Why was Keller so blind, Simon?"
Simon loved Dawn's Glasgow-coloured intonation. She seemed
so...?...adorable...so relaxed sitting on the stool with her back to her drawing
board. Whole. That's what Dawn is. No attempt to push a point. To push a
fragment. Like Sarah Jenkins, Dawn is a real soul.
Simon shook his head...and pulled himself back...from the far past!.
"Yes...about Keller. He was enthralled by Gina's courage. She wasn't afraid to die.
He was. But although she wasn't afraid of death...she was terrified of love...but
Keller refused to see this. She'd been pulverised when Jason left her. That was
six years before Keller arrived. Up to the time of the split-up with Jason, she'd
been an interior designer. After the fall...she got into opium...cocaine...pure
morphine...and then alcohol. To maintain her new glitzy life-style...she
became a high flying whore." Simon sipped his herb tea and shook his head.
"Don't stop. I'm really listening."
"Of course it wasn't long before Keller became a hopeless degenerate junkie.
Then once it became obvious to Gina that Keller had become completely
dependent on her...she threw him out!...but he kept coming back...until the final
terrible ROW. At this point, Riley very subtly shifts the point of view...so we find
ourselves on Gina's side. I actually felt insane occupying her position...but I was
caught and had to read on. She tells him that just before the point when they
met...she'd made a decision...to kick her horrible way of life. So she'd thought
on meeting him, Keller was her way out. So she tells him that she hadn't been
looking for a partner...but to be saved. The truth is, she tells him, she's on a solo
trip! He's shocked and says he had no idea that that was where she was coming
from. He tells her that he thought that she gloried in her way of life...an
atmosphere he'd been looking for...for he'd been looking for a rebellious amoral
woman who detested the status game...who in fact relished being on the
bottom...and who would be glad to cushion his fall.
Someone who could show him how to survive in the real animal world and have a
brilliant time there on the social bottom. Riley lets us see that Keller doesn't have
the guts to live out his own desires. She had no intention of being his mummy.
She was intent on going up...as he goes down...really down...dragged down by a
heavier addiction to morphine than Gina...and what prevents him snapping out of
it...is his addiction to his fantasy of her pornographic slut-power. Time and time
again he tries to trigger her back...to distract himself from his crippling
isolation...but every time he fails...because Gina's suffering is not born from
feeling isolated...but from the awakening of her conscience. She is now
completely convinced that loveless sex has poisoned her soul. It is obvious to
Gina that Keller had never experienced a shared moment of love. The word
love had no meaning for him. He pleads that he's under her power...precisely
because she never demanded love from him.
He tells her that he was hooked the first night they were together when she told
him `you don't have to pretend to love me in order to fuck me!' He breaks down
and confesses that when a young boy he felt undermined by his mother always
asking if he loved her? He grew up fearing anyone demanding `love' from him.
The concept of love haunted his emptiness...and created a dread of life.
From early age he said he'd developed a theory that those who demanded
love...were soul-suckers. Vampires. He pleads that when he met her she
encouraged him by telling him that the `love business' was an emotional racket.
`Look whatever I said then is not where I'm living from now!' she screamed at him.
` You think I enjoyed being a whore? I hated every minute of it. I did all of it
because I was numb...because I was terrified of feeling the pain of losing Jason.
And now you think I'm going to support your cowardice! You're completely fake
through and through.' A fight breaks out. He overpowers her and tries to seduce
her. She pretends to agree and suggests they shoot up some morphine before
making it. He's incredibly relieved that she's come round. Lying naked on the bed
he waits for her to fix him. She tells him to lie on his tummy and she fixes him in
his bum. Within no time he croaks...overdosed."
Dawn shook her head and made a scowl "What a grim tale."
"Yes...but that's only one interpretation. Riley advises us to move back to page
seven. This is the point where the tale splits in two. On the right side of the open
book...when Keller sees Gina naked...and asks the question `would you have to
change your life to survive?' she replies `absolutely'.
So there's two versions of the story. The left side pages tells one story, the right a
completely different version. `What would you have to change?' Keller asks.
`Everything...my personality. Look at me. I've been a junkie and a whore for the
last six years. And why? Because all my life I've been obsessed by power. Even
when I was a kid I was pulling married men and reducing them to slaves.
