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Anyone remember Pfeilmacher? He wrote those awful books about a reality that was fixed, unresponsive to the beliefs of man. They were drivel. I met him years after reviewing his novel and he was a lumbering beast, with flesh like one of those armoured swamp creatures with all the teeth. He said the reviews of those who themselves wrote nothing of value no longer bothered him, that he’d become inured to rejection. I told him I thought his second book was worse than the first and he cried, his skin growing even thicker.
War isn’t insanity, it’s the base state for all reality. Plants war for sunlight. Animals war for food and water. Wolves battle to decide who leads the pack. All life is struggle. Peace, now that is insanity.
Could he be gullible and not stupid? Did innocence and inexperience explain everything? I’m not stupid. But how could he be sure?
“Your lessons begin now,” said Wichtig. “What mistake did you make?” Opferlamm stared at him, brow crinkling in thought. “I’m unarmed. I should have gone for the sword first. Got the purse second.” Wichtig nodded in appreciation. The girl has potential.
“The facts don’t matter. Facts are a hindrance. Unless they support whatever it is you’re saying, in which case they are the most important thing in the world and anyone who says otherwise is an idiot.”
“Why are you looking at me?” “I’m supposed to convince—” “Your opponent doesn’t matter. The crowd matters. Convince the crowd. Never fight without a crowd if you can avoid it. If there’s no crowd, then you have to convince your opponent. If that fails, you might have to actually rely on skill with a sword. That should always be a last resort. Now, talk to the crowd.
