Chapter Three
The Company Grows
Before
Phil visited Culhwch in the architecture studio, two
women sat at a restaurant in the
“Nope.”
“Good.”
She
sipped at her soda before continuing. “Phil and Cullen got
screwed.”
“I
knew that.”
Helen
almost dropped her soda. “You what?”
“Yeah,
but Cullen was forced to pay for a class. Phil got off.”
Helen’s
jaw fell, she felt her head heavy. She raised a finger to Nell.
“I…can’t…”
“Don’t
stress, Helen. Why Phil told me, and not you, isn’t
important. Right now, we’re together because you asked me to
lunch. What’s up?”
Helen
didn’t know if she was supposed to get angry, calm down, make a sarcastic
comment, or what. Lacking clear options, Helen gained composure.
“I proposed something to Phil. Something that
would expose the administration.”
“Oh?”
“A detailed account, blow-by-blow.”
“An exposé.”
“More than that. A serial of
the past, and present.”
“You
think that the same shit is going on now?”
“Duh! You didn’t think so?”
“Nope.”
Helen
focused on her food for a moment. “Nell, are you really
serious?”
“Yes,
and I also know how to do this.”
“What?”
“Your
‘serial exposé’ is all right, but how are you going to
communicate it?”
“Er…”
“You
don’t know. I’ll tell you how: a newspaper.”
“Newspaper?”
“Yes,
weren’t you thinking along the lines of that?”
“Well…maybe
sending them…one of the…”
“They
won’t print an op-ed from a nobody.”
Nell
closed her eyes, and sipped her soda through the straw. Helen thought it
smug to act like that. Damn her and her fucking great ideas. Nell
opened her eyes. “So. The Radical begins.”
“Radical?”
“That’s
the name.”
“You
already named it?”
“Clearly. Somebody had to do it.”
“Why
that name?”
“It
captures your attention.”
“It
sounds incomplete. The radical what? Right?
Left? Center?”
“That’s
the idea. You see, the whole thing isn’t what it seems. The
only thing that is ‘radical’ about it is that it exists.”
“Huh?”
“Newspapers
have been dead for a long time. They’re like AM radio.
Nothing is there except personal ads and rent-a-sluts.”
Nell’s
clear words almost made Helen drop her chopsticks. “We’re going beyond
that…I hope…right?”
“Yes, but not with animal-fucks.”
“Please,
let’s not talk about this in front of the food.”
They
finished their meal silently.
Phil
sat at the controls of the TV command center, and went blank. “I
have no idea what I’m doing,” he said out loud.
The
first month of school had dragged on like a 1-8551 call-in TV ad show. He
paid little attention in his courses, being that this was his final semester,
and his GPA was set in stone anyway. He hadn’t bought any of the
books, but learned some of the basics by browsing the web and the library, and
imitated others. He didn’t ask questions.
Nell
whistled “Twisted Nerve” as she approached the
They
had met when Cullen took a big ball of garbage, wrapped it up in tape, and
began kicking like it was a soccer ball. The former campus of United
Services Automobile Association had plenty of long corridors to kick a
ball. This was Cullen’s second semester, and having decided that
architectural education isn’t worth the time and effort to impress
anyone, took a break from his model-building.
Phil
was just lost. He had a freshman English class that ended at 10:00
PM. He had the worst schedule, of classes from 11:00 am through 10:00 PM,
which meant that he got the last parking space about four miles away from the
English wing. Since it was so late, the moving sidewalks had been shut
off, and the shuttle was years away. He was taking a break near Central
Atrium, when a ball of trash landed in the water. Phil was near the reception
area, and saw the splash. He then saw a man leap from one of the
balconies onto the palm trees. He landed on the top, and them somehow got
his arms around the trunk, below the leaves, and slid down. The water was
only a few inches deep, so the man walked over to the ball. He picked it
up. It was soggy and bent up beyond kicking. “Darn.”
Phil
felt himself go weak. A man just fell out of the sky, slid down a big
piece of shrubbery, and pronounced the thing in the water, as
“darn”. Phil’s normally reserved demeanor broke.
“Excuse me? Hello?”
The
man noticed the sound, and looked over in Phil’s direction. He said
nothing.
“Mind
if I ask what you…are…doing?”
“Soccer,”
the man flatly replied.
Phil
had the feeling that the man had also given him the time, but wasn’t so
sure. “I’m
Phil.”
The
man didn’t reply. Was he a hoodlum from outside? Phil nearly
trembled as if he was in the presence of God. This man seemed not of this
atrium, of this building, nor of this earth. The water wasn’t
really seeping into his shoes, the water just happened to be beside his
feet. Everything Phil knew about man, his habits, and how to get along
with others, evaporated. This person wasn’t real.
This
person got bored, and stepped out of the fountain. No eye contact, no
swaggering, none of the little ticks and subtle body movements that indicate
excitement, embarrassment, or “I just got spotted by a total
stranger” feeling. Phil was getting nervous by the moment, as his world
was failing to make sense to him. What to say, what to do, how to…?
“Excuse
me, but where’s garage 15C?
The
man had been walking back to some stairs, but stopped. Without turning,
he said, “That’s two miles away. Take the sidewalk.”
“But
it’s off.”
“Turn
it on.”
“How? I can’t. Even if I could, I
shouldn’t.”
“Easy.
You can, because you will.”
This
man’s speech was taking on the properties more of an e-mail than actual
conversation.
“Can
you show me? Now? I mean…we
won’t get in trouble, will we?”
“Follow
me.”
