The Way It Could Be

 

Part 12 of 12

 

Mike became aware of activity around a raised staging that had been set up while they were away working on the tree, just in front of the workshop. Occasional beams of light from high on the workshop indicated spotlights being checked.  The sound of a trumpet broke through the background noise, playing a sort of fanfare that quickly quietened the crowd and magically prompted the many people again on the green to find chairs and settle down.  Pete shuffled his chair around to face the stage, so Mike turned that way and saw children lighting candles along the front of the stage and taking others from the tables and placing them there.

 

The gong sounded and the lights suddenly changed, spotlighting a patch in the centre of the green.  The sound of big clumsy feet and something being dragged.  Out of the darkness came a caveman, hunched, scruffy hair flying in all directions, and pulling a huge bone behind him.  He sat heavily, scratched his backside, lifted the bone onto his knees, pulled two smaller bones from his animal skins, and slowly, clumsily began to tap on the big bone.  After a few seconds he got into a simple interesting rhythm.  Then another caveman came out carrying some bits of wood.  He set them out on the grass, sat before them cross -legged and began tapping on them with another bone, weaving a tune into the first caveman’s rhythm.

 

Two more came forward, then another three, all carrying strange odds and ends.  One bundled together a crude frame from sticks and hung several bits and pieces from it, then proceeded to belt out music using the different pitches of the hollow vessels.  By now the pace had hotted up and the cavemen went into a series of furious and fantastic percussion items.  At one point one of them crept up behind another and began drumming on his head, huge grin on face, as someone out of sight synchronized loud hollow dull thuds.

 

The rhythm got faster and faster, and the drummers became more and more frazzled, until with a crash they all collapsed backwards with their big feet up in the air.  The lights snapped out and the audience roared its appreciation.

 

Jan said, “Last time we saw them they were metal workers, in big boots and overalls, all banging away at bits of scrap, iron and anvils, all tuned differently.  Another time all the instruments were hanging bottles partly filled with water.  Their instruments are all home made and cost nothing.â€

The lights soon came up again and there in the centre were six little kids, maybe about 8 years old, dressed as cute little angels, with tiny wings and haloes and holding candles and song books.  They stood together without expression until the watchers quietened, then began to sing a beautiful slow song.  Mike was stunned at how good they were.  Pete leaned over, “Who needs professionals?† Jan said, “…when the choral groups can practise just about every day if they want to.  By the way Amy says this is called Transformation; no idea why.â€

 

When they had finished and the applause rained down they hardly moved or smiled, preserving their saintly and serene image.  They began another song, again slow and sublime.  But a few seconds later the halo on one of the kids suddenly dropped from its invisible support and sat across her forehead.  What pity Mike thought.  She calmly lifted it up without missing a note and managed to get it to stay in place.

 

Ten seconds later it happened again.  And while she was trying to get it back into place, this time with more difficulty, one of the wings on one of the others fell off and clattered onto the stage.  The kids sang on serenely.  Within a few more seconds Mike saw something moving slowly behind the boy on the end.  It increased its pace and before long it was swishing from side to side.  The penny dropped for Mike; something was going on here.  The thing seemed to be rising, and when it popped up above the boy’s head it was a red, pointed tail.  Now the pace of the music accelerated, and the tone began to change.  It was now more strident, with an increasingly jarring beat from the hidden musicians.  Meanwhile another halo fell off, clunked onto the stage and rolled.  And the kids were moving now, writhing you might say.  A loud “sprong†and the one in the centre looked up with a big grin towards the set of horns that had sprung out of his wig.  Some were wriggling out of their angelic white robes…to reveal red costumes, scales, claws and more tails and horns.  In no time they had become a bunch of grinning, menacing little devils, all stomping and dancing rabidly to what had now become a kind of vicious rap.  Transformation indeed!

 

“Now the main performance,†said Jan.

 

A flute began to play a strange melody, soon joined by a cello, and then by woodwinds and other instruments.  Mike couldn’t see the musicians but knew they would surely include people he had been talking to that day.  The music was a kind of atmosphere-setting overture, very melodious but slow and calming.

 

At last a figure began to move slowly out of the darkness onto the stage, dancing to the music.  Soon others came into view from the back and from the other side, all strangely lit by the candles and by some soft lighting from the workshop balcony.  Some of the figures had striking brightly coloured costumes and wore grotesque masks.  Some were very agile, darting and strutting, one was huge and stolid, one was very thin and seemed to be blown about by the wind.

 

Jan leaned towards Mike and said, “These are spirits.  See that one, he’s Enthusiasm.  See the way he rushes about, all energy, but not much thought.  There, he’s crashed into someone.  He’s a good fellow but you watch the trouble he gets into without Sobriety.  Look he’s trying to jump …but mucks it up.â€

 

“Sobriety?â€

 

“Yes, there she is.† A tall female figure slowly came forward from the shadows and moved to the centre, gracefully moving her arms high overhead while approaching Enthusiasm.  There followed duet between the two, in which Sobriety gradually calmed him down somewhat.  With her help he managed the jump.

 

“Watch out for Pride,†Jan warned.

 

“Who’s Pride?†said Pete.  “Oh I see the guy strutting around and posing at the back there, with his chest out, and look at his gorgeous Napoleonesque tights.  Isn’t he a dandy!â€

 

“Yes and wait until his good friends Nobility and Status appear.  They’ll swan around arm in arm trying to be the centre of attention, but causing all sorts of trouble.â€

 

“And I suppose they get their just deserts before long, get brought down to earth with a thud eh?â€

 

“You’ll see.â€

 

A little later there was a crash from the hidden drums and two more figures lept from the darkness onto the stage and began an energetic dance, leaping and darting and stomping feet.  They wore frightening costumes, fiery red with jagged bits sticking out and fierce masks.  The music was now loud and jarring, even menacing.   One of the characters was very athletic and frenetically active but the other was like a great gorilla with a mean face, moving with slow stomping steps as he advanced on others.  Both intimidated and scattered the other figures on the stage, then herded and harassed them with threatening gestures. Mike could see they represented nasties of some kind.

