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

something, for a message that one of those millions ofpeople¡Xthe Jerusalemite representative of the Thirty-sixInvisibles¡Xwas hiding in the hem of a garment, or in his mouth, orhad tattooed on his body...Only the Plan explains the inexplicablebureaucracy of this genocide! Hitler was searching the Jews for theclue that would allow him to determine, with the Pendulum, theexact point under the earth's concave vault where the telluriccurrents converged.

"And now you see thebeauty of the idea. The telluric currents become equated with thecelestial currents. The hollow-earth theory gives new life to theage-old hermetic intuition, namely, that what lies beneath is equalto what lies above! The Mystic Pole coincides with the Heart of theEarth. The secret pattern of the stars is nothing other than thesecret pattern of the subterranean passages of Agarttha. There isno longer any difference between heaven and hell, and the Grail,the lapis exillis, is the lapis ex coelis, the philosopher's stone,the terminal, the limit, the chthonian uterus of the empyrean! Andif Hitler can identify that point in the hollow center of theearth, which is also the exact center of the sky, he will be Masterof the World, whose king he is by right of race. And that's why, tothe very end, in the depths of his bunker, he thought he couldstill control the Mystic Pole."

"Stop," Diotallevi said."Enough is enough. I'm sick."

"He's really sick. It'snot an ideological protest," I said.

Belbo finallyunderstood. Concerned, he went to Diotallevi, who was leaningagainst the desk, apparently on the verge of fainting. "Sorry, myfriend. I got carried away. You're sure it's not anything I said?We've joked together for twenty years, you and I. Maybe you do havegastritis. Look, try a Merankol tablet and a hot-water bottle.Come, I'll drive you home. Then you'd better call a doctor, haveyourself looked at."

Diotallevi said he couldtake a taxi home, he wasn't at death's door yet. He just had to liedown. Yes, he would call a doctor, he promised. And it wasn't theHolocaust business that had upset him; he had been feeling badsince the previous evening. Belbo, relieved, went with him to thetaxi.

When he came back, helooked worried. "Now that I think about it, Diotallevi hasn't beenhimself for several weeks. Those circles under his eyes....It's notfair; I should have died of cirrhosis ten years ago, and here I am,the picture of health, whereas he lives like an ascetic and hasgastritis or maybe worse. If you ask me, it's an ulcer. To hellwith the Plan. We're not living right."

"A Merankol will fix himup," I said.

"Yes, and a hot-waterbottle on his stomach. Let's hope he acts sensibly."

101

Qui operator inCabala...si errabit in opere aut non purificatus accesserit,deuorabitur ab Azazale.

¡XPico della Mirandola,Conclusiones Magicae

Diotallevi's conditiontook a decided turn for the worse in late November. He called theoffice to say he was going into the hospital. The doctor had toldhim there was nothing to worry about, but it would be a good ideato have some tests.

Belbo and I somehowconnected Diotallevi's illness with the Plan, which perhaps we hadcarried too far. It was irrational, but we felt guilty. This wasthe second time I seemed to be Belbo's partner in crime. Once, wehad remained silent together, withholding information from DeAngelis; and now we had talked too much. We told each other thiswas silly, but we couldn't shake off our uneasiness. And so, for amonth or more, we did not discuss the Plan.

Meanwhile, after he hadbeen out for two weeks or so, Dio-tallevi dropped by to tell us, ina nonchalant tone, that he had asked Garamond for sick leave. Atreatment had been recommended to him. He didn't go into details,but it involved his reporting to the hospital every two or threedays, and it would leave him somewhat weak. I didn't see how hecould get much weaker; his face now was as white as hishair.

"And forget about thosestories," he said. "They're bad for the health, as you'll see. It'sthe Rosicrucians' revenge."

"Don't worry," Belbosaid to him, smiling. "We'll make life really unpleasant for thoseRosicrucians, and they'll leave you alone. Nothing to it." And hesnapped his fingers.

The treatment lasteduntil the beginning of the new year. I was absorbed by my historyof magic¡Xthe real thing, serious stuff, I said to myself, not ournonsense. Garamond came by at least once a day to ask for news ofDiotallevi. "And please, gentlemen, let me know if any need arises,any problem, any circumstance in which I, the firm, can dosomething for our admirable friend. For me, he's like a son¡Xmore,a brother¡X and thank heaven this is a civilized country, whateverpeople may say; we have a public health system we can be proudof."

Aglie expressed concern,asked for the name of the hospital, and telephoned its director, adear friend (who, moreover, happened to be the brother of an SEAwith whom Aglie was on excellent terms). Diotallevi would betreated with special consideration.

Lorenza showed up oftento ask for news. This should have made Belbo happy, but he took itas another indication that his prognosis was not good. Lorenza wasthere, but still elusive, because she wasn't there forhim.

Shortly beforeChristmas, I'd caught a snatch of their conversation. Lorenza wassaying to him: "The snow is just right, and they have charminglittle rooms. You can do cross-country skiing, can't you?" Iconcluded that they would be spending New Year's Eve together. Butone day after Epiphany, when Lorenza appeared in the corridor,Belbo said to her, "Happy New Year," and dodged her attempt to givehim a hug.

102

Leaving this place, wecame to a settlement known as Milestre....where it is said that oneknown as the Old Man of the Mountain dwelled...And he built, overhigh mountains surrounding a valley, a very thick and high wall, ina circuit of thirty miles, and it was entered by two doors, andthey were hidden, cut into the mountain.

¡XOdorico da Pordenone,De rebus incognitis, Impressus Esauri, 1513, xxi, p. 15

One day, at the end ofJanuary, as I was walking along Via Marchese Gualdi, where I hadparked my car, I saw Salon coming out of Manutius. "A little chatwith my friend Aglie," he said to me.

Friend? As I seemed torecall from the Piedmont party, Aglie was not fond of him. WasSalon