up the inquisition rooms, the Loon would go home to his tree house in Central Park and forget practically everything he had seen, heard, or smelled. The Loon was much too self-absorbed to be a busybody.

2.

The Loon was like a bat. He slept all day long, from sunrise to sunset, regardless of where he was or what was expected of him. He would, as the sun rose, simply fold whatever piece of cloth there was at hand, a drapery, a rug, a coat, around him like a shroud and drop off to sleep, usually positioning himself in a foetal heap in a corner. The only thing that could wake him was the sunset. In many ways, the habit was inconvenient and sometimes embarrassing to others, but it was a habit he had formed
early in childhood and thus he was devoted to it. Actually, all his habits were formed early in childhood, and he was devoted to all his habits. He had not formed a new habit or broken an old one since his fourth birthday.

3.

People in positions of power seemed to fall in love with the Loon, through no design or effort of the Loon himself. There were the director of the nursery school he had attended, the cop on the block, the mayor of the small town in the South where he had spent his middle childhood, the president of the University of Virginia where he had matriculated, the governor of a large industrial state in the northeast, the head of a television network, a Latin-American dictator, a Greek shipping magnate, a U.S. Secretary of the Interior, and, most recently, Egress the Hearty, a king. Only coincidentally were all these powerful persons men, but as a result of that coincidence, most people thought the Loon was a homosexual. They did not, of course, think it of his lovers.

4.

Often, on late-night TV talk shows, he was asked by the host to talk about whether or not he was, as the host put it, a “homosexual.”—Are you, Mr. Loon, a “homosexual”?

—Way-yell, Dick, the Loon would drawl (he had a pronounced southern accent, especially on TV),—since you put it “that way,” ah, not
really.

The audience and Dick the host would roar with laughter, winking and elbowing each other fiercely.

5.

When the Loon learned, one by one, of the deaths of the three princes, he was surprised but not particularly saddened. He had never thought of them as high-quality persons. All three of them had, at one time or another, jerked off on him while he
was waiting, naked, in the anteroom for the king. They hated him, and even if they didn't know it, he did. It was their ignorance, more than the semen on his hairless chest, that had bothered him. The king, on the other hand, had always known he hated the Loon, and thus he never once had jerked off on him. He simply would come into the anteroom and go right to work, buggering the Loon once or twice, and then lie back and tell him his troubles all night long. You had to respect the king.

6.

Because of his sleeping habits, the Loon ate breakfast at night and dinner in the morning. He usually took a light lunch around midnight. Although, as mentioned, he lived in an excellent and completely outfitted tree house, designed by Michael Graves, he rarely ate at home. Rich and exciting people were always calling him up and inviting him over for breakfast or dinner. Eggs Benedict at nine in the evening with the Loon was regarded as a social event of no mean proportions. This was partially because of the Loon's physical attractiveness (resembling, however, a young Marcel Marceau, he clearly was not “handsome”), partially because of his well-known proximity to power, and partially because of the brilliance of his conversation: He disagreed with everything everyone said, but only by pretending purposefully to misunderstand what was said. He was therefore regarded as an accomplished and dangerous wit.

7.

The king learned of Dread's death at three in the morning, when a group of Abenakis, led by the one called Horse, came in with the body. At four-thirty, he called the Loon, who had just got home from work.—Oh, Loon! The queen is mad with grief! She blames
me
! he cried.

—Why not? the Loon asked.—You're supposed to be in charge of everything, aren't you?

—This is no time to be funny, the king said sadly.—She's blaming me because I'm the one who taught him to use a gun.

—Oh, said the Loon.—I see. And you didn't teach him very well.

—Oh, I taught him well, all right, groaned the king.

—No, you didn't, the Loon said sympathetically.—You can't take all the blame for this onto yourself, Egress. You taught the boy as badly as you could.

—Oh, no, I didn't.

—Yes, you did.

—No, Loon, I didn't.

—Sure you did.

—I did?

—Of course.

—Thanks, Lone, you've been a sweetheart. I wish I could talk to my wife this way.

8.

