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(68)GHOST-FACE (ii)

(68)GHOST-FACE (ii)



10. (00)-CHIC (unger's dream, in which hä conquers the world)

unger runs rapidly down the clear plastic hallway of the institute roundedly with concerned expression in här eyes. these underground hallways connect, in fact, all the buildings of (00_00), where unger has found härself deposited by härself in search of a certain item. här white slippered feet pound the plastic floor violently: "ptt ptt ptt ptt ptt ptt ptt ptt ptt ptt ptt ptt ptt ptt ptt ptt ptt ptt-" stopping at a white metal door for something overheard on metal hinges with black outline .. in medium gray letters "r.f." .. hä quietly approaches a miniature glass eyehole.
u_huisa (to someone out of view behind här): ha. turn that stupid music off. all you ever do is talk, just shut your big mouth: blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. .. bu, uf, weirdo, exa, op, a you keep calling out to me, .. you keep, .. i like that. .. you come to the residence of my friend .. you kick my dog! i'm going to call in the guards. ok, bye… em it frif et ob, ec, omf, bye.
u_huisa wears a sleeveless white uniform .. around här on the semi-opaque plastic walls, made out only incompletely by unger, are extensive flickering inset-lights reaching to the ceiling .. floor.
u_huisa sits down on här bed with sheets .. opens up här stomach to examine här mechanical entrails, unbuttoning här white uniform.
that is as much as unger can make out from här view-point. hä continues on, walking slowly down the hallway talking to härself.
unger: i don't know, is it working? what am i going to do? shit. i think phideyuki(ii)'s on to me. or maybe hä's not. hä's so fucking trusting. that god-damn capt. r. suspects, though, i know that. ok, well at least endre's in the fold, .. chaur(00), maybe, but that one doesn't seem so reliable. god-dam-it-fucking fujima! how did hä fucking blow it?! how easy does it have to be? laid out right easy for här. shit, how we gonna get it back even. .. with phideyuki(ii) locked down. 1st thing we need to break här out, that's fucking automatic, even though it's problematic yo. we can't get it fucking back without fucking phideyuki(ii), too many strings to pull not enough fingers. got to wait till the last moment to cut that one loose.
hä knocks quietly at room (0)48.

20 soldiers, armed to the teeth, arrange coffins in a field of poppies. they wear light blue uniforms with pink epaulets .. rifles slung across their backs. a couple of them are humming an unrecognizable tune to themselves. all of them look a little bored .. the general feeling is one of contrite distaste rather than regret.

unger looks at the gathered soldiers with sage compassion.
unger: alright boys, let's go home.
a mountain-hauler waits for unger, the driver watching här every move with adoration .. respect. unger steps up into its bullet-proof glass station .. looks out over the soldiers who are lining up in their battalions behind the vehicle. when they are finished unger gives the signal for departure .. the mech drives slowly before the marching ranks of battle-wearied ground-troops. unger stands facing them .. här words are projected out to them by large speakers attached to the podium.
unger: as fellow rebels we must unite. general (00) will pay for här crimes!
unger places här hand at här somewhat disturbingly gaunt ribcage side in gloriously determined confident posture.
unger: no estes che gondelay. we must fight on until we've absolutely achieved the achievement of death to all carpetbaggers. the influx of carpet-baggetry into this world has become a veritable epidemic. if we don't fight it who will? if we don't fight it, who will? i ask you.
the soldiers: no one!!!
unger: yes! i fight, not for myself, but for the future of mankind. for peace. for a world of cultivation. for the triumph of the uber-will. when we are victorious, .. the world is in our hands, then i will ask for nothing. i scorn power! i laugh at ostentation! i mock the shallow depths of prestige! give me only mini-carnations .. i will walk away into retirement. after the victory, gentlemen, after the victory drink deep. drink that one last deep drink to the revolution. to fraternitie ou la mort. .. then- .. then, gentlemen, smash your wine-glasses .. renounce the fruits, the spoils. .. look instead to only nobleness .. truth. for those are that which will be our true reward. thank you.
unger's inspirational monologue complete, hä bows här head to the soldiers who burst into absolute pandemoniac cheering .. shouts of conviction. an attendant climbs up the side of the vehicle to provide unger with a folding chair .. unger immediately sits down .. wipes the sweat from här brow, looking out now over the forlorn approaching cement landscape.
hä quietly mumbles to härself .. brushes some dust off här pink overcoat with blue outline. with här other hand hä pushes distractedly up at här hair.
unger: ah, it is within our grasp. so close .. we've waited so long for this day. have we done enough? perhaps. ah, i am tired now. come on, old man, just one more final vigorous effort- you can rest afterward. all you want. the troops depend on your leadership .. comradery, the brave, bold way you say hello to each of them in the morning, .. pat them on the back for a job well-done at night. the confidence imbued in each .. every toenail. don't let down your guard now. i wonder what phideyuki(ii) will say when i tell här about my victory. will hä be angry? hmmm. better to be happy. there's enough sadness .. melancholy in this world.

