Hark by Sam Lipsyte

Author:Sam Lipsyte
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster

Twenty-seven

In St. Louis, Hark’s suite features a choice view of the Arch. The group gathers for room service salads. Fraz gnaws on a bison burger with truffle fries.

“The mighty Mississippi,” Seth the Proctor proclaims from the window. “Lewis and Clark started their journey here.”

“Lewis and Clark,” Fraz says. “A classic comedy team. Can’t remember who was the straight man.”

“Probably both,” Teal says. “Straight and white.”

“Why can’t the Arch be considered a gateway to the East?” Fraz says. “T. S. Eliot was born here. Learned to hate Jews here. Did you know he once had dinner with Groucho Marx? I wrote a short film script about it. Or thought about writing a short film script about it.”

“Woulda, coulda, shoulda,” Kate says. “Who cares about that stuff?”

“Not with a bang . . . ,” Fraz says.

“No, probably with a bang. But either way, it’s over. Don’t be a fool.”

“Fraz isn’t a fool,” Seth says. “He’s a jester. And every smart king needs one.”

“I’m not a king,” Hark mutters from across the room. “And I’m not a doctor.”

“And I’m not a jester,” Fraz says with his mouth full. “I’m just a troubled bitch.”

With the voiced bilabial stop of the first consonant of the last word comes a spray of half-chewed bison niblets.

“Close your freaking mouth, Fraz!” Kate says.

“Close yours, tyrant.”

“Just chill the fuck out.”

“Outfuck the chill, you.”

“That’s meaningless.”

“It’s Elizabethan.”

“Stop!” Hark shouts, and they all go quiet. “Could you all please just shut it!”

“Sorry, Hark,” Teal says, glowers at the others. “Guess we’ve all got the jitters. You know, big night and all.”

“Big night? Jitters?”

Hark stands, sways, staggers off to his room.

There’s been something amiss ever since Hark agreed to attend Soul Tech at the behest of Dieter Delgado. It was Nat Dersh, in fact, who made initial contact with the institute as Deets’s envoy. He apologized for Major Van Brunt’s autoerotic auto-da-fé in Fraz’s kitchen. Hark accepted the apology on behalf of the Penzigs.

Agnostic silicon barons, evangelical entrepreneurs, representatives from the Vatican’s social media wing, internet imams, public atheists and assorted bandwidth hustlers have all gathered to reflect on the various streams of contemporary life—spiritual, ethical, cultural, technological—before robots seize the planet for good, though it’s clear most guests have just come for the all-night dance party. Delgado means to spring Hark on the crowd at tonight’s keynote, an international mental archery breakthrough.

“Hark’s days in the minor leagues are over,” Dersh told Teal and Seth in a preliminary meeting. “The archer has come to the Arch. A prophet’s moment.”

Hark seems put out by the whole affair, as though still ambivalent about the future of his movement. Fraz has heard him question Delgado’s motives in muted ways, but Hark appears officially delighted Deets has added mental archery to the list of free employee programs, invited Teal and Seth to lead classes on the Manhattan campus. Cal Kronstadt, Tovah’s boss, now carries a tiny bow he strings and unstrings to calm his nerves. Tovah also reports there’s a new large meeting room called Faux Bow Pose, right between Fixie and Australian Meat Pie.

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