 

“That’s Anger and Aggression,†whispered Jan.  “Look at the trouble they’re causing. See, poor old Sobriety has been pushed to the shadows there.â€

 

Suddenly there were noises from the side of the stage, as if things were being dropped.  From the dark emerged a gigantically fat figure carrying so many objects that it could hardly move forward.  It was struggling to balance parcels, some wrapped like Christmas gifts, with several under each arm and many jutting out of the rucksack on his back.  His hands were encrusted with big rings and jewels, and he was even holding two objects by his teeth clamped around their ribbons.  People laughed as he kept comically dropping and trying to gather up all his stuff.  Other dancers circled around him trying to attract his attention but with no effect.  Pete could see that he was obviously intended as something to be laughed at but wasn’t sure what.

 

Then one of the figures came forward and held before him a large gift-wrapped box, sparkling with cellophane and ribbons.  The overburdened buffoon’s face exploded into a huge happy grin and he grabbed for the box, thereby dropping several of his possessions.  He desperately tried to gather them up again and go after the new thing all at once.  The tempter danced back prompting another grab followed by more clattering falling parcels.  There followed a farcical sequence in which more figures came forward to tempt him and he went after all the objects offered but with increasing confusion and desperation and failure to go anywhere.

 

“Get it?†said Jan. “He’s  Acquisitiveness. Mr. Greed.  Silly old sod isn’t he.   Can’t resist getting something more but doesn’t really make any progress because he’s bogged down by his possessions.â€

 

“Aha,†said Mike, “So do you know exactly what is going to happen next?  Is this performed every year?“

 

“Well, we know the sorts of themes that’ll be played out but we don’t know how they’ll be done.  The drama group works out a new performance every year.  That makes it very interesting.  You look forward to seeing how they’ll portray the themes this time.  When a character comes on stage you look to see who this is, and you anticipate how it will fare.  But yes the whole thing is about human motives and attitudes and it judges them in a sense, it portrays nasty things as problematic and leading to difficulties, and it affirms nice attitudes.  It’s like a western, or a corroboree.  It’s a ritual performance.  You know in principle what’ll happen. But each year there are loads of new twists and comical little bits written in, and unexpected developments.   They work for months preparing the performance.â€

 

From time to time one or two other figures would enter.  Some were desirables and some undesirables. Two people in a horse suit stumbled on slowly, looking like a lovable but dull witted old Clydesdale and pulling a solid cart.  The music provided his heavy footsteps.  The chorus figures danced around happy to see him, some of them getting behind the cart and pushing to help.  Two girls put a straw hat heavy with flowers on his head but it wouldn’t go over the ears.  Consternation.  Then one produced a pair of scissors, smiled broadly, and moved in to cut off the ears.  The other snatched the scissors with a scowl and proceeded to cut two holes in the hat brim, then in triumph they both lowered the hat in place.  Dobbin grinned in appreciation, but with the hat brim down over his snout couldn’t see a thing and tripped and stumbled across the rest of the stage as the circling chorus of happy figures escorted him off.

 

 Mike looked at Jan.  “That’s Plodder†she said.  “Good old fellow is Plodder.  He’s a bit stolid and slow, but he just keeps going and he gets there.  We like him.  They were happy to see him weren’t they?  Last year he was played by a wombat, trying to dig a hole while mice and ants kept distracting him and a cheeky possum kept stealing the best roots he came up with.  In the end he just sat on the possum’s tail and that kept her out of the way.  Amy was the possum.â€

 

The overall style of the performance was deliberately a little exaggerated, Mike thought perhaps to make sure that the kids watching got the messages clearly.  It seemed that this made the performance more enjoyable to the actors too as they could really lay on the big smiles and the despair and surprise and the waving of hands and the gestures and the dead faints.

 

By now it was clear that the chorus figures were starting to call the tune.  At the beginning of the performance they had been in the background and rather dependent variables. Now they were acting more as a cluster, and taking the initiative.  Various good figures had made their entry and been involved in dramas, sometimes confronting the nasties.  Mike could see that the chorus figures were drawing on or using the good figures to help them deal with the trouble makers. 

 

Yet he thought their solutions tended to be anti-climactic and somewhat disappointing.  Better if some fairy god mother or heroic figure had defeated the baddies, maybe run them through with a magic sword, or at the very least drive Aggression and Pride and Greed ingloriously off the stage.

 

The funniest part was when a great big, clumsy smiling chicken came on stage.  It waddled around to a clucking music.  It took a little watering can and sprayed a pot plant at the front of the stage and all the drooping plants suddenly sprang up straight, waving and smiling their faces at the audience.  Mrs hen then waddled off and did other nice things, sometimes to other players, such as tucking in someone’s shirt and picking up a dropped handkerchief. She was a fussy old mother figure, comically silly but good natured.  Someone came on carrying a pile of objects, tripped and executed the most spectacular fall in history, desperately trying to keep balance but finally going down in a sliding belly landing that sprayed tin cans and boxes and plastic plates all over the stage.  Mrs. Hen flapped around in a panic, firstly helping to pick up and dust off the accident victim, then gave his elbow a massage, and then raced around to help pick up the debris, and pack the carrier up again, finally assisting him across to the other side of the stage, amid much dropping and picking up again and rearranging and fussing about. 

