Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Illuminatus! Excerpt: "Him"

Even so, the Aztecs grew more frantic toward the end, increasing the number of sacrifices, doubling and tripling the days of the year that called for spilled blood. But nothing saved them: just as Eisenhower's army advanced across Europe to end the ovens of Auschwitz, Cortez and his ships moved toward the great pyramid, the statue of Tlaloc, the confrontation.

"I've got it, I've got it!" Saul said, laughing, "I looked every way but the right way before. He's inside the Pentagon. That's why they build it in that shape, so he couldn't escape. The Aztecs, the Nazis . . . and now us ..." "Yes," Mavis said grimly. "That's why thirty thousand Americans disappear every year, without trace, and their cases end up in the unsolved files. He has to be fed."

Five hundred thousand dollars this house and grounds had cost, including the cottages, and it was only one of his eight estates. Money. What did it mean when Nyarlathotep appeared and "the wild beasts followed him and licked his hands" as that damned stupid-smart Lovecraft wrote? What did it matter when "the blind idiot God Chaos blew earth's dust away"?

For once, curiosity surpassed cupidity in Drake; he asked, "Are you really keeping him in the Pentagon?" "Would you like to meet him, face to face?" Winifred asked with a faint hint of a sneer in his voice. "No thank you," Drake said coolly. "I've been reading Herman Rauschning. I remember Hitler's words about the Superman: 'He is alive, among us. I have met him. He is intrepid and terrible. I was afraid of him.' That's enough for my curiosity." "Hitler," Winifred replied, not hiding the sneer now. "Saw him in his more human form. He's ... progressed ... since then." Tonight, Drake thought, as the thunder rose to a maddening crescendo, I will see him, or one of them. Surely, I could have picked a more agreeable form of suicide? The question was pointless; Jung had been right all along, with his Law of Opposites. Even Freud knew it: every sadist becomes a masochist at last.

The next day he (Drake) was shot, several times, in the head and shoulders, dying of natural causes as a result.

One hundred thousand marched to the Pentagon and some of them tried to expel the Demon (the Illuminati foiled that at the last minute, forbidding them to form a circle).
The Illuminatus! Trilogy is a series of three novels written by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson.

The Illuminatus! Trilogy is a series of three novels written by Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson.

He is Risen



Not really a hologram, still cool.