Fantastic Metropolis

In West Kensington library I found a delightful book written by, an Austrian I think, who had invented a machine for producing limitless energy out of nothing. He called it “the stator” and had tried to persuade the UK government to fund its construction, offering to defend the British Empire. I can’t remember the principle on which it was to work, but like the Dean Drive it almost certainly depended on a delirious overthrowing of the basic principles of physics.

Campbell also championed what in Britain is known as radionics, developed by de la Warr (maybe that’s the other machine you mention). I’ve read one of de la Warr’s books. He comes across as probably a likeable and sincere person, but quite nutty. When confronted with an experimental result which contradicted his theory (he tried to kill disease bacteria with “radionic radiation”) he wrestled with his soul until he came up with a radionics-saving explanation. And he soon learned not to go near medical scientists who offered to subject his claims to clinical trials.

Current radionics practitioners I know of are not nice, however: evil charlatans exploiting sick, desperate people for mercenary gain and sexual predation.

It would be comforting to think that “real scientists” are completely sane and well-balanced, but alas it is not so. That kind of level-headedness is restricted to us science fiction writers, as far as I can see! (Yet how often have you been targeted with the exasperated words, “But you must believe in flying saucers! You’re in science fiction!”) The towering intellect of the scientific age, Newton, was distinctly odd. I wonder if the years he spent labouring in his alchemical laboratory, which must have involved long-term exposure to mercury, might have had something to do with his subsequent mental breakdown. His later years were devoted to Biblical exegesis, from which he calculated the world is scheduled to end in 2060 AD. Beat that for divorce from reality!

Michael Moorcock: Remember that guy who gave us a go on the E-meter and how we learned it was an old US Army lie detector which could be bought cheaply as army surplus?

Barrington Bayley: He was a young Dane or Swede called Jan, if I remember. It was you who had the e-meter “processing”; I wasn’t there (maybe you could talk about it). But he was quite an engaging fellow and I used to run into him in a cafe near Notting Hill tube I used sometimes.

Late one night a big goony guy came rushing in, pent up, yelling “I need you, Jan! Now!” Jan promised to come round to him as soon as he had finished eating. I took him to be one of Jan’s scientology clients and thought, Wow, this thing really builds up dependency. But he turned out to be somebody Jan had rented a room to next to his own along the street, and was unhappy about the arrangement. Jan became nervous and was glad to accept my offer to accompany him back. When we got there the two of them started arguing in scientology speak (he accused Jan of “playing a low-tone game”) but Jan was better at it and soon was able to manipulate him.

Another night we were standing chatting on the corner having come out of the same cafe when an elderly, very well-dressed man collapsed on the pavement, clinging to a lamp-post and begging hoarsely, “Please don’t let me die in the street.” I thought Jan’s total lack of reaction rather callous. I nipped into the tube station and phoned for an ambulance. When I got back Jan was still there, but the old fellow had gone. It seems a couple of coppers had come along, yanked him to his feet and hauled him off to a taxi drivers’ hut there was nearby. They were familiar with him and his sympathy act. “I knew straight away he was a fake,” Jan said cheerily. “Still, you played an interesting game, Barry.” (Everything to a scientologist is a game, apparently.) Then I had to explain it to the ambulance men.

Jan related a similar incident. “I was walking along and came to a knot people gathered round a young woman lying on the pavement. None of them knew what to do.” Jan used his scientology training. “I went up to her and said, “What is it you want?” She said, “I want two shillings for my fare home.” I gave it to her and she got up and walked away.” A “touch assist” in reverse!

Jan needed a job and an acquaintance of mine told me of an opening where he worked, so I made introductions, and he to his (Jewish) employer. Later Jan phoned me. “This old Jew is a really square fellow, Barry.” It seems he had wanted Jan to work without pay and live off social security until he had learned the job (silk screen printing). Probably, though, he could see Jan wouldn’t stick it, and wanted to get rid of him.