3 of the soldiers walk together in a fondly gathered group. they wear on their heads tightly enclosing cashmere whitehats with white bow-tied string chin-straps. their voices carry with them the gentle tinge of a remembrance of tasks left unfinished .. they try with their words to reconstruct their brave forward-looking vision of the task at hand.
soldier (0)1: hä called out to me in an imploring voice, but there was nothing i could do. there was just too

much. there were outcries on all sides. the last i saw of här was här face in a pose of complete .. sanguine indignation.
soldier (0)2: are you suggesting that it was somehow my fault? i should feel guilty? we don't have that luxury, pal. i thought that, too, when i first got here, that when i got out i would become a monk in that garage .. somehow reconstruct a state of tranquility, whether by destroying my memories or somehow recompensing for them. i don't think that way anymore, though. you don't think you get to bring this stuff back do you? there are certain things that simply don't leave here.
soldier (0)3: oh, i don't know. now .. again i'll still think about the getting out of it. is it hard? fuck yeah it's hard. but anyway it's worth it. hail .. farewell to grand supreme potentate .. ultimate generalissimo unger. to a dog the death of a dog.
meanwhile, unger who is truly .. so much in love with u_huisa we must admit, is remembering fondly the torture hä underwent last year at the hands of här adversaries. chained to a wall, both feet .. hands .. head, .. blindfolded, hä takes it like a man as the bastards shoot iron balls at här from close range. "uhf! ah! oooomph!" .. so on .. so on. hä can feel the pounding still in här stomach on rainy days. the truth is, not only does hä like it, more importantly hä simply considers it one of the trials .. tribulations particular to här chosen occupation of infopreneur. it just goes with the territory, hä's fond of saying, as a man, or woman as the case should be, whose business is gathering .. providing information, that at times you're going to have on your person information that you're not particularly willing to part with, .., moreover, there is also always likely to be those persons who would like to get their greedy little hands on that information, .. moreover moreover, they are likely to be quite more willing to resort to violence to get it than you might particularly care for, but fuck it, those are the breaks. that's what unger's fond of saying, anyway. who knows what hä really thinks in här heart of hearts.
hä puts on här co-conspiratorial hat.
unger: hey pal.
unger's attendant ambles on over to här side.
unger: so pal, do you know how to catch out a fake ghost?
the attendant shakes här head dutifully.
unger: well, you see, there are 2 kinds of ghosts. there are real ghosts .. fake ghosts that are just figments of your imagination. so if you want to know which is which you must get a handful of marbles. don't count them at all, just grab them randomly. now both kinds of ghosts will act like big-time know-it-alls, but the figment ghost, being fake .. really only a product of your own mind, will be limited to the knowledge of those things which you yourself know. so take your handful of marbles .. ask the ghost to give you an exact count. the real ghost will be able to answer correctly but the fake ghost won't.
the attendant looks at unger silently.
unger: what? aren't you going to thank me for the tip? that's really quite valuable information, you know. you could run into a ghost at any moment, .. trust me, i know from experience, then you're gonna want to know real quick-..-certain-like whether that fucking ugly as fuck frightful ghost is real or fake. the movimiento is accosted by adversaries from all sides. don't be certain by any means that some of them won't attempt to undermine our efforts via a super-natural method.
the attendant turns to walk away, unable to keep a straight face much longer, .. tired of humoring

the ridiculous old man.
unger: wait. before you go, here's a parting gift.
unger sorts through här pack which sits at här feet, but is perhaps not perfectly organized because unger can't quite find what hä is looking for.
unger: uh? hmmm… i thought i had some indestructible rope in here to give you. wait just a moment.
hä keeps pulling out mistakenly other useless items from the pack, murmuring to härself frustratedly. the attendant waits patiently.
unger: ok.
.. unger pulls out a tightly coiled piece of indestructible rope .. hands it to the attendant.
unger: ok, you can go now.
the attendant meanders on off.
unger mutters after här in melodramatic refrain
unger: play, .. umf.

the c.a.m.(ii) is turned to (0000_00) as unger wanders out to the tidy little kitchen from här nap. o_huisa (0)2 washes dishes in här white pin-striped cotton house-dress. här huge black hair is a god-damn mess.
o_huisa (0)2: radio qui ose!
unger: look… sorry about yelling at you like that. i've been under a lot of pressure of late, things i might not be able to explain quite so well.
o_huisa (0)2: realization du visuel. grand dans le rues de la capitale russe ce ete. sa frequence. photographe.
o_huisa (0)2 is a purveyor of artificial mini-carnations.
unger: i see you've taken up ikebana. i approve. everybody should have a hobby.
o_huisa (0)2: fermez la bouche!
.. hä furiously shows här a proud display of här middle finger.
unger: fuck off!
unger wanders off into the foyer .. puts the headphones on, grumbling myopically.
o_huisa (0)2 yells to unger from the kitchen.
o_huisa (0)2: so what is it that you're looking for?! …huh?! unger?! …fuck! what the fuck?! i'm trying to help. fuck you! fuck you fuck you fuck you. you consider yourself a real champion of super-modernism don't you. a champion of super-duper-dumbism, maybe. you can't even fucking spell. what a freak. you want to get married? huh?
unger, of course, it is easy to see, cannot hear a word of what hä is saying, having the earphones firmly over här head .. listening to the c.a.m.(ii) playing a program of reportage. each time (00) scores a victory unger smiles brilliantly because hä really loves the way that kid plays the game, the way hä takes it 100 mph every time up the court with abandon like the game is on the line from 00:01 to 48:00, playing the game with its true proper fervent desperation. .. the (0000) are in good form tonight, playing tight defense .. letting their superstar go to work on o.

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