number
two: Larry, Fred Boyd, Frank Osterflood, Miss Welish, H. J. Wipple (philanthropic benefactor of the Dice Centers) or
someone I had first met at a party.
Anxiety flushed through my system like a poison, primarily at the thought of killing my son. I had only seen him once
since leaving so suddenly fifteen months before and he had been distant and embarrassed after a first leap into my
arms of genuine affection. He was also the first dice-boy in world history and it would be a shame .. . No, no, not
Larry. Or at least let's hope not. And Fred Boyd, my right arm, one of the leading practitioners and advocates of dice
therapy and a man I liked very much. His in-and-out relationship with Lil made the murder of either him or Larry
particularly unpleasant; to murder Fred seemed motivated and was thus doubly disturbing.
Anxiety is a difficult emotion to describe. The colorful leaves outside the window no longer seemed vibrant; they
seemed glossy as if being revealed in an overexposed Technicolor film. The twitter of the birds sounded like a radio
commercial. My new beagle puppy snored in a corner as if she were a debauched old bitch. The day seemed overcast
even as the sun reflecting off a white tablecloth in the dining room blinded my eyes.
Still, there was a Die to be served. I prayed
`Oh Holy Die,
Thy hand is raised to fall and I thy simple sword.
Wield me.
Your Way is beyond our comprehension.
If I must sacrifice my son in thy Name, my son shall die:
lesser Gods than Thee have demanded thus of their followers.
If I must cut off my right arm to show the
Greatness of Thy Accidental Power, my arm shall fall.
You have made me great by thy commands, you have made me joyful and free. You have chosen that I kill, I shall
kill.
Great Creator Cube, help me to kill.
Choose thy victim that I may strike.
Point the way that I thy sword may enter.
He who is chosen will die smiling in the fulfillment of thy Whim.
Amen.'
I dropped a die to the floor quickly, as if it were a snake. A three: it was my duty to try to kill Frank Osterflood.
Chapter Seventy-seven
From the Bhagavad-Gita To Arjuna, who was thus overcome by pity, whose eyes were filled with tears and who was
troubled and much depressed in mind, the Lord Krishna said Whence has come to thee this dejection of spirit in this
hour of crisis? It is unknown to men of noble mind; it does not lead to heaven; on earth it causes disgrace, O Arjuna.
Yield not to this unmanliness, O Arjuna, for it does not become thee. Cast off this petty faintheartedness and arise, O
Oppressor of the foes.
Arjuna said How can I strike, O Krishna, O slayer of foes? It is better to live in this world by begging than to slay
another … My very being 'is stricken with pity. With my mind bewildered about my duty, I ask Thee to tell me that
which I should do.
Having thus addressed the Lord Krishna, the mighty Arjuna said to Krishna: `I will not kill,' and become silent.
To him thus depressed in the midst of two paths, Krishna, smiling as it were, spoke this word. The Blessed Lord said
Thou grievest for one whom thou shouldst not grieve for, and yet thou speakest words about wisdom. Wise men do not
grieve for the dead or the living.
Never was there a time when I was not, nor thou, nor these lords of men, nor will there ever be a time hereafter when
we shall cease to be.
As the soul passes in this body through childhood, youth and age, even so it its taking on of another body. The sage is
not perplexed by this.
Of the nonexistent there is no coming to be; of the existent there is no ceasing to be. Know thou that that by which all
this is pervaded is indestructible. Of this immutable being, no one can bring about the destruction. Therefore, O
Arjuna, thy duty shouldst be performed.
He who thinks that he slays and he who thinks that he is slain; both of them fail to perceive the truth; no one slays, nor
is one slain. Therefore, O Arjuna, thy duty shouldst be performed.
He is never born, nor does he die at any time, nor having once come to be does he again cease to. be. He is unborn,
eternal, permanent and primeval. He is not slain when the body is slain. Therefore, knowing him as such, thou shouldst
not grieve and thy duty shouldst be performed. Pick up thy die, O Arjuna, and kill.
(Edited for The Book of the Die)
Chapter Seventy-eight
I hadn't heard of Frank Osterflood in close to a year, and I genuinely looked forward to seeing him again. He had
responded pretty well for a while to dice therapy first with me and then in a group with Fred Boyd. When he
experienced the need to rape someone - boy or girl - as an arbitrary decision of the dice, it freed him from the great
burden of guilt, which had normally accompanied and magnified the act. And with the elimination of the guilt he discovered he had lost much of his desire to rape. I insisted, of course, that he had to try to carry through with any dice-dictated rape even though he didn't feel like it. He succeeded, found it a disgusting experience. I praised him for following the will of the Die, and he cut back drastically on the possibility of rape among his options and then eliminated it.
