Free Wichita (9781609458904) by Thad Ziolkowsky Page B

mint soap and high-grade weed.
    Stepping back to look Lewis over, he smiles slyly and tugs at his own white beard. “I see I inspired a new look!”
    â€œOh, uh, yeah,” Lewis says to humor him, touching his own beard reflexively. He remains silent to give Bishop a chance to explain his presence in a tent in the yard but Bishop just grins goofily, his head cocked to one side, hands open in elfin coyness.
    Lewis gives in: “So what the hell are you doing out here in the yard, Bishop?”
    â€œ
Abiding near the Goddess
, of course!” Bishop declares, lifting his Tevas in a vague goat dance step.
    â€œWho, Abby?” For there’s a good chance Bishop means Gaia; there’s a good chance Bishop means any number of things.
    â€œWell, I use the term ‘Goddess,’” Bishop says, making air quotes, “as a way to call forth the highest dimension of her consciousness.” He waits for Lewis to indicate his comprehension.
    â€œOK,” Lewis says provisionally.
    â€œGood!” Bishop says as if Lewis has taken the first step in a Socratic dialogue. “And I see
my being out here
and having this relation
to
her as bringing
her
to
embody
that ‘Divine Feminine.’ But it’s also a
circuit
—between us—a symbiosis! The God in me, the Goddess in her, in a
circuit
.” Bishop pauses to give this time to sink in then says, “Pretty fantastic, right?”
    â€œIt’s fantastic, all right,” Lewis agrees, deadpan, but if he detects the irony Bishop elects to overlook it.
    â€œAlso,” Bishops says, “it’s just
so clear
from various indicators that we’re living on the threshold of
an enormous collective shift
. Just fucking e
nor
mous, Lewis! All the usual forms and norms are being cast off and transfigured as we speak, left and right, left and right, my man!” He makes the gestures of someone tossing flowers from a basket. “We’re in the
midst
of that. And what a blessing to be incarnated as these ones at this juncture! OK, but which leaves us where on a daily basis? We’re just
out here
doing what’s before us to do!
That’s
where it leaves us. And boy am I feeling just as joyful as hell about
that
. I mean, look around, my friend!”
    Lewis glances compliantly around at the weeds and tent and Tibetan prayer flags, the hammock. He wonders whether this “we” of Bishop’s includes a certain sleep-eater named Donald.
    Bishop snaps his fingers. “Gave up my apartment and all the useless crap that went with it. If you don’t use it at least once in three months, it should be tossed out.”
    Lewis strokes the side of the tent, toes one of the stakes holding down a corner. “So this is a long-haul sort of commitment?”
    â€œOh, yeah. Oh, absolutely.” Lips pursed, Bishop surveys the terrain. “Why not? I really think I’m good year-round, though I’ll probably convert to a yurt sort of structure come fall,” Bishop says. “Did you know you can have a Mongolian yurt
delivered
? Here, to this very spot?” He points to the street. “A truck pulls up with a yurt tied to the flatbed with cables.” He mimes a guiding-in with straight arms. “They untether the thing and convey on a forklift to the desired coordinates and
boom
.” He makes a stiff-armed gesture to demonstrate the setting down of a yurt.
    â€œHow long have you been out here?” Lewis asks.
    â€œTomorrow will be day—” Bishop consults his wrist but has no watch. “Twenty-nine or so.” He gives a thumbs-up then his smile vanishes and he says, “Well, it’s not a free base, it’s a salt!” Now Lewis notices the tiny Bluetooth device clipped to Bishop’s left ear.
    â€œWhat do you get?” Bishop asks the air above Lewis’s shoulder. “Call me
right back
, okay?”
    Bishop meets Lewis’s eye and shakes his head in