"And what the hell does that mean?" Joe demanded. "Evil is only a shadow, a false appearance? The usual mystic mishmosh? Tell that to the survivors of Auschwitz."

"Suppose," Hagbard said, "I told you that good was only a shadow, a false appearance? Several modern philosophers have argued that case rather plausibly and earned themselves a reputation for hard-headed realism. And yet that's just the mirror image of what you call the usual mystic mishmosh."

"Then what is real?" George demanded. "Mary, Queen of the May, or Kali, Mother of Murderers, or Eris, who synthesizes both?"

"The trip is real," Hagbard said. "The images you encounter along the way are all unreal. If you keep moving, and pass them, you eventually discover that."

"Solipsism. Sophomore solipsism," Joe answered.

"No." Hagbard grinned. "The solipsist thinks the tripper is real."

Harry Coin called out, "Hagbard, there's a couple of guys up the road flagging us down."

Hagbard turned and peered ahead. "Right. They're crew members from the Leif Erikson. Pull up where they tell you to, Harry." He reached up to a silver vase mounted beside the back seat and took a pink rosebud out of the fresh bouquet he had placed there that morning. He carefully inserted the rosebud in the buttonhole of his lapel. The great golden Bugatti rolled to a stop, and the four men got out. Harry patted its long front fender with a long, skinny hand.

"Thanks for letting me drive this car, Hagbard," he said. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

"No it isn't. Now you'll want your own Bugatti. Or, what's worse, you'll ask me to let you be my chauffeur."

"No I won't. But I'll do a deal with you. You let me have this car, and whenever you want to go somewhere in it, I'll drive you."

Hagbard laughed and slapped Coin on the back. "You keep on showing that much intelligence and you will end up owning one."

The long line of cars that had been following the Bugatti now were stopping along the edge of the road behind it There was a stretch of lawn that sloped gently down from the road to the lake. Out on the choppy blue water a round gold buoy drifted, giving off a cloud of red smoke.

Stella stepped out of the Mercedes 600 that was parked behind the Bugatti. George half expected Mavis and Miss Mao to get out with her, but there was no sign of them. He looked at her and was unable to speak. He didn't know what to say. She looked back at him with grave, sad eyes, in silence. Somehow, he thought, it will all be different and better when we get down to the submarine. In the submarine we'll be able to talk to each other.

A pink Cadillac behind the Mercedes disgorged Simon Moon and Clark Kent. Stella did not turn to look at them. They were talking excitedly to each other. A motorcycle pulled up behind the Cadillac. Otto Waterhouse climbed off it. Now Stella turned and looked at Otto, then back to George. Otto looked at Stella, then at George. Stella suddenly turned away from both of them and walked down to the edge of the lake. A large inflated liferaft was pulled up on shore, and one of Hagbard's men sitting in the raft stood up holding a wetsuit as Stella approached. Slowly, as if she were all alone by the shore of the lake, Stella took off her peasant blouse and skirt and continued stripping until she was naked. Then she started to put on the wetsuit.

Meanwhile, another man got behind the wheel of Hagbard's Bugatti Royale and drove it across the lawn. Two other men held the mouth of a huge transparent plastic bag far enough apart so that the car could be driven right into it. They tied up the end of the bag with strong wire. Ropes attached to the bag grew taut; their other ends disappeared into the water. Slowly, looking somewhat majestic and somewhat ridiculous, the car slid across the lawn and into the water. When it had been pulled out a short distance from shore it began to float. Out of the deeper water popped two golden scuba-launches, Hagbard's men in black wetsuits mounted in the saddles. The launches positioned themselves on either side of the automobile in its plastic bubble and the men lashed the launches and the car together with cables. Then they started their engines and launches; men and car quickly sank out of sight.

Meanwhile, more rubber rafts pulled ashore, and all of Hagbard's people started donning wetsuits distributed by the men from the submarine.

"I've never done this before," said Lady Velkor. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"Don't worry, baby," said Simon Moon. "Even a man could do it."

"Where's your friend, Mary Lou?" George asked.

"She left me," Simon said glumly. "The damned acid fucked up her mind."

NO-because in the long run whites and blacks and men and women have to come to an understanding and an equality No because this split can't go on forever I mean shit I understand that but No I can't not now No I am not ready yet the penis I imagined I had last night was not just some Freudian hallucination there's the phallic power behind the physical penis No the acting from the center of the body what Simon says Hagbard calls acting from the heart and only a few can have that right now No most of us haven't learned and haven't been given a chance to learn That's the real castration the real impotence in both men and women in both blacks and whites No the power that we think is phallic because this is a patriarchal society No I can't be Simon's woman or anybody's woman First I've got to be my own woman and it may take years it may take life I may never achieve it but I've got to try I can't end up like Daddy I can't end up like most blacks and most of the whites too end up No maybe I'll meet Simon again maybe we can try a second time That acid nut Timothy Leary always said You can be anything you want the second time around No it can't be this time it's got to be the second time around No I said No I won't No

"I hope to hell Hauptmann was telling the truth about not following me," said Hagbard. "It's going to take time to get us all down below."

"What are we doing with the cars?" Harry Coin asked.

"Well, the Bugatti, obviously, is too beautiful for me to part with, which is why I'm taking it aboard the Leif Erikson. But the rest we'll just leave. Maybe some of the people who went to the festival will be able to use them."

"Don't worry about them Huns," said John-John Dillinger, strolling up. "Any of them give us trouble, we'll just reply with a few short sharp words from old Mr. Thompson. Leave 'em in stitches."

"Peace, it's wonderful," said Hagbard sourly.

"Give it a chance," said Malaclypse, still in the guise of Jean-Paul Sartre. "It needs time to spread. The absence of the Illuminati has to make itself felt. It will make a difference."

"I doubt it," said Hagbard. "The Dealy Lama was right all along."

The entire operation of outfitting Hagbard's people with wetsuits, paddling them out to the scuba-launches, and transporting them down to the Leif Erikson took more than an hour. When it was George's turn he looked eagerly into the depths for the Leif Erikson and was happy when he saw it glowing below him like a great golden blimp. Well, at least that's real, he thought. I'm approaching it from the outside, and it's just as big as I think it is. Even if it doesn't go anywhere and this is all happening in Disney World.

An hour later the submarine was deep in the Sea of Valusia. George, Joe, and Hagbard stood on the bridge, Hag-bard leaning against the ancient Viking prow, George and Joe peering into the endless gray depths, watching the strange blind fishes and monsters swim by.

"There's a type of fungus that has evolved into something resembling seaweed in this ocean," said Hagbard. "It's luminescent. There's no light down here, so no green plants grow."