`But the Die keeps telling me to!'
['The sound of Ecstein and Mrs. Rhinehart laughing.]
`So far we're the only religion in world history that's losing money hand-over-fist,' said Ecstein. `I don't know why,
but it makes me feel good.'
`Look H.J.,' said Mrs. Rhinehart. `Money, power. Diceboy T-shirts, green-dice love beads, the Church of the Die #161;
everything people are doing with the dice - all are irrelevant. Diceliving is Only our game to promote multiple game-
playing; our theater to Promote multiple theater. Profits aren't part of our act.'
'You're playing the saint, Lil,' said Ecstein. `If we're beginning to take pride in our novelty, I'm for trying to loot the
public.'
I tell you we've got to do something about this IRS business or I'm through,' said Wipple. `We must hire the best
lawyers in the country to fight this ruling - to the Supreme Court if necessary.
'It'll be a waste of money, H.J.'
Still,' said Mrs. Rhinehart. `It might be educational to have the issues debated in the courts. "What is religion?"
"What is therapeutic?"
"What is education?"
I'm fairly certain I could make a strong case that the IRS would be the last organization likely to have the answers.'
I suggest we hire you to appeal the IRS decision,' said Ecstein.
`We need the best money lawyers can buy,' said Wipple.
`We need a dicelawyer,' said Ecstein. `No one else would know what he was trying to defend.'
'Dicepeople are unreliable,' said Wipple.
[Again there is laughter, in, which a nervous guffaw of Wipple can be heard too. The buzzing sound of the inter-
building telephone is heard and Wipple apparently leaves the room to answer it.]
'I hope Luke's all right,' Mrs. Rhinehart said.
`Nothing can hurt Luke,' said Ecstein.
'Mmmmm.'
'What are you consulting the Die about?' Ecstein asked.
`I just wanted to see how I should react to news of his death.'
`What did the Die say?'
'It said joy.'
Chapter Ninety-five
It had been an interesting program, with significant talk, action audience participation: a thoughtful dramatization of
some of the key issues of our time. The sponsor would be pleased.
Such were not my thoughts as I choked and gasped and staggered out the door opposite the control room, through
which I'd seen Eric pull the body of Arturo. In the hallway I tried breathing again for the first time in fifteen minutes,
but my eyes, nose and throat still felt as if they were supporting carefully tended bonfires. Eric was crouched over
Arturo, but when I knelt beside him to examine the wound, I saw that Arturo was dead.
'To the roof,' Eric said quietly, standing. His dark eyes were streaming tears and seemed not to see me. I hesitated,
glanced at a die and saw I couldn't follow him but was to seek my own way. We could hear sirens wailing outside in the street.
`I'm going down,' I said.
He was trembling and seemed to be trying to focus his eyes on me `Well, go ahead and play your games,' he said. 'Too
bad you don't care about winning.'
He shivered again. 'If you want to find me, call Peter Thomas, Brooklyn Heights.'
`All right,' I said.
`No good-bye kiss?' he asked, and turned away to trot down the hall toward a fire exit.
As he began opening the window at the end of the hall, I knelt beside Arturo to check a last time for a pulse. The door
opened beside me and a policeman with twisted face hopped grotesquely into the hallway and fired three shots down
the hall; Eric disappeared out the window and up the fire escape.
'Thou shalt not kill!' I shouted, rising stiffly. Another policeman came through the door, the two of them stared at me
and the first one edged cautiously down the hall after Eric.