Basically, the Loon was a gentle soul and tried always to hurt no one. But to avoid exploitation, to keep from becoming “passive,” as they say, he was forced to develop certain stratagems. He developed these early in childhood, and because they worked, kept them into adulthood. As can no doubt be observed, one thing he was very good at was “Changing the Subject.” He was also good at “Non Sequitur” and “Petitio Principii.” If none of these worked and it looked like he was going to be forced into a choice between hurting someone and being exploited by him, he still had two, somewhat extreme, stratagems left: “Fawning,” and, if that failed, “Total Surrender.” Social scientists have called this last stratagem “Self-objectification,” turning one's self into something else, in Loon's case, the exploiter's self. This didn't matter to the Loon, however, because, for him, it was a question of survival.

9.

That afternoon, the king learned of the barbarous death of Prince Egress. He first called the Loon at four, but wasn't able to rouse him until six-fifteen, when the sun's setting set off a gong inside the Loon's head. Still drowsy, he answered the phone.—H'lo?

—Oh, Lone, Lone! They've killed my baby! Egress, the wild and woolly one, gone, gone, gone! cried the king.

—Who did it? the Loon asked.

—I did it, l'Ange!
I'm
the guilty one! the king hissed into the receiver.—Ask my wife, he added.—She'll tell you.

—Have you asked her?

—No! God, no! These deaths of our children have riven us as a wedge splits a fallen tree. Just when we were really getting it together, too, he said wistfully.—Comfort me, Loon! the king commanded.—Comfort me! My wife doesn't understand me!

—I once knew a man in Oregon who hadn't any teeth, not a tooth in his head. Yet that man could play on the bass drum better than any man I ever met, the Loon said soothingly.

—Do you think so? the king asked.

—Of course.

—You know, I should have connected this to that kinky green-suited guy in the first place! You're a genius, Loon! I'll have him arrested immediately!

10.

—H'lo, Egress. The Loon knew who was calling even before he had picked up the phone. He was getting ready to go to bed and was sleepy and cross.

—Oh, Loon, my Lawn, my angel! Doom, doom, doom! the king bellowed.

—He got Orgone, eh?

—Yes, Orgone, my pride, my joy, my Crown Prince, my dauphin!
Dead!

—And it's your fault, I imagine.

—Yes, yes, yes. My fault, the king cried excitedly.—Comfort me, Loon! I need you to comfort me. I need you.

—You
need
me? the Loon asked, incredulous, and wary, too.

—Oh, yes, yes, yes. I used to think of you as my weakness, but now that it's clear to me how much I am hated by my wife, I think of you as my strength.

—That doesn't follow, the Loon said.

—No matter, it's
true
! asserted the king.

—Okay, then. It's not your fault because you did everything you could, the Loon reasoned.

—Yes, you're right, you're right. I did everything I could, the king said.

—Listen, Egress, it's early, so I've got to get some sleep.

—Of course, of course. I'm sorry, I forgot.

—G'bye.

—'Bye. And, Loon, kiss-kiss.

—Kiss-kiss-kiss, the Loon answered. Then he hung up, and, feeling a bit antic, wrapped himself in a flag and went to sleep in a corner of the bathroom.

11.

—Oh, Your Majesty, your puissance, I'm deeply flattered by your proposal that I accompany you on your pilgrimage to the Empire State Building, but, really, no one so kingly, so majestic, so all-puissant, so inspiring, so inspired, so chosen, so exalted, so with-it, so hip, so heavy, so together, so tough, so mean, so fancy, so witty, so refined, so sensitive, so enlightened, so manly, so kind, so sunny, so benign, so wise, so benevolent, so flexible, so awesome, so handsome, so clean, so sexy, so potent, so resourceful, so brave, so balanced, so sane, so stable, so innovative, so talented, so considerate, so disciplined, so skilled, so patient, so independent, so deliberative, so wealthy, so restrained, so young … needs
me
!

—I don't know, maybe you're right, the king said. Kiss-kiss.

—Kiss-kiss-kiss, the Loon answered, letting out a long sigh of relief. If the king's taking off on a guilt trip, let him travel alone, he thought.

12.

—Loon! I've changed my mind. I need you. Either you accompany me on my pilgrimage to the Empire State Building or I'll kill you.

—I'm yours! the Loon cried.