Dialogues of the Dead

SERGIUS: Well remembered. Pity Rye’s memory didn’t work as well. She got thrown out of the car and I was in no state to get out after her. I just slumped across into the driver’s seat and died. And it wasn’t a churchyard wall we hit, but a garden wall, and the nearest thing to a cypress tree in it was one of those ghastly leylandii hedges. But Rye had such a powerful false memory that when she read this particular effort of Mr. Penn’s, she immediately saw it as one of these signs she was always looking for. There were plenty of others. You yourself bear some responsibility in this, Mr. Dee. You made her aware of that game of yours, Paronomania, and she worked out for herself long before you told her what was the significance of the third tile rack bearing the name Johnny. Here, it seemed to her, was a perfect example of bringing someone back to life through the power of words.

DICK: But it was never like that with Johnny …I refuse to accept any responsibility here …it’s only a game …was …

SERGIUS: Of course it was. With Rye, too, it was only a game to start with. But before we leave your game, Mr. Dee, you should be aware that in fact its very name was one of the most significant triggers of her subsequent course of action. In the beginning was the word, remember? And the word in this case was PARONOMANIA.

DICK: I don’t understand. How could a name …? Ah …

SERGIUS: I think you’re getting there. After all, you too are a wordman. That’s right. Try rearranging the letters.

DICK: Oh God …Paronomania …Raina Pomona! But I can’t be blamed for an anagram!

SERGIUS: Why not? You have taken power from words and their construction, deconstruction, and reconstruction all your life. The man who splits the atom must bear some responsibility for all that springs therefrom, surely? Dear Rye saw in these and many other small signs evidence that I was trying to show her a path which would lead to direct communication with me.

GEOFF: By killing people? Don’t get it, old boy.

SERGIUS: That was still to come. The nearest thing to an unmistakable sign came the day the shelf collapsed during the grand tour of the library. Most of you were there, which of course seemed significant later on. You remember the occasion, Mr. Dee?

DICK: Indeed. It was quite comic really the way everyone scattered as the books came tumbling down.

PERCY: I didn’t think it was comic. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.

BROSE: Not even now, dear boy.

PERCY: This hardly counts as life, does it? So there!