The Devil and the Detective Read Online Free PDF Page A

The two philosophers meet – Philosopher A, the one who leaves his cottage to go get supplies, and Philosopher B, the one who runs a small shop out of his home – and talk for hours about politics, science, art and love and drink mugs of some sort of mead. Philosopher A’s convinced, Darren told me as he drove, that love as such, that love qua love, is nothing more than misfiring Spirit, Spirit clouding one’s senses, confusing one and leading one astray, that is to say, blinding one: blinding one as a prisoner. But Philosopher B says, Spirit’s what clouds your so-called senses, for it’s what grants you the ability to imagine love in the first place. Love, too, can confine, he says, yes, true. But so-called Spirit, the fantasy of Spirit, this is necessary to possess the illusion, to be able to even have illusions – to generate more illusions one need be inhabited ab initio with so-called Spirit, says Philosopher B to Philosopher A. I know, says Philosopher A, that’s why I think love’s a lie. If Spirit’s present in the beginning, as a sort of initial state, then once illusions are acquired, begetting more and more illusions, in time some illusions – ones based on non-truths, of course – transmogrify, mutatis mutandis , into exalted love. If this exalted love’s born from lies, lies generated by Spirit, then eo ipso , he says, love’s a lie. Although love may be a lie, as you yourself say, says Philosopher B to Philosopher A, it does bring to light some certainties on occasion. For example? says Philosopher A. Well, for example, after loving – while loving, even, from time to time – we can be sure that we are really separate, that some sort of commingling, even temporarily, a commingling of Spirit, never becomes one. We are always separated, says Philosopher B to Philosopher A, who responds by saying, You’re probably right. Then Philosopher A tells Philosopher B about a young man, a man in his late twenties, who is visited one night by the Devil. The Devil comes to the young man, he comes to him on a street corner, and says to the young man as he’s walking: There are things you’ll never know, as I’m sure you already know, things beyond your comprehension, and there are things you do know, things you have no idea you know, and it’s impossible for you to free yourself of this knowledge, although this knowledge is beyond your comprehension, too. And then the Devil laughed, says Philosopher A to Philosopher B, said Darren while driving me and the bouquet to Elaine’s. I asked Darren what the young man said in response. He said nothing, Darren said. I asked Darren what Philosopher B said to Philosopher A after the story, and Darren said he said that although it’s important to recognize the bottomless pit in others, it’s also important not to be dragged into that hole, and that although we’re separate and alone, it is in fact possible to drag someone into a pit. Then Philosopher A said, Omne verum vero consonat . And that’s it, said Darren. We pulled up to Elaine’s house and I thanked Darren for the ride and the story and then I asked why he told me this story, and he said he wasn’t sure, that he’d just read it somewhere, and that he wanted to see what I made of it, seeing as I’m a detective. I told him I wasn’t sure what to make of it, though I’d think on it. I tipped him the few dollars I had in change. He said thanks and gave me his card and I took my bouquet and he drove off in the flower-filled hatchback.
    Elaine answered the door dressed in jeans and a black woollen turtleneck sweater. She said hello and then sneezed. ‘ Gesundheit, ’ I said. She thanked me. I handed her the bouquet. I told her that I’d picked it up for her. She said she loved lilies. She seemed genuinely surprised and touched. This was my first time entering the Andrewses’ home. It seemed