The Last Samurai

The researchers stopped working with mothers of cloth & went on to produce monstrous mothers of flesh, they reared female monkeys in isolation & arranged for their impregnation & when the babies were born some mothers were indifferent & others were brutal or lethal they would crush the infant’s skull with their teeth or smash its face to the floor & rub it back & forth and what if

I thought: Let’s think about this rationally or rather let’s not think about this at all. I thought: I have not slept for a long time, I will go to bed and when I wake up everything will look different.

I thought: This research raises more questions than it answers, the thing that would be really interesting would be a psychological profile of the type of person who instead of occupying himself with Aristarchus and Zenodotus and Didymus addresses himself to producing psychopathology in the infant monkey. I tried to persuade myself that the chief researcher was probably a pre-Spock baby, I thought there was a doctor pre-Spock who for a while held the influential theory that a baby should be held to a timetable & fed according to timetable regardless of cries screams etc., but I would have liked to know for sure. What was to stop Ludo from reading of monkeys placed for 45 days in a vertical chamber with stainless-steel sides producing severe and persistent psychopathological behaviour of a depressive nature for 9 months or more & determining that much remained to be done in examining the relative importance of chamber size, chamber shape, duration of confinement, age at time of confinement & other factors & how could I be sure that on reaching adulthood he would not always be looking for a surrogate monkey for a mother

I slept for a long time and when I woke up I felt better.

I thought: He starts school in the fall.

I thought if I went downstairs I would probably not bite his head off so I went downstairs.

Ludo was sitting on the floor.

He said I’ve finished Odyssey 24!

I said cordially That’s WONDERFUL

and because I always do what I say I’ll do I said Well, shall I teach you the hiragana?

And he said It’s all right, I already know it.

I said What?

He said I learned it myself. Out of the Japanese Reader.

I said Well, do you want me to teach you the katakana?

He said I know that too. It wasn’t too hard.

I said When did you do this?

He said A couple of weeks ago. I thought I would spare you the hassle.

I said that was wonderful. I said Write it down for me now so I can see you got it right,

and he wrote on a piece of graph paper the little grid of hiragana and the little grid of katakana and he said See? It’s easy.

I looked at it and it looked right so I said That’s fantastic. I kissed him four or five thousand times & I said Aren’t you smart? I said What else do you know? Do you know lots of words?

He said he knew some words. He said he knew Tadaima and Ohaiyogozaimasu and Konnichiwa and Sayonara and Tada kassen ni wa zuibun deta ga.

I said this was very good. I said Well do you want me to show you some kanji?

He said I think I can probably do it myself.

I knew what this meant, it meant for all my good intentions I had been a monster. I said I’m sure you can do it yourself. I said Well would you like me to explain the system?

He said OK.

I explained the system.

7

End of the Line

I came downstairs early to get ready for his birthday.

I put things away for three hours and I found various notes I had made for posterity. I am not sure how helpful they will be for posterity—but on reflection I think the thing to do is approach the subject in a systematic way once he is in school. He starts in a few months; the fact is that in five consecutive hours I could say everything that needs to be said. I have put the notes in a file.

Ludo is still sleeping—he stayed up till 3:00 in the morning last night because it was the night before his birthday and I said he could stay up as late as he wanted. I will watch a video until he gets up.

40 bandits stop on a hill above a village in Japan. They decide to raid it after the barley harvest. A farmer overhears.

A village meeting is held. The farmers despair.

1 leaps to his feet with burning eyes.

Let’s make bamboo spears! Let’s kill all the bandits!

You can’t, says 2.

Impossible, says 3.

A soft rain is falling. The brown paper window pane is fluttering in the air.

The farmers consult the village patriarch.

He tells them to find hungry samurai.