The Search for the Dice Man (30 page)

‘Where can we get some dice?’ asked a young hotshot

‘I’ve got some, Sonny,’ said Arlene from nearby. The party from that point on proceeded to go in a direction
neither intended nor expected by Mr Battle. First of all, many of those guests who were morally outraged began to leave, not even saying goodbye to the host, since he was apparently one of
them.

But then, after Mr Battle had abandoned his fruitless sputtering against Larry and stood alone worrying about what people might be thinking, Mr Sato came up to him and gravely shook his hand. According to the translator Mr Sato then said: ‘You are much shrewder man than we think, Mr Battle. We worry that you and your firm too stuck-in-the-muck to be good investment, but we see you have more arms up your sleeve than first appear.’

Mr Battle, who rarely spoke in less than six sentences, replied, after a pause: ‘Uh, yes.’

Arlene Ecstein, playing a grandmotherly matron, came up to him and congratulated him on his party.

‘Rarely,’ she said in a distinctly New England twang, ‘have I had such an interesting time.’

Mr Potter came up with his arm around a young girl.

‘First good party you’ve ever thrown, Battle,’ he said and, his ancient hand clawing the girl’s buttocks, he staggered off.

‘Uh, Mr Battle,’ said Brad Burner, coming up to him pale and shaken. ‘Anything I can do?’ Brad was clearly appalled by all that was happening.

Mr Battle looked at him blankly for close to ten seconds, as he pondered the mystery of life. Was it possible that diceliving was a genetically inherited disease?

‘Uh, yes, Brad,’ he finally said in a subdued voice. ‘Uh, perhaps you could … uh … send someone out to get more dice.’

But of course it didn’t work out for Mr Battle that way either. The party really did get out of hand. When Kim saw what was happening she began introducing people to the emotional roulette she’d learned at Lukedom, and for half an hour about two dozen people got caught in a crying jag.
After Arlene introduced a few people to a dice version of spin-the-bottle couples began to disappear into closets, bathrooms, guest rooms, patios, cellars, attics or, in one or two absolutely inexcusable cases, simply behind or up against the nearest piece of furniture. The water volleyball soon became topless waterball, then nude water volleyball and then nude volleying, and then simply nude balling.

Arlene and Kim encouraged the waiters and waitresses to abandon their narrow roles and join the party as guests or hosts. Guests were encouraged to become waiters and waitresses. One young man took his duties as bartender too seriously and added two dozen ecstasy pills to the supposedly non-alcoholic fruit punch. As a result, many of the more sober-minded guests at the party began to feel somewhat disoriented and laid-back and sensual and to find the abundance of naked flesh flashing in the hallways less objectionable than they’d first thought.

All this might have worked out well enough, and at first it did. Mr Namamuri cornered four of the bouncing breasts he’d been watching all afternoon and, with a little help from the thousand-dollar bills spilling from his suit jacket pocket, got all four breasts into the library, where he perused them at his leisure.

Mr Sato with his aide-translator tightly beside him introduced himself to a lovely woman and invited her to join him in the guest bedroom where he was staying and experience ancient Oriental lovemaking technique, and see why Japanese men were so ‘big’ in the world. Unable to resist such an idea, especially since her employer Shearson Lehman was also on the make for some of Sato’s millions, the lovely young woman went with him. She had a pretty good time too, although it did make her slightly inhibited at first having the translator lying on the bed fully clothed, his mouth always at Mr Sato’s ear.

But all good things must come to an end, and so too did Mr Battle’s memorable ‘Blast the Bastards’ Party.

The dénouement began when Larry finally made up his mind – with the usual disastrous consequences.

He was standing a little drunkenly amid a group of guests who were looking upon him with awe when Honoria broke into the circle looking frazzled and frightened.

‘Get me out of here,’ she said. ‘This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.’

A bit sobered, Larry groped at her arms to steady her and then led her out of the circle of onlookers, though several followed.

‘There’s no place to go,’ he said. ‘This is your house.’

‘This is hell!’ she hissed. ‘If I’m stupid enough to forgive you for causing this disaster, the least you can do is take me back to New York.’

‘We can’t escape this in New York,’ he said, trying to guide her away from the several people who were persisting in following. ‘I’m Larry Rhinehart – I’m carrying hell in my genes.’

Honoria came to a halt and pulled herself out of his grip.

