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LUNCH WITH A DEAD MAN: A Parley with Jack London, p. 2 Jack laughed, "They're finally on to that!" He plucked a blade of grass and, looking at it reflectively, said, "John Barleycorn was a warning. A futile one at that. No one can save those who don't want to be saved. But what is happening to you is not the same thing. You can't expect an editor to believe you spent a day with a dead man. All the quantum speculations in the world are not going to explain this. They'll say you are trying to be clever with a cocktail of science and metaphysics. Be sensible! Forget it. Both atheists and believers will despise you. Even fantasy and SF fans will throw tomatoes at you!" He chuckled, twirling the blade of grass between his fingertips, then went on. "On the other hand, life-like post-mortem interviews with famous figures is a novel idea and you could fictionalize future meetings with others here who are much more important than I. Unfortunately, that can't be guaranteed. Yours may be a one-time-only visit." He leaned against the tree and added, "Only a woman in love with you - if she is intuitive - would believe this really happened." "I'm married to such a woman." "I'm glad, but mark my word: even she will have moments of doubt. In fact, you yourself in time will wonder." His voice conveyed certainty. "Maybe it would be wiser to keep this to myself. I wouldn't know how to explain all this anyway." He considered what I said. "Well, there is nothing to explain. You stumbled into another one of the infinite possibilities of the real. This cannot be explained in scientific terms. It's impenetrable to logic, like a fairy tale. That's why scientists are dumbfounded by what they are discovering. They are at the edge of dimensions that defy reason. Let me see that book." He stretched out his hand. I handed him John Barleycorn. He looked at the front cover, then opened it. "A 1968 edition! Fifty-two years after my demise. I'm flattered!" Encouraged, I inquired, "Tell me, were you not dazzled by the continuity of life, instead of the eternal nothingness you wrote about?" "Dazzled? Why?" He ran his fingers through his hair. "I was no more surprised than you are now. It was like waking up after a sound sleep. Every night we go to sleep. How long is it before we wake? A few hours or centuries? Well, it's the same with death. I went to sleep, so to speak, had a few nightmares, and woke up to this. Of course, I was wrong about death, and yet out of pure intuition - inspiration, if you prefer -; I did touch on the possibility of other lives in Star Rover and in my last short stories. Doubt, like hope, springs eternal in the hearts of men. A presage of 'something more' after death was in my heart, like in Hamlet's. I was a fool. I accepted theories. After Darwin's book, speculations exploded on the intellectual stage and I was swept up by the wave. Everyone believed in progress, the most enthusiastic illusion of all time." He closed the book, stared at it for a moment, then continued. "Doubt unresolved is painful. The desire to be free from fear made me accept annihilation. Not to be is better than slavery. I wanted the dignity of dying like a man, refusing a last meal, never begging to be spared. I wanted to rise above the indignity of the human condition. We are crucified between a past we cannot remember and a future we cannot know. Our feet nailed to the eternal, vertical present, preventing us from levitating through our crown of thorns beyond being." He smiled and, shaking his head, added, "I just didn't go deep enough." "Do you understand now?" "The mystery is as deep as ever, perhaps more so, as it should be on pain of our salt losing its flavor." "But at least you know that it is impossible for life to end in nothing." "Nothingness can be approached, but never achieved. I fell for the absurd. How could nothingness exist without being something? Nothingness is only an idea. "In any event, three things saved me: intuition, sincerity, and generosity. Oh, mind you, I'm not taking undue credit. I was told by Ernest Hemingway, when he came here, that that is what saved me. Besides, this place is far from paradise. It's what some call 'the honorable prison.' Another learning station." He stretched his arms wide as if to embrace the sky, and took a deep breath. I scanned the spectacular surroundings, puzzled. I tried to take in all that lay before me, from the wondrous valley to the faraway ocean. A profusion of wildflowers studded the carpet of tender pasture grass swaying in the breeze down the gentle slopes all the way to the white beach and sparkling surf. The air brimmed with perfume. "This... you call this a prison? How can this be a prison?!" I burst out. "It's a splendid prison no doubt, but a prison nonetheless," he answered. "You know what a risk taker I've been. I lived like a hobo hopping freight trains. I sailed before the mast as a young man. I marched with the Imperial Army during the Russian-Japanese War. I was wild with life. When all other newsmen were held behind, I hired a Chinese junk and trekked through North Korea to the front lines. I sailed across the South Pacific to the cannibal islands. Most of my writing was about adventure. I battled for social justice. Risk-taking was my call in life. Well, there are no risks here. No new challenges. Personal initiative is stifled. No oppositions. I suffer the loss of exploits, adventure, the quest. Fortunately, release from here is pre-ordained by the requirements of the cosmic design. All I can do is wait out my self-inflicted sentence. This is the immutable garden, a place of rest, reflection, contemplation, and beauty." "Beauty all right! How could a writer ever describe this?" "The same way you would a primordial coastline in springtime crowned by a virgin redwood forest. No one can fully depict the perfection of nature, not even in films. Some came close, especially poets, but it takes a great reader to add the inexpressible. There must be collaboration between the artist and audience. That's why we came into being. All the world's a stage, but we're not just actors, we are also the audience out there in the dark." |
