"Dick, Philip K - 1982 - The Transmigration of Timothy Archer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dick Phillip K)

NOT LONG THEREAFTER, Jeff and I received an invitation to visit the Bishop of California and his mistress at their hideout in the Tenderloin. It turned out to be a sort of party. Kirsten had fixed canapes and hors d'oeuvres; we could smell food cooking in the kitchen ... Tim had me drive him to a nearby liquor store to get wine; they had forgotten. I chose the wine. Tim stood blankly, as if abstracted, while I paid the clerk. I guess when you've been a member of AA, you learn to phase out in a liquor store.
Back at the apartment, in the medicine cabinet of the bathroom, I found a vast bottle of Dexamyl, the size bottle they give you when you're going on a long trip. Kirsten doing speed? I asked myself. Making no noise, I took down the bottle. The bishop's name was on the prescription label. Well, I thought. Off booze and onto speed. Aren't they supposed to warn you about that in AA? I flushed the toilet-so as to create some sound-and while the water gurgled I opened the bottle and stuck a few of the Dex tablets in my pocket. This is something you automatically do if you live in Berkeley; no one thinks anything about it. On the other hand, no one in Berkeley leaves their dope in the bathroom.
Presently, the four of us sat around the modest living room, relaxing. Everyone but Tim held a drink. Tim wore a red shirt and permapress slacks. He did not look like a bishop. He looked like Kirsten Lundborg's lover.
"This is a really nice place," I said.
On the way home from the liquor store, Tim had talked about private detectives and how they go about finding you. They sneak into your apartment while you're gone and go through all the dresser drawers. The way you catch on to this is by taping a human hair to every outer door. I think Tim had seen that in a movie.
"If you come back and find the hair gone or broken," he informed me as we walked from the car to the apartment, "you know you're being watched." He narrated, then, the history of the FBI in regard to Dr. King. It was a story everyone in Berkeley knew. I listened politely.
In the living room of their hideout that evening, I first heard about the Zadokite Documents. Now, of course, you can buy the Doubleday Anchor book, the Patton, Myers and Abre translation, which is complete. With the Helen James introduction dealing with mysticism, comparing and contrasting the Zadokites with, for example, the Qumran people, who presumably were Essenes, although that has really never been established.
"I feel," Tim said, "that this may prove more important than even the Nag Hammadi Library. We already have a fair working knowledge of Gnosticism, but we know nothing about the Zadokites, except for the fact that they were Jews."
"What is the approximate date on the Zadokite scrolls?" Jeff asked.
"They have made a preliminary estimate of about two hundred B.C.E.," Tim said.
"Then they could have influenced Jesus," Jeff said.
"It's not likely," Tim said. "I'll be flying over there to London in March; I'll have a chance to talk to the translators. I wish John Allegro were involved, but he's not." He talked for a while about Allegro's work in connection with the Qumran scrolls, the so-called Dead Sea Scrolls.
"Wouldn't it be interesting," Kirsten said, "if the-" She hesitated. "Zadokite Documents turned out to contain Christian material."
"Christianity is, after all, based on Judaism," Tim said.
"I mean specific sayings attributed to Jesus," Kirsten said.
"There is not that clear a break in the rabbinical tradition," Tim said. "You find Hillel expressing some of the ideas we consider basic to the New Testament. And of course Matthew understood everything that Jesus did and said as a fulfillment of Old Testament prophecies. Matthew wrote to Jews and for Jews and, essentially, as a Jew. God's plan set forth in the Old Testament is brought to completion by Jesus. The term 'Christianity' was not in use at his time; by and large, apostolic Christians simply spoke of 'the Way.' Thus they stressed its naturalness and universality." After a pause he added, "And you find the expression 'the word of the Lord.' That appears in Acts, six. 'The word of the Lord continued to spread; the number of disciples in Jerusalem was greatly increased.' "
"What does 'Zadokite' derive from?" Kirsten asked.
"Zadok, a priest of Israel, about the time of David," Tim said. "He founded a priestly house, the Zadokites. They were of the house of Eleazar. There is mention of Zadok in the Qumran scrolls. Let me check." He rose to go get a book from a still-unpacked carton. "First Chronicles, chapter twenty-four. 'These also, side by side with their kinsmen the sons of
Aaron, cast lots in the presence of Kind David, Zadok-' There he is mentioned." Tim shut the book. It was another Bible.
"But I guess now we're going to find out a lot more," Jeff said.
"Yes, I hope so," Tim said. "When I'm in London." He now, as was his custom, abruptly shifted mental gears. "I'm commissioning a rock mass to be given at Grace this Christmas." Scrutinizing me he said, "What is your opinion about Frank Zappa?"
I was at a loss for an answer.
"We would arrange for the actual service to be recorded," Tim continued. "So it could be released as an album. Captain Beefheart has also been recommended to me. And there were several other names offered. Where could I get a Frank Zappa album to listen to?"
"At a record store," Jeff said.
"Is Frank Zappa black?" Tim asked.
"I don't see that that matters," Kirsten said. "To me, that is inverse prejudice."
Tim said, "I was just curious. This is an area I know nothing about. Does any of you have an opinion about Marc Bolan?"
"He's dead," I said. "You're talking about T. Rex."
"Marc Bolan is dead?" Jeff said. He looked amazed.
"I could be wrong," I said. "I suggest Ray Davies. He writes the Kinks' stuff. He's very good."
"Would you look into it for me?" Tim said, speaking both to Jeff and me.
"I wouldn't know how to go about doing that," I said.
Kirsten said quietly, "I'll take care of it."
"You could get Paul Kantner and Gracie Slick," I said. "They just live over at Bolinas in Marin County."
"I know," Kirsten said, nodding placidly and with the air of total confidence.
Bullshit, I thought. You don't even know who I'm talking about. Already you're in charge, just from being set up in this apartment. It isn't even that much of an apartment.
Tim said, "I would like Janis Joplin to sing at Grace."
"She died in 1970," I said.
"Then whom do you recommend in her place?" Tim asked. He waited expectantly.
"'In Janis Joplin's place,'" I said. "'In Janis Joplin's place.' I'll have to think that over. I really can't come up with a name off the top of my head. That will take some time."
Kirsten regarded me with a mixture of expressions. Mostly disapproval. "I think what she's trying to say," Kirsten said, "is that no one can or ever will take Joplin's place."
"Where would I get one of her records?" Tim said.
"At a record store," Jeff said.
"Would you do that for me?" his father said.
"Jeff and I have all her records," I said. "There aren't that many. We'll bring them over."
"Ralph McTell," Kirsten said.
"I want all these suggestions written down," Tim said. "A rock mass at Grace Cathedral is going to attract a good deal of attention."
I thought: There is no such person as Ralph McTell. From across the room Kirsten smiled at me, a complicated smile. She had me; I couldn't be sure one way or another.