It seems a matter of urgent concern to devote particular attention to the notion of rapturous quivering and its pernicious effects, for while at first glance it is immediately comprehensible, its innermost essence remains profoundly enigmatic. Everyone knows what is meant by rapture. Some might simply call it delight. Even the most downtrodden soul experiences moments when the self is suspended in a state of fleeting ecstasy — precisely that of rapture or delight. Yet such moments need not necessarily be accompanied by a quiver — but when they are, as demonstrably occurs in theMotus extatico-narcissicus trumpiensis, we may well be witnessing a phenomenon of world-historical significance. This is why at the present age no politically minded individual can ignore the spectacle of ecstatic quivering, least of all the scientific community, which has already engaged with it in its characteristically systematic manner, bestowing upon us the aforementioned technical term.
Such a momentous phenomenon could not remain hidden from the highest circles, as the following conversation proves. Evidently, the assistant is well informed. Could he even have a hand in the matter?
Rapturous quivering gained global notoriety thanks to an aging political candidate, incapable of mounting a platform without immediately flailing both arms in rhythmic agitation, his entire upper body succumbing to a kind of pubescent sway. This swaying soon seizes the audience — typically numbering in the thousands — in a wave-like motion. Though composed mostly of adults, they throw themselves into the childish rocking with the same relish, indeed with unmistakable fervour. From a scientific point of view — which, as you know, aligns most closely with my own understanding — the cause of this regression into an infantile state lies in a primal delight, one that dates back to humanity’s most distant origins, observable even in our closest relatives, the apes. The mechanics taking place in the human brain are well understood: the quivering agitation stimulates the amygdala, plunging the affected individual into a state of emotional euphoria. And once the nucleus accumbens joins the fray, spurred by the synchrony of collective fidgeting, the system is flooded with dopamine and the eyes of the quiverers light up as if switched on from within. This regression into primordial simian rapture renders the collectively quivering crowd irresistibly willing to surrender itself – body and soul – to the candidate.
„Well?“ murmurs the Old One, his slit-eyes narrowing almost to a line. „Have you taken to flirting with erudition?“ He strokes his sparse, pointed goatee, befitting a devotee of the great Confucius. The assistant responds with accelerated speech.
„Great Master, I am receptive in my own way. I still see him before me, the quivering candidate, shielded by bodyguards, dancing with a swaying gait toward the crowd, a deity so to speak of real estate with a straw-blond schoolboy haircut. Look at his arms jerking simultaneously left and right; already his index finger juts out, singling some insignificant figure in the faceless throng, a figure grazed by his fleeting Caesarean glance. And lo, the anonymous wretch is overcome by a shudder of blissful devotion, nearly swooning to the ground. Meanwhile, the fans and admirers convulse in unison — even those untouched by the fervid crowd’s haze, namely the gawkers before their television screens, watching the candidate from afar.
The old man puts on a gracious smile. ‘I like the flowery way you express yourself; indeed I always appreciated your poetic streak! Continue with your report. I know that my work never ceases to amaze people.’
Pleased by the old man’s good humour, the assistant continues his presentation.
‚How does he do it?‘ the laymen wonder, struck dumb by awe. Well, we do, of course, know the answer and the mechanics, for we dared — in accordance with your sovereign will — to meddle with the grey substance within their skulls. During collective quivering, a rapture of lofty emotions conquers their minds. People who moments ago despised one another yearn to embrace as brothers – driven by irresistible love. Thus have you willed it — love, that’s your eternal theme. Yet love alone does not make them happy. This truth, you have conveniently overlooked. It is me, your old and obedient servant who knows what truly plagues them. They long to be free of a burden — so unbearable to most of them — that you imposed upon them. As soon as the synchronized arm-flailing and leg-stomping begins, all their intellectual lights are forcefully and happily extinguished. The triumphant candidate redeems himself and his fellow quiverers from a dreadful inheritance: the toils of thought, the nagging of critical questioning and doubt. Even elementary logic — the very faculty that teaches them that darkness cannot be light, nor falsehood false — vanishes from their minds. Thus, the restless candidate together with my insignificant person led half a nation to supreme bliss, for what brings greater happiness than the state of beatific dementia, where the thinking brain ceases all function? The man is my very best pupil as he accomplishes miracles within seconds. With each appearance, he undoes hundreds of thousands of years of evolution — an evolution, alas, marred by your errors. Relying on my devoted help he is now setting things right. Your creation will finally be truly perfect when all mankind quivers in rapture.