When you rang the bell I was masturbating in the bath. Masturbating rather than
fixing. I haven't smacked up for 48 hours...not because I haven't got any gear...but
because I'm sick of it! Sick of whoring...sick of being a sadist...sick of all the
creeps I hang out with...sick of my sick Self! I've been floating in that bath for 48
hours...doing a cold turkey. It's wiped me out. I need a whisky.' He stays with
her...and they actually help each other. He confesses his fear of surrendering to
love...and his perverted attraction to women who are into power rather than love.
Suddenly they both realise that the moment had come..."
Dawn looked suddenly pale as she waved her hand...as if from a distant hill.
"Please don't relate any more. I'll read it sometime".
"I'm sorry, I got carried away."
"You seem to have a very good memory...unless you're filling in gaps?" She gave
Simon a funny look.
"I suppose you could say that I've studied Riley's writings very closely. I think
you'll find that was a pretty accurate account. Of course he packs so much
more between the lines...for the soul to see."
"How about this question of love Simon? Did Riley discover love in his life?"
Simon--barefooted--walked slowly to the kitchen area and deposited his empty
mug. "The answer is `I don't know`. Have you experienced love?"
Dawn--sitting on a big orange coloured bean bag--looking straight at Simon said,
"If love is the essence of reality...then yes, I've experienced a wee morsel of it.
Recently I've been hovering round the idea that the essence of real friendship is
absolute honesty. I think love is the power which flows between people who are
really honest with each other. It seems to be a space in which there is no fear. No
fear of being spontaneous. What I'm sure of...is love is not something I can own.
It's the life of a true we . Do you have that sort of a relationship with anyone?"
Simon, feeling quite staggered by Dawn's reply...thought for a long time before
saying, "I don't know. Maybe with Cesar."
"He seems very intense...quite honestly he frightens me...a little." She looked as
if she was ashamed of this admission.
"There's been times when I've found Cesar impossible...but then one day I
discovered the problem was my viewpoint. Since then he's helped me
"How important is information to you?"
"I don't know."
"I mean...do you want to know about my past...in relationship to my desire to work
for the Institute?"
"What do you think about respectable people...who `think' they live good lives?"
"God! Is that me?"
"Is it?" asked Simon feeling he was at last seeing Dawn from a real unhypnotised
"What are we talking about...my past...or how I am right now?"
"Well," said Simon...walking over to the sink to fill the electric kettle, "from what
place do you `understand' yourself now?"
Dawn looked down onto the abandoned tennis courts surrounded by elderberry
bushes, convulvolis, old prams and a completely trashed midnight blue transit
van. "I see. The past is forms without life. And we're conditioned to keep pouring
life into what can't live! No, I'm not into suffocating inside of dead respectability.
Don't you think that the only way to not feed deadness is to be here now?"
"Yes, but there's a difference between the idea of` being here now' and actually
being here now. If I'm really being here now I am not performing. That's the point.
So, is it possible to educate kids...to NOT PERFORM...for any reward...however
Dawn turned from the window and started to walk around the room. "You obviously
believe it's possible."
"Okay...are there TEACHERS around to do this work? No! So they have
to be created. That's the nub of the problem!"
"You mean they would have to have a real overview on this society? To be not
caught up in it?"
"Cesar and I are on the lookout for really honest, hard working intelligent souls.
This is where we have to begin."
"Well are we being honest...right now...I mean...with each other. I mean there
seems to be a dilemma. Like we're..."
"Stranded...without a script," muttered Simon whilst selecting a herb teabag. He
gestured whether Dawn wanted a drink. She nodded and added "wild Cherry.
But if you and Cesar intend to educate teachers...you've already got the
beginning of a script. I don't see how we can achieve anything with our lives
without a plan of action."
"Okay, see it this way. Not as a doing...but an undoing. A stripping off of our rags
of insanity. Cesar was stripped by his master...and he keeps stripping me."
"And are you going to strip me"?
Simon took a deep breath and stared...out the window. The kettle was boiling.
