The Good Life
by
Louis Lopez
This is an excerpt--the first chapter. The novel starts in the mid-1950's and plays loose with the chronology of historical events. The main character has an unconventional view of living and looking at the world.
Chapter 1
It's going to be good. I know, I can tell by the way it felt from the beginning.
It's a nice spring day--sunny and crisp. The sap is climbing through the bark, the fervent buds reaching for the light. The cool breeze caresses every inch of my skin, giving me greater energy for the endeavor. I can see my partner is enjoying it as much as I am by the enthralled look on her face. We're both lost in the enchanting feeling.
Now something's hitting me on the head and shoulders. It's taken several seconds for me to become fully aware of it--I'm so caught up in what I'm doing. It doesn't hurt but its' annoying. I slowly realize that it's a purse that is being used. I'm on my knees so I can't turn around. I hold up my forearm against the blows. It's a little old lady who is thoroughly enraged. She has almost completely white hair, is full of wrinkles, and is emaciatedly thin. The frown of outrage that she is wearing makes her look hideously menacing.
"Stop it," she screeches, "stop that, I say. You're disgusting." She keeps swinging away with her purse.
"Hey, go away, lady," I snap. "Why don't you just leave us alone?" She's definitely getting me angry.
"Stop it. You know you can't do this in public. You know it's against the law."
We're in the middle of a street median. Liz and I didn't think anyone could see us, even if it was the middle of the day. Somehow this old woman spotted us. "Come on, lady. Why don't you just go away and mind your own business." I continue to fend off her blows with my forearm.
"Get the hell out of here, you old fogey," yells Liz irately. "Leave us alone."
"Please, go away," I add. "Just because you haven't had any for the last 50 years." I'm annoyed but resigned to the fact that it's all been ruined. Now there are other people coming because of the commotion. It looks like there's even some cars stopping.
This old lady is a real treat. I wish she would have forgotten her glasses at home, then maybe she would have never seen us. I can't believe these old people sometimes. They're going around bitching about how they get unfairly set apart from younger people, yet they insist everyone should live according to their own prudish and rigid ideas and ways of living (or not living)--can't get away from that old Grundyism. Is there any wonder they get shunned? If I live long enough to be old, I guarantee you I won't be like most of them. I'm going to be giving it all I've got. Hell, these people ought to stay in the swing of things. If nothing else, they can at least think young. Everyday you hear of some new discount or privilege or program they're giving to old people. The best thing for everyone would be to give them a decent amount of Social Security or even a guaranteed minimum income and then to put everyone to work in whatever they could do. Remind them of the value of work (just like they've been telling us since we were kids). I bet most of them would rather work.
The woman has ruined our whole adventure, the whole mood we had built up. We suddenly got the urge here and decided why not. Liz and I get up and start looking for our clothes. A large crowd has gathered by now. Some are outraged and some have just come to gawk. The old hag has stopped hitting me by now and has a look on her face that shows disgust as well as smugness--a look that says she's contented now that she has aided Virtue in triumphing over wickedness. Cops have arrived. I was hoping to get out of here before they came. Now, I even notice that a news team for a television station has arrived, and a camera is starting to busily take pictures. It's too bad they're taking pictures now that my dick is soft. An uncircumcised one never looks as good soft as when it's hard. It's too bad they didn't shoot any film while I was in full blossom.
• • • • • • • • •
Man, is this a drag. What a waste of time. Here we are outside the courtroom waiting for my trial to begin. My lawyer says it may be hours before we go in front of the judge. There's a long line of cases in front of us. He advised me to cop a plea so I could get off on probation. I know he wanted to get it over with fast, even though he did mouth some platitudes like "every man should have his day in court" and "every person has the sacred right to trial by jury." Slogans he's been repeating mindlessly since law school. Actually, some of these slogans are very convenient. Like if every man does have his day court, it will surely be good for business. He was telling me that he has defended dissenters and radicals in the past with whom he sympathized because he is liberal. He didn't agree with some of the others--thought they were a little too far out. He couldn't understand the point they were trying to make. I'm sure he thinks I'm one of the strange ones. Can't see any political, social, religious, or philosophical message in what Liz and I did; therefore, it's pointless and crazy. He's right that it was pointless. We weren't out to prove anything. The D.A. dropped all charges against Liz. I really couldn't understand the reasoning behind that. All I could figure was something about the man being more responsible. Isn't that male chauvinism? Actually, looking back on it now, it doesn't seem like it all ever happened. It's like a big fantasy. I'm always coming up with fantasies.
I'm reading the newspaper while we wait. There's an article here about how President Eisenhower is saying that the atomic bomb tests that are being carried out are not a danger to health. Any radioactive fallout in the air is supposed to be well below the threshold of danger, although I can't understand how they know what the right level of danger is. I guess that's why they don't worry about that fallout cloud over Nevada.
