As they walked through the parking lot of the Flying Q, Kandude saw a familiar looking big rig. Though he thought it could not be possible, he could not help himself from foolishly hoping as they entered the 24/7 Truckstop Cafe. To his amazement and joy he saw the friendly trucker, whose name was or was not Briar. He or she simultaneously spotted Kandude, rushing over to embrace him, as well as Cardoshia and the Old Woman. He or she also warmly acknowledged Tanemahuta, whom he or she remembered from the fateful shipwreck of the Minnow Too.
They all sat together and Briar told his or her story. Clinging to a chunk of flotsam for almost two days after the fearsome storm subsided, he or she was rescued by a fishing boat somewhere off Vancouver Island. Briar was convinced that all of his or her sailing companions were dead, a fear in large part confirmed when he or she returned to Seattle and discovered that his or her special friend Daphne and the Skipper were reported missing at sea and rescue efforts since called off. Having no choice but to make a living, Briar picked up his or her truck and returned to the road.
Making no mention of Changrilalaland, Kandude and Tanamahatu filled Briar in on their adventures after surviving the tragic shipwreck.
After catching up, they decided to use the restrooms and consider next steps. Morton returned to the table clutching a flyer from the bulletin board, which boards he always searched for announcements of adjunct faculty and tutoring opportunities.
The flyer announced a seminar by the eminent scholar Istvan Lavendar that very night at the academic subsidiary of one of Texas’ most prestigious college football teams. Distinguished Professor Lavender, a scholar of the Human Mind at one of the mightiest universities on the planet, was famous for his charismatic and compelling arguments for the brilliance of human progress and the case for optimism about the future. His best-selling books included Angels Kick Demon Ass and The Dark Ages Are Dead, Baby.
The great city of Austin was not far. Both Morton and Professor B were excited about the opportunity to hear and engage this famous potentate of positivity, and to advance their own lively debate about the human condition. Of course, Professor B was a great fan, but mildly critical of the Distinguished Professor Lavender’s failure to assign enough weight to capitalism as the central manifestation of evolutionary psychology and the dominant factor in human progress. Morton, on the other hand, opined that the Distinguished Professor Lavender was suffering from a congenital delusion of selective optimism, that he used questionable measures of human progress, and that he selected data and statistics in a way that was the very definition of confirmation bias.
Kandude was enthusiastic about joining the two philosophers at the Lavender seminar. Cardoshia and the Old Woman were excited about getting tickets to Austin City Limits Live. Tanemahuta said that he was their friend for life, but must now return to his own country to fight for Māori rights. Briar said that he or she had to continue his or her delivery run to Florida but would catch up with any and all wherever they ended up as he or she crisscrossed the country. The friends each bought a burner phone at the Flying Q trucker mart and logged in one another’s numbers. The earlier phones were now literal burners; Kellen Tuskboar had toasted them as promised and they smelled of burned electronics.
After warm hugs all around, Briar jumped into his or her truck and got back on the big road. The others dropped Tanemahuta off at airport terminal with best wishes and commitments to stay in touch. Kandude and the two philosophers dropped the ladies off at Moody Amphitheater.
The three men found their way to the famous football stadium, left the Suburban in the Third Down parking lot, found Crackback Hall, and made their way to the Extra Point lecture hall.
When they arrived, the Extra Point lecture hall was crowded, and there was a faint buzz, but Distinguished Professor Lavender was nowhere to be seen. Kandude and Morton pushed Professor B into a wheelchair bay in the back of the hall and took a couple of the few remaining seats nearby. They could see officials in line judge suits scurrying around and making calls. After about twenty minutes the crowd was growing restless, many people resorting to their cellphones and a few getting up to leave. Then, a distinguished looking man in a formal striped referee’s uniform came up to the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “I am very sorry to say that we have somehow lost tonight’s distinguished guest. He was with us for the faculty reception in the Linebacker Lounge, during which he looked a bit indisposed, but assured us that he was fine. Just prior to commencing this seminar, one of the prestigious Most Valuable Player series, Distinguished Professor Lavender excused himself. We have not seen him since. Please accept our sincere apologies. We will issue rain checks for all admission and parking tickets at the Bootleg Booth near the main entrance.”
There was a collective groan. People began to shuffle out of the lecture hall. Kandude and Morton, aware that navigation with Professor B’s wheelchair would be a little awkward, waited until the place had emptied out. As they made their way to the main exit, admiring the many life-size photos of past football heroes lining the now empty hallway, they heard a low sobbing sound emanating from one of the classrooms with the door slightly ajar. Concerned, Morton quietly pushed open the door.
There, hunched over a desk, face in hands, was the cheerful scholar, instantly recognizable from his book jacket photos, website glam shot, and the numerous seminar posters arrayed throughout Crackback Hall, except that he now appeared to be crying.
Kandude took a few ginger steps toward the distressed harbinger of hope. “Distinguished professor – are you alright?” he asked. “Is there anything we can do for you?”
Distinguished Professor Lavender gave a start, looking up at his three visitors. “Well,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to see this,” said the Clarion of Kaizen. “If you were here for the seminar celebrating the inexorable ascent of civilization, I must apologize.”