 

“That’s Care,†said Jan, although this was pretty obvious.  “She can be a terrible fuss pot, but she’s important.  In fact she’s about the most important character in the whole performance, and you will have noticed she isn’t portrayed as a dignified and noble character, let alone a heroic one.  She’s very humble and ordinary.  She’s grandma or the fallible person next door who’ll come over and give you a hand.  It’s important that care should be very ordinary and everyday and common and everywhere, not special and available only via professionals or saints or welfare agencies.â€

 

A large and bombastic figure slowly strutted across the stage, huge arms folded and chin stuck out.  But as he reached the centre the spot lights revealed that the chorus figures had formed a solid group blocking his path.  They just stood there looking at him as he came to a stop, gestured in disbelief, waved his arms and spluttered and fumed, gesturing to order them out of his way. They started back a little, looking uncertainly at each other, but held their line. Then he exploded again, jumping and waving and looking furious, accompanied by jagged music from the orchestra.  Again the group withstood the onslaught.  Again he raged, then stopped and a long silent face to face standoff occurred. Then an arm slowly emerged from the group holding a flower, and offered it to him.  He just stared at it, and then with a loud pop -- he started to shrink.  Mike watched in amazement.  The costume must have been inflated somehow.  Anyhow, he certainly soon ended up very deflated, and humble looking.  Then a very slight boy wriggled out of the heavy costume, dressed like the people in the chorus, and slowly danced his way into their midst, soon becoming indistinguishable.  The group then picked up the crumpled costume and carried it to the back of the stage, placing it on a light framework of dead foliage.  Pete could see that the group of quiet little people had managed to stand together and stop the monster, and knock the wind out of his sails, so to speak.

 

He leaned towards Jan. â€But I don’t get that.  Why didn’t they shoot him full of lead, or string him up or …like in the Western when the baddie really gets his ass kicked?  The guy didn’t get what was coming to him.â€

 

“But they persuaded him to stop being a pain, and he ended up joining us. Better to win him over than thump him don’t you think?â€

 

The other nasties crept onto the stage again, circling in the shadows, but not getting much attention at first.  When they came closer to the main group and started their harassing again appropriately discordant notes came from the musicians.  The chorus group formed a tight circle facing out as the nasties prowled around them.  Mike thought some sort of showdown was building up.  Maybe he’d get is shoot out and vanquishing at last.

 

But then the chorus split and little groups of three or four moved out and slowly danced into circles around each of the villainous figures, who at first threatened and stomped in an effort to reassert their dominance.  After some advancing and retreating the circles prevailed and Mike could see that the gestures represented a kind of casting of spells or attempt to hypnotise.  Aggression became a bit less wild.  He began to slump a little, to be driven back, and tweaked and made fun of.  Clearly the little people were no longer intimidated.  Very soon his power had entirely evaporated.  His arms fell to his sides and he slowly sank to his knees.  The expression on the circling dancers began to change from grim and determined to more pleasant, eventually to happy smiles.  Some came closer and began to make friendly gestures.  Eventually two small girls slowly reached out to lift the heavy-looking helmet from the kneeling figure, which didn’t move but seemed reconciled to his fate.  Mike was confused.  Were they going to slay this monster after all?  But they didn’t look at all vicious enough for that.

 

As the helmet rose it revealed the face of a slight boy protruding from the heavy costume, wearing a very sad expression.  The music stopped and everyone stared in dead silence.  Then the mood flipped as Mrs Chook waddled forward, paused, bent down and reached out, and patted the boy on the head with a motion that obviously said “There there dear.  It’ll be alright.† One of the girls took his hand and the boy slowly stood up, his huge costume slipped awkwardly off his shoulders and the figures around him reached out and started to help him out of it.  Mike could see that although this group was to the front of the stage the same thing was happening in the other little groups further back.  Soon each of the monster figures had been transformed into young and attractive dancers who had been helped out of their old costumes by the encircling groups and then had merged into the chorus.

 

The music gathered pace, becoming loud and joyful.  The stage was full of ecstatic figures leaping and plunging in delight, before coming together in a tight scrum, all holding hands.

 

 Mike thought that must be the finale, but then the music suddenly dropped to a quite different mood, almost sad, and the performers broke into groups which circled around the crumpled costumes still on the stage.  These were gathered up and placed one at a time on the framework of sticks and leaves at the back of the stage.  The performers formed a semi circle holding hands with their backs to the audience looking at the costumes.  They were still for a long time.  The music had stopped and the lights had gone right down.  Then Mike could see a flame flicker at the base of the frame --  a fire had started and it quickly grew into a rather large and fierce blaze.  The costumes caught fire, and flared, and soon were no more.  The fire had become the sole light source and as it died the performers were slowly turning to face the audience, expressionless.  With their backs to the fire, they joined hands again and slowly raised them high above their heads, to stand motionless.  The music was now strange, quiet and serious, even mournful.  Why not a triumphant ending? The flute was the last instrument to be heard.  It ceased, then in silence and darkness the performers left the stage.

 

After several seconds lights came on here and there, and people began to applaud, rather sedately.

 

Mike took some time to gather his thoughts.  It has been absorbing, a great piece of theatre with marvellous performances, choreography and costumes, but his head was full of unanswered questions.

 

Jan said, “Wasn’t that great. I’d heard Care would be a chook this year but I had no idea what she’d do.â€

 

“Do you know who played the parts?  Some were brilliant.â€

 

“No.  Sometimes by accident you get to know.  But it doesn’t matter.  We don’t make a fuss about stars and celebrities.   Did you notice that none of the pictures hanging in the workshop gallery were signed.  Recognition isn’t very important around here.â€

 

Pete came across. “Lets start walking home.  It’s early but we’ll want to leave plenty of time to get you to the station.  They slowly moved through the throng, Pete and Jan extricating themselves with difficulty from temptations to linger and chat.