The
man walked to the area where the teller’s used to be, back when the
building was a banking and insurance institution. Now, the teller
stations are the general-purpose bill-paying, question-answering,
direction-finding, and complaint-filing stations. Phil followed him as he
placed his right arm over the low door that said, “Employees Only”,
and leaped over. Phil hesitated, then stepped
over it. He picked up his pace, so as not to lose track of this man.
He
didn’t go far. He reached underneath the first teller station, and
flicked a switch. A hum filled the building. Phil didn’t know
which was weirder: that a switch underneath the first teller controlled the
moving sidewalks, or that this man had the balls to actually trespass and commandeer
University equipment. This struck him as taking a shower using the water
sprinklers overhead.
The
man started walking back. Phil shouted, “Wait! Who are you!”
He
stopped. “Culhwch Esau.”
“Kee…what?”
“Culhwch Esau.”
“Keel-hook Ace-eye?”
“Culhwch Esau.”
Phil
realized that Culhwch was pronouncing that final
‘k’ like some people pronounced the ‘kh’
in Bach. “What are you doing here?”
“I
work here.”
“Work? You mean you’re staff?”
“No.
I’m an architecture student.”
Phil
had never thought of architects, architecture, or architecture students.
This man had just dropped from outer space, and Phil thought that with each
passing sentence, this man from another planet.
Phil’s
girlfriend, Helena, introduced him to one of her friends, Nell. When they
first met in a taqueria, Nell brought along Culhwch. “He’s the most interesting man
that you’ll ever meet.”
Phil
placed Nell in a category of women that were beyond his understanding, because
the conversation that followed didn’t make any sense to him.
Helen
asked, “So, is he your boyfriend?”
“Nope.”
“What’s
your relationship to him?”
“Friend.”
“Just that?”
“Yep.”
“Why
aren’t you two dating?”
“We’re
not right for each other.”
“You’re
hanging out with a man, who you’re not dating, because you’re not
right for each other?”
Nell
smiled. “Correct.”
Nell’s
smile made Phil want to cry. Her clean lips formed the most perfect curve
that his eyes had ever seen. Her eyes met the Golden Ratio in relation to
her nose, chin, ears, and her straight, black hair, so perfectly, that Phil
wanted to elect her Goddess of Perfection.
Helen
was having none of this. “So!” She replied, with the
sharpest condemnation that she could summon. “How does this make
you feel…Keel…”
“Culhwch,” explained Nell, “It’s
Welsh.”
“Oh,
so you’re from
Nell
continued, “No. He’s from-”
“Let
him talk!”
Culhwch had sat the whole time, not moving, not saying a
word, not making eye contact with anything. It was like he had gone into
Statue Mode. He didn’t turn when Helen made her snappy command to
Nell.
Helen
already didn’t like him. He wasn’t paying attention to the
conversation. He didn’t order any food. He wasn’t
engaged in anything that had to do with the other three people at the
table. “Well, tell me about yourself, Keel-hook.”
“My
name is Culhwch.”
Helen
waited for a follow-up. Something. Anything. Culhwch
wasn’t playing the game.
“Sorry.
So, tell me about yourself.”
“Let’s
not worry ourselves about the inconsequential details about my
childhood.”
Nell
laughed. She laughed so hard; she started pounding the table. Phil
stabilized the drinks. Helen glared, “Just who the fuck do you
think you are!”
“Culhwch Esau.”
“Yeah,
well, it pays to be friendly.”
“All right.”
Helen
only grew angrier, and stormed out the taqueria. Nell
shrugged her shoulders and smiled at Culhwch.
Phil sat for a moment, then ran out to chase after
Helen.
Nell
knocked at the door. She knew that this scared Phil to no end, to be
interrupted. She heard scrambling, then the door
opened. “Oh! Hi, Nell! Come on in!”
Nell sauntered into the
control room. Phil didn’t hide his ecstasy. “Have a
seat! Have a seat! Let me find a chair!”
“Phil.”
He
stopped in the middle of running to one of many chairs in the room.
“Phil,
thank you. I’ll sit myself down.”
“All right! What are you doing here?”
She
pulled out a chair, and Phil got back in his. The lighting in the room
was dim, and Phil thought that if God was great, He would play Isaac Hayes
music right now. She said, “Helen and I are working on a
project. You’d like it.”
“OK.”
“It’s
a newspaper, called The Radical.”
“Radical…”
“Just
The Radical. No Left, No Right, Nothing like
that.”
“OK…”
“You’re
going to run it.”
“Why?
What are you trying to do.”
She
leaned close to him, getting eye-to-eye. Their noses almost
touched. She whispered, “Revenge.”
Phil
locked his back, and threw himself up straight. His brow was so clenched
that it began to shake. “Revenge?”
She
relaxed in her seat. “Calm down. It’s about showing the
world, well, maybe just
“Are
you trying to get all of us kicked out?”
“Nobody
will know who wrote it.”
“An anonymous paper? That’s—“
“Scandalous.
Ever been a scoundrel, Phil?”
“No!
I’ve got-”
“Sh.” She held up her finger. Phil thought
she was beckoning him. She knew that he had a girlfriend, so why the
games?
She
smiled that smile that Phil loved. “You’re going to see
Cullen.”
“CULLEN!”
“He’s
needed, too. Someone needs to design the layout. And
Zaid. We need financial backing.
She wouldn’t stay up late, but I have her groggy
verbal promise. Shall you go see what Cullen is up to, now?”
God was Great…at crushing Phil.