A month after Stuarts death, Billy Milligan was released from Zanesville. A few days after his return, Allen was reading in his room when Del Moore came in and asked if he’d like to go fishing. He knew Del was trying to score points with Dorothy—Kathy said they’d probably get married. “Sure,” Allen said. “Love fishing.”
Del made all the arrangements, took the next day off from work and came by to pick Billy up.
Tommy looked at him in disgust. “Fishing? Shit, I don’t want to go fishing.”
When Tommy came out of his room and Dorothy confronted him with his inconsiderate behavior—first promising to go fishing with Del and then changing his mind—Tommy looked at them both in astonishment. “Christ! He never even asked me to go fishing.”
Del stormed out of the house swearing that Bill was the damnedest bald-faced liar he had ever met.
can’t take it anymore,” Allen said to Arthur when he was alone in his room. “We’ve got to get out of here. I feel like an intruder with Del hovering around all the time.”
“Same here,” said Tommy. “Dorothy’s been like a mother to me, but if she’s going to marry Del, I want out.”
“All right,” Arhtur said. “Let’s find a job, put a few quid aside and get an apartment of our own.”
The others applauded the idea.
Allen got a job at Lancaster Electro-Plating on September 11, 1973. It didn’t pay much and it was dirty work, not the kind of employment Arthur had in mind.
It was Tommy who did the boring work as a zinc-tank operator, pulling the cage that hung from the overhead moving chain and lowering it into the acid for the plating. He moved from one square tank to the next; they were lined up the length of a bowling alley. Lower it, wait, raise it, move it, lower it, wait.
Sneering at such menial labor, Arthur turned his attention to other matters. He had to prepare his people to move out on their own.
All during Zanesville, he had been studying the behavior of those he allowed to come on the spot, and he was beginning to understand that the key to survival in society was self-control.
Without rules there would be chaos, endangering them all. It occurred to him that the rules at the youth camp had a salutary effect. The constant threat of being bumped back to zone 1 or 2 had kept all those unruly lads in check. That is what would be needed when they were on their own.
He explained his code of behavior to Ragen. “Because someone became involved with women of ill repute,” Arthur said, “we were accused of rape by those two women in Pickaway County—a crime we did not commit—and they sent us to prison. It must never happen again.”
“How you vill prevent it?”
Arthur paced. “I can usually prevent someone from taking the spot. And I have observed your ability to bump someone off immediately after the vulnerable moment of switching. Between us, we ought to control the consciousness. I have decided that certain undesirable individuals should be permanently banished from the spot. The rest of us will be required to live by a code of conduct.
We are like a family. We must be strict. A single infraction will result in someone being classified as undesirable.”
With Ragen s agreement, Arthur communicated the rules to all the others:
first: Never lie. All their lives they had been accused unjustly of being pathological liars for denying knowledge of things one of the others had done.
second: Behave properly to ladies and children. This included avoiding foul language and adhering to proper etiquette, such as opening doors. The children were to sit straight at table, with napkins across laps. Women and children must be protected at all times, and everyone should come to their defense. If any one saw a woman or a child being hurt by a man, he or she must step off the spot immediately and let Ragen deal with the situation. (If one of their own were in personal physical danger, that would not be necessary, since Ragen would take the spot automatically.)
third: Be celibate. Never again should the males be placed in a position where they could be accused of rape.
fourth: Spend all your time on self-improvement. No one was to waste time with comic books or television, but each should study in his or her own specialty.
fifth: Respect the private property of each member of the family. This was to be most stricdy enforced with regard to the selling of paintings. Anyone was permitted to sell an unsigned painting or one signed “Billy” or “Milligan.” But the private paintings done and signed by Tommy, Danny or Allen were personal, and no one was ever to sell something that did not belong to him or her.
Anyone violating these rules would be banished forever from taking the spot and would be relegated to the shadows with the other undesirables.
Ragen thought about it and asked, “Who are these—vat you call—undesirables?”
“Philip and Kevin—both unmistakably antisocial, criminal types—are banished from the spot. ”
“Vat about Tommy? He is antisocial sometimes.”
“Yes,” Arthur agreed, “but Tommy’s belligerency is needed. Some of the younger ones are so obedient that they would harm themselves if a stranger told them to. As long as he does not violate other rules or use his escape talents and lock-picking abilities for criminal purposes, Tommy may take the spot. But I will rattle his cage from time to time to let him know we’re watching him.”
“Vat about me?” Ragen asked. “I am criminal. I am violent and antisocial.”
“There must be no breaking of the law, no crimes.” Arthur said, “even so-called victimless crimes, for any reason.”
“You must realize,” Ragen said, “is always possible for me to be in situation vere crime could be necessary for defense, for survival. Necessity knows no laws.”