‘What are you saying?’ she asked him.

‘I mean that if you let me into your life then you have to accept chaos,’ Larry said. ‘I’m beginning to see I can’t live without it.’

‘I see,’ she said, drawing herself up straighter. ‘And does choas include Kim?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ he said.

Honoria glared at him for a long moment, biting her lower lip.

‘Then I’ll go alone,’ she said, her voice almost cracking. ‘This whole mess is your fault. I’ll never understand why I had any hope you could escape your father’s madness.’

‘I’m beginning to feel that way myself,’ said Larry, but Honoria had already wheeled and was striding away.

Seeing her leave. Larry felt a wave of sadness and wondered which fate was worse for her – with him or without him.

But otherwise everything was at last completely clear.

He went looking for Kim and soon found her happily teaching a group of five of Celeste’s employees how the dicelife worked. He pulled her away.

‘I’ve never seen people having so much fun in this house,’ she said to him. ‘Why, I think I even saw Hawkins smile.’

‘My life is over,’ said Larry.

‘It is?’ said Kim. That’s wonderful!’

‘You’re all I have left in the world,’ announced Larry. ‘I want you to be my wife.’

‘Oh you do?’ she asked gaily as he began steering her out of the dining area and into a hall. ‘Only when I’m the only one left do I get asked – some proposal!’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ said Larry. ‘I love you and want to marry you. Period.’

As the two of them passed Dr Bickers, he eyed Larry and nodded.

‘At last,’ he said, his most detailed comment of the entire party. Larry, oblivious, passed on.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Kim. ‘I think I’d like to marry you, but I’d like to know how some of the other dice-yous vote on this matter.’

‘It’s not a dice-me, it’s me-me,’ said Larry, leading her up the staircase towards the second floor.

‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘Still I won’t say yes until you’ve proposed to me on three consecutive Saturdays. How’s that?’

‘My love is eternal.’

‘Yes, I know,’ said Kim. ‘But from what I’ve heard most marriages feel as if they last a lot longer than that.’

On the second floor Larry steered her down the hall and opened a door to a guest bedroom.

‘What are we doing?’ asked Kim.

‘I’m sure we’ll figure out something,’ said Larry, and in they went.

Meanwhile, Arlene Ecstein noticed the demure wife of Mr Sato standing in sad dignity all by herself watching bright-eyed the astounding events around her. She went up to Mrs Sato and whispered in her ear. Mrs Sato shook her head: she didn’t speak English. Arlene frowned and then pointed at Jeff who was weaving uncertainly but serenely in their general direction, and then poked a finger in and out of a circle she made with the fingers of her other hand, pumping her pelvis at the same time. Mrs Sato’s eyes brightened further and she minutely bowed.

Arlene grabbed Jeff by the elbow and, as they passed Mrs Sato, she grabbed the Japanese woman’s hand and the three of them weaved their way through the living room towards the hallway. When Jeff questioned their purpose, Arlene explained that it was the will of the Die and Jeff, relieved, walked serenely on. As they were passing Dr Bickers, the grave old philosopher eyed the three of them keenly and said, reverting to his usual succinctness: ‘Mmmmm.’

When Arlene led them into a guest bedroom she was surprised to find it being used by Larry and Kim, but the bed was king-size and this particular Arlene was not high on the niceties of social decorum. Mrs Sato had never been to a party in the United States before, and since everything up to this moment had seemed somewhat past belief, Arlene’s leading her and Jeff to a big bed already occupied by another couple, who were so busy at what they were doing they were oblivious, seemed right in the American style. Jeff, of course, never questioned the wisdom of the Gods.

The rest, of course, is history.

Mr Sato, having taught his new female friend from Shearson Lehman all he knew of ancient Oriental lovemaking technique (which, if truth be known, was the same as modem Western lovemaking technique) began looking for his wife. Mr Battle began looking for Larry. Several men were looking for Arlene.

When Hawkins was asked by Mr Battle if he knew where any of these people might be, he replied with an uncharacteristic giggle that he did, and led them up the stairs to a guest bedroom off the main hallway. Mr Battle, Mr Sato, his translator and several other hangers-on waited as Hawkins, having regained his dignity, gravely opened the door.

