ANOTHER ATROCITY

 

A Shabby Voyeur. In twentieth-century terms the crucifixion, for example, would be re-enacted as a conceptual auto-disaster.' It landed in a shallow basin fifty yards from the planetarium. Keeping his back to the window behind his desk, he assembled the terminal documents he had collected with so much effort during the previous months: (1) Spectro-heliogram of the sun; (2) Front elevation of balcony units, Hilton Hotel, London; (3) Transverse section through a pre-Cambrian trilobite; (4) 'Chronograms,' by E. J. Marey; (5) Photograph taken at noon, August 7th, 1945, of the sand-sea, Qattara Depression, Egypt; (6) Reproduction of Max Ernst's 'Garden Airplane Traps'; (7) Fusing sequences for 'Little Boy' and 'Fat Boy', Hiroshima and Nagasaki A-Bombs. Many volunteers became convinced that the fatalities were still living, and later used one or other of the crash victims as a private focus of arousal during intercourse with the domestic partner. This can be carried to remarkable lengths -- for example, the jutting balconies of the Hilton Hotel have become identified with the lost gill-slits of the dying film actress, Elizabeth Taylor. For Tallis, this period in the apartment was a time of increasing fragmentation.

A Shabby Voyeur. As we passed Yangtzepoo the L.C.T. was still on the mudflat. He stared up at the young woman standing on the roof of the maze, helplessly trying to hide her naked body behind her slim hands. The planes of her face seemed to lead towards some invisible focus, projecting an image that lingered on the walls, as if they were inhabiting her skull. Dr Nathan followed the young man in the laminated suit across the forecourt of the deserted air terminal, the metalled light shivered across the white steps like the defective image in a huge kinetic artifact. Travers started the engine and turned across the central reservation. The resemblance between histologies of lung and kidney has long been noted.

Internal Landscapes. She tried to pull the wig off her head, and then fell sideways across the rail. In all cases explicitly pornographic films were made. Searching for her, he and Catherine Austin drove around the darkening countryside, lost among the labyrinth of billboards. 'Ah, Doctor Austin.' Strangely surprised by even this blemish on her otherwise under-pigmented skin, he bent down and touched it with his lips. Travers rested his head against the mud-caked quarter-window.