Chapter Seventeen

Reginald had a broken nose, two cracked ribs, a split chin, a bruised spine, a cracked forearm, two chipped molars and a nasty bite on his tongue. There was little to do but set his nose, bind him from head to toe and dull him with morphine. But, Tom felt, there was always something comforting about hospitals; the white, crisp starchiness seemed to envelop and heal somehow.

They got a private room at the Home for Incurables, which was a blessing, because a large number of the demonstrators were brought in for various ailments, and there was a great deal of shouting, drinking, cursing, fighting and coarse flirting.

Reginald’s face was a mess. Angled metal hung on his nose. A black eye, bruises all around, a stitched chin – he was almost impossible to recognize.

“Poor Reggie,” murmured Klaus, patting Reginald’s forehead with a wet cloth.

“I still can’t believe you were entirely unhurt.”

“Well, he fought them, and I did not.”

“What d’you mean?”

“He was trying to turn the tide before its time.” Klaus dipped the cloth into a cup of water. “It was a collective phenomena, open to control by no man. It has to spend itself, like a fever.”

“Hm,” said Tom. “Could have been chance.”

“Equally so. Yes. I don’t feel that, though.”

“When did you lose sight of him?”

“Immediately,” sighed Klaus, his voice softening into lax dreaminess. “The crowd hit us like surf. There was no point trying to swim. The passion of every heart, pumping wildly all around me – we were more than men. We were cells in a python, a python striking for the future. Individually, no man knew what he was about. Together – ah, Tom – together we were one. No ‘I,’ no ‘thou,’ only a ‘we.’ I mean, look at the results! Their voices have been heard, and not a single death. Flailing arms, flying bullets – and no deaths! It is beyond belief, unless one remembers that even – or perhaps especially – a mob has a Higher Purpose. God moved in that street today.”

Tom sighed. “Well, he left quite a mark on my brother.”

“Things so much larger than the individual cannot be fought. The only destruction is in resistance. Water flows around and over rocks; we follow it, or smash. Tom, I cannot tell you what I felt in that – I cannot even say ‘madness,’ because it only looked like madness, from the outside, from above. We all thought as one. If I stumbled, a hand came out and propped me up. I flailed without thinking, a man ducked. But – but it was more than events, more than just men. I don’t know… I have never felt such ecstasy, such escape… I felt my whole being, my entire span of skin, every pore I possess, opening up into the white light of purest Godhead. Every difference fell away, and I seemed to merge into the universe itself… It was as if, through surrendering to Man, I opened myself up to God. Such passion, such courage – and terror. Such terror! That kind of emotional power is a current which lights the eyes of the divine! We all saw God today.”

Tom was a little irritated at Klaus’s speech. There was something off-putting, almost narcissistic about wallowing in divine ecstasy while limbs were being broken all around him. But he was too tired to protest. He sighed. Klaus turned to him and smiled...