Zardoz by John Boorman Page A

children of some giant father who had abandoned them in this luxurious nursery. Perhaps they gradually grew to adulthood over hundreds of years. Had they dispatched their elders? Was he at the mercy of genius infants who had the intellect of gods but were swept by more sinister feelings than he could comprehend?
    He calmed as he saw what, was happening to his thoughts. It was true that his thinking was beginning to slide toward panic. What did he know?
    The ring: Each member of the commune wore one. With it they could speak to each other and to a central being who could assemble, organize, and relay this and other information back to them. A central being presided over all the Tabernacle. The pyramid: An underground fortress. It might have been built as a shelter against an enemy and a force of which Zed could not conceive. Certainly it was impregnable and contained the core of the community. They called it the Tabernacle room. To him it was a place of interrogation and horror.
    Here it was they were remade, if they were damaged or killed. Which led him to the last fact—they were Eternal. His hosts would never die. Even if he eliminated them all they would start to regrow deep underground and reappear miraculously like the spring corn from the ground, the exact match of the last crop. He knew that the womblike machinery worked faster than its human counterpart. Frayn, the man he had shot, the man who had seemed so certain about Zed, would return in a few days, fully formed, with all his faculties and memories intact, to confront him.
    So the central mind was hidden, protected by thin air; the only entry to it was through the crystal on the ring. The Tabernacle was impregnable.
    The Eternals could never be destroyed.
    He was their prisoner, temporarily, until death or escape stepped in. All these facts were real.
    And yet there were other meanings, other signs around him that imported other stories with hope for him. The leaders were May and Consuella, once united by ; more than common interest; by love. This powerful union : had long ended. He could feel old hungers stirring in , them. Were they for him and for his lust, or was it for revenge on his tough male reality? May seemed the weaker of the two at present, but she had a large group of followers, silent, discreet, all female, all devoted to her. Consuella, though the stronger, was alone. He felt her deadly presence. She could not be bought or flanked. She would be victorious or vanquished.
    There was dissension at the center of the group; he could help to take it further.
    Friend could be an ally, but was he too remote and weak like all the men here? He lived on the edge of the tribe, and might soon be cast into exile. Dare Zed follow him as a comrade, or would such effort be misspent? Apathy might soon be fate. At least the existence of those half-dead Apathetics showed the Vortex to be failing. It showed the central plan to be at fault. If it had failed here, Zed could make it fail elsewhere.
    Yet all the inmates here were gifted and special. Each had his own sphere of knowledge, but each had to work as a menial every day. Apparently they needed to keep in touch with earth and air, for they were almost nothing more than spirits. Zed was live and strong, his soul was one with his body; these people were near-wraiths compared to him. They were always being interrupted to be one with the governing process, while in Zed’s tribe all was happily talk or action. Here wrangling and petty conflicts neutered change.
    He must keep them guessing; the longer he intrigued them, the longer he would live.
    He must continue to divide them, amaze them, the while striving to gain entry to the secret center. His life was slipping by, they would soon kill him. They were without heart as he was, and yet they lacked an inner fire.
    They were safe, secure, and wise. He had not seen one predator or giant cat since his arrival. No raiders swooped and killed. No person went armed or had need