Zardoz by John Boorman Page B

to, so why their agitation over him? He must soon find where May had put his gun, for armed he could match them all; but unarmed he might be quickly dispatched. They were protected by some agency around their land that never slept and always stood on watch. Even so, Zed had come through this magic screen. If he had done this, what could now stand in his way that he could not defeat?
    These pretty, peerless enemies of his had youth, strength, and intellect forever. They had been matched and chosen as had he, they were like gods to him, but he could see their empty centers. He could see them as they really were, hideous, depraved, and wanton; superficial parasites upon a blighted land.
    This tribe was long gone into a fall, but it did not show—yet. It was still awesome in its power but so much less than it had been. He would prise open the cracks that run through it, then wedge them farther, till he split the whole apart. If he had time. Time…time was running by his side against him in a race for his own life or all their deaths.
    This recollection and review whirled through his mind as he stood gazing at the group. Outnumbered he was, but he was a warrior, used to battle and fierce conflict. He loved a contest to the death. All the protagonists here assembled, even the magic ring creature, were not fighters; they had not the ways of killing. Even if they had the knowledge in their heads, it was not felt, it was against their mode, their principle of passive, slow, safe living. Why learn to fight when you cannot die? But Zed knew all the ways of war.

    Consuella was conducting this investigation. He must be careful as she would use this chance to speed him forward to the lip of death. It was an unhappy fact that she was enemy. She was fine, strong, and determined—a worthy mate for a chieftain like himself.
    Everything here must be turned to his advantage.
    Every foe could become his friend.
    Consuella was his deadliest enemy, yet she could be subverted.
    Where Zed had stood before to entertain the commune with his life-memory, now he stood again.
    Friend was in the forefront of the audience and May was in attendance as Consuella began her lecture.
    “Penic erection was one of the many unsolved evolutionary mysteries surrounding sexuality. Every society had an elaborate subculture devoted to erotic stimulation.”
    The audience was bored but looked sleepily at their new toy, Zed, with mild interest.
    Onto the giant screen flashed a succession of bizarre sexual pictures. The couplings of ages, funny, sad, extraordinary, all heaving in various degrees of beauty depending on the time and culture from which they came. The watchers gave no sign of arousal; it was as if they had been formed sexless and inanimate long years ago.
    “…But nobody could discover how this—became this.”
    Consuella poked her long pointer at the screen as a flaccid penis appeared there. She rapped it and it rose to full erection. Someone yawned, another scratched his nose and looked into the garden beyond the room. Only Friend was intent upon the experiment Consuella was oblivious to them, as she warmed to her project.
    “Of course we know the physical processes involved, but not the link between stimulus and response. There seems to be a correlation with violence—with fear. Many hanged men died with an erection. You are all more or less aware of our intensive researches into this subject.”
    One or two shifted uneasily under her gaze as if in memory of some past public humiliation.
    “Sexuality probably declined because we no longer needed to procreate. Eternals soon discovered that erection was impossible to achieve and we are no longer victims of this convulsive, violent act which so debased women—and betrayed men.”
    Could this be true? thought Zed. Were they all so far removed from their true selves as to be just empty containers for their intellect? Had their skins’ surface atrophied into a numbness? Could they not feel the inner