 

 â€œWho were the chorus?â€

 

“They were us.â€

 

“What?â€

 

“They were people, ordinary people.  At first they were not prominent and were scattered ineffective individuals and they were at the mercy of the strong undesirable characters.  As it developed they gained confidence and unity and eventually stood together as a strong group and were able to solve their problems.â€

 

“The costumes were destroyed but the wearers weren’t.  Why?  In a proper Western the baddies get shot.â€

 

“It’s the aggression or the selfishness that’s the baddie†said Jan,â€â€¦not the person.  The task is to help the people separate from the aggression, and that’s the moving out of the costume.â€

 

“And there was no showdown.  I was expecting the climactic shoot out when evil was defeated and destroyed.â€

 

“Well you could say we destroyed the costumes but you see the disruptive forces and individuals were not defeated were they?â€

 

“No, they were converted I guess.  But the monsters were not even ridiculed.  OK so maybe you don’t have to kill them off, but wouldn’t it be appropriate to poke fun at them, make them see how stupid or obnoxious they are.â€

 â€œYou mean they should still be punished in some way?â€

 

“Yes, isn’t that what justice is about?

 

“Retribution, vengeance and punishment might make Clint Eastwood feel good, but they leave big problems.  Even if you humiliate in an effort to reform, well that’s just another form of confrontation, conflict and defeat isn’t it?  It‘s still an effort to attack them and try to win by spurning or putting down or repudiating.  They’re not going to willingly come across after that are they?â€

 

“Hmmm.  But if some bastard persists in making trouble it’s natural to want to stop him and punish him.â€

 

“That’s just the way you’ve learned to deal with trouble in a competitive adversarial society.  You think that way because you’ve watched too many Westerns!  The Amish never do that.  People around here tend not to cause trouble for each other but when something does go wrong they know it’s best to avoid a conflict someone has to win, and they have the habit of wanting to find a solution that the other person is happy with.  If you don’t then there’s a good chance you are only going to create more problems later if he feels unjustly treated or beaten.  Remember, around here we all run into each other all the time. We have to live with each other, and work together well to get important things done. Our society, our welfare depends on this. It’s important that we think very carefully about keeping relations as harmonious as possible in the long run. Lingering resentments and desires to level old scores would seriously undermine all that.â€

 

Pete provided the detail. “See, we realise we have to integrate troublesome people.  We just have to work out how to reconcile and include.  It’s a very serious technical mistake to set out to defeat, destroy or alienate.  If you solve a problem by defeating someone or forcing a solution on others then you have probably created more problems.  You’ll have disgruntled people and they’ll probably cause more trouble before long.  So it’s wise to avoid show downs where the goodies beat the baddies.  It’s much better if you can to have a chat with the baddies, make friends and get them to come across and join us.  That way their resources can add to ours and we end up with more friends.â€

 

“Again you make it sound like fairy land – too good to be true.  Surely that doesn’t always happen.â€

 

“You’re right.  Can’t always be done.  But it’s the goal.  You have to understand that this is not just a morally nice thing to do, to incorporate rather than vanquish.  It’s technically, necessary -- crucial in fact.  A highly self-sufficient local economy simply cannot work unless we focus on getting everyone to pull together eagerly and happily.  So it’s imperative that we encourage and reinforce and facilitate that mentality all the time.â€

 

“Who was the star of the performance?†Jan asked.

 

Mike thought for a moment.  “I liked Anger.  He was so agile, and expressive.â€

 

“Yes but would you say he was the star?  He wasn’t on stage much of the time was he?â€

 

“No that’s right,†Mike thought again.  “Well really it’s hard to say who the star was.  There really wasn’t any single one.â€

 

“No.  And who was the hero?â€

 

“I don’t suppose there was one.â€

 

“That’s right.  Again, we don’t like stars and heroes.  It was a great performance all contributed to.  No single person could take much of the credit. No one was more important than anyone else. That’s quite important to us.  The solutions were gradually arrived at by everyone.  They didn’t need anyone to save them.  They did it themselves, like Harry said this afternoon..  It isn’t good if you can only be saved by some super-human who rides into town and drives out the villain for you.  That says you can’t solve your own problems, you need an expert or special person.  But ordinary people should know they can tackle their problems and collectively work out good solutions.â€

 

“What a waste to burn such great costumes.  That made me wince. They must have taken a lot of time to make. “

 

“Yes, they do.  But that’s symbolic too.  It’s important to pay a price for what was achieved.  I mean, you must be prepared to pay a big cost in time and trouble and vigilance and effort to reinforce commitment to the right path, to keep the faith strong.  You can’t have a good society easily or without cost.  It is sad that those costumes are destroyed.  We all know they are valuable and took a lot of making.  But their burning represents what we must give, to achieve important ends.  It’s a kind of sacrifice.â€

 

On the subject of symbolic burning, Mike wondered if Pete was thinking about the notepad.

 

“OK, OK,†Mike said slowly.   “I can see the point of all that.  I can see its valuable, I mean important to do.  But…I mean… it seems a bit contrived and overdone.  I mean, don’t you think you go on about it a bit too much, making everything have some deep symbolic or spiritual significance.  Remember the salt on the table. Isn’t it a bit like, say the Amish who can’t do anything without it having a religious significance…as if they are scared that if they loosen up for an instant they might lose their whole faith.  I mean I can see the point, but you all just seem a bit obsessive and unduely focused on making the moral point all the time.â€

 

