At the attorney general’s office, Roland was called into his boss’s office, the solicitor general, Mary Smith.
She said, “I recommended you for the committee for policy on Section 71 cases, and now Suzan Kahn told me you haven’t shown up for a single meeting.”
“They don’t need me on that committee.”
“That’s not an excuse.” She stared at him in silence before going on. “And that’s not all. It appears that you lie. You said you had an oral argument in Seligman against the Department of Health, but Jerry Corman was at court for an argument and told me that the Seligman case was submitted without argument.”
Roland kept his eyes downcast.
“You say nothing. That’s fine, I don’t especially want to hear your excuses.” She sighed. “Look, this is happening too much. You’re sacrificing the interests of the client, you’re missing court dates, and your mind is obviously somewhere else when you’re editing briefs. I just don’t have any other choice but to let you go.”
Thirteen
Ray invited the nuts to dinner at a restaurant. They were delighted.
After ordering their food and engaging in some small talk, Ray got to the point. “I don’t think we live wisely. We are bored. You may not think you’re bored, but I believe you are, we all are. Our lives are the equivalent of a sensory-deprivation tank, and that’s not healthy. It makes many of us go nuts.” He gave them a significant look. They were not aware that he thought of them as nuts, but that look was meant to be a hint. He continued. “Human beings evolved in a manner that makes them well suited to a certain kind of lifestyle, which involves danger in daily life. Through the ages, human beings managed to significantly decrease the frequency of dangerous occurrences. Do you follow me?”
They nodded. They thought he spoke well for a locksmith.
He went on. “This decrease in dangerous occurrences may have seemed like a good idea. It made our lives happier and more pleasant on a certain, immediate level. But the lifestyle that originally made us into what we are was not a safe lifestyle. Therefore, by inflicting upon ourselves a safe lifestyle, we experience certain unfortunate side effects,” he said, pulling a small chalkboard out of a bag. “These side effects are, I believe, the following.” He wrote on the chalkboard:
1.
Loss of vitality.
2.
Loss of perspective.
3.
Loss of sanity.
4.
Loss of the full and rich spectrum of happiness that human beings have the potential to experience if only they were to be subjected to the lifestyle they were made for.
He propped the chalkboard up on the table next to his plate for them to see and said, “Have you noticed how even just reading a book about miserable physical conditions is enough to increase your appreciation of small ordinary comforts? Well,” he snorted, “just imagine how much more potent the effect would be if we actually lived those miserable conditions. I think it’s pretty clear where I’m headed, right?”
The nuts stared at him without responding. Alan was sitting on his hands.
“In a nutshell,” Ray said, “once a year we should try to endure something extreme in order to come to our senses. It’s psychologically hygienic. Just like getting your teeth cleaned, or taking a shower. To maintain optimum mental health, we’ve got to have strong stimulation occasionally. And since our modern life doesn’t provide that, we must manufacture it. What do you think?”
“Well, it’s an interesting idea,” Lynn said, thinking of Judy. “It reminds me of a friend who got hit by a truck and said it was revitalizing. So eventually, she did it again, and died.”
“That may well be, but can you imagine how much better off she would have been had she lived?” Ray said.
“Better off than dead?”
“No. I meant, if she had survived without being seriously hurt, she would have been better off than if she hadn’t been hit by the truck.”
“I disagree,” Alan said. “I don’t believe in that dumb quote ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.’ I think the truth is the opposite.”
“To a certain extent, you’re right,” Ray said. “What doesn’t kill you usually makes you weaker. But some things that don’t kill you do make you stronger. And happier.”
“Like what?”
“Like certain types of dangerous situations.”
“But like what?”
“I think we should pick one all together,” Ray said.
“I think it’s an excellent idea,” Roland said, fingering his empty locket.
The food arrived.
“We could drink sour milk,” Alan said.
Roland dropped his head in his hands.
“I’m not sure I understand,” Ray said to Alan.
“Well, aren’t we supposed to subject ourselves to more danger and unpleasant things?” Alan said.
“Yes, but I think we should pick something a little more dangerous than expired milk,” Ray said.
“We could chain ourselves inside a burning house,” Roland said.
There was silence.
“That’s a bit extreme,” Ray said. “Ideally, I think there should be a 25 percent chance of a negative outcome. Not much more and not much less.”
“What do you mean by ‘negative outcome’?” Alan asked.
“I’m not sure we should be speaking so explicitly,” Ray answered, “but by negative outcome I mean death.”
“I’m not wild about this idea, Ray,” Lynn said.
Ray stroked the stem of his glass pensively and said, “Let me ask you an awkward question. Are you happy?”
“I’ve been worse,” Lynn replied.
“That’s great. I’m really happy for you,” Ray said.
Of course he had a point with his sarcasm, Lynn thought.
“Listen, I don’t think any of you are as happy as you should be,” Ray said.
They could not argue with that.
He continued. “We want to put our lives at risk, not squash them. Do you have any ideas, Lynn?” Since she didn’t answer, he added, “Hypothetically?”
Finally, she said, “I didn’t mind Alan’s idea so much, of eating something bad. Something we might pick out of the woods.”
“Like what?” Ray asked.
“Poisonous mushrooms, of course!” Roland said. “That’s a cool idea, Lynn. I think we should do it.”
“Is that what you meant, Lynn, poisonous mushrooms?” Ray asked.
“It crossed my mind, but I think the risk is too high,” Lynn said. “I’m sure it’s higher than 25 percent.”
“I’d say so,” Alan said. “Count me out.” He ordered a glass of wine in the hope of getting carded, but he wasn’t.
Ray put his chalk away. “I think we should give it some thought until we come up with an idea we can all live with.”
“Or die with,” Roland said.
“Yes, or die with,” Ray said.
The next evening, they were all in Ray’s winter studio, coming up with more ideas that none of them could agree on. Even though the season was no longer winter and Ray was subletting the studio from Roland for a modest sum, they continued calling it “the winter studio.”
“How about if we played Russian roulette with Alan’s gun?” Roland said.
“It was Jessica’s gun, and she took it after we broke up,” Alan said.
“Anyway, Russian roulette would do no good,” Ray said. “Our lives need to be placed at risk for more than a second. We need to remain in the dangerous situation for a while. That’s when the mental good happens.”
Alan and Roland were sitting on the sofa, and Lynn had gotten up from between them and was sitting on a chair, next to Ray. “Why do you want to do this with us, Ray?” she asked. “You’re not in the same boat as us. You’re not unhappy.”