Without turning around to face Dawn...he switched it off. He turned away from his
insane, frustrated mind and said...very quietly, " I believe that you and I have been
given a golden opportunity to break the spell of the rapacious machine. Please
"I'm sorry," she whispered sunk deep in the bean cushion. "It is a machine...you're
right!." Simon turned to face Dawn...leaning his back against the kitchen counter.
"I'm sorry Simon. I've been trained to lie...from the beginning. "
"We all believe that we've got to lie to survive. It's a constant subliminal
command...transmitted by almost every human gesture one encounters."
"I'm sorry. Shall I pour the tea?"
"No I'll do it."
"What's the machine telling you to do?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"I want to know if it operates in you in the same way as it operates in me."
Walking across the room holding Dawn's cup of wild cherry tea, Simon said very
precisely, " of course it operates the same way. It says `touch her...and you won't
feel caught any more. She'll understand. What's the point in avoiding what's
obvious? Close the gap...and sit down beside her'. That's what it's saying."
Simon handed Dawn the tea and returned to the counter...and gazed at Dawn. He
had surprised himself. There was not a trace of a hook in his delivery. He had
actually been honest...yet as he took in Dawn's emanations...he was suddenly
vividly reminded of the Golden Goddess who had deified his eternal moment in
Edinburgh. His breathing became markedly deeper. She was here...now. He
could smell her distinctive fragrance.
"My machine says, `this man is very attracted to you. He wants to be intimate with
you...but he's frightened of giving himself to a woman. Afraid of getting caught.
Afraid he'll betray himself. Help him to feel relaxed. Show him he has nothing to
lose. He hasn't got a wife...so there's no reason to feel guilt. Instead of waiting for
him to break free of his fear...invite him to come close to you. Let him know that
you're available. That you like him.'... How's that?"
Still magnetised by his memory of the Edinburgh event, Simon whispered, "the
machine's going to go crazy if we don't do what it suggests. We're not supposed
to reveal to each other it's strategies."
"I feel scared Simon. Scared to break free of the machine's hypnotic hold. God,
it's so clever. It's rhymed `hold' with `bold'. `Be BOLD', it says. `He's yearning to
see you naked!" She stood up and tugged off her black cardigan.
"Don't obey, Dawn!" This time Simon didn't whisper. "Please!"
"That's what the voice is saying...`don't obey his fear. Play. What's wrong with
playing? Why suppress what's natural? You weren't born with clothes on. You've
got a lovely body. Why hide it from this man who will get so much pleasure
watching you very slowly undress. Take responsibility...turn him on. Exhibit your
erotic abilities. Don't be ashamed of your needs. Yes you need to be touched.
Wanted. Caressed. Loved.'.........Well?"
"Pretty conventional stuff. The machine just wants us to acknowledge it's the
dominating force in our lives. In fact it's maintaining that it gives us life. It's a lie
and I'm not going to succumb...even if this means that you're going to feel
rejected and hurt...and then get angry and send me negative vibes." Simon
shook his head and sipped his lemon balm tea. Whilst the mad machine
searched to get him hooked he drank in the power of the real Goddess.
"I don't want to send you negative vibes Simon. Look I'm not actually undressing.
I'm not obeying what it's saying...but I feel...stranded...now I can't perform!" She
slumped back into the depths of the bean cushion...and looking forlorn sipped her
wild cherry tea.
"Look...it's all about breaking out of our self destructive habits...through creating a
real overview. The machine operates on the assumption that you believe that its
advice comes from a wise overview...but it's only your ego that believes that the
machine can give you a superior overview. That's what every ego wants...so it can
control other egos. But all the machine can supply is different angles...which
other egos have used...in the past. A real overview is born of the decision to not
deceive your Self."
"I know what you're saying Simon...but it's so scary...it's like we're all plugged into
one vast de-humanising process...and the first time I realised that I almost came
completely unglued. A year or so ago I was waiting for the underground at
Leicester Square. The platforms were very crowded. I felt
oppressed...angry...with my crummy life...when suddenly I SAW that all the grey
looking creatures were all plugged in to the same broadcast! Unconsciously...they
all supported one another in their unacknowledged submission to the machine. I
mean I could actually SEE them...giving each other knowing looks...gestures, etc,
etc. It was horrifying. Suddenly, all at once...without choosing it I was out
and...above it all. It was like I had become a spy. An out of the body spy. But who
for? I wish I could say for Truth...or Love. I s'pose I'd become a spy for a
possible overview. But what frightened me most was seeing how I was attached
to that horrible conned-senses-mind...as Greg Riley called it. I didn't want to let it
go...even though I could see it's reptilian nature. I could feel the fear of being free
of fear. The fear of being...ALONE...in my overview. "
"That's the script which keeps you enslaved. It's the fear of being a true individual.