“Yes I can understand that,†said Jan.  “I can see how it would strike you, coming from a society where nothing like this seems to happen.  But you’re just as heavily involved in morality plays, of a different kind.  You’re unwittingly constantly immersed in presentations, mostly on TV, which reassert and reinforce ideas and values in you without you realising it.  They’re teaching you all the time to consume, to attend to trivia and to ignore things that matter, to compete, to be politically apathetic, not to expect any say, to see great wealth and poverty as legitimate.  They tell you who and what to admire and idolise, they tell you what’s important.  They define success for you.  They tell you what’s normal, outrageous, to be accepted. They teach you that what’s happening to millions of Third World people has nothing to do with your affluence.  They teach you to crave affluence and luxury. They blitz you far more profoundly than we brainwash ourselves.  Look how well they’ve got you all to think in the ways that make consumer society so unquestionable.â€

 

“OK, yes, I agree.  I suppose the difference is that you’re conscious of the process, and you deliberately set out to make sure your values get reinforced.â€

 

“Right.   Nothing matters more than that the members of a society are firmly committed to the ideas and values that make for cohesion, solidarity, trust, mutual concern, cooperation, collective spirit, concern for good standards, and social responsibility.  If these things are not strong, then the society is literally rotting away.  A society is constituted by these commitments.  If they are not there, you only have a bunch of selfish individuals each struggling for their own advantage, against the others.  That’s not a society.  Collectivist values are precious and they don’t appear out of nowhere.  They have to be produced.  It takes many years of hard constant work to produce a good citizen, i.e., someone who’s firmly bonded to these sorts of pro-social values.  If that bond is lost, society crumbles. Having a powerful army or an astronomical GDP or sophisticated technology means nothing if your people are apathetic, cynical, cheat on their taxes, never vote, don’t value their public institutions and property, and don’t care about the plight of poorer people.  That is literally a rotten society.  It’s foundations are diseased and it is crumbling and if nothing is done it will literally collapse. The social bond in consumer-capitalist society is in alarmingly bad condition.  You are not much more than a collection of self-interested competitors for wealth, trashing your own nest, using up the things that sustain you.  So, is it possible to over-emphasise or over-do all this?  To us it is appropriate and crucial to place a great deal of emphasis on the reinforcement of the social bond.â€

 

“Do you go to Mass?†Jan asked.

 

“No.  I’m not religious.â€

 

“Well, why do some people go to Mass again and again, when they know exactly what will happen there?  See it’s a ritual.  It’s the going over of a familiar but very important and valued celebration and reaffirmation.  We know Sobriety will tame Enthusiasm somehow, but the point is we like to see that played out again, and more importantly we know that by watching the performance our commitment to these values and ideas will be reinforced. If these things are not reinforced they will fade and eventually disappear. That’s why Aborigines have corroborees,  It’s why people go to church. That performance was a religious or spiritual event.â€

 

                                       ------------------------------------------

 

It began to rain lightly as they came into the lane, for the last time. At the back steps Mike said, “I’ll race upstairs and finish packing.â€

 

“Good idea. We’ll put the kettle on.â€

 

As soon as Mike reached the bedroom he realised that he’d finished packing that morning.  He remembered shaking his head while putting in the pile of opened work.  He picked up the two cases, looked around to check, then went downstairs again.  No one was there so he sat in the corner of the main room. It was now raining steadily.

 

He heard Jan and Pete coming into the kitchen, talking in a quiet but agitated way.  They stopped in the kitchen, not three metres away, but out of site of Mike.

 

“But Harry thinks we shouldn’t use it.  I agree. I think it would be overkill.â€

 

“Well I don’t agree,†said Jan with some conviction.

 

“Look, we agree we don’t know where he’s at.  He keeps telling us what Eleanor would think but what the hell does he think?  All we get is how cute it all is.  There’s very little time left, and we don’t seem to have got anywhere with him.  Either we try to make sure or we’ve wasted three days not counting all the preparation.â€

 

“Yes I know, I know, but it’s difficult to know what to do.  Maybe it’s all sunk in well enough and he’s just not revealing.  If we use the Clincher on him we could ruin what we’ve achieved.â€

 

“You’re assuming we’ve achieved something.  Why?â€

 

“I’m not sure,†Pete said.  “I could be wrong, but some things he said at the banquet made me think we might have got through…but I don’t know.â€

 

“Damn, damn, damn.  Some of them really give me the…â€

 

“Yes, I’m as fed up with it as you are.  What does Tom say?â€

 

“He agrees with Harry.  So does Mandy…and Fred.  We should use it.â€

Gawd, if Bernie didn’t shift him would the Clincher?  Barry thinks it would work.  He’s usually a good judge.â€

 

“Well we just don’t know do we.â€

 

“Probably wasted another three days again,†said Jan with exasperation bordering on disgust.

 

Mike was stunned and confused.  What on earth is going on?  They were talking about him.  Why were they angry at him, out of the blue.  There’d been no sign of this.  And as if he was some object being processed, what the hell was this Clincher thing. Panic.  What to do. Couldn’t get out of the room without going past the kitchen…

 

And too late anyway…he stood as Pete then Jan came through the door.

 

All three froze, gaping at each other.

 

Nothing happened, for a long time.  Then Jan said, â€Oh dear,† sighed heavily, turned and sat down.  Pete just stood with his chin in his hand staring at the floor.  At first Mike thought of apologising for overhearing the conversation, but the anger in him only allowed a grim, “What was that all about?â€

 

Pete fumbled, “Sorry…sorry, we didn’t know you were there,†as if that needed saying.

 

Silence

 

“Well,†said Mike at last. “This kind of changes things doesn’t it.  I’m some sort of nasty problem it seems.  When I thought we were getting along OK.  I mean how contrived has it been all along?  How dishonest?â€

 

“Dishonest?†said Jan.

