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no sex The Orgone Accumulator : Part Four

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The Prologue is found here

The preceeding chapter is found here

The Orgone Accumulator: Part Four

It was evening. He was back at The Foundation, and all the guests (and the analysts) were eating dinner in the dining room. Snippets of conversation reached his ears, but he found it hard to follow, for several reasons.

"... and then I told him, that the meditation room was entirely unnecessary, and that the money could have been spent on improved massage benches. And there was no reason to include a lot of Carl Jung and Carl Rogers in the library. All that money on Eranos yearbook was mis-spent, in my opinion. It is supposed to be a Reichian collection."

"By the sound of it, you seem to be obsessed by some sort of Reichian purity. I'm interested in psychological methods that really works, not in any attempt at doctrinal Gleichschaltung. Do you forget the entire work on liberation from authoritarian ethics? An authoritarian person will never reach full orgastic potency ..."

"... very nice potatoes. Did you read those news about the dangers of pesticides? Who could have known? In retrospect, I think it was the right decision to farm The Foundation's own vegetables. And this sauce! So delicious ..."

"... will watch TV with me in the TV room tonight? There will be a new episode of Perry Mason. I never miss ..."

"... as Camus put it: 'The Soviet Union isn't really socialist, and the United States aren't really liberal', and by that he attempted to say ..."

"... a new car, a mint-green one with large fins, and then she said ..."

"... not the same since Dr. Witt returned from his sabbatical at the Esalen Institute, but I do not complain: If clients become healthier and more liberated by mixing Reich with other methods, the aim of The Foundation will be reached ..."

"... opinions about the Vietnam War?"

"Well, it is complicated. We can't allow the Communists to trample another country, but on the other hand, I'm not entirely sure if war is the best method to ..."

"... listened to a lecture by Alan Watts a few months ago. Zen Buddhism is fascinating."

"I don't know anything about Zen, though I read The Dharma Bums once. In my opinion ..."

"... the new masseur? Isn't he a dream?"

The young man didn't listen. He had spent most of the afternoon and the early evening in San Francisco with The Businessman. It was much bigger, than his hometown, of course --- he had expected it to be -- but it was not just the number of inhabitants: People were individuals there, at least some of them. Of course, there were lots of men hiding who they were by wearing identical suits and ties, but there were also young people in colourful clothes, young men with long hair and beards -- beards! It looked ridiculous, of course, but at least they had made a decision to stick out from the crowd -- from other crowds than their own one. The Businessman had bought him a milkshake at a milk bar, and there had been two bikers at a table nearby. He couldn't forget the bikers.

Their hairstyle.

Their tight denim jeans.

Their posture.


Faces. Laughing. Happy.

Their leather jackets and boots.



For a moment, he had felt like The Businessman was reading his thoughts, and he had felt very embarrassed, but The Businessman continued talking. Telling stories about The War. The young man had used the word 'war hero', but that had only caused The Businessman to sound irritated. 

"Terrible things happen in war. There is nothing heroic about it, most of the time. I've seen atrocities. But what would have happened, if we had allowed Hitler to win? It was necessary. There were good things about that time, though. I have never, before or after, had better friends than I had when I served in The Army. Friends from all walks of life."

The Businessman fell silent and finished his coffee. The bikers left the milk bar, and started their motorbikes.

Legs wide.

Boots. Black. Glossy.

Confident men.

Riding their bikes.

The speed.

The Businessman watched them, too, through the large window.

"Enjoying their life, I guess. More than some people do."

He didn't continue that line of thought. Instead, he asked the young man about his home town, family, work. About how Dad left. How Mom was still working at a bakery. That college was not even a thought. About working at an office.

"Do you find psychoanalysis helpful? You don't have to answer, son. I've no right to intrude."

"I'm glad, that Dr. Witt listen to me, Sir. The massage is nice. Dr. Witt told me, that I have inhibations, and that a wounded soul cause tensions in the body. Dr. Witt repeatedly tells me, that man is both body and soul. I think, the analysis help me to become comfortable with that."

"Did you ever enjoy sports?"

"Not particularly. Some of my friends were recruited to the football team, but I wasn't."

"What about tennis? I played tennis in my youth, but for some reason I never continued doing so."

"I don't know, Sir. I think tennis is not widely popular in my town."

"Have you considered boxing? You look like you could toughen up, son."

The young man blushed.

"No, I haven't considered boxing, Sir. Work at the office by day and going to the theatre some nights is what my life consist of."

"You are young. You have life before you. Don't waste your youth. I'm not telling you to mismanage your work. I'm just telling you to have fun when you don't work. Society is changing -- I don't understand exactly what happens, to be honest -- and the world is changing. They send spacecrafts into space, and they are able to cure diseases thought incurable. The colonies are free now, and young people in the free world are enjoying life."

He shook his head, and continued:

"By 1990 they will probably have flying cars. Don't waste this first step of mankind's modern progress by feeling sad. I like to watch young people enjoy life -- even those strange incomprehensible beatniks."

"Thanks for your encouragement, Sir. And thanks for the milkshake."

On their way home in The Businessman's big fancy car, they had bought some cigarettes, fruits, candy and magazines. Among the newspapers and magazines in the newsstand, the young man had found magazines he had never seen before: They seemingly were all about physical exercise. A jolt went through his spine. He had to swallow. The hair on his head bristled, and he felt blood rush to his still boyish cheeks. The drawings of men on the covers. So built. Impossibly big muscles. A muscular biker talking to a muscular man from The Navy on one of the covers. A big man on a beach on the other. On the back cover there was an advert for Charles Atlas' correspondence course about physical exercise. He bought two of the magazines, and hoped, that The Businessman didn't notice his choice of reading material. On his way home, he hid the magazines in the brown paperbag, where he had put his fruits, candy and cigarettes.

Next morning, he began his day by doing push-ups at his room at The Foundation.

* * *

Next chapter is found here.

Edited by Hialmar
narrative details, language, added link
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2 minutes ago, Ozymandias said:

And so it begins...


Are you reading my thoughts, or am I too obvious?

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"By 1990 they will probably have flying cars.


This is getting better and better. The first were an introduction to the world and i love the slow build of it all.

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2 hours ago, Ro20316 said:


This is getting better and better. The first were an introduction to the world and i love the slow build of it all.

Thank you. Without a slow build, I wouldn't be able to tell this particular story. It is its own sort of sub-genre.

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I love the slow build of the story.  I have guesses about where it might go but, at the same time, I'm clueless.  Love your writing style.


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