Wreck Beach University

I hardly remembered those miserable summer days anymore when the industrial dust gathered thickly on the porches. Living in Pittsburgh in those days had been no holiday. The air had been a dull choking haze that one didn't dare breathe.

Only on rare occasions now, usually only during the hot summer days when the air is still and the smog from the city makes the sky dull at noon, do those horrible days come back to mind. The day when I called Tony up was one of those days.

I needed to discuss something with Tony. He lived at the opposite side of the city, too far to just run over and speak with him in person. The telephone had to suffice. I wondered how people managed to get by in the age before the telephone.

Naturally, we talked about the weather and how lovely it had been at the coast and how rotten the atmosphere can get in Pittsburgh.

"But it's a rotten day only by what we can see," I said to him. "In reality this is the brightest of all days!"

"Now what is that supposed to mean?" his voice came back over the telephone.

"It means that there are papers to be signed. My Realtor called today. And I mean, these are special papers indeed!"

"Oh, and I am supposed to know what you are talking about? You've lost me, my friend."

"It means that our California beach house has been sold."

"You never told me you had a beach house. Congratulations! Did you get a good price?"

"You still don't know what I'm getting at, do you Tony?"

There was silence for a moment.

"No!" his voice came back. Then, there was silence again. "My God, no, you haven't! You couldn't! You didn't sell your beach house for that crazy project we talked about?" He laughed moments later.

"Exactly so, Tony. The project is on!"

"You're nuts, man! What about all the memories you've got invested in your California place? You can't just throw all this out of the window for something that may never work."

"Our place has already been sold, Tony."

"Sold! That sounds so final, Pete."

"It is that, Tony."

"But why?"

"Tell me, what good are pleasant memories, Tony, compared to staying alive?"

There was silence for a while.

"Pete, the salvation of the world doesn't depend on you."

"Oh, doesn't it? Doesn't it depend on everyone?"

There was silence again.

"So the project is really on?"

"Of course! Are you still with me, Tony?"

"Good Lord, Pete, you can count on me. I had no idea you were really serious. Of course I'm with you. My ass is on fire too, you know."

"What?"

"Never mind that. But what about your wife? How did you manage to get her interested in our crazy scheme?"

"Later Tony. First let me tell you that Craig, that's my Realtor, has located a 126-acre parcel of beachfront for us. And you won't believe this. It's in the exact area where we had figured it should be, about 20 miles north from the SandCastle. I have already secured an option on it. All I have to do is sign the papers."

"Hold it Pete, I'll be right over. I'll be at your place in twenty minutes. I want to witness this historic occasion."

"Don't rush, Tony. The option is valid for a week. Anyway, Craig wants us to look the place over before we sign. And listen to this, Tony, it includes a clean, sheltered, crescent-shaped beach!"

"Sounds perfect, Pete. But what's the catch? There must be a catch."

"Well, there's a slight catch. If we buy it, there won't be any money left over."

"Don't worry about money, Pete. If the idea is great and the location is as outstanding as you say, the money will come in somehow. I've got my pension, and you have a well-paying job."

"Would you like to drive out with us and have a look?"

"Right now?"

"No Tony, tomorrow morning at six."

"At six! That's in the middle of the night, man! And this on a weekend! Are you crazy?"

"I thought you were..."

"I was just joking. We can leave at midnight if you want. It makes no difference... Still, I think you are nuts," he added before he hung up, "but you're wonderful, I love you my friend."

It was still dark when we picked Tony up. He wasn't ready. I half expected that. He had overslept. I went in and helped him pack.

"Now, tell me, how did you get Sylvia to go along with this scheme?" was practically the first thing he said when we were alone. "Also, tell me another thing; with a great wife like her, who goes along with that, what possessed you to be messing around with Heather?"

"Did you forget, Tony, Heather was key to the whole idea. Sylvia realized this the same way as we did."

"You mean you told your wife about Heather, too? You actually did?"

"It wasn't a matter of choice, Tony," I interrupted him. "And believe me, I'm glad that I told her. Out of it came a really close and intimate feeling for one-another that we never had before."

"And now you are going to tell me that if we did this on the political level the arms race would end immediately," Tony joked.

I nodded and grinned. "Don't worry, Tony, there is hope for us yet."

"At any rate, this crazy scheme of yours is still a hell of a lot better than sitting on our asses, spellbound and in fear, hoping for the nuclear threat to go away on its own."

"MY scheme?" I said. "I thought that was OUR idea."

"Actually we should blame it on Heather," he said. "If Heather hadn't left you that day out of sheer desperation..."