 

“Yes.  How genuine has any of it been, if here you are all plotting the next scene?  Was Padme a man in a sheep skin, set up to get me?  Did water committee come back from their holidays in Bali to rehearse for when I came in?  And what about the star performer, Dr Bernie?  Is she hired for the day?  Where is she now -- ankle deep in a mink carpet in her high rise city apartment sipping a martini?â€

 

Pete said very quietly, “Right now Bernie will be sitting by the fire writing. Want to go out and check?â€

 

“You get my point?  What can I believe now?  How much of this has just been set up to make an impression.  I never suspected.  It’s a kind of…betrayal.â€

 

Pete was surprised at the strength of the reaction, but saw that it could only come from something important having been jeopardised.

 

“Mike,†said Jan, “most of it has been set up.  It’s been set up for your benefit and at the considerable expense in time and effort of many people.â€

 

“But why?â€

 

“To show you how things work here, obviously!  The landscape can’t be faked.  The workshop wasn’t put up the day before you got here.  We’ve only organised to make sure you experience some things that are important here, that might not have been visible otherwise.   Yes we contrived some things, out of your sight, to get them to happen.  In fact Padme wasn’t needed here. She’d done our lawn last week, but we got her over, for your benefit. Is that misleading, or deceptive?

 

“But it looks like a giant conspiracy, cast of thousands.  So now I don’t know what to believe in.  Can’t you see that?â€

 

Pete said, “Quite frankly it is a huge conspiracy.† Then he changed gear abruptly, banged his fist on the table and said loudly, â€Bugger it! Don’t you understand.  And you’re scolding us.  Ten people on visitor committee who have invested a hell of a lot of time in you, and…â€

 

“Why?!†Mike cut across him angrily. “People have fussed over me for three days.  I didn’t expect that.  I thought I’d pay for a room, sleep half the time, wander around now and then, talk to a peasant maybe, take a note or two, and have a rest.  But I’ve been dominated, run here and here, and I’ve taken up people’s time that I can’t repay.â€

 

“You still don’t get it?  Why have all those people done all that?  Because you are a journalist, for God’s sake!  If we can get you on side you would be a powerful worker for the cause, for years and years.  The whole problem is that the mainstream ignores us.  The problem is educational.  The problem is getting The Simpler Way on the agenda.  How can we get them to even think about The Simpler Way, to see its merits, to see that if they don’t adopt it they are dead.  Now who can help with that more than teachers and journalists?  Who therefore do we put most time and effort into getting here, and who do we, as you say, fuss over most when we finally do get them here?â€

 

Mike had cooled down somewhat.  No one spoke for several seconds.  Then he said, “Why is it so important to you to know what I think.  I’m not your problem.  Eleanor is your problem.  I might come across, but she wouldn’t.â€

 

“We aren’t after the Eleanors Mike.  We’re not that silly. Most people don’t even reject us with anger.  If they did that would be marvellous because it would mean they had noticed us.  Most people just ignore us.  We can tolerate that, so long as we feel we are getting through to some, and to crucial people…â€

 

“…such as journalists,†said Jan.

 

“Do you think there’s high job satisfaction in all this?  Or might it be extremely tiring and demoralising, a source of constant pain and despair, watching the planet go down the drain, thinking you have the answer, but they are too preoccupied with sport and TV and their property values to take any notice, and when you explain it all in great detail, they can take it or leave it because its like another visit to Disneyland, cute but irrelevant, so let’s get back to the main game of competing and acquiring and watching football and soap operas.†

 

“We are not in the tourist industry you know, we didn’t do it just to give you a nice time.  We take a lot of visitors through, some for half a day, some important ones for several days. The hope is that they will go home determined to raise the issues again and again in their work.  They will or they won’t.  Asking you here and now whether you will would not achieve anything.  But whether or not we have wasted out time depends on what you are thinking when you step on the 9.35.â€

 

“The ones I really love,†said Jan almost to herself, “are the nice middle class people, the privileged people, who are in the best position to help, but by and large they can’t be bothered, they come and enjoy the outing and think it’s all very…â€

 

“…cute,†said Pete.

 

“…and who even accept all the arguments, but then go home and immediately forget it all and get back to the real world of watching the football and going for that promotion, and renovating the kitchen.  Even idiots get tired of that Mike.  We’ve been at it for some twenty years now and we actually think the readiness to take notice, let alone do anything, is getting worse.â€

 

“Look,†said Mike, quietly now, “It could be done if people in my suburb were like you, but the problem is they are not.  They want wealth and luxuries.  They want to get richer every year.  They want to be winners.  They would rather watch a quiz show on TV than go to a meeting.  If you called a working bee they wouldn’t go.  They will not buy something from Tom if his price is one cent higher than the supermarket.  They want to go to Bali for holidays.  They want big cars.  They think that if they can afford to buy and consume they have every right to.   They have no interest in coming to meetings to govern themselves; that’s for governments to do. They won’t darn socks.  They would see your frugality as silly, in fact revolting.  They want nice, glamorous, luxurious things. They couldn’t and wouldn’t make a place like The Glen work.â€

 

“For crying out loud Mike, of course they couldn’t!†Pete threw up his arms.  “This place can only work because people here have the right ideas and values, only because they understand why it is so important to go to working bees, and more importantly, because they want to go to them, and to live cooperatively and frugally and self-sufficiently.  It can only work because people here choose against affluence and against competitive individualism.  This place could never function if people here had consumer society mentality, always keen to maximise their own individual advantage and to get richer.â€

 

“Yes, of course,†said Mike, heatedly again. “And that’s why The Glen is irrelevant for us.  It’s no solution for normal people.  It’s not a model for us.  We need solutions that’ll work for us, not for saints.  What’s the good of designing a system that will work like a dream only if it’s staffed by people who aren’t like us, like most people?   You are a quaint, contradictory, counter-culture, an irrelevant backwater.  Admirable … but pathetic.â€

 