Actually the fear you felt...you were creating...to keep you within the space of the
de-humanising broadcast. The subliminal broadcast is transmitted on the fear
"How do you manage to stay in your overview?"
"Look don't imagine that I can't fuck up...because it's easy...but not very long ago I
became much more reliable through keeping to an important decision."
"What was that...to give up sex?"
"No...I suddenly gave up smoking."
"God, how did you do it? I kicked coke and smack...but I can't kick tobacco."
"It just happened to me. It was like...it was just taken away from me."
"How do you mean...just taken away from you?"
"Well for years I'd been pretending to my Self that I was choosing to
smoke...instead of admitting I was hooked! My will was being sapped...and I was
lying about it. So I was inwardly dying...and afraid to look...when one
day...whilst rolling up a fag in the company of Annie and Cesar...an inner
voice rang out very clear and said, `if you take one more puff of tobacco...ever
again in your lifetime...you should confess to everyone that you're not a student of
spiritual awareness...but a slave of habit!' My life STOPPED! The future looked
unbearably bleak. Everyone I knew smoked. Cesar like a chimney...Annie a fair
bit. So...looking...as it were towards the horizon...it seemed hopeless...but from a
vertical position...I was being addressed from above...from my higher
Self...and I saw this was the moment to grasp...and grow in. I said to Cesar and
Annie, `if either of you ever sees me take as much as one puff of
tobacco...denounce me as a phoney. Take no notice of anything I say or write.
Treat me as a hypocrite.' They looked unsure of their ground...and made
no comment. But at the end of that day...I had more energy than when I woke up
that morning. Why?
Because that decision point became a rock on which my new life was being built.
My life was now growing upwards...drawn up by the overview...and that was the
first real decision I ever made in my life."
"You're kidding. That can't be true." Dawn looked slightly cross as she got up and
put her black cardigan back on.
"I'm not lying...of course...up to that point...I'd thought I'd made a lot of decisions
in my life...but actually they were not decisions...but manipulations...changes of
appearances...strategic re-arrangements. I'll explain. First, imagine that this flat is
my mind...then, upto the moment of that real decision...all the previous so called
decisions...were simply me occupying different positions...in the same space. "
Simon walked around the flat to demonstrate the point he was trying to make.
"Look you see...whether I'm here standing...or sitting on the loo...or making
tea...I'm still in the same mind-space...but when I made that vow to never smoke
again...I walked out of that `mind'...totally...and without me being in it...it
"Are you telling me that you smoked for years...and now you have no urge at all?"
"None! I know...it's a real miracle. I tell you...I don't even have the thought to
smoke. The self that smoked...no longer exists...in me. That's the truth."
"But you must have tremendous will power."
"No it doesn't work like that...at least that's not my experience. At the point at
which I made the decision...I had hardly any will power at all. It wasn't a question
of will power but of staying within the space of the overview...and by doing
that...energy started accumulating...around the decision...which has of course
strengthened my will." Simon returned to the counter...and sat on it.
"I see what you mean. You don't have to have strong will power to start off with. It
comes from keeping steady within the insight."
Simon gave Dawn a warm smile, then looking directly into her eyes he said very
quietly, "It's a wonderful feeling...being freed from pretence."
"Well Mr Mathews, are you capable of touching me from your free position?" She
hung her head...as if she was a dejected prisoner. Simon almost fell for that one.
He actually jumped down from the counter...and was about to move towards the
temptress...when he realised the trick.
Walking back towards the window he replied in a slightly mocking voice, "And who
used you to ask that question Miss Sarah Jenkins?"
"Sarah Jenkins! Why d'you call me that?"
"I'm sorry. It was a joke."
"Well I don't get it."
