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Jewish World Review / May 27, 1998 / 2 Sivan, 5758
By Sheindel Weinbach
"WHEW! SURE IS hot around here."
"Must be close to a hundred and twenty in the shade, I bet."
"Shade? You must be suffering from heat-shock. There are no trees for
hundreds of miles around."
"I didn't mean trees, old man. I meant the clouds. Those
water-vapor-plus-xenon contraptions overhead that Mr. One concocted for
us. Beats me why they don't evaporate at this temperature. Well, I never
was much of a scientist, just a plain old construction worker. In fact,
I never was much of a scholar altogether. And never will be, I guess."
"Oh, don't say that. Big Boss don't like such talk. He intends to make
scholars of us all — that's what the daily classes are about. Sharpen the
mind, increase perception, shake off superstitions. You know, make moral
people out of us by the intellectual approach. Don't you go for them!"
"Oh yes. I love the classes. Really makes me feel part of this whole
project. Sort of give us a sense of pride and togetherness we wouldn't
feel otherwise. Big Boss knows what he's doing, all right."
"No doubt about that. Never saw such a capable fellow in my life. And
to think of what he left behind to come and join this outfit. Why, he
could have lived the life of Tut, been a prince back home. But no, he
chose to come into this sandy sauna and head the Project. Can't say that
I regret it. Don't think he does either for that matter. They were a
decadent, degenerate lot back there, pulling off their barbaric
atrocities under the banner of culture and civilization. Boy, am I glad I
got out of there in time."
"Me, too. But the heat sure gets to you. Guess I've just got to get
used to it. Still it beats all that mind pollution we left behind. You
even breathe freer here, you know? If your eyes and ears are not
bombarded with their filth in every public place. If they would have let
us have our privacy..."
"You're right there. I often catch myself doing breathing exercises. It
feels great. You can almost taste the freedom. You'll get used to the
temperature in no time. We've only been on the project for a few days.
You'll see, the change in air and diet will perform wonders in no time.
That's what Big
"Talk about diet. That sure is strange stuff Mr. One is feeding us. Some
health food, the women say, just a seed and honey mixture. But it's
doing wonders for me. No elimination problem. No acid indigestion like I
used to suffer from. The doc says my ulcers have disappeared. You have to
get used to the stuff, but it's got a real delicate flavor. I think that
exercise bit at dawn before breakfast helps keep me fit for the rest of
the day. You wanna hear something funny? Just yesterday I kind of got a
hankering for a real roast beef. You know that for a while I could have
sworn that my food tasted exactly like roast beef. It was uncanny —
the texture, smell, and taste-with the perfect degree of rareness on the
inside, crispy-on-the-outside. You think it had anything to do with the
heat affecting my senses?"
"You know, I've had similar experiences all along. Only I like my steaks
well done. Who knows? Maybe it's the heat and food affecting our minds.
Maybe that's why everyone goes around with that peaceful look on his
face. I personally wouldn't mind if the Project went on for a good long
stretch. Who wants to go back to civilization? Bah! Besides, I wouldn't
want this experiment to fail. Not with the talent, energy, and labor
being sunk into it. I'd feel partly responsible."
"Imagine how Big Boss would feel if this flopped."
"I don't really believe anything will go haywire. Not with the blueprint
Mr. One drew up. It's just so neat, everyone doing his own bit, no
duplication of jobs, no wasted skills. Everyone contributing and feeling
important for it. With time-off for releasing tensions — and, of
course, the lessons. We've got the ideal happy community here, even
though there must be a couple of million of us here, including the women
and the kids. Amazingly little friction, too, for a camp this size.
Well, guess I'd better get back to the grind and do my bit for the
cause. 'Bye now."
"HOW ARE THINGS going, O.A.? Everything running smoothly, no snags in the
machinery?"
"Purring like a kitten, Big Boss, except for some minor problems here
and there."
"I just had a lulu of a problem. I misunderstood Mr. One's directions.
The blueprint had everything detailed real neat — all the components,
how to make them, and where they belonged in the final shell. So I just
went ahead and ordered all the components from each outfit separately.
The metallurgists, coppersmiths, carpenters, the various technicians.
Then along comes Betz and tells me I've started from the wrong end, that
we've got to start from the shell and build inwards. When he explains it
to me it seems so commonsensical that I see why it wasn't even mentioned
in the master plan. No harm done, thanks to Betz. Well, Mr. One picked
himself a good foreman, I'll say. Talented fellow, great coordinator,
and no prima donna, salt-of-the-earth type. How did things go with you?
Better, I hope."
"Not bad. I was inspecting the special suits our men will have to wear.