On the bed, sitting with his back up against the headboard, was a glassy-eyed and bare-chested Larry. To his left was a smiling and also bare-breasted Kim. To his right was Mrs Sato, giggling demurely, her small breasts jiggling in time to her laughs. Neither Arlene nor Jeff was anywhere in sight, although a toilet flushing could be heard from the guest bathroom.

For a long moment Mr Battle and Mr Sato and the other guests stared in silence at Larry, sprawled back against the headboard between the two women, and Larry and Kim stared back at them.

Then Mr Sato turned to leave. He was feeling a lot less enthusiasm for Larry’s knack.

Most of the guests had an enjoyable and interesting time at the First Annual Battle ‘We Beat Their Pants Off‘ Party, but on Monday morning they had to face the real world of Manhattan.

Mr Battle had to face the press. After an all-morning session with his public relations people and his partners, their strategy was in place: Larry Rhinehart was obviously a secret diceperson who had infiltrated Blair, Battle and Pike and even tried to seduce Mr Battle’s daughter Honoria. Fortunately, he had been exposed by the courageous work of federal law enforcement officials and the
New York Post.
As soon as the story had broken Mr Rhinehart had been dismissed from the firm and expelled from the Battle household. In revenge he had put ecstasy and LSD in the drinks of the Battle house party honouring American war dead and encouraged the guests to run wild. He had even tried to rape the wife of a visiting Japanese businessman, but been halted by the timely intervention of wiser heads.

He also vigorously denied rumours of Honoria’s wearing a diamond engagement ring and of scheduled February nuptials. She had broken off her engagement a month earlier, already suspicious of Larry Rhinehart’s strange behaviour. To recover from the trauma of the party she was taking a three-week vacation in a weight-reduction spa in Puerto Vallarta.

Mr Sato, it turned out on Monday, appreciated that Blair, Battle and Pike had more arms up their sleeve than he’d thought, but didn’t think he wanted to do business with an octopus. Although his senior Vice President Mr Akito seemed intrigued by Larry’s ‘knack’ with dice, Mr Sato
decidedly wasn’t. He could put up with a great deal, but not the sight of his wife in bed with a vice president of the firm he was supposed to be investing in. Besides, he had discovered at the party that Shearson Lehman had an asset he’d been unaware of and he hoped, with any luck, to prolong negotiations with them for at least another week.

Jeff Cannister was promoted to Larry’s post of Vice President and Chief Futures Trader. Rumours that he was a diceperson were categorically denied. People had only to look at his exemplary life of total dedication to the markets and his newfound serenity to know the rumours were false. It was said that Jeff had been a stabilizing influence on Larry and almost saved him from his just fate.

Dr Bickers crossed Larry off his list of patients and began treating Arlene Ecstein. She claimed she was afraid she was a multiple personality. ‘Mmmmm,’ said Dr Bickers.

As for Larry and Kim, they were on their way to find Luke.

FROM LUKE’S JOURNAL

The purpose of society is to train human beings to take themselves and their roles seriously.

Our purpose is to free human beings from the training of society.

It is necessary to resign from the human race – with a forged signature, of course.

In the sky above the Pacific Ocean, in a first-class seat of a JAL Boeing 747, I sat staring out of the window, an unread copy of the
Wall Street Journal
on the empty seat beside me. I was surrounded mostly by Japanese businessmen, several of whom stared at me, then at their newspapers, then back at me, whispering to each other with various degrees of awe. For several days the
Post
had found the Battle party newsworthy.

As I sat there I wondered what had happened to my life. Only four months earlier I’d been well on the road to success, happily employed, happily engaged, confident and secure in all I did. Now I was on the road to failure, unemployed, unengaged, unconfident and insecure. All because of that horrible idea of finding my father. With that single act I had inadvertently set in motion events that seemed to have undone my life. Thank God.

Inadvertently. Accidentally. By chance. With the simple intention of just finding Luke I had somehow created a situation in which the tabloids were damning me and praising me as the ‘evil offshoot’ or ‘worthy successor’ to the very father I’d just months ago set out permanently to disown.

Where was the justice in the world? Where the reason? Where the logical, inevitable, rational unfolding of events that let a reasonable man get ahead in the world?