I raised my hand to stop him.

"Maybe it wasn't all because of her," said Tony.

"Sylvia believes it was. She said to me 'the world might be full of people who can't cope anymore, like Heather. They might look for a way to escape and be tempted to force matters..."

"You aren't talking about nuclear weapons sabotage," he interrupted.

"Or nuclear blackmail, or some submarine commander ordering his crew to fire, or some idiot pressing anyone of the thousands of buttons." I could come up with quite a long list. I assured him of that.

Tony looked at me surprised.

"Actually, Tony, those were Sylvia's words, not mine. Anyway, Sylvia likes the idea of living full-time by the sea. Also, this brings us close to one of the best medical facilities that I know of, in Norfolk. She still has the occasional need for medical treatment. In this sense too, she is glad that we met Heather."

"It's amazing, Pete, in how many areas Heather played an essential part."

"And Ursula, and Steve too, even the spy, Leroy Anderson," I added. "Without them I might never have met Heather, and without her, none of what we're doing now would have happened."

"That's what I mean. It's unbelievable how one thing ties into the other. Is there really such a thing as the one consistent unity that some philosophers say comprises all reality? The coincidences that we have experienced are amazing, even scary, Pete!"

"From an emotional standpoint, maybe. From a scientific standpoint there are no coincidences, Tony. The fact that I can see is that we have become more alert to what's going on and are moving with the stream of things. Shouldn't we expect to meet other alert people as we become more alert ourselves?"

As it was, we didn't make it all the way to the beach that day. We arrived late. Naturally, we stayed at the SandCastle. At daybreak, though, with the first light of dawn, we were up, ready, and on our way. We didn't even wait for breakfast to be served at the hotel. We were off to inspect our treasure. Would it measure up?

Oh, it did measure up, and more! It was grander than we had ever hoped it would be. From the first moment on, Sylvia fell in love with the beach. And the rest of the property was unspoiled woodland, much of it in steep hillsides. High above the beach, we found a rocky plateau, covered with grass and shrubs, an ideal spot for the workshop-center. But the beach was the undisputed gem of the place, a paradise of light-colored sand with shallow surf washing onto the shore as far as the eye could see, extending right across the bay. In the background low evergreen trees and bushes covered steeply rising hillsides, except for the center. A bare cliff rose straight from the beach at the center of it. Several more hills and cliffs could be seen on either side of our bay.

The beach appeared to be shallow. No rocks were visible anywhere. We had long waves of surf coming in, in smooth lines. Patches of beach grass provided a touch of color that complemented the color of the surf reflecting the sky.

"What's the catch?" Tony repeated his earlier question. "There must be a catch! When things are too good to be true there is always a catch build in to trap the unwary."

I shrugged my shoulders. "If there is a catch, I haven't discovered it yet, Tony. Let me know when you discover something suspicious."

Indeed, this huge chunk of property seemed like a gift for the price that it was offered at. Old weathered logs were piled up all along the backside of the bay, behind fields of tall beach grass. Evidently the collection of giant logs had been washed up by countless winter storms. Some of the logs looked perfect in size to lean against. We 'tested' them now and then as this had quickly became a lazy day.

We had fought our way down to the beach from our lofty plateau where we left the car behind. Surprisingly, considering the beauty of the place, no one else could be seen but us. There wasn't a single set of footprints in the sand, at least not until Tony took his shoes off and ran through the surf, yelling and splashing. Sylvia and I followed, chasing one-another across the endless surf until we fell exhausted into each other's arms.

With the beach sheltered from the northern wind by the surrounding hills and cliffs, the air felt pleasantly warm, though the sun was barely out. What luxury it was just to lay there on the sand looking into the sky and soaking up the warmth of the unfolding morning while watching the clouds high above us, or leaning against logs and watching the surf while munching on apples for a snack.

"We must build a trail when we come back," suggested Tony as we slugged our way back up to the car where the real food was.

We had delayed going back until we become unbearably hungry. Of course, up there on top of the cliff is where we had planned to have our first breakfast picnic. Naturally, exploring the beach seemed more important. It was way past lunchtime by the time we got back to have breakfast.

The rest of the day and the next were spent exploring our new domain, every inch of it. The property markers were the only signs of civilization that we could find.

Late in the afternoon on the second day we discovered another large flat area on the far side of the property, near a private dirt road that wasn't on any map.

"It might be possible to interest one of the big hotel chains in a free lease," said Sylvia.

"Maybe for a percentage of their profits," added Tony. "Indeed, we should consider this," added Tony with a grin.

"Fat chance," said Sylvia.