Which reminds me that I have done my best already some time before. I am really no novice when it comes to better man’s lot. To my eyes, the candidate is a faithful copy, a reincarnation of many a fine soldier-emperor from Rome’s decline. Once more, humanity is about to taste the incomparable delights of decadence…“
The Old One yawns. „Yes, yes, the eternal recurrence of the same. Belze, enough! Spare me your history lesson. At heart, you still remain a Western barbarian. You are the force that ever wills the good — and ever accomplishes evil.“
„Ah well, one does what one can,“ the assistant replies, glancing at his toes and his left leg the one that is lame since time immemorial but he is straightening his back with quiet confidence. Then, sotto voce, he adds:
„Lately, our hand has been spotted. How shall I say? We even face serious competition. The enlightened part of the human species likes to remember its godlike nature — they even seek to surpass your omniscience. ‚Scientists,‘ these presumptuous folk call themselves, and they are hot on our heels. One by one, they are uncovering our most sacred secrets. Naturally, they have long studied ecstatic quivering in the abstract, as well as its specific variant, the Motus extatico-narcissicus trumpiensis. These bloodhounds go straight for the jugular. ‚What,’ they ask, ‘is the biological purpose of the highest form of human quivering — the quivering of love, which culminates in physical union?’ This act, in your infinite wisdom, you placed under the mighty governance of rapture and delight. But why? These zealots of knowledge will stop at nothing to uncover the answer, and they have nearly unravelled the secret we so long concealed. ‘Rapture and delight,’ they say, ‘are meant to obliterate thought — even to annihilate it utterly — so that none engaged in the act should consider the sorrows, the misfortunes, the dark days their offspring will inevitably face.’ Where biological propagation is concerned, reason is silenced — pettifogging concerns and critical questions are most unwelcome. This, the idolaters of knowledge have clearly understood and taken their reasoning even step further: if this is so, must not thought itself be the root of all suffering? Why, for instance, do discos blast music at deafening volumes? They pierced through the mystery — the thunderous beat is meant to smother all thought in its cradle. Driven by the urge to reproduce, heated bodies might even fling themselves into the Devil’s embrace.“
„Ugh,“ the Old One interrupts. „This is not about your personal sex appeal. I grant you free rein — but only so long as you advance our divine enterprise and remain a thorn in the side of the sluggish and the complacent.“
„Gladly shall I do my part,“ the assistant hastens to assure him, with a dutiful nod — though his thoughts run contrary. Ever since the Old One acquired slit-eyes, everything has to move faster. He had noticed it for some time already. Even for one such as I, things have grown uncomfortable. Yet he continues his report in an even tone.
„We have expended no small effort in driving reason and thought from the minds of the New World’s denizens. With the candidate himself, we may claim most spectacular success. He has become both a model and catalyst, having subjected every second compatriot to the same cerebral rinse. Since then, they live in constant shudders of rapture, no longer pursued and harassed by reason or thought. So, in this blissful state, crooked appears straight to them, and straight appears crooked. The distinction between lie and truth has turned into sheer mystery — impenetrable, inscrutable. In my name they celebrate a communal mass — a collective Satanic mass, so to speak, with myself as master of ceremonies. I let his outstretched finger aim straight at the believer’s heart, so they swallow the holy rapture like the sacramental wafer. And when they all cry in unison — ‘You are the greatest, the only one! And we all are the greatest, the only ones!’ that is the moment of final absolution.