Then there's been talk about a big national highway system--a big project of the Eisenhower administration. It's going to cost a lot of money, but I guess they're figuring they better do it because cars and trucks are here to stay. They don't seem to be paying much attention to the railroads which are probably better, at least for transporting goods.
Eisenhower gave a speech last night over radio and television. It was entitled "This Great Country of Ours." It's really hard to follow what he's saying sometimes. His sentences are garbled. That's what they must mean about Eisenhower Syntax. Here's an example:
Now, sometimes you feel almost that we can be excused for getting a little bit hysterical because these dangers come from so many angles, and they are such different kinds, and no matter what we do they still seem to exist, but underlying all of these dangers is this one thing, the threat that we have from without, the great threat imposed upon us by aggressive communism, the atheistic doctrine that believes in statism as against our conception of the dignity of man, his equality before the law; this is the struggle of the ages.
Now, the H-bomb and the atomic age, they are not in themselves a great threat to us. Of course not. The H-bomb is a threat to us only if a potential aggressor who also has the secrets of the H-bomb determines to use it against us, and against that then we have to make our provisions to make certain that sensible men have done every possible thing they can do to protect ourselves against that.
Now, when communism seeks to divide us, to set class against class, good people against good people, when those good people should be standing in defense of liberty and against communism, because of that we must take counsel among ourselves and stand together and let nothing tear us apart. . . . .
With oratory like that, it's no wonder that six years from now people will get excited over John Kennedy's style. I notice that Ike is confident that the United States could never yield to the temptation of using the H-bomb first.
For the time being, most people are satisfied with Ike. They find him a reassuring figure at the head of the nation. It's got to do with his image as a grandfatherly, wise old man. To the people he seems like a real upstanding, serious, hard-working honest man. He and Mamie seem to have a wonderful marriage. They're always smiling and cheerful when seen together. She's always at this side, obedient and ready to serve him in whatever way she can. People say they were meant for each other, but they probably haven't heard about Kay Summersby, an Englishwoman who was his personal chauffeur during World War II. Ike and Kay became close while Eisenhower was commanding the Allied forces from England and Mamie was back home in the States. Ike and Kay never screwed but apparently not because they didn't try. The time they tried it, Ike supposedly wasn't able to get it up. General Dwight David Eisenhower who masterminded the Normandy invasion, who commanded the Allied forces against the powerful German and Italian armies, who was one of the most important characters in one of the most important crises in all human history, was not able to come through in the sack at the right moment. (Of course, you have to give some credit in that perhaps it was because he felt some guilt about committing adultery.)
In terms of fate, there's no telling what might have happened if they had been able to pull it off--a full-blown affair, maybe? Eisenhower might then have divorced Mamie and never have run for the Presidency, thinking that the American electorate would never elect a divorced man. Adlai Stevenson would have been elected President in 1952, or maybe Republican Robert Taft would have made it through. It's too bad they don't teach these kinds of details in school. History would win much greater attention from students.
You can bet that if the American people were to be told this now, they would deny it. They wouldn't want their images shattered of the President and the First Lady, but I say you've got to face up to the truth. If nothing else, it just feels better to be real. If I were President, I would be honest. I would try to get everyone to loosen up and do what they really wanted. I would only go on television to make proposals on what truly matters. Here's an example.
Good evening, my fellow Americans. I come before you tonight to discuss a matter of great importance and to make a proposition. We have many problems facing our nation and our world tonight. There are the problems of crime, the environment, inefficient government, greedy corporations, recession, inflation, energy, the foreign trade imbalance, the farm problem, communist aggression, defense spending, and many others. But I do not want to discuss any of these problems tonight. Instead, I want to talk about a problem that permeates and transcends all of these problems. It is a pervasive and fundamental problem that has too long gone ignored by those who have held this office before me and by government in general.
The problem that I am referring to is one that is on people's minds almost constantly. I am told that psychologists have studied the matter and found that the subject is on most people's minds every minute of the day. I'm not sure that it happens that often, but I am sure that it is not very far from the truth.
(I then talk about certain generalities, discuss some useless scientific findings, and engage in some flattering comments which seem to be essential to most political speeches. I then go to the heart of the matter.)
So you can see that in spite of the many advances made in recent years, the biggest problem still facing us today is the one of horniness. I know that some people are satisfied with their sex lives (or so they claim), but there are many more that are not, from the young to the very old. There are many that are married and are still horny, and this in spite of the fact that in some cases, they get it almost everyday. In these latter cases, they're probably horny for the woman next door or for the mailman.