Morton said, “We were indeed here for the seminar, Professor, and we are all three somewhat familiar with your work, though I for one beg to differ with your analysis and conclusions. Nonetheless, there are times when events overtake the man, and he must be excused from his appointments, a respect we would all wish to be accorded.”
“Thank you for your kindness,” said Distinguished Professor Lavender. “You see, gentlemen, I could not bring myself to give this seminar tonight. It has been my life’s work to explore the better angels of man’s nature, to measure the upward trajectory of human progress, to celebrate the triumph of rationality and morality over violence, hate, stupidity, sectarianism, exploitation, war, slavery, discrimination, and the mean-spirited degradation of others. I did not think myself totally naïve – one would be a complete fool not to see that human progress ebbs and flows, and there are often catastrophic regressions in the human journey.”
Professor Lavender continued after moment’s pause. “I truly believed the eloquent words of Doctor Martin Luther King: ‘The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.’ But as I look around me these past few years in America, I struggle to believe them still.”
By this time Kandude and Morton had taken chairs, and along with Professor B, they gave the suffering Distinguished Professor their attentive regard.
“In our country these past several years, I see a vast segment of the populace idolizing and yearning to be led by a bloviating liar with the emotional maturity of a raging toddler, the intellect of a cane toad, the business ethics of a Mafia boss, the governing instincts of a fascist, and the morals of a sexual predator.
“Multitudes have enthusiastically joined a mass orgy of racism, hatred and shameless denigration of those over whom they demand economic and religious domination, and regarding whom they advocate marginalization, disenfranchisement, and even expulsion. By the tens of millions, they celebrate the degrading of principles and institutions of government which were created by an enlightened revolution at great cost, and whose stability and integrity have long been the envy of the world.”
“When I observe the state of the public dialogue, I weep,” said the Distinguished Professor. “Liars, conspiracy theorists, narcissists, nihilists, bigots, power seekers, petty terrorists compensating for disappointed lives, and idiots flood the anarchic media with ignorant and hateful sewage in volumes so great that truth, integrity, and basic human decency are in danger of being drowned.
“And then,” said the Distinguished Professor, “there are the charlatans who don the vestments of actual professions. Dramatic actors masquerading as journalists, pretending to deliver real news and sagacious commentary, but who lie about climate change, crime, immigration, insurrection, and election results, without a shred of regard for the pollution of the collective consciousness or the common good. They gleefully pimp this melodramatic cack, prancing, preening, grimacing and crowing without a scintilla of shame. They know this rubbish isn’t true. They also know that a great many in their audience don’t know it isn’t true.
“They wrap themselves in the flag and style themselves as heroic defenders of the forgotten, the God-fearing, the disrespected common man and woman. They bask in the studio lights, the applause, and ‘likes’ on X, TikTok, Facebook and Instagram, and relish the outrage of their critics. They defend themselves against accountability by arguing that only idiots would believe anything they say, thereby revealing what they really think about their audience.”
“These belligerent quacks watch those who caterwaul from further out on the moronic tail of the bell-shaped curve, the ones who create incendiary entertainments around the murders of elementary school children, fictitious killing of newborn babies, invented killing and eating of pets by immigrants, and the origins of tragic terrorist attacks. Many of these stories are much beloved by The Great Idol. Like dope peddlers who add fentanyl to street heroin, these cosplay journalists suck these pernicious fever dreams into their own carnival shows the moment their own schtick is no longer potent enough to give their junkies a good enough high. This because they dare not lose market share, their sole measure of merit and the fuel pump of their massive egos, their illicit status, and their inflated paychecks. Thus, do they pull more and more people deeper and deeper into the conflagration of rancor, fear and idiocracy.”
“In the meantime, the ethically unencumbered ideologues and apparatchiks advancing the campaign to take over the country brazenly plot to pervert democracy and the machinery of government. Elected officials amplify this filthy hogwash and embrace obstruction over any modicum of decent dialogue, desecrating the halls of democracy and justice in order to claw their way into the vortex of absolute power.”
The beleaguered Distinguished Professor paused for a few moments before continuing.
“Rationality and humanism are everywhere in disorganized retreat. I am terrified that what we are witnessing is not a setback, but a rout. The social and political landscape is descending toward a darkling plain, swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, where ignorant armies clash by night.”
The men fell silent, the only sound being the distant harmony of the glorious football team’s fight song playing 24/7 on the football stadium speakers.
“I study evolutionary psychology,” Distinguished Professor Lavender finally said. “What I see before us is the threat of mass self-extinction. I have decided to join the Carthusian monks.”
The little philosopher Morton, himself no Pollyanna, leaned forward and gently placed a hand on the Professor Lavendar’s forearm. “Distinguished Professor, you have given much to the world in terms of scholarship, intelligent disquisition, and hope, however tenuous the last. You have been a seeker of truth, and we wish you very well in this difficult world. I must only say this one thing about the human condition. The marketplace for truth is infinitely smaller than any of us would like to believe.”
The three men left the Distinguished Professor to reflect upon his future at a silent monastery. They picked up the ladies at the end of a glorious ACL concert and repaired to rooms at a modest motel to recover from the day’s events before figuring out what was next.