But unfortunately, you have made your creatures in such a way that even the highest animal pleasures become stale and dull to them in the long run unless spiced with poisonous emotions, that is, with the leaven of irreconcilable hatred. I therefore whispered to them that the moon is in truth a monster, gluttonous and paedophile, which, incited by the candidate’s opponents, sneaks into their houses at night to eat their newborn babies. Thus, I blew my fire into their brains, and lo and behold, flames of madness are licking out of their skulls.
„Yet in upright contrition, I must confess we are but at the beginning of our great endeavour. The sobriety of pure reason continues to torment and threaten people’s zest for life. Corporations still demand that board members quantify success in sober figures, employing thought in the process. Net did the candidate succeed in persuading companies to forsake all numbers, to have its employees start dancing instead of working, flail limbs and declare themselves the greatest before the world. Not yet do the scientists and researchers of Ford, IBM, or Harvard wave their tables like dancers, plucking numbers from gut rather than brain. Some still distinguish crooked from straight, truth from falsehood. I admit, in business and academia, stubborn traditionalists still have their say. But you know, Almighty Lord, that I strive to fulfil your will to the fullest.
The old man has almost fallen asleep. ‘Yes, yes,’ he mumbles, ‘don’t forget, my wish is your command.’
And you cannot possibly deny me a respectable first success. The living incarnation of capitalism — a walking dollar bill among billionaires — I have nearly won over. A mere puff of my fiery breath, and madness shot from his skull like dazzling fireworks. I know, the sight even made your eminence laugh — though frivolous mirth is not your way — but the man is simply too absurd. Permit me to be blunt: he is diabolically funny. There he stands at the podium beside the candidate, whom he is desperate to outdo. That’s why he mimics the latter’s specialty — the rapturous quiver — hurling both arms skyward while emitting a guttural primal scream. ‘See, I can do it even better!’ that was his message, but it is merely ludicrous, embarrassing. That’s why people cannot help and just burst into laughter. None join his flailing, for all sense the absence of rapture. No wave, no fervour takes hold among them. All see it, all feel it: unlike his model, the great candidate, this man has not fully shed the burden of thought, the vestiges of reason. An unsavoury residue remains, reducing the whole affair to a farce — angular, awkward, gangly, a clown’s performance. I dare say, the man still requires my tutelage, though he is undoubtedly on the right path. Indeed he is already founding a party — a most promising sign! Soon, I shall plunge his mind into total darkness…“
The old man nods his agreement. Just do as your inner voice tells you. Of all the spirits that deny, the knave burdens me the least.
„As for the rest, we are really close to our goal. The candidate has pledged himself to my guidance body and soul. As I said, a few stubborn adherents of so-called decency, truth, and justice remain — not a few at the very seats of learning, the public institutions of reason and understanding. But the brave candidate already has the enemy firmly in his sights. ‘This must change,’ he resolved, launching a personal crusade of vengeance against the nation’s most venerable establishments. He is eager to drive the remaining uprights from their posts, whipping up healthy popular sentiment against the eggheads in universities. For now that he is elected, he is undoubtedly the greatest man in the world and of all history including Alexander, Napoleon and even the angels of peace. What are those compared to a man who dictates that truth shall be falsehood, and falsehood truth? This is law, and any who oppose him are goddamned criminals.
For the first time, the Old One pricks up his ears stroking his sparse goatee. You claim he wants to usurp my position? The assistant nods eagerly being at last aware that he finally achieved his goal. Of course, he deliberately provoked the old man’s question, steering the slit-eyed lord of the world towards it from the very beginning.
And behold — most believe him. From far away they crawl into the Satanic mass, where they solemnly renounce all reason, and he grants them all absolution. They sway and quiver, eyes alight, crying: ‘Credimus, credimus quia absurdum est!’
Almighty Lord, even science is grovelling before him; soon we will have won the game. Prepare yourself for a delicious end-time spectacle. They shall stagger senseless into the abyss, but in swirling bliss – just as you ordained for Western barbarians. For you are only fulfilling what has long since been written. The first shall be last, but the last shall be first.