Kim came suddenly down the aisle and sat down happily beside me. I wasn’t too sure how happy I was going to be as a failure, but though she’d been fired from her job with the health salons – her boss not taking kindly to her sudden open-ended trip to the Far East – Kim was as cheerful as
ever. Since Mr Battle had now totally cut her off, and her lifetime savings consisted of less than eight hundred dollars, she couldn’t really afford this trip, but I’d put our tickets on a BB&P credit expense card before my alleged attempt to rape the wife of the firm’s most important client had got me cut off. ‘I liked my old life,’ I said when she had settled beside

‘So that’s why you spent all those hours with psychotherapists,’ she commented.

‘I liked my old life – even my complaining about my father,’ I said.

‘Now you’ve really got something to complain about.’

‘I bet by the time I find out where my father is he’ll be dead,’ I said. ‘At the last minute he’ll disappear – just like he did when I was twelve.’

‘He might have to,’ said Kim.

‘What’s that mean?’

That FBI agent we saw in Lukedom is in the back row of the plane, puking all over the place.’

‘Really?’

‘Really. You’re still not the only one interested in finding dear old dicedaddy.’

At the Tokyo airport Larry and Kim cleared customs and found a cab to take them to the nearby train station to get into Tokyo. Putt and Macavoy, close behind, leapt into the very next cab and Putt leaned forward and shouted: ‘Follow that cab!’

The Japanese cab driver nodded cheerfully, slammed down the meter and zoomed off. Putt, eyes gleaming, sat back in his seal and watched his cab quickly come up behind the one that contained Larry. He turned to smile at Macavoy.

But then his cab suddenly passed Larry’s cab. Was this some clever Oriental method of tailing that the cabbie was using? Putt looked behind to see what was happening to
Larry and saw the other cab make a right turn and move off in another direction.

‘Hey!’ shouted Putt. The other way! He went right!’

The Japanese smiled and nodded and went even faster as he tore up the ramp to get on the expressway to Tokyo.

‘No, no, no!’ shouted Putt. ‘Other way! Reverse! Turn around!’ He made circles with his hands, he pointed, he shouted, he raved, he collapsed. Through it all the cab driver merely smiled and nodded. The meter ticked on.

Ditonics was housed in a medium-sized skyscraper in the heart of downtown Tokyo. The architecture was magnificently modem, with long concrete curves, huge planes of glass, and several monumental modem sculptures. The building epitomized everything that Lukedom was not. When their cab from the train deposited them in front of this edifice, one look at it made both Larry and Kim feel that they must be on a wild goose chase. No element of chance could have created this building or the wealth necessary to pay for it. Their hearts sank.

The lobby was equally impressive, with the ceiling almost a hundred feet above the main part of the lobby and magnificent curved staircases soaring up to the various levels that led off this main lobby. Their hearts sank further.

But then there was the logo: a cubic design with the letters D and I in two of the three visible sides of the cube. Of course a cube didn’t have to represent a die. But then again, why the name Ditonics? Was Ditonics a Japanese word? Could Luke really have had anything to do with this corporation?

One of the receptionists spoke flawless English. When they told her they were here to write a history of the corporation for a New York magazine she referred them to their Public Relations Director.

Mr Uro also spoke English, and after they had established
their interest in the history of the corporation, Larry asked casually how the corporation had gotten its name. Mr Uro said he didn’t know. Larry asked what the logo was supposed to mean. Mr Uro said he didn’t know. Kim asked if an American named Luke Rhinehart had had anything to do with the creation of the corporation. Mr Uro said he didn’t know.

However, he was clearly made uncomfortable by these questions. After having a woman bring them tea he asked to be excused for a short time.

Half an hour later he apologetically returned and said he had found someone who might perhaps better answer their questions.

Mr Mora was an elderly Japanese, dressed, as were all the men they met, in the standard business suit. He was a frail man with a mild twinkle in his eye who greeted them warmly in a large office on the thirty-ninth floor. He understood they were interested in the history of Ditonics and had mentioned an American named Luke Rhinehart.

‘May I ask what your interest is in this American named Luke Rhinehart?’ Mr Mora asked.

‘I’m his son,’ Larry said. ‘I haven’t seen him in fifteen years. I want to find him.’

‘And why do you think he might be in Tokyo?’ asked Mr Mora.

‘Because Ditonics has been sending money to some enterprises that my father created many years ago and to his old friend Jake Ecstein,’ answered Larry.

‘Ah, is that so?’ said Mr Mora, nodding and with his omnipresent soft smile. ‘How interesting.’

‘We thought so,’ said Kim.