They'll have to be made of just the right blend of lightweight material
and still be solid stuff. How come Mr. One's instructions are so
detailed even on something as minor as clothing!"
"I wouldn't consider that to be minor. I sure wouldn't want any of our
men getting burned because the atmosphere was lacking, or the suits were
not flame-resistant or anti-magnetic or static-proof, or something like
that. Every filament has to be in place. You've got to be real careful
with those gold threads so that they conduct just the right amount
without resistance or overload. A short circuit anywhere could be fatal,
you know."
"THEY SENT ME TO YOU, sir. Here are my credentials. You can skip the
formalities and just call me Jess, you'll never get the hang of all
those names and titles in my pedigree. I'm from the Daily Median. Came
for some information about your project here. You're quite famous, you
know. All over the globe, in fact. You know, it's real nice of you guys
to let me in. Thought there would be plenty hush-hush on something as
big as this. Can you tell me what it's actually all about?"
"I'll try to explain it in layman's terms as best as I can. Our project
has something to do with hi-fidelity reception from out beyond. We're
trying to tune in on cosmic transmissions. We've got to start from
scratch, manufacturing and assembling all our own equipment. You see,
nothing like this has ever been tried on a mass scale. We've got to
train a special corps of men, too. You see, our reception equipment will
be so very delicate that it can be affected by the receiver himself. It
picks up brain waves of the slightest aberration, so he's got to be
emotionally and morally stable as well as highly sensitive and well
trained."
"Oh, then I read you all wrong! I thought this was some kind of moonshot
outfit."
"Did you? Well, I'll show you around the place, and then you can go back
to the Median with our slant on the Project."
"Sounds O.K. with me, though I got the impression that you didn't care
for outsiders."
"You're right about that. We don't want snoopers messing around. Mental
saboteurs, that is, who want to ruin the excellent morale we've built up
here. But you seem to be all right, so we'll take our chances with you."
"Mind if I ask some questions? How did you get all your raw materials to
this man-forsaken spot? I see technicians working with copper, rare
woods, even gold. Seems that everything is of the best quality, too."
"That's right, no expense spared. The success of the transmission
depends on the perfection of each minute component. But we don't worry
about budget here. You see, we operate on a communal basis. We all pay
our yearly dues regularly. Equally. But besides that we have everyone
chipping in as their means allow."
"Do I get you straight? The financing is coming from the members of the
outfit itself? And that works? You've got sufficient coverage for all
that gold and silver?"
"Yes, indeed. Why, the wives volunteered their own jewelry to be melted
down."
"Amazing! I think the sociological aspects of this project are even more
fascinating than the technical ones. Would make a fascinating study.
Tell me, this sharing business goes all the way? 'The community that
eats together' and all that jazz?'"
"Oh no! We confine our togetherness to work, meditation, and education.
But we have completely separate housing, etc., etc. In fact, our houses
were especially designed so that no one entrance faces another. We
believe in each family unit keeping its individuality. Makes for less
friction all around. Maintains the emotionally stable atmosphere which
is so vital to the project. As I told you before, any offbeat brain
waves or highly charged negative emotions can throw our whole delicate
machinery off-kilter."
"But you said that you meditate together. Doesn't that generate psychic
energy of extremely high velocity?"
"Good for you. But I said specifically aberrant psychical
activity. We all meditate in the same direction, so to speak. This is
another integral facet of the project which I haven't gotten to yet. You
probably wonder why we are doing this on such a gigantic scale. We
actually have several million people with us. Our master theory
predicates that it is precisely this concentration of mental effort —
in layman terminology: our magnetic force field — which attracts the
cosmic radiation our way. We've got a kind of motto for it: 'Think One.'
We had our first trial demonstration a while back. It was something to
experience, but the force of it was a bit too much for us. You see, we
had no equipment, it took place just out in the open. It struck us like
lightning. Well, anyway, Mr. One said that we'd better go ahead and
design the machinery and its housing and train our special corps so that
we could maintain a steady psychical level. I hope I haven't confused
you too much."
"I'm afraid you have. But I'd like to stay around and see for myself
what's going on. If you'd allow it, I might even want to stay and join
you. Oh, one minor question. Do you have a name for this project? No one
on the outside seems to know."
"Oh! Didn't I tell you that? We call it Operation Mishkan."
[Editor's note: The Mishkan was the Biblical
Science! Fiction? The sociological aspects are even more fascinating
than the technical aspects of
The Project
Boss promised us back there — that he'd make new men
out of us. Sure, you can say we're roughing it if you want to look at it
that way. But it's heaven compared to the living hell we left
behind us."
Sheindel Weinbach is a published author, translator and journalist. She
resides in Jerusalem.
