Free Ashes To Ashes: Ashton Ford, Psychic Detective by Don Pendleton Page B

know where you've been, but just so you'll
understand that we are more or less on the same wavelength. They
are simply alternate views of the same reality."
    "We live in an asymmetrical universe," I
pointed out, testing him.
    "Ah yes," he replied instantly, "but it was
pure symmetry before the bang."
    I thought, bingo, but said aloud, "Which
side of the mirror image do you suppose we inhabit?"
    "Does it really matter?"
    I replied, "Maybe not."
    "Suppose for the sake of argument," he said
soberly, "that both God and Satan do indeed exist, co-equals, each
ruling his own half of the image. We, you and me, do not know which
side of reality we inhabit. Do we not run a hell of a risk, then,
in choosing sides?"
    I grinned and told him, "You are suggesting,
then, that we do have that choice."
    "Quite the opposite. This is for the sake of
argument, remember. God or Satan, whichever rules here, is a
cosmic force with absolute power. If God is on our side, as we are
constantly being implored to believe—which means, in the same
sense, that we inhabit God's side of reality—then how can Satan
manifest power here? And if Satan does not manifest power in our
reality, then where do we get all the agony, all the greed, all the
brutality?"
    I suggested, "Reason from the other
end—start with agony, greed, brutality, and tell me which reality
that describes. Sounds to me, in that argument, like we came down
on the wrong side."
    He said, "Exactly."
    I said, "But maybe asymmetry is purely a
mathematical concept, and maybe our math models have the same
limitations as the dimensioned minds that fashion them. Maybe we
have asymmetrical minds, Carl. Could we ever then see true
symmetry—and would we even recognize it if we did?"
    He slapped his leg and said, "Jesus! You've
struck a nerve!"
    I suggested, "We all are a bit premature in
handing down judgments on cosmic questions. We can't even find
cosmos, can we? So how the hell do we circumscribe it?"
    "Exactly!"
    I said, "What kind of sick is Karen?"
    He replied, "Dreadfully."
    I pointed out, "If I am
going to help ..."
    He got up and left the room, returned a
minute later with a bottle and two glasses, sloshed some whiskey
into each and handed me one, belted his, wiped his lips with the
back of his hand, said, "It's a violation of ethics, but I am going
to regard this as a consultation, so I'm holding you to
confidentiality too."
    I said, "Okay," and belted mine.
    He refilled the glasses, peered into his,
said, "She has an unresolved sexual conflict."
    I said, "Tell me about it."
    "Electra complex. Well ...
I don't really buy Freud's whole bag of tricks, especially not as
they would apply to the general population, but I guess that is the
basic Freudian weakness; he tried to extend clinical
psychology—that is, mental pathology, into an explanation of the
whole psychogenetic and sociopathic structure of mankind. As much
as to say that the diseased mind presents a valid diagram of
mankind in general. I don't buy that, never did. But Freud was a
genius, let's not sell him short. And Karen's personality profile
fits perfectly into the Freudian complex characterized by an
unnatural love for her father."
    I said, "But Freud himself did not buy the
Electra complex."
    "Touche," replied the good doctor, "but it
does not change anything. Freud did elaborate the Oedipus complex,
which is simply the reverse case. I have always found that the
sauce for the goose is equal sauce for the gander. But if you want
to get picky, call Karen's sauce an Oedipus complex and I won't get
mad at you. Point is, there is this unresolved conflict that is
simply eating her alive."
    "Would you consider it characteristic,
then," I mused, "that she now claims to have very little feeling
for either parent?"
    "If not characteristic," he replied, "then
certainly not destructive to the theory. Such complexes are caused
by feelings prisoner to the subconscious realm. That is where they
do their dirt. She could consciously hate her