“Mike, you still don’t get it.  Mike there are no solutions for you, you ‘normal’ people.  Can’t you see that?!.  There are no solutions for you if you all insist on staying as you are.  The way you lot are, the mentality and the values you have, create the problems.  The problems can only be solved if you stop thinking and behaving in the ways that cause them.  You’re like someone wishing desperately that they were not dying of obesity while absolutely flatly refusing to stop gross overeating, indeed while steadfastly refusing to even think about the possibility that overeating is the cause of the problem.  You want a solution that lets you go on doing what’s causing the problem.   Don’t you see, the problems can not be solved unless you stop doing what’s causing them and that’s essentially striving for affluence and growth, and you can’t do that unless you face up to some absolutely fundamental value changes.  A sustainable world cannot be achieved by consumers.â€

 

Jan said, “Remember, on your first night here I said you’d only seen the easy stuff that day, the permaculture and windmills and mud bricks and edible landscapes, and that the important and really difficult stuff was yet to come.  The crucial sustainability problems are to do with the need for radically different systems and culture, and mentality. Salvation can only be achieved by people who abandon the consumer-capitalist mind set and come across to embrace The Simpler Way.â€

 

“Well then it will never be achieved!†Mike said gruffly.

 

“â€Do you know what I think about that?†Pete snapped back.

 

“What?†said Mike, expecting an onslaught.

 

“I think you are right.â€

 

“What?â€

 

“I think you are right.  I don’t think consumer society has the wit or the will to save itself.  It gives no sign of even recognising that it’s greed that’s the cause of the problems now threatening to destroy it.  Even its intellectual leaders, its politicians, its educators and economists and journalists and most of its academics flatly refuse to even think about any of this.  Let alone is there any sign that they will ever accept the need for radical change to The Simpler Way.  Let alone start working for it.â€

 

“What we are up against is a gigantic, heroic, steadfast, determined refusal –- a refusal to even think about the fact that affluence is the problem.â€

 

“Then why the hell are you working on The Glen?!  Why are you working for radical change in the entire world if you don’t think its going to happen.â€

 

“That’s very annoying.  That’s an extraordinarily dumb question.â€

 

“Why!?â€

 

“Because if you have an ounce of sense and an ounce or morality you work hard for the transition, no matter how rotten the chances are.  You know what’s at stake.  The welfare and the lives of several billion people and the fate of the biosphere.  If there’s no radical change what do you think their future is.  What will Amy inherit Mike?  How will she be in, say 50 years time.  You know that saying, ‘Gentlemen, the situation is hopeless.  We must press on.’ So there’s only one thing to do  -- work to get The Simpler Way understood and accepted whether or not there’s a significant chance of succeeding.  Do you think we could have any peace of mind if we didn’t?  I’ll probably live to know whether we are going to make it.  How would I feel if we do, and I didn’t help, and how would I feel if we don’t and I hadn’t tried?â€

 

After a short silence, Mike said, “Does the whole of The Glen see it that way?â€

 

“No.  Many do and we run the educational program.  Some agree with our view of things but don’t think it’s worth trying to do anything.  Some live here just because it’s a nice escape from the rat race.â€

 

Jan said, “You weren’t to know, but it’s sort of come to a head with you.  You have sort of blown up Visitors’ Committee.

 

“Me.  How?â€

 

“You triggered things that have been festering for a long time.  Several of them have becoming increasingly disenchanted over the past couple of years.  And most of the committee seems to have gone over the edge in the past three days.â€

 

“Why?â€

 

“Because they no longer think it’s worth it.  Because we think it’s probably all been a vast waste of time and energy.â€

 

“The response from the mainstream is worse than when we started, fifteen years ago,†said Jan quietly.  Mike was almost shocked at her manner, usually so energetic and almost irritatingly chirpy, now slumped in her chair, mangling a small handkerchief, exhibiting a mixture of anger and despair. “When we started few listened much, but we assumed that if we just hung in there in time the mainstream would start to see, and a movement would slowly develop.  Well, it has, actually.  There are people doing what we’re doing in little groups all around the world.  But the tide flowing the other way has now become a torrent.  For decades now the growth maniacs have been told they’re on a suicidal path, but they’re more indifferent to the message now than ever before.  Sales of Four Wheel Drive vehicles have never been higher. You tipped the balance for us.â€

 

“But why me?â€

 

“Maybe just because you seem to have been an especially difficult case.  You don’t seem to have been convinced. We thought we could recruit you fairly easily.â€

 

“Why?â€

 

“Because of our research.â€

 

“Research?â€

 

“Visitors Committee watch what journalists and others are saying.  We look for people we might persuade, and we try to get them here.â€

 

“Gawd. More conspiring.  What’s this Clincher thing anyway?â€

 

“Just an experience we sometimes set up for late in the visit, if we think it’s appropriate.  We’d better be going to the station soon.â€

 

“Why am I so important though.  How can I single handedly blow up visitors Committee?â€

 

“I guess it’s just symbolic.  We clutch at straws. We work to maintain our delusion …that we’re making a difference.  We need to believe that.   If we’d succeeded with you, then, that somehow might have restored a threadbare faith.  To us each special visitor sort of comes to represent society out there, don’t you see.  Which way will it go?  When The Simpler Way’s explained, will it be accepted, or have we been silly to think it might be? If he can see the sense of it maybe they all can.â€

 

Mike was silent.  At last he began to respond, but Pete cut in abruptly.

 

 â€œYou have been remarkably non-committal.  We all thought you’d have expressed an opinion long before this.  We have no idea what you’ve made of it all.  I now want to make a final request.â€

 

“What’s that.â€

 

â€That you don’t tell us what you think.  You will have made of The Glen what you have.  You will either have joined the team, and will work for the cause from here on, or you will not.  There’s nothing we can do about that now.† After a pause.  “We’d better go.â€

 

Mike moved to pick up his bags.  Expressionless faces masked chaotic feelings all round.