"No, No. Don't talk poverty now." I added. "This place would be a gold mine for any hotel. A small part of the profit would be sufficient income for us. Also, with a hotel running the financial operation, we wouldn't have to worry about advertising the beach. We could then concentrate on the workshops. We might even get some foundation to help."

"For a nudist beach project? You dreamer!" said Sylvia.

We all laughed.

"You mustn't fault Pete," said Tony. "It takes tall dreamers to see some hope these days."

"I see a lot of hope," I said. "I certainly believe that a hotel chain might be interested, because what we would offer the public has never been offered: a holiday away from lies."

"No greater peace workshop has ever been envisioned," interrupted Tony, speaking to Sylvia.

"Can you imagine a world in which human beings see each other primarily as human beings?" I added.

"No, can you imagine People being treated to a holiday away from lies? It must seem like a fairy tale dream," said Tony and began to laugh.

Sylvia gave Tony a hug for his enthusiasm.

"You are wrong," I protested, "dreaming won't do at all. You have to be scientifically correct if you want to do something that is workable and effective. Dreams are mythology, no matter how wild and fantastic they may appear."

Tony didn't agree.

We continued our grand philosophical exchange on and off through much of the day, while we inspected every last nook and cranny of the property that we wanted to buy. No one said, not even once, that the project wasn't right. In fact Tony had already the next logical step figured out.

"I'll be flying to the West Coast of Canada next week," he said. "We have an air show coming up. I've been invited to participate. If you would like to come, I can arrange passage for both of you. The air show is quite close to one of the most famous nudist beaches in North America. I can get you on the C-5 if you are interested."

"You mean the C-5 Galaxy?" I asked.

"Have you ever been inside one of them? Have you even seen one up close? It's the experience of a lifetime," said Tony and grinned.

"You can forget about me coming along!" Sylvia interjected. "I wouldn't set foot in one of those. But you gentlemen go!"

"You would travel on the C-5 without me," said Tony. "I have been asked to take the F-15 across. I would offer you a ride on the F-15," he said to Sylvia with a wink in his eye, "but sorry, there's no room for passengers."

"Don't even think it," said Sylvia. "I'll let you gentlemen go by yourselves with your fancy flying machines," she said and grinned back at Tony.

Thus, the project was off to a 'flying' start. The papers were signed the next day, and two days after that, at six AM, I stood in the cargo bay of the giant C-5 Galaxy transport, the biggest airplane ever built. We were all dressed up for the occasion, in regulation flight suits, ready to go. Tony asked one of the airmen to give us a tour.

"I always thought of the 747 as being big," I remarked to Tony. "But this thing... it's a flying warehouse by comparison!"

"It is that," said Tony. "The entire air show has been packed into here, including the tents, spare parts, displays, models, movie equipment, all except food and fuel."

"These suckers must cost a fortune to keep in the air," I said.

"You better believe it," said the airman who gave us the tour.

Tony nudged me. "Consider this: When the Air Force worries about money, you can bet it's expensive."

"This is an immense effort," I muttered in reply. "If only it could do the job it was meant for!"

Our guide gave me a nasty look as I said this.

"What you see is our best shot, Pete. It's the very best of a whole lot of people," said Tony. "Everyone is doing his damnedest to prevent the outbreak of a global war."

"I certainly believe that," I replied. "This plane is an absolute marvel, I'm in awe of it."

"You haven't seen anything yet," said Tony. "Evidently you haven't seen the XB-70 Valkyrie. That thing is a real marvel in every respect. It is the fastest intercontinental bomber that has ever been built, and probably the most stunning piece of aviation engineering of all times. This thing can fly faster then three times the speed of sound. It can go for almost eight thousand miles without refueling and reach a possible service ceiling of over eighty thousand feet. The aircraft is made almost exclusively of stainless steel and titanium. Its wing area is larger than the floor space of four average houses. It is powered by six engines burning specially engineered fuel."

"The fuel is ethyl borane," said the tour guide. "The Air Force regards it a bit expensive."

"Heh, who was counting pennies in the days when the Valkyrie flew?" said Tony. "The Valkyrie is the ultimate high-altitude bomber. It may represent the limit of what can be achieved. Absolute superiority in speed, altitude, and service range was important in the 70s. The Valkyrie is so fast and flying so high that no other aircraft on Earth could catch it except the XB-72. And all of this was developed way back in the sixties. Peter, we were truly the King of the Skies in those days, unchallenged by anyone. I tell you, this thing could fly!"