Arthur placed the tips of his fingers together for a few moments and considered Ragens argument. Then he nodded. “You will be the exception to the rule. Because of your great strength and power, you alone may have the right to hurt others, but only in self-defense or in defense of women and children. As the protector of the family, you alone may commit victimless crimes or crimes necessary for survival. ”
“Then I accept idea of rules,” Ragen said softly. “But system vill not always vork. During mix-up periods, people steal time. Then ve do not even know—not you, not me, not Allen—vat is happening.”
“True, ” Arthur said, “but we have to do the best we can with what we have. Part of the challenge will be to keep the family stable and prevent those mix-up times.”
“Is difficult. You vill have to communicate this to the others. I do not yet know all of the—
how you say?—the family. They come, they go. I am not sure sometimes if one is outside people or one of ours.” .
“That’s natural. It is as it was in the hospital or even in the youth camp. One learns the names of some of the people who live around you and becomes aware of the existence of others. But quite often even outside people don’t communicate with each other although they’re living in close proximity. I will communicate with each of our people and tell them what they need to know.”
Ragen mused. “I am strong, but vit all the things you have learned, you have gained much power.”
Arthur nodded. “And that is why I can still beat you at chess.”
Arthur reached the others one by one and told each one what was expected of him or her. In addition to the code of behavior, there were other responsibilities for those who were on the spot.
Christene had stayed three years old and constantly embarrassed them. Yet Ragen insisted, and it was agreed that since she had been the first and was still “the baby” of the family, she would never be removed or classified as undesirable. She might even prove useful at times when it was necessary to have someone on the spot who couldn’t communicate and wouldn’t know what was going on. But she, too, was expected to work at her own goals. With Arthurs help, she was to learn to read and write and struggle to overcome her dyslexia.
Tommy was to pursue his interest in electronics and strengthen his mechanical abilities.
Though he could pick locks and crack vaults, the techniques he had learned were to be used for only one purpose—not to penetrate, but to escape. He was never to aid anyone in stealing. He was not to be a thief. He was to practice the tenor saxophone in his spare time and to perfect his talent in painting landscapes. He was to control his belligerent attitude, but use it to deal with other people when necessary.
Ragen was to take karate and judo lessons, to jog and to keep the body in perfect physical condition. With Arthurs help and direction, Ragen would learn to control his adrenaline flow so as to focus all his energies in times of stress or danger. He was to continue to study munitions and demolition. Part of the next paycheck would go toward buying him a gun for target practice.
Allen was to practice his verbal skills, to concentrate on painting portraits. He would play the drums to help release excess tension. He would generally be the front man to help manipulate others when it was necessary. As the most sociable one, it was important for him to get out and meet people.
Adalana was to continue writing her poetry and perfecting her cooking skills for the time when they would, be leaving home and getting their own apartment.
Danny would concentrate on still lifes and learn to master the airbrush. Since he was a teen-ager, he would baby-sit and help care for the younger children.
Arthur would concentrate on his scientific studies, ex-pecially those in the medical arts. He had already sent for a mail-order study course in the fundamentals of clinical hematology. He would also use his logic and clear reasoning to study law.
All the others were made aware of the need to use every moment of their time to improve themselves and expand their knowledge. They must never be still, Arthur warned, never waste time, never allow their minds to stagnate. Each member of the family must strive to achieve his or her own goals, and at the same time be educated and cultured. They should think of these things even while off the spot and practice them intensively when they were holding the consciousness.
The young ones were never to drive a car. If any of them found himself on the spot behind the steering wheel, he was to slide over to the passenger’s side and wait for someone older to come and do the driving.
Everyone agreed that Arthur had been very thorough and had thought things out logically.
“Samuel” read the Old Testament, ate only kosher food and loved to sculpt sandstone and carve wood. He took the spot on September 27, Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and said a prayer in memory of Billy’s Jewish father.
Samuel knew of Arthur’s strict rule concerning the selling of paintings, but one day when he needed money and no one from the family was around to give him advice or to tell him what was going on, he sold a nude signed by Allen. Nudes offended his religious sensibilities, and he did not want it where he could see it. He told the purchaser, “I am not the artist, but I know the artist.”
Then he sold Tommy’s painting of a bam, a painting that clearly had fear surrounding it.
When Arthur learned what Samuel had d.one, he was outraged. Samuel should have realized he was selling paintings the others held dear to themselves, paintings so personal they were never meant for the eyes of strangers. He ordered Tommy to find Samuel’s favorite creation—a draped Venus surrounded by cupids, done in plaster.
“Destroy it,” Arthur said.
Tommy took it out back and smashed it with a hammer.
“For this terrible crime of selling other people’s art, Samuel is henceforth an undesirable. He is hereby banished from the spot.”
Samuel argued his fate. He pointed out to Arthur that he should not be banished, since he was the only one among all of them who believed in God.
