They were both silent for a long time. The Oracle's eyes had lost their vibrancy, and seemed extinguished by the pouches of dying skin beneath them.
Christian said, 'I'm really worried about Francis. He can't take much more.
If something happens to her…'
The Oracle said, 'There will be a very dangerous confrontation. You know, I remember Francis Kennedy as a little boy. Even then I was struck by how he dominated his cousins. He was a natural hero, even as a young boy. He defended the smaller ones, he made peace. And sometimes he did more damage than any of the bullies would have done. Black eyes darkened in the name of virtue.'
The Oracle paused and Christian poured him some hot tea though the cup was still more than half full. He knew the old man could not taste anything unless it was very hot or very cold.
Christian said, 'Whatever the President tells me to do, I'll do it.'
The Oracle's eyes were suddenly very bright and visible. He said musingly,
'You've become a very dangerous man in these past years, Christian. But not terribly original. All through history there have been men, some considered 'great,' who have had to choose between God and country. And some very religious men have chosen country over God, believing they would go to everlasting hell, thinking it noble. But, Christian', we have come to a time when we must decide whether to give our lives to our country or to help mankind continue to exist. We live in a nuclear age. That is the new and interesting question, a question never before posed to individual men. Think in those terms. If you side with your President, do you endanger mankind? It's not so simple as rejecting God.'
'It doesn't matter,' Christian said. 'I know Francis is better than
Congress, the Socrates Club and the terrorists.'
The Oracle said, 'I've always wondered about your overwhelming loyalty to Francis Kennedy. There are some vulgar gossips who say it's a very faggy business. On your part. Not his. Which is odd, since you have women and he does not, not since the death of his wife three years ago. But why do the people around Kennedy hold him in such veneration, when he's recognized as a political dunderhead? All those reformist and regulatory laws he tried to shove down that dinosaur Congress's throat. I thought that you were smarter than that, but I presume you were overruled. Still, your inordinate affection for Kennedy is a mystery to me.'
'He's the man I always wished I could be,' Christian said. 'It's as simple as that.'
'Then you and I would not have been such longtime friends,' the Oracle said. 'I never cared for Francis Kennedy.'
'He's just better than anybody else,' Christian said. 'I've known him for over twenty years, and he's the only politician who has been honest with the public, he doesn't lie to them.'
The Oracle said dryly, 'The man you described could never be elected
President of the United States.' He seemed to puff out his insect body, his shiny-skinned hands tapped the controls of his wheelchair. The Oracle leaned back. Above the dark suit, the ivory shirt and simple blue streak of his tie, the glazed face looked like a piece of mahogany. He said, 'His charm escapes me, but we never got on. Now I must warn you. Every man in his lifetime makes many mistakes. That is human, and unavoidable. The trick is never to make the mistake that destroys you. Beware of your friend Kennedy, who is so virtuous, remember that evil can spring from the desire to do good. Be careful.'
'Character doesn't change,' Christian said confidently.
The Oracle fluttered his arms like bird wings. 'Yes, it does,' he said.
'Pain changes character. Sorrow changes character. Love and money, certainly. And time erodes character. Let me tell you a little story. When I was a man of fifty, I had a mistress thirty years younger than myself.
She had a brother who was ten years older than she, about thirty. I was her mentor, as I was with all my young women. I had their interests at heart.
Her brother was a Wall Street hotshot and a careless man, which later got him into big trouble. Now, I was never jealous-she went out with young men.
But on her twenty-first birthday, her brother gave a party and as a joke hired a male stripper to perform before her and her friends. It was all above board, they made no secret of it. But I was always conscious of my homeliness, my lack of physical appeal to women. And so I was affronted, and that was unworthy of me. We all remained friends and she went on to marriage and a career. I went on to younger mistresses. Ten years later her brother gets into financial trouble, as many of those Wall Street types do.
Inside tips, finagling with money entrusted to him. Very serious trouble that landed him a couple of years in prison and of course the end of his career.
'By this time I was sixty years old, still friends with both of them.
They never asked for my help, they really didn't know the extent of what
I could do. I could have saved him but I never lifted a finger. I let him go down the drain. And ten years later it came to me that I didn't help him because of that foolish little trick of his, letting his sister see the body of a man so much younger than myself. And it wasn't sexual jealousy, it was the affront to my power, or the power I thought I had.
I've thought of that often. It is one of the few things in my life that shame me. I would never have been guilty of such an act at thirty or at seventy. Why at sixty? Character does change. That is man's triumph and his tragedy.'
Christian switched to the brandy that the Oracle had provided. It was delicious and very expensive. The Oracle always served the very best.
Christian enjoyed it, though he would never buy it; born rich, he never felt he deserved to treat himself so well. He said, 'I've known you all my life, over forty-five years, and you haven't changed. You are going to be a hundred next week. And you're still the great man I always thought you were.'
The Oracle shook his head. 'You know me only in my old age, from sixty to a hundred. That means nothing. The venom is gone then and the strength to enforce it. It's no trick to be virtuous in old age, as that humbug Tolstoy knew.' He paused and sighed. 'Now, how about this great birthday party of mine? Your friend Kennedy never really liked me and I know you pushed the idea of the White House Rose Garden and a big media event. Is he using this crisis situation to get out of it?'
Christian said, 'No, no, he values your life's work, he wants to do it. Oliver, you were and are a great man. Just hang on. Hell, what's a few months after a hundred years?' He paused. 'But if you prefer, since you don't like Francis, we can forget about his big plans for your birthday party, mass coverage by the media, your name and picture in all the papers and on TV. I can always throw you a little private party right away and get the whole thing over with.' He smiled at the Oracle to show that he was joking. Sometimes the old man took him too literally.
'Thank you, but no,' the Oracle said. 'I want to have something to live for. Namely, a birthday party given by the President of the United States.
But let me tell you, your Kennedy is shrewd. He knows my name still means something. The publicity will enhance his image. Your Francis Xavier Kennedy is as crafty as was his uncle Jack. Now, Bobby would have shown me the back of his hand.'
Christian said, 'None of your contemporaries are left, but your prot6g6s are some of the great men and women in the country, and they look forward to doing you this honor. Including the President. He doesn't forget that you helped him on his way. He's even inviting your buddies in the Socrates Club and he hates them. It will be your best birthday party.'
'And my last,' the Oracle said. 'I'm hanging on by my fucking fingernails.'
Christian laughed. The Oracle had never used bad language until he was ninety, so now he used it as innocently as a child.
'That's settled,' the Oracle said. 'Now let me tell you something about great men, Kennedy and myself included. They finally consume themselves and the people around them. Not that I concede your Kennedy is a great man. So he's become President of the United States. But that is an illusionist's trick. Do you know, by the way, that in show business the magician is considered to be completely without artistic talent?' Here the Oracle cocked his head; he astonishingly resembled an owl.
'I will concede that Kennedy is not your typical politician,' the Oracle said. 'He is an idealist, he is far more intelligent and he has morals, though I wonder whether sexual rigidity is healthy. But all these virtues are a handicap to political greatness. A man without a vice? A sailing ship without a sail!'