"That's just my point," I replied. "We have built those immense marvels at an evidently horrendous effort, backed up by the most leading edge research and engineering teams, and probably also by the most revolutionary manufacturing technologies that one can imagine, but are we closer towards peace because of these enormous efforts?"

"The Valkyrie scared the pants off the Soviets, I can tell you that," said the tour guide.

"Maybe it made them less trigger-happy," said Tony. "The Valkyrie can deliver fifty tones of nuclear warheads and spread them across the Soviet Union in a single run without refueling. That's a lot of bombs Peter. The Valkyrie could carry more than a dozen complete weapons systems."

"I know what you are trying to tell me," said our tour guide to me. "We created tensions and insecurity instead of peace."

Tony shook his head. "When the first Valkyrie flew in 1964 we were sitting of top of the world," said Tony. "We were winning the game. The game was to scare the Soviets into becoming shitless. We wanted them to surrender without war."

"But it didn't work, did it?" I interrupted Tony. "In those days we had thirty-thousand nuclear bombs, the Soviets had five-thousand, Britain had a few hundred, and nobody else had any. We could have called the game off then, and the whole world would have celebrated the day. Now the Soviets have stacked up eight times as many than they used to have, all directed at us. They have outnumbered us by a substantial margin. Maybe we shouldn't have built the Valkyrie at all."

"We scared them so badly that they've developed the MIG-25 to intercept the Valkyrie," said the tour guide.

"The MIG-25 was designed to reach Mach-3," said Tony. "It did that. Still, it was a failure. It could maintain Mach-3 only for short spurts. It didn't measure up to the capability of the Valkyrie. The MIG-25 would have been inadequate."

"I think our superiority in the days when we were King of the World, made us feel too comfortable," I suggested. "Our actions became too arrogant. We weren't interested in building a foundation for peace. We were determined to crush the Soviets and we told them so. Our goal was to eradicate the evil Communist Empire that threatened our Western Empire. Nobody was talking about humanity in terms of human beings. The talk was about power and empire. Before the Soviet's had the capacity to retaliate, we had plans to wipe them off the map with atomic bombs. We were mass-producing them for this purpose. The Soviet's beat us to the punch by developing the hydrogen bomb. They scared us instead. So, we called the plan off. As far as I know, the Principle of Universal Love was a forbidden subject in those days. There was more talk about depopulation among the ruling echelon in those days, than about peace. I suspect the Soviet's had also called our bluff of being the King of the Sky and turned our Valkyrie into a paper tiger almost overnight. Didn't they do something like that? As far as I know the Valkyrie was never put into service. Why wasn't it, Tony? It certainly wasn't a technological failure they way you describe it. Was it too expensive to build?"

Tony shook his head reluctantly.

"It wasn't that it would have been too expensive to produce as some people claim," said our tour guide. "Some people say that the Vietnam War was sucking up all the funding. I think the Valkyrie was canned, because it became obsolete before it could go into production. The Soviets had advanced surface to air missile technology. That's what had made the Valkyrie simply obsolete. There just wasn't any point in putting it into mass-production." The tour guide turned to Tony. "Wasn't that so?"

Tony shrugged his shoulders. "I agree on one thing," said Tony. "The massive radar signature of the Valkyrie, and also the massive infrared signature of it, made it too much of a glaring target. Maybe these were the features that the Soviets had recognized as our weak flank. Maybe they took it as an invitation for them to develop advanced surface to air missile technology in a hurry that might otherwise not have been developed as soon."

"The Soviets couldn't have wished for an easier target to strike at with their missiles," said our tour guide. Tony agreed.

"In spite of all that the Valkyrie is an astonishing engineering achievement," said Tony moments later. "It is an amazing airplane. Its delta wing design is a marvel in itself. It is designed to create a shock wave that the aircraft can ride on to give it extra lift in high altitude environments."

"That is also the very feature that made it obsolete," said our guide.

"Right!" I said to Tony and the guide. "My point is that there is no technological solution possible for a problem that isn't a technological problem. War is never a technological problem. It is a human-relationships problem. Technology cannot help us in creating a richer world in terms of relating to one another as human beings. For as long as we address the nuclear weapons issue as a technological problem we avoid looking for the only possible solution. And that is where the danger lies."

"Why then do we create technologies to fight wars as we have always done?" said the guide.

"We fight wars because we haven't explored what is necessary to prevent them," I answered. "We have never even learned the simple fact that wars are fought to perpetuate empires. Starting wars is never about money primarily, nor is it about power primarily, it's usually all about protecting and maintaining empires. Empires cannot exist in a highly civilized renaissance world. Wars are fought to preempt the advance of civilization. Wars are designed to kill the very notion of a highly developed humanist renaissance. Wars are fought for no other purpose than to protect empires from the effects of the normal development of humanity."

