The Destruct Rule
by
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"Something bothers me about Guidi," the old woman said. "He never smiles." As his name indicated, Guidi came originally from the central part of Italy, some four hundred kilometers to the South. He was considerably older than Sina -- late fifties -- and they had joined contractually some years before coming to live next door. Tall, dark hair parted on the right, Guidi had a bony, asymmetrical face with a high forehead and a mole on his right cheek. Dorothea had been struck by the sadness -- and remoteness -- in his eyes, and by the unsmiling mouth. These were unusual traits in this age of social harmony. "He's obviously not at peace with himself.," Dorothea continued. "Why care?" the younger woman said. "Perhaps there are problems between him and Sina. He's almost twenty years older than she. Or perhaps he can't cope with non-working. Some people are that way." "I'm told that he had been working in the Ortler observatory, watching the stars. Enough to drive anyone crazy," Dorothea mumbled. "But whatever the reason," she concluded, "there's trouble abrewing in number twenty five. You should know: I saw you there two weeks back . . . " Cleo shrugged. "Health problem. And you know the rules: what happens at the health center is nobody’s business. Secret. Period." "But I hear that Social Control . . . " "Rumors! You old women dote on rumors!" ****** "I understand that you have come to take Dossi’s place," Rangarajan said in passable Italian. Guidi nodded. "I don’t want to know the reasons . . . Dossi disappeared some months ago. Your people say that he is dead. I had suspected it, in fact, though I still have no idea how your people would have learned about it. Unless . . . Anyway, if he is dead, his body must still be in the Peryiar region. I am to help you find it, dispose of it, and leave with his belongings." Guidi remained silent, looking out at the leaden sea. "Although I didn’t know Dossi too well -- nobody did, at least here -- he was sort of a friend," Rangarajan went on. "A poet: we admire poets. He used to give me his things for safe-keeping. I didn’t like it when your people asked us not to look for him, and to leave his body where he died until someone . . . you, presumably , would come to get it." "I had nothing to do with it," Guidi protested. "I was only told to come here and . . . " "If you say so. You are probably only a . . . " " . . . a stand-in. An impersonator," Guidi completed. "I am quite aware of it. But I have no alternative." "Never mind," Rangarajan said. "It’s all part of some political game. The less one knows about it, the better." "But I’m told you're part of it. Our man, they said. The link with our . . . allies in this part of the world." ****** "Oh, Guidi!" she said "My lover! Everything has gone wrong. Why? Why?" "We knew it would happen. I knew. You knew." "But not this way. Not so brutally. Not so soon." "There is nothing we can do about it.," Guidi said. "Nothing? I don’t know. There are people . . . " "Anyway, you for one should have no reason to worry, Susan," Guidi interrupted. "Your brother . . . " "My brother hates me. And hates you too." "Nonsense," Guidi said. "He’s been a friend, if anyone has . . . " "Don’t believe it: he is Renata’s slave." "I didn’t know he was interested in women." "Perhaps not in women. But in power. Both he and Renata are ruthless." Guidi shrugged. "So what can one do about it? As far as I know, I’m safe . . ." "Are you that sure? I wonder --- it’s a no-win situation for you too," Susan said, covering his hand with hers. "As Dossi you’re one of them – he was their brain, their poet, until he turned native in India – and you will be held responsible if, as I am sure, their revolt fails; as Guidi, on the other hand, you represent a potential liability for them, an outsider, non-believer, and a danger . . . " "It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s poor Yole . . ." "Ah, Yole! You love her after all, don’t you?" Guidi did not answer, and Susan gave a brief laugh: "All these problems!" she said, reclining on the bed and holding out her arms to him. "Come here: it won’t hurt you. A little love . . . only a little love. You need it, and I need it. Who knows whether and when we’ll meet again, in bed or out of bed!
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About the Book
A story of suspense, love, doubt, death, and vicious political revolt in the twenty fourth century, an era governed by ideals of reason, non-violence, consensus and social harmony, with an average life span well over one hundred, and strict limits on the time anyone is allowed to work and produce anything of value. Guidi, an astronomer who by mid-life has already squandered his work-time allowance, cannot adjust to the forced inactivity that awaits him. After a violent breakdown he is condemned to personality deconstruction, but is helped to escape, and becomes unwittingly involved in a conspiracy to overturn the existing order. In time he learns that his breakdown had been deliberately provoked by the conspirators, who needed him as a stand-in for one of their former leaders. Ultimately, however, Guidi finds his peace as a sculptor in a remote mountain village, although he knows that his work will not be allowed to survive him. This peace is shattered when, after a violent takeover, the conspirators institute a reign of terror that touches some of Guidi’s closest friends before being in turn overthrown by a powerful counter-revolt. Guidi participates in this counter-revolt, and escapes punishment as one of the original conspirators by proving not only his real identity, but also the fact that his earlier breakdown had been set up by the conspirators.
About the Author
Peter Koenz has traveled widely and lived in Europe, Asia, and Latin America as a lawyer, international official and scholar. He writes fiction, but is also a painter and sculptor devoted to visual creativity. Other books by Peter Koenz include Pacifica, The Parrot Tree, and The Ancestor. When not on the move, he lives at present in rural Normandy, even though in his heart – and in his writings -- he continues to wander from New England to the rugged mountain valleys of his native Switzerland, Northern India, Afghanistan, and the frontier country of central Brazil.