With this in mind, I am declaring this Friday as a national holiday to be celebrated every year from now on. On this holiday, no one will work so that they can dedicate themselves fully to getting it on. Everything will be allowed and encouraged except for not using condoms or the use of force or coercion. Laws against homosexuality, deviance, and prostitution will be suspended. The age for statutory rape will be lowered to 15. It will be all right to do it wherever you want--in the street, in church, in the halls of Congress.
This will not be business as usual. Everyone is to be encouraged in expressing and showing their desires and emotions. I hope and believe that this holiday will go far in relieving the tensions and frustrations that are so common today. The holiday has been named National Trim Your Horns Day.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to look for this cute 18-year-old I've got the hots for. Good night.
In the three months since I was arrested, I've gotten a job at the Ames Research Center in Mountain View. It's part of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. Ames was established in 1940 and continues to be an important center of studies in aeronautics. It has the fastest, biggest, and most unique combination of wind tunnels for flight testing in the world. There are programs involving conceptual design, flight simulation, and flight research. There is research in solar physics, planetary environments, and geophysics. Specially fitted aircraft serve as airborne laboratories for the study of the earth's environment. Programs in the life sciences include studies in the physiological effect of airplane travel and spaceflight. Then there's the ILIAC IV computer, the largest and fastest in the world. Obviously, it is one of those places in which many scientists, engineers, and students dream of coming to work because of the wide variety of fascinating subjects to explore.
I remember feeling inspired in high school about being able to work as a scientist. I remember reading about so many of the advances made--all kinds of new products and mechanical advances were coming out constantly. All scientific discoveries fascinated me, but physics and mathematics were the most interesting. My interest in physics grew out of what I read about the probings into the nature of the atom and the most dramatic application--the making of the atomic bomb. I certainly was concerned that the atomic bomb had a wide potential for destruction, but I was captivated by the power of the human mind to delve so deeply into nature, to comprehend the intricate pattern and structure of matter, particularly in something like the minute atomic nucleus. I was excited by the developments and predictions by nuclear scientists of the great benefit of peaceful applications, like the nuclear reactor which would someday generate all the electricity we needed at a low cost.
Math had always been interesting to me. I'd had an early fascination with numbers and geometric shapes. Later, I was taken in by the abstract notation used in algebra and the unbelievable manipulations that could be performed with those symbols. I was even more absorbed by seeing mathematics describe and predict physical processes in nature--things like Newton's laws of motion and gravitation, the theory of relativity, the quantum theory.
Working at Ames is the fulfillment of a long held dream. I would have been proud of myself back in high school to know that I would eventually go to work there.
Our case has finally come up. We're going into the courtroom. We stand before the judge, who is a kind-looking man in his early ‘50's, but he's also the typically serious, hard-working citizen that you would expect to see behind the bench. I didn't ask for a jury trial. I figured I'd take my chances with this guy. A jury would have just been a lot more time and cost and hassle. The assistant D.A. introduces the case and makes some predictable remarks. It looks like the judge is going to be fairly informal. He asks how I plea, and I say, "Not guilty."
He goes on. "You say you plead not guilty, but you did sign a confession, didn't you?"
"Yes, I did, your Honor." My lawyer insisted that I say "your honor" every time, but I think it's silly. It's overdoing it. I don't mind showing him respect, but "your honor" is like sucking up too much.
"The confession states that you the defendant, Jerry Sabio, admit that you and a young woman were found in the grassy median in the middle of the Oregon Expressway in Palo Alto. I won't read all the sordid details, but the upshot is that you and this young lady were completely naked and fully engaged in sexual intercourse at high noon until you were discovered by a woman who was passing by? Do you admit to this?"
"Yes, of course, your Honor."
"Did you give and sign this confession under your own complete free will and within your clear and complete mental competence?"
"Yes, sir, I did."
"If you agree with all the facts stated here, why do you still plead not guilty"?
"Because, your Honor, I was as innocent and guileless as the day I arrived in this world. I don't see what there is to feel guilty about."
"You mean you didn't think there was anything wrong or improper with what you did"?
"No, sir."
"Well, under the law, the acts of conduct in which you engaged constitute the criminal offense of indecent exposure and is punishable by confinement in jail or a fine or both. Don't you at least agree that you are guilty of committing the offense of indecent exposure"?
"No, your Honor. First, as to the exposure part of it, we were mostly hidden by bushes so it was hard for anyone to see us very clearly unless they went out of their way, like that old bag that found us. As for those private parts that people are so hung up on hiding, I don't see how anyone could get much of a look since we were grinding and humping so fast." The bailiff and some others in the court snicker.
The judge looks straight at me and says, "The defendant will refrain from using improper language in the courtroom."
