“Dick fainted when we came out onThunderclap-side, but by the time we could see the lights of the compound, he’dcome around again. Tanya had his head in her lap, and I remember how gratefullyhe was looking up at her. It’s funny what you remember, isn’t it? They checkedus in at the gate. Assigned us our dorms, assigned us our suites, saw that wewere fed… and a damned fine meal it was. The first of many.
“The next day, we went to work. And,barring my little ‘vacation in Connecticut,’ we’ve been working ever since.”
Another pause. Then:
“God help us, we’ve been working eversince. And, God forgive us, most of us have been happy. Because the only thingtalent wants is to be used.”
Nine
He tells them of his first few shifts inThe Study, and his realization—not gradual but almostimmediate—that they are not here to search out spies or read the thoughtsof Russian scientists, “or any of that space-shot nonsense,” as Dinky would say(not that Dinky was there at first, although Sheemie was). No, what they aredoing is breaking something. He can feel it, not just in the sky aboveAlgul Siento but everywhere around them, even under their feet.
Yet he is content enough. The food isgood, and although his sexual appetites have subsided quite a bit over theyears, he’s not a bit averse to the odd bonk, just reminding himself every timethat sim sex is really nothing but accessorized masturbation. But then, he’s hadthe odd bonk with the odd whore over the years, as many men living on the roadhave, and he could testify that that sort of sex is also not much differentthan masturbation; you’re putting it to her just as hard as you can, the sweatpouring off you, and she’s going “Baby-baby-baby,” and all the time wonderingif she ought to gas the car and trying to remember which day is double stampsat the Red & White. As with most things in life, you have to use yourimagination, and Ted can do that, he’s good at the old visualization thing,thank you oh so very much. He likes the roof over his head, he likes thecompany—the guards are guards, yeah, but he believes them when they sayit’s as much their job to keep bad stuff from getting in as it is to make surethe Breakers don’t get out. He likes most of the inmates, too, and realizesafter a year or two that the inmates need him in some strange way. He’s able tocomfort them when they get the mean reds; he’s able to assuage their crampywaves of homesickness with an hour or so of murmured conversation. And surelythis is a good thing. Maybe it’s all a good thing—certainly itfeels like a good thing. To be homesick is human, but to Break is divine. Hetries to explain to Roland and his tet, but the best he can do, the closest hecan come, is to say it’s like finally being able to scratch that out-of-reachplace on your back that always drives you crazy with its mild but persistentitch. He likes to go to The Study, and so do all the others. He likesthe feeling of sitting there, of smelling the good wood and good leather, ofsearching… searching… and then, suddenly, aahhh. There you are. You’rehooked in, swinging like a monkey on a limb. You’re breaking, baby, andto break is divine.
Dinky once said that The Study was theonly place in the world where he really felt in touch with himself, and thatwas why he wanted to see it shut down. Burned down, if possible.“Because I know the kind of shit I get up to when I’m in touch with myself,” hetold Ted. “When I, you know, really get in the groove.” And Ted knew exactlywhat he was talking about. Because The Study was always too good to betrue. You sat down, maybe picked up a magazine, looked at pictures of modelsand margarine, movie stars and motor cars, and you felt your mind rise. TheBeam was all around, it was like being in some vast corridor full of force, butyour mind always rose to the roof and when it got there it found that big oldsliding groove.
Maybe once, just after the Prim withdrewand Gan’s voice still echoed in the rooms of the macroverse, the Beams weresmooth and polished, but those days are gone. Now the Way of the Bear and theTurtle is lumpy and eroded, full of coves and cols and bays and cracks, plentyof places to get your fingers in and take hold, and sometimes you drag atit and sometimes you can feel yourself worming your way into it like adrop of acid that can think. All these sensations are intenselypleasurable. Sexy.
And for Ted there’s something else, aswell, although he doesn’t know he’s the only one who’s got it until Trampastells him. Trampas never means to tell him anything, but he’s got thislousy case of eczema, you see, and it changes everything. Hard to believe aflaky scalp might be responsible for saving the Dark Tower, but the idea’s notentirely farfetched.
Not entirely farfetched at all.
Ten
“There are about a hundred and eightyfull-time personnel at work in the Algul,” Ted said. “I’m not the guy to tellanyone how to do his job, but that’s something you may want to write down, orat least remember. Roughly speaking, it’s sixty per eight-hour shift and splittwenty-twenty-twenty. Taheen have the sharpest eyes and generally man thewatchtowers. Humes patrol the outer run of fence. With guns, mindyou—hard calibers. Top-side there’s Prentiss, the Master, and Finli o’Tego, the Security Chief—hume and taheen, respectively—but most ofthe floaters are can-toi… the low men, you understand.
“Most low men don’t get along with theBreakers; a little stiff camaraderie is the best they can do. Dinky told meonce that they’re jealous of us because we’re what he calls ‘finished humes.’Like the hume guards, the can-toi wear thinking-caps when they’re on duty so wecan’t prog them. The fact is most Breakers haven’t tried to prog anyone or anythingbut the Beam in years, and maybe can’t, anymore; the mind is also a muscle, andlike any other, it atrophies if you don’t use it.”
A pause. A click on the tape. Then:
“I’m not going to be able to finish. I’mdisappointed but not entirely surprised. This will have to be my last story,folks. I’m sorry.”
A low sound. A sipping sound, Susannah wasquite sure; Ted having another drink of water.
“Have I told you that the taheen don’t needthe thinking-caps? They speak perfectly good English, and I’ve sensed from timeto time that some have limited progging abilities of their own, can send andreceive—at least a little—but if you dip into them, you get thesemind-numbing blasts of what sounds like mental static—white noise. Iassumed it was some sort of protective device; Dinky believes it’s the way theyactually think. Either way, it makes it easier for them. They don’t haveto remember to put on hats in the morning when they go out!
“Trampas was one of the can-toi rovers. Youmight see him one day strolling along Main Street in Pleasantville, or sittingon a bench in the middle of the Mall, usually with some self-help book like SevenSteps to Positive Thinking. Then, the next day, there he is leaning againstthe side of Heartbreak House, taking in the sun. Same with the other can-toifloaters. If there’s a pattern, I’ve never been able to anticipate it, or Dinkyeither. We don’t think there is one.
“What’s always made Trampas different is acomplete lack of that sense of jealousy. He’s actually friendly—or was;in some ways he hardly seemed to be a low man at all. Not many of his can-toicolleagues seem to like him a whole hell of a lot. Which is ironic, you know,because if there really is such a thing as becoming, then Trampasis one of the few who actually seem to be getting somewhere with it. Simplelaughter, for instance. When most low men laugh, it sounds like a basket ofrocks rolling down a tin coal-chute: makes you fair shiver, as Tanya says. WhenTrampas laughs, he sounds a little high-pitched but otherwise normal. Becausehe is laughing, I think. Genuinely laughing. The others are just forcingit.