Eco: Foucalt's Pendulum eco foucault (highly illogical behavior txt) 📖

spectator,because you read yourself on the screen as if the words belonged toanother, but you have fallen into the trap: you, too, are trying toleave footprints on the sands of time. You have dared to change thetext of the romance of the world, and the romance of the world hastaken you instead into its coils and involved you in its plot, aplot not of your making.

You would have donebetter to remain among your islands, Seven Seas Jim, and let herbelieve you were dead.

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The National Socialistparty did not tolerate secret societies, because it was itself asecret society, with its grand master, its racist gnosis, its ritesand initiations.

¡XRene Alleau, Lessources occultes du nazisme. Paris, Grasset 1969, p. 214

It was around this timethat Aglie slipped through our fingers. That was the expressionBelbo used, with a tone of excessive indifference. I attributed theindifference once again to jealousy. Silently obsessed by Aglie'spower over Lorenza, aloud he wisecracked about the power Aglie wasgaining at Garamond.

Perhaps it was our ownfault. Aglie had begun seducing Garamond almost a year earlier,from the time of the alchemistie party in Piedmont. Soon afterthat, Garamond entrusted the SFA file to him, for him to recruitnew victims to flesh out the Isis Unveiled catalog; by now,Garamond consulted him on every decision, and no doubt gave him amonthly check. Gudrun, who carried out periodic expeditions to theend of the corridor and beyond the glass door that gave access tothe padded world of Manutius, told us from time to time, in aworried voice, that Aglie had practically established himself inthe office of Signora Grazia; he dictated letters to her, escortednew visitors into Gar-amond's office, and, in short¡Xand hereGudrun's indignation robbed her of even more vowels¡Xacted as if heowned the place. We really should have wondered why Aglie spenthours and hours on the Manutius address file. Selecting the SFAs toinvite to join the list of authors for Isis Unveiled should nothave taken that much time. Yet he went on writing, contacting,making appointments.

But we actually fosteredhis autonomy. The situation suited Belbo. More Aglie in ViaMarchese Gualdi meant less Aglie in Via Sincere Renato. Thus, whenLorenza Pellegrini made one of her sudden appearances, and Belbo,with unconcealed excitement, became pathetically radiant, there wasless likelihood that "Simon" would barge in ruinously.

I wasn't displeased,either, since by now I had lost interest in Isis Unveiled and wasmore and more involved in my history of magic. Feeling I hadlearned from the Diabolicals everything there was to learn, I letAglie handle the contacts (and contracts) with the newauthors.

Nor did Diotalleviobject. In general, the world seemed to matter less and less tohim. Now that I think back, I realize that he continued losingweight in a troubling way. At times I would see him in his officebent over a manuscript, his eyes vacant, his pen about to drop fromhis hand. He wasn't asleep; he was exhausted.

There was another reasonwe accepted the increasing rarity of Aglie's appearances, and theirbrevity¡Xfor he would simply hand back to us the manuscripts he hadrejected, then vanish into the corridor. The fact was, we didn'twant him to hear our discussions. If anyone had asked us why, wewould have said it was out of delicacy, or embarrassment, since wewere parodying the metaphysics in which he somehow believed. But itwas really distrust on our part; we were slowly assuming thenatural reserve of those who possess a secret, we were puttingAglie in the role of the profane masses as we took more and moreseriously the thing we had invented. Perhaps, too, as Diotallevisaid in a moment of good humor, now that we had a realSaint-Germain, we didn't need an imitation.

Aglie didn't seem totake offense at our reserve. He would greet us, then leave us, witha politeness that bordered on hauteur.

One Monday morning Iarrived at work late, and Belbq eagerly asked me to come to hisoffice, calling Diotallevi, too. "Big news," he said. But before hecould begin, Lorenza arrived. Belbo was torn between his joy atthis visit and his impatience to tell what he had discovered. Amoment later, there was a knock, and Aglie stuck his head in. "Idon't want to disturb you. Please don't get up. I haven't theauthority to intrude on such a consistory. I only wanted to tellour dearest Lorenza that I'm in Signor Garamond's office. And Ihope I have at least the authority to summon her for a sherry atnoon, in my office."

In his office! This timeBelbo lost self-control. To the extent, that is, that he could loseit. He waited for Aglie to leave, then muttered through clenchedteeth: "Ma gavte la nata."

Lorenza, still showingher pleasure at the invitation, asked Belbo what thatmeant.

"It's Turin dialect. Itmeans, literally, ¡¥Be so kind as to remove the cork.' A pompous,self-important, overweening individual is thought to hold himselfthe way he does because of a cork stuck in his sphincter ani, whichprevents his vaporific dignity from being dispersed. The removal ofthe cork causes the individual to deflate, a process usuallyaccompanied by a shrill whistle and the reduction of the outerenvelope to a poor flesh-less phantom of its formerself."

"I didn't know you couldbe so vulgar."

¡¥¡¥ Now youknow."

Lorenza went out,pretending to be annoyed. I knew this distressed Belbo all themore: real anger would have reassured him, but a pretense ofirritation only confirmed his fear that, from Lorenza, the displayof any passion was always staged, theatrical.

He said then, with grimdetermination, "To business." Meaning: Let's proceed with the Plan,seriously.

"I don't much want to,"Diotallevi said. "I don't feel well. I have a pain here,"¡Xhetouched his stomach¡X"I think it's gastritis."

"Ridiculous," Belbo saidto him. "/don't have gastritis...What could give you gastritis?Mineral water?"

"Could be," Diotallevisaid with a wan smile. "Last night I overdid it. I'm accustomed tostill Fiuggi, and I drank some fizzy San Pellegrino."

"You must be careful.Such excesses could kill you. But to business, gentlemen. I've beendying to tell you for two days now...Finally, I know why theThirty-six Invisibles were unable, for centuries, to work out theform of the map. John Dee got it wrong; the geography has to bedone over. We live inside a hollow earth, enclosed by theterrestrial surface. Hitler realized this."

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Nazism was