"As for the indecent part of it, I can't see what is so indecent about the human body. That's the way it was made, and I don't see anything so bad that everyone has to worry so much about hiding. I know it's not as beautiful as we would sometimes like it to be, but it's not that bad. Like I don't see that a fig leaf is that much more attractive. Then there are ways that you can make it look different if you want to. I know some women don't like all that hair around their pussies . . . I mean, I'm sorry, around their pudendum, but if that's the way it is, then they can just shave it. And I admit that sex organs are often smelly, but they're not that bad, at least not bad enough to put people in jail for it. Besides, there's . . ." Some people are whispering and snickering again. The judge pounds his gavel, "That's enough. The defendant will refrain from his extraneous and irrelevant remarks, or the court will have to find him in contempt. I see no benefit from getting into such detail. I just can't understand why you can't agree with and accept the social custom that these things are only to be done behind closed doors in the privacy of one's own home. Is that too much to ask"?
"No, your Honor. I agree with that, and I usually do it inside, but we just got the urge as we were driving by, and since it was such a nice day and a nice place, we decided why not. Like I said, most of the time I've done it inside, but I don't see why one can't have a change of pace and go some place else that's different.
"Look at it this way. I remember when I was a kid that my parents and other adults used to tell us children that if one has to hide to do something, then it must be bad. Now I don't see making love as a bad thing, and psychologists, doctors, sociologists, and even some clergymen agree with that, so it blows my mind why everyone has to hide to do it. Is it, or is it not bad, then? People ought to make up their minds. You never, never see anyone do it where they can be seen. It makes me wonder. I for one, have never actually seen anybody other than myself doing it live and in person. I've heard a lot of talk about sex, I mean a lot. You hear it in the media, you read about it, people talk about it. You see it in stag films and porno magazines, but I've never seen anybody actually do it. They always run and hide. Sometimes I wonder if I'm not the only one in the world that does it, and everybody else just talks about it, or they fake it in order to be considered cool. Maybe it's some sort of world conspiracy to keep me fooled. I just don't see what the big deal is with privacy. I'm sure at least some people do it. I'm sure you must do it, Judge. Don't you"? Muffled laughter is heard again. The assistant D.A. tries to hide his face and fakes clearing his throat.
The judge pounds his gavel, "That's enough. This is the last time I warn you that you will be held in contempt. You are obviously trying to make a mockery of this court. Now you are a young man of perception and intelligence. I see here that you graduated from Harvard last year with a Bachelor of Science in Mathematics. I'm sure you had to work hard and that you had to conform to many rules and exercise self-discipline."
"You're right. It took a lot of discipline not to drop out and chuck the whole thing."
"I'm sure you benefited greatly from your experience at Harvard. Don't you believe so"?
"I don't know. I've been thinking about that lately, and I've been trying to figure it out. You assimilate much interesting information. You can learn about the pathetic fallacy, the Diet of Worms, David Reisman, the Song of Songs, Tintoretto, the Kaldor model, Alpha Centauri, Manichaeism, the Devonian period, oleoresins, gymnosophists, CH3CO2C5H11, Il Risorgimento, and countless other facts and events. You can learn about scientific inquiry, freedom of speech, looking at both sides of a question, and other intellectual methods. It's all interesting and mostly true, but I'm not sure that after all is said and done, that it isn't just sophisticated indoctrination for middle class existence. That's what I've been trying to figure out."
"You call it indoctrination. You refer to it pejoratively, but perhaps it's a necessary thing. In any case, I'm sure that it wouldn't be hard to make you see the error in your way of looking at the whole question of public indecency. For this reason, I offer not to impose any jail sentence on you if you decide to plead guilty. I want you and your lawyer to go outside and discuss whether you are sure you still want to plead not guilty before we start the trial."
My lawyer quickly ushers me back into the hallway. He tells me I'm not going to get anywhere with this judge. From what the judge has said, he doesn't sound inclined to find me not guilty. Going through the trial would be a waste of time and could even land me in jail for at least a few days if the judge gets mad at me. The lawyer says I talk too much. I figure at least I got to speak my piece, got my day in court, so I acquiesce. I agree to plead guilty and see what punishment he is going to offer. We go back in and announce my decision. He goes through some formalities in some formalities in accepting my guilty plea before pronouncing sentence.
"I am a liberal-minded judge, and I believe in avoiding incarceration whenever possible. Therefore, my sentence is that the defendant will attend weekly sessions with a psychiatrist until rehabilitated or for at least three years, whichever comes first."
"Oh, no, not a shrink! Give me a break. Just send me to jail. Even if you give me the maximum six months, it'll be over with a lot sooner."
"No, this is the best way. Jails are not a good place. Rehabilitation is better. We have good psychiatrists available. Court is adjourned."
As we walk out, I turn to my lawyer. "Not a shrink. He'll put me to sleep. What's there to talk about?"