‘You must know something about that funding,’ said Larry, ‘and therefore something about my father.’

‘Is that so?’ said Mr Mora, nodding and smiling. ‘How interesting.’

‘So would you mind sharing this knowledge with us?’ suggested Kim.

‘That would be interesting, too,’ said Mr Mora. ‘But first it is my duty to take you on a tour of Ditonics. I cannot explain the funding you speak of unless you know about our whole corporation. Will you, please?’

Mr Mora had risen from behind his desk and began to leave the room, bowing and beckoning Larry and Kim to follow. In the anteroom outside, a nervous-looking Mr Uro was waiting. Together the four of them began to take a look at Ditonics.

What struck Larry most strongly about the corporation and its operation was how closely it resembled what he had read about every other Japanese corporation. Everywhere they went everyone seemed to be working hard; everyone was dressed like everyone else; each office seemed similar to the one before. They saw a group of employees doing calisthenics before lunch, another group meditating. They saw massive armies of computers.

Mr Uro explained that Ditonics was a multifaceted company dealing primarily in creating computer software for design programs for other companies. For example, they had created many design programs that Toyota and Honda and other Japanese car companies used in designing their automobiles. Ditonics had created other programs for the Japanese fashion industry, which, he pointed out, was now one of the leaders in the world. Also design programs for leading architects, including the one that had designed the building they were in. They also created design programs for Sony, Hitachi and other Japanese producers of video and sound equipment. They also created video games.

In addition to their computer software work, they invested in other enterprises throughout the world, usually on a small scale – as with Lukedom. They also funded studies about the effectiveness of some of these enterprises.

After an hour of peering at one roomful of hard-working Japanese men after another and the seemingly endless
monologue of Mr Uro on the boring businesses of Ditonics, Larry and Kim were at a loss to see what all this had to do with Luke Rhinehart. Then Mr Mora invited them to lunch.

The three of them ate alone in the executive dining room.

‘You ask earlier,’ Mr Mora said, after they had eaten the main meal and were lingering over brandy, ‘if Luke Rhinehart create Ditonics. Not so. Ditonics founded by Japanese computer expert, Iko Tarowu. However, something we not yet tell you throw a different light on Ditonics.’

He paused, took a sip of his brandy and, eyes twinkling,

‘Ditonics has succeeded because we have secret formula,’ he said. ‘Formula created by Iko Tarowu more than twelve years ago.’ Again he paused. ‘Mr Tarowu developed technique of introducing random elements into every piece oí design software. He felt that as animal species have been improved over millions of years by chance mutations so too designs might be improved by chance mutation.’

Larry and Kim watched him, listening, knowing that this was leading them closer to Luke Rhinehart.

‘In designing a car you feed in variables and design values and you push button and you get nice-looking car. A car that is nice-looking like other cars have been nice-looking. With random element introduced you get ugly cars, cars with flaws, cars with big noses or no ears, cars with one leg or pimples.’ He smiled broadly for the first time. ‘And, one time in ten thousand, you get beautiful car, a car beautiful and interesting in a way rational software never produce. You get a successful mutant.’

Larry and Kim simply waited for him to go on.

‘Actually I say one in ten thousand,’ Mr Mora went on after a brief frown. ‘Not so. It more like one in ten million. We don’t just introduce one random element into software,
but have to introduce many different random elements in random combinations in order to create our beautiful mutants. But when we succeed we come up with something that no one else ever think of, something no one else’s software ever possibly come up with, because everyone else following reason and cause and effect and purpose and these can only lead to slight modifications of things we already have and know. Ditonics alone produces mutants.’

He leaned back in his chair and looked pleased. ‘Did Mr Iko know Luke Rhinehart?’ asked Kim softly.

‘Mr Tarowu,’ Mr Mora corrected. ‘Yes, he did. Mr Tarowu was … what do you call it … hippie in London in early 1970s. He read your father’s book. He conclude chance is important. He return to Japan and became Japanese again. He create Ditonics.’ Mr Mora smiled.

‘Does my father work here in Ditonics?’ Larry asked.

‘Not any more,’ said Mr Mora without pause.

‘Where is he?’ asked Larry.

‘Your father is in Zen monastery near Kyoto,’ answered Mr Mora.

‘Thank you,’ said Larry.

‘He is expecting you,’ said Mr Mora.