Cult Classic(30)

“I don’t prefer to think anything.”

“It will transcend genre. And no, it’s not a ‘cult.’ And no, you’re not being sold into ‘sex slavery.’”

“Why are you using air quotes around sex slavery?”

Vadis was beaming, as if Clive’s words were confirmation of her existence.

“Really?”

“I don’t know why you’re being pissy with me.”

“Well, I’m not joining your cult-non-cult secret rich-person association, so you can forget about initiating me. Or making me sniff quartz or whatever. I don’t even belong to a gym. This is a waste of a perfectly good kidnapping.”

Clive got up from his seat, strolled over, and put his hand on my shoulder. The comfort of it threw me. I’d seen him put his hand on a lot of people’s shoulders, strangers on TV who would break down at a mere “what’s this really about?” from Clive. They had felt the same weight of the same hand. I hated how effective it was. Boots was the only person I knew who was immune to it. Once, when we were all at dinner, he wondered if Clive had a limp. When I asked what had led him to this conclusion, he said it was because Clive kept leaning on his shoulder every time he got up from the table.

“He’s not using you for help,” I explained, “he’s trying to own you.”

I don’t know why I never listened to my own advice.

“Do you remember Soren J?rgensen?” Clive asked.

“Another surrealist painter?”

“An elevator repairman who founded a TM-based thought movement. I interviewed him for the magazine. J?rgensen had no formal education but in the early seventies, he began theorizing the human mind was similar to the pulleys and wheels of a traction elevator like the one that brought you up here. When you call for an elevator, it seems as if the cab is being pushed up from below or down from above. Just like when you have a new thought it seems like it’s being pushed from the inside out. Even if that thought is triggered by outside stimuli, your brain parses those stimuli and acts accordingly. But according to J?rgensen, our thoughts don’t always come from where we think they come from.”

“Clive.”

“Yes?”

“A Swedish elevator repairman did not discover the subconscious.”

“Danish. And we’re not talking about the subconscious. We’re talking about the assumption that all thought is coming from inside the house. J?rgensen theorized that a percentage of who we are is not just stimulated by external forces but beholden to them.”

“It’s not a theory; you’re talking about mind control.”

He shuddered, as if he’d bitten into something rotten.

“You do it every day.” He spoke through his teeth. “Your brain waves emit electromagnetic impulses that transfer energy to other people. It’s the power of suggestion. You’re doing it right now.”

“Then what am I thinking?”

“Nothin’ good,” said Vadis, under her breath.

“We’re not psychic, Lola.”

“How many people are involved in this?”

“A little over fifty.”

“Good God.”

“J?rgensen never thought one person could make another person do anything. But the influence we have over the consciousness of our fellow man has been exacerbated by technology. Much as we’d like to think of ourselves as hydraulic elevators, we are traction elevators.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, you founded a mind control cult with an espresso machine in it. I’m very happy for you.”

“It’s not mind control,” he said, struggling to keep his voice level. “It’s ethical persuasion, not coercive persuasion. We’re not keeping people here through fear and intimidation. It’s a combination of subliminal messaging mixed with meditation.”

“Still happy for you. But why am I here?”

He and Vadis exchanged glances. Clive nodded at her to speak.

“Okay, so if we see all of mankind as a single network,” Vadis began, grateful to have been passed the conch, “then you can inject enough energy into one part of the network and it has an impact on another part. Like pulling a thread. Like when your engagement ring ruins the cashmere sweater I lent you. For instance.”

“Some guy left that sweater at your house, you don’t even know who.”

“Not the point.”

“Vadis’s saying that we can use a marriage of holistic and technological techniques, positive and negative reinforcement, to encourage certain behaviors. Certain movement.”

Clive loosened his tie, as if warming up a studio audience. It was difficult to be around him when he was like this. It felt like being physically shaken.

“Do you need a whiteboard?”

“Imagine,” he said, ignoring me, “walking around this city in the hours before you’ve been told a hurricane is gonna hit. A breeze blows that is in no way different from any other breeze. Trash that is in no way different from any other trash spins in a circle that is in no way different—”

“I get it. Trash.”

“And yet!” he shouted. “Because you were told something is afoot, you can feel the city turning its many eyes to the same subject. The conversations change, the social media posts change. Collective energy can overpower individual energy, particularly if we can magnetize one specific individual. Which is where you’ve been coming in.”