 

“Rain’s set in. We can get you a cloak if you don’t have anything.â€

 

“I’ve got a raincoat.  You realise I can’t tell you anyway, don’t you?â€

 

 â€œWhy not?â€

 

“Because I haven’t been here twenty years.â€

 

For once Pete was the puzzlee.

 

“If I said I am very impressed, I’m a believer, and I’ll work hard for the cause, would you believe me?   You wouldn’t know whether I was genuine, or just being kind.  You’d need to have been on working bees and committees with me for twenty years before you could judge, wouldn’t you?â€

 

No one spoke.  Mike felt that he had kind of evened the score a little, but it didn’t feel very satisfying to be racking up points now.  The focal thing was the rift, quickly getting a handle on how serious it was, what had been irretrievably lost, whether things could be patched enough in the little time left, how to part?  Not every thing was lost of course.  How to acknowledge what was beyond dispute?â€

 

“Where’s Amy?†Mike asked.

 

“No idea,†said Pete, predictably.  “Why?â€

 

“Just thought I’d like to say goodbye,†Said Mike.

 

“I’m afraid she might not have wanted to.  Evidently she had some sort of problem with you.†Jan said.

 

“We patched it up.â€

 

Jan said in surprise, “How did you know about it?â€

 

“I’m an investigative journalist, remember.â€

 

The three of them filed down the steps into the drizzle.  The vines and branches were hanging lower then ever, weighed down by the water in them, making the way seem more awkward than when Mike had come in -- such a long time ago. Damn, haven’t these peasants discovered torches yet…or cars.

 

The rain must have been heavy earlier as the path was quite soggy in places and they had to wind around puddles.  Mike gave up trying to judge where he was and just followed the cloaked forms in front of him.

 

As they cut across the meadow Pete’s discomfort was added to by the knowledge that Mike’s feet would be getting as soaked as his own.  Mike said, “Well I guess this will be making Freddy happy.â€

 

It was a sufficient gesture, redefining the situation a little.  Jan took it up.  “Charlie’s lucky he doesn’t have to wade into that pig pen tomorrow.â€

 

Pete helped out, “Must remember to go over to The Basin tomorrow to see if we’re losing run off there. Wonder if it’s cold enough tonight for Bernie to be warming her brick beside the fire?

 

“Jan, about Barry…â€

 

“Yes?â€

 

“Is he on visitor’s committee?â€

 

“Yes. Have you figured him out yet?â€

 

“Oh yes.  Long ago.  I am an investigative journalist you know.â€

 

“Well what is he?â€

 

“Oh, do you really want to know.  I didn’t think you’d ask that kind of question.â€

 

Slightly combative, yes, but a small price to pay to change the tone a little.  But Jan remained silent.

 

“Barry’s a good bloke.  Great with a crow bar.  His black-smithing technique needs a bit of polish though.  But he’s good at putting bandages on barked shins.â€

 

Then it occurred to Mike…â€Is Harry on the committee?â€

 

“Yes.â€

 

“And Frieda, and Amanda?â€

 

“Yes.â€

 

“Tom?â€

 

“Yesâ€

 

He thought about saying, “And all the others who have been nice to me I suppose,†but kept it to himself.

 

The conversation fell away.  It seemed to take a long time to get to The Wall.   Pete was ahead ducking and bending under the drooping branches. In the distance a faint sound of a diesel horn.  “Good timing,†said Pete.  “It’s just leaving Scotsdale.â€

 

Maybe the distance between them now was a blessing.  Everyone could stand back coolly, avoiding the need to deal with any indiscrete sentiments that might have slipped out.  And the rain helped, making it more difficult to converse.

 

 They reached the platform and scurried along to the small tin shelter, although the rain was easing.

 

Mike took the opportunity he knew he had to find.  “Look, I want to say I really do appreciate your efforts.  It’s been very interesting, and informative.  I’ve learnt a hell of a lot.  That’ll be obvious I’m sure.  I’ve got a tonne of things to think about.  So thanks a lot for all your time and energy.â€

 

“That’s fine.  Been nice having you here.† It wasn’t entirely satisfactory from either side, but at least they’d fulfilled formal requirements.  The lights of the train could now be seen approaching but still some way off.

 

“If your notebook turns up, we’ll post it.â€

 

“Thanks.  I don’t really think it will, somehow.†

 

“Well thanks again,†Mike said, and held out his hand to Pete, his case in the other.  Pete shook it energetically. “Thanks for coming.† Mike turned to Jan, still uncharacteristically quiet since leaving the house.  He couldn’t judge what she was thinking.  After a split second delay he decided to risk it, reached over with his free arm and placed it around her shoulder, giving a light, side-on semi-hug. She smiled and as he stepped back, she slowly jabbed a fist into his chest and said “Aw, Shucks.† Then, “Remember me to Eleanor.â€

 

The train came past them noisily and hissed to a stop. Pete reached for a door, and slid one case in.  Mike remembered to step up, dropped the other case and turned.  It had started to drizzle again, the drops dazzling with the station light behind them.  Pete and Jan’s faces were hardly visible under their capes.

 

Suddenly Mike realised that two small figures were running along the platform, holding a large piece of plastic over themselves, and calling out. Jan and Mike turned towards them. The train horn blasted and the carriage jerked into motion.  Mike couldn’t pick up the exchange over the noise of the train. They bustled past Pete and Jan.  One let go of the plastic and as it swirled high then low, almost tripping the other one.  A face emerged into the light.

 

It was Penny.

 

Then the other figure’s face became visible.  It was Amy, smiling, wet streaks of blond hair down her forehead, holding the plastic sheet in one hand, and in the other waving a light blue mask.