ATDDTA (3): Control issues, 54-56

[Monte Davis]

With thanks to Tim Strzechowski  for a LOT of research and transcription,
I'm taking over a few pages early so he can attend to some arcane hobby he
describes as "real life."

***
Lew's parting gift to the Chums is "a miniature spotter’s telescope
disguised as a watch fob, also holding a single .22 round which it was able
to fire in an emergency." Surely Pynchon spent some time with old adventure
pulp magazines in getting ready for AtD; doesn't this sound like the kind of
Cool Spy-Gear Novelty you might find for mail order in the back pages?
Disturbingly, it also recalls Scarsdale Vibe's ebony cane-gun (p. 31) -- and
the disturbance is not ours alone:

"The boys thanked him sincerely enough, but that night after Evening
Quarters argued late over the recurring question of introducing firearms
aboard the Inconvenience." 

***

(Melville, like Pynchon once a sailor, on a ship's "quarters":
http://www.online-literature.com/melville/white-jacket/69/

***

This discussion shades quickly into even darker territory: the possibility
"of extended duty so terrible in its demands on morale that now and then,
unable to continue, some unfortunate Chum of Chance had decided to end his
life."

It's swell to have a jamboree with the other aeronauts; the book titles
sound like fun; "the Charter" doesn't sound so bad... But who would be
sending them on such a mission? And how is it different, if at all, from
Lew's worry that he might be "delivered into the control of potent
operatives who did not wish him well?" (54.7)

In short, who's in charge here? Who decided that Randolph St. Cosmo should
report to White City Investigations? " 'I was supposed to see Mr. Privett?'
” (25)

"Since their orders had come through..." (1)

"...their orders had directed them to proceed to Chicago without delay" (6)

"That unpleasant memory [of the near-crash]...would soon be quite unmade...
as if that page of their chronicles lay turned and done, and the order
“About-face” had been uttered by some potent though invisible Commandant of
Earthly Days..." (16-17)

" 'Inconvenience, we’re only the runts of the Organization, last at the
trough, nobody ever tells us anything—they keep cutting our orders, we
follow ’em, is all.' ” (19) 

" 'That is between you and our National Office,' Randolph supposed." (25)

Do we believe that "supposed" was used without care? (Dunno -- are we
gullible?) 

"And sure enough, one morning the boys found, wedged casually between two
strands of mooring cable, as always unconnected with any action they
might’ve been contemplating, orders silently delivered in the night." (55)

I would like to put on the table (where it will remain, twitching and
occasionally clawing the overbold) the question: who is being so frequently
and ostentatiously not-identified here and hereafter?

An initial pool of suspects might include God, Fate, History, the
Trespassers, the author of the Chums books, and the author of AtD. For what
it's worth, I find this one of the deeper of the book's many deep games --
the hints are inflected almost as variously as the story itself. 

Anyway...  Even though the missions can get very stressful, it's not at all
clear that staying on the ground is a viable option. The specious charm of
the Exposition has worn off, autumn deepens, and in a venue that reeks of
Winston Smith's café from 1984

("the lunch queue jerked slowly forward. The room was already very full and
deafeningly noisy. From the grille at the counter the steam of stew came
pouring forth, with a sour metallic smell which did not quite overcome the
fumes of Victory Gin.")

"the boys would gather to dine on these horrible wet-and-dry sandwiches,
drinking the low-priced wine and noting with clogged humor how swiftly each
seemed to fatten before the gazes of the others. “Hang it, fellows,”
Randolph expostulated, “we’ve got to try to pull out of this!” (55)

Sounds almost like... getting OLD, doesn't it, Tinkerbell?

In an ambiance almost like Winston Smith's canteen from 1984: "the lunch
queue jerked slowly forward. The room was already very full and deafeningly
noisy. From the grille at the counter the steam of stew came pouring forth,
with a sour metallic smell which did not quite overcome the fumes of Victory
Gin."

I've never heard "Mickeys" for pocket-sized bottles, and could find only
this:

"Small bottles of cheap fortified wines are known on the street as "short
dogs," "mickeys," "poneys," [sic] and "mad dogs."

http://fnnc.org/fortifiedalcohol.html

Time to split this town, with an assist from the Hawk:

http://www.barrypopik.com/index.php/new_york_city/entry/the_hawk/

An "alabaster Metropolis" not long ago (22), like the cities we sometimes
sing about, the Exposition's pieces -- "once the substance of wonder" --
feed the fires of the homeless.