“God was invented by those who are afraid of the unknown,” Arthur said. “People worship figures like Jesus Christ only because they fear what might happen to them after they die.”
“Exactly,” Samuel said. “But look, it wouldn’t be such a terrible idea to have a little insurance. If after we die we find out there is a God, what should be so bad that there should be at least one of us who did believe in Him? That way one of us has a shot at getting the soul into heaven.”
“If there is a soul,” Arthur said.
“So whats the rush to take the gamble? What would it cost to give me another chance?”
“I’ve made the rule,” Arthur said, “and my decision stands. October sixth is your holiest day, Yom Kippur. You may take the spot to fast on your Day of Atonement, but then you are banished.”
Later, he admitted to Tommy that in making his judgment in anger, he had made a mistake.
Since he couldn’t know for sure that there was no God, he should not have acted so hastily in banishing from the spot the only one of them who believed.
“You could change it,” Tommy said, “and let Samuel take the spot sometimes.” .
“Not while I dominate the consciousness,” Arthur said. “I admit I made an error in allowing my emotions to affect my decisions. But,having decided, I will not change it.”
Thinking about heaven and hell bothered Tommy. He found himself going over and over the thought in his mind, and he wondered, if they did get sent to hell, whether there would possibly be a way to escape.
(2)
A few days later, Allen ran into a school acquaintance downtown. He vaguely remembered that Barry Hart was a friend of someone he used to know. Now, with his long hair, he looked like a hippie. Barry Hart invited him up to his place to have a beer and talk.
It was a big rundown apartment. While Allen sat in the kitchen talking with Hart, people came and went, and Allen got the impression there was a lot of drug dealing going on. When Allen got up to leave, Hart said he was going to have a lot of friends over Saturday night for a party and Allen was invited.
He accepted. What better way to follow Arthur’s instructions to get out and socialize?
But when Allen got there on Saturday night, he didn’t like what he saw. It was a heavy drug scene, with people drinking booze, smoking pot and popping pills. Most of them, he thought, were making fools of themselves. He’d stay for just a little while and have a beer. But after a few
minutes, he got so uncomfortable he left the spot.
Arthur looked around, disgusted at the goings on, but he decided to sit back and observe this species of lowlife. It was interesting to see how different people made fools of themselves under different drugs: belligerent on alcohol, giggling on marijuana, trancelike on amphetamines, tripping on LSD. It was, he decided, a laboratory of drug abuse.
Arthur noticed one couple sitting apart, as he was. The girl, tall and slender, with long dark hair, full lips and smoky eyes, kept looking his way. He had the impression she would talk to him soon. The very idea annoyed him.
The fellow she was with made the first move. “Come to Harts parties often?” the young man asked.
Arthur let Allen take back the spot. He looked around, dazed. “What did you say?”
“My friend says she thinks she’s seen you here at a party before,” the young man said. “I have the feeling I’ve seen you before too. Whats your name?”
“They call me Billy Milligan.”
“Challa’s brother? Hey, I’m Walt Stanley. I’ve met your sister.”
The young woman came over and Stanley said, “Marlene, this is Billy Milligan.”
Stanley wandered off, and Marlene talked with Allen for nearly an hour, trading observations about the other people in the room. Allen found her amusing and warm. He could tell she was
attracted to him. Her dark catlike eyes gave him an odd feeling and he was drawn to her. But he knew that because of Arthur’s rules, nothing would come of it.
“Hey, Marlene!” Stanley called from across the room. “You wanna split?”
She ignored him.
“Your boyfriend is calling you,” Allen said.
“Oh,” she said smiling, “he’s not my boyfriend.”
She was getting him nervous. Here he had just gotten out of Zanesville after serving time on a phony rape charge, and this girl was making moves on him.
“Excuse me, Marlene,” he said. “I’ve gotta leave.”
She seemed surprised. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.”
Allen took off fast.
The following Sunday, Allen decided, was a perfect fall day for a round of golf. He tossed his clubs into the car, drove to the
Lancaster Country Club and rented an electric cart. He played several holes but did poorly;
when he put his third shot into a sand bunker, he got so disgusted with himself that he left the spot.
“Martin” opened his eyes, surprised to find himself with a sand wedge in his hand, addressing the ball from a bunker. He hit it out and finished the hole. Not knowing how many strokes it had taken him to do the par four hole, he scored it as a birdie three.
Martin was annoyed when he saw how crowded the next tee was, and he complained loudly that slow play was ruining the game for better players like himself. “I’m from New York,” he said to a middle-aged man with a group of four ahead of him, “and I’m used to private clubs that are much
Martin was annoyed when he saw how crowded the next tee was, and he complained loudly that slow play was ruining the game for better players like himself. “I’m from New York,” he said to a middle-aged man with a group of four ahead of him, “and I’m used to private clubs that are much