"No...it was sort of a private joke. Sarah Jenkins was an important figure in Greg
Riley's life. A bit of a distraction really. I'm sorry."
"I'm confused Simon. I've completely lost the thread...of what we're supposed to
be doing." Dawn stood up...as if she'd suddenly discovered that she'd been
sitting on a drawing pin! Then she moved towards...stopped...then moved
towards...stopped...then walked briskly to the bathroom...leaving Simon a sitting
duck for the machine. `What you've done is driven her away. She hasn't gone to
the loo for a pee...but to cry...or masturbate...or both. You don't care about other
people's needs...especially women's. Actually you hate Dawn...because you find
her very attractive.
So really you're glad she pulled away. You're stupid enough to think you're strong
in the face of temptation! You fail to grasp that a mature man could still be true to
himself...could still give love...even in the face of unloving temptations. You don't
have to be a prig...just because you can't handle your own sexuality.'
Simon paced around until he suddenly took in the ornate writing desk.
He couldn't understand how he hadn't seen it before. Could Dawn have not
wanted him to see it?
That's another mad idea. But then...he was suddenly at sea...on reading the title of
Dawn's typed manuscript. He wasn't just at sea. He felt himself being pulled into
a vortex of paranoia as he read `The Dark side of Yesterday':- an examination of
the many covert forms of hypnotism employed by women in the field of sexual
politics by Dawn Sangster Ph.D.
He felt wrecked. Utterly wrecked. Trembling...he couldn't muster the courage to
turn the page. He just stood trembling...reading the title page...over and over.
"It's going to be published in the New Yorker next month. You look frightened."
"I am...the machine's been getting at me."
"Me too. I didn't need to go to the loo. I was trying to outwit the machine...which
was telling me you were trying to make me feel randy. That you're trying to control
me with your subtle use of power. It said `he's trying to seduce you with his tales
of strength. Don't be afraid of him...really he's weak...and needs to be
touched...just like you'. I thought I'd masturbate...and get it over with...then I
saw that that was a machine suggestion...so I've returned...to find you reading my
piece on female tactics!"
Simon just stared feeling distraught as Dawn appeared. Finally he muttered, "I
was only looking at the title page...I've only just noticed the writing desk."
"It was my mother's." Dawn's voice faded into a long pause. "This is ridiculous
Simon...I'm getting wound up. D'you want to read my article?"
"Dawn...when was the last time...you had an orgasm?"
"For God's sake Simon! What are you up to?"
"I don't know...I didn't know I was going to say that. I'm sorry."
"O don't say sorry for speaking your mind. Your mind! My mind! The machine
mind! Who cares! I had a minor orgasm last night...and the night before...and the
night before that. I have a wank every night before I fall asleep...if I'm on my own
Mr Mathews...which of late I usually am. I've been wanking on my own since I was
ten...and I'm not in the least ashamed of giving myself pleasure. I'm a pleasure
junkie. Who isn't? I used to be a smack junkie...then a speedball junkie...and now
being a disenchanted bi-sexual I'm a beached solo junkie...so do I get the job?"
Dawn stood close up to Simon and stared into his eyes...her long fingered white
hands pushed onto her shapely hips.
"And who were you channelling then?" he asked very calmly...after a long pause.
Dawn collapsed onto the crunchy cushion and started sobbing. In Simon's head,
the machine said `give the poor girl a chance. She'll end up hating you if you're
not more careful. She doesn't really understand all this Clever Dick crap about
`the machine'. She might have a philosophy degree and read a few of Riley's
books...but she's essentially a woman, man! For God's sake show some
Still sobbing she spluttered, "thanks...for not getting ensnared."
"Well...Miss Dawn Sangster...Ph.D. It was you who said this is a golden
opportunity to break through."
"Christ...it's incredible the way we idiots so easily live on a surface mocked up by
second-hand concepts. I mean...I might have said that...I did...but I had no idea
what that would entail? Is that true? I don't know...I think I
guessed...maybe...look...I see that it's not a question of what we do...or
don't do...it's a question of where we're at when we decide...or if we do do it...it's a
question of where we do it from! Christ...every time I end a sentence with a
preposition...I hear my English mistress telling me off!"
"For not conforming to the rules of the machine...which is not actually concerned
about correct grammar...but the rules are used to undermine potential original
expression. You've got to be second-hand to survive! Language is being used to
robot-eyes the mind. Our aim is to educate parents and children into the methods
of the machine...that is...how to live free of its deadly embrace."
Simon shrugged and sat down on a green soft cushion about ten feet from Dawn
still sobbing in the pit of the bean bag. "Personally, I don't like the atmosphere
evoked by the word `institution'. It stinks of the old hierarchical push-it -down-
your-throat trip. I think we only really learn what's important...when the so called
`teacher' is also learning at the same time. Both teacher and pupil have to be
open to each other's essence...for anything real to happen."
"Simon...does that apply to us...now?"
"Yes and no. We're both learner/teachers. Yes, you're right...the child/teacher
situation should be the same...but the problem is...the beginning of the teaching
requires learning how to create the necessary conditions...for learning. How can
the atmosphere of intelligent trust be created...where real intimacy is allowed to
Very long pause. Neither moving. Both uncomfortably aware of the machine
`anxious' to give advice.
Breaking the long awkward silence Dawn said, "the machine says...`real intimacy
is too demanding...too intense for ordinary kids and teachers. There's not enough
TIME for this approach."
Relaxing, Simon reflected upon the greenness of Dawn's eyes...( he had
previously thought they were blue)...and the light quiver of the delicate lashes as
she spoke in her soft Glasgow accent.
The machine suggested he inspect the foot-wide gap between her knees.
Explore the shadows in which her pale thighs were hid. Refraining...he reflected
upon her vulnerability...recalling the lines:-
And slender she is
Not breaking into brittle defences.
She is not parched if not described.
Her medium is stillness
Reflecting the swirl
In our chasms.
"The education process Cesar and I have in mind...should release the soul from
the idea that there is a scarcity of time. Release the soul from the `scared city of
time'. And that releases one from calculating how much such an education costs?
Every circumstance will be dealt with...as we meet it. Yes...we'll make it up as we
go along. All we need is the right circumstances for core to core transmission.
The machine operates through mere personality exchange. Through our
ignorance of who we really are. We've been hypnotised to mediate our lives
through a theory of meaning.
Through a belief system which produces a false constructed `self' which you are
encouraged to believe is your real Self! So what is urgently required...is
opportunities for young beings to create their own personalities. Personalities
which can channel their unformed essence. You see...a real creative personality
enables one to develop one's basic essence...and bring it into LIFE!"
"And what the machine does," said Dawn getting up and walking to the window,
" is force us to wear off-the-peg personalities...which mis-represent our
essence...and so choke it. Shall we go for a walk on Hampstead Heath?"
Simon smiled. "Maybe later...when I've got some clothes to wear."
"Fuck I'm so ASLEEP! I've just been absent-mindedly admiring your brown hairy
legs and your elegant arches...and completely overlooked the fact that you're
wearing my bath towel. How can I be so thick?" Dawn shook her head so hard her
golden hair revealed the light playing with her gold and silver ear rings. Simon lay
back and studied the cracks in the stained white ceiling.
"Truthfully...do I have any chance Simon?"
"None of us realises how deeply we are asleep. It's so hard to stay AWAKE!
Why? Because the truly awakened state...leaves no trace of its perfume...to linger
in the superficial personality. The killing machine has no access whatsoever to the
taste of real LIFE. NONE!" Simon sat up and met Dawn's perplexed stare. He
began to worry that he was going too fast. She looked like she was going over the
"Simon...I'm afraid to admit that I AM A MACHINE. It's a terrible...frightening
condition...to FACE up to!"......Then the dam broke...and the tears
"If you want to taste freedom...you have to face reality...not your interpretation. It's
the act of facing...which awakens."
In between deep sobs she wobbled out the words..."Where do I look from?"
"Honesty. Absolute honesty."
Suddenly she was kneeling in front of Simon...holding his clammy hands...crying
completely unself-consciously...her hot forehead on his towelled knees...his
forehead now on her sweet smelling crown...and more tears...yes...real tears...his
tears...moistening her dyed hair...which now smelt like sunbaked summer wheat
after a shower. Then they were laughing...glimpsing each other's essence...
sharing what is beyond words.