Our guide seemed shocked.

Tony nodded silently, suggesting perhaps that I was right.

"When the Valkyrie made its last flight to it final resting place in the Air Force museum where it now stands as a monument of this time," said Tony quietly later on, and apparently most reluctantly, "a new round of engineering escalation began. The new escalation began in the early spring of sixty-nine. At this point the technological challenge was to develop low-level penetration superiority. We made good progress in those days with the B-1s and the F117s. Both planes are virtually invisible to radar, but it took us fifteen years of immense efforts to get the stealth project to the point where the technology was effective."

"And again, this effort didn't get us any closer to peace," I countered Tony. "We now have ballistic missiles that can blanket the Earth, that no one can shoot down. We can destroy all the countries in the world at once in less time than it takes to have a lunch break. Nor can we protect ourselves from being destroyed in return until the SDI system begins to work, possibly in a dozen years from now."

"They call the SDI our Strategic Defense Initiative," said the guide in a sharp, mocking tone. "But what has it bought us? Mankind now has 65,000 nuclear bombs hanging over its head, and we are still tinkering with technological toys for gaining advantage over one-another."

"Do you want to know how the Thirty Years War was stopped?" I said to both of them. "It was stopped with an idea, with a principle. That idea and its principle took society in the opposite direction than one we heading in now. Instead of aiming to gain advantage ^over^ the other, they said let's promote the opposite. Let's promote what ^is^ to the ^other's advantage.^ They literally tore up their war plans and said to each other, we have tried for eighty years to gain the advantage without any success. We've destroyed everything. Let's turn this thing around and start with something positive. Let's build peace by promoting what is to the advantage of the other, because that would be to our advantage as well. They realized that if they did this it would be for example to everyone's advantage to have peace. So, they made it a top priority commitment to guarantee each other that peace. On this platform they also forgave each other all war-atrocities, and war-debts, and acknowledged each other's sovereignty, small or tall, weak or mighty. They did this, because they realized that whatever was to the other's advantage was also to their own advantage. That's how they created an active peace, and with it unfolded the greatest renaissance of all times."

"We are doing the opposite alright," said the tour guide, "and I see no hope for an end."

"If the SDI ever becomes functional to defend us against missiles," I said, "it too will be just another Valkyrie then that makes our situation still hotter. The more advantage we gain, the more we squeeze the Soviets into a corner. That is to no ones advantage. That's how we all lose."

"I agree," said Tony. "All these marvels that we have created will never provide any real solution."

"That's, because the real solution lies elsewhere," I said to Tony. "It lies in a totally different arena that nobody is looking at today, which is the arena where the Principle of Universal Love is uplifting mankind to a higher evaluation of its humanity. The renaissance Principle of the Advantage of the Other did this to some degree back in the 1600s."

"Uplifting ourselves to a higher evaluation of our humanity," Tony repeated. "Will we ever get to that?"

"Until we get there the Air Force is still needed," said our tour guide and started his tour of the C-5 Galaxy. "The Air Force regards its effort as a way of buying us time until a real solution can be found," said our tour guide this in a loud voice now so that some of the others nearby would hear it.

It occurred to me that the kind of discussions that we had might be forbidden in the services where a person is required not to think, but to obey.

"How long do you expect that we will have to wait?" I challenged the tour guide.

An airman standing nearby seemed puzzled. Tony had introduced me to all the crew as a diplomat. He must have wondered about my diplomacy.

The tour guide never answered my question.

"Maybe the SDI should never be build either," said Tony. "Maybe we should stop the game."

"It is designed to be a defensive system," said the tour guide to Tony.

"Yes, I think you may be right. We need something badly that can protect us against nuclear missiles until a real solution is found," I replied. "The SDI is designed to give us that protection."

"Unless it becomes another Valkyrie," said the tour guide and tapped me on the shoulder. "In this case, I should ask you perhaps for how long that cycle of Valkyrie-building shall continue?"

The C-5 got under way long before the F-15 was even rolled out of the hangar. Tony stood on the tarmac watching us as the flight crew was starting the engines.

"Turning Number One," the copilot announced...

"Stabilized at sixteen..." said the flight engineer.

"Turning Two..." "Turning Three..." "Turning Four..."

Tony waved to us when we began to roll. The airplane moved as though it was propelled without effort. High up on the flight deck one couldn't feel the herculean power of the engines that could rattle windows a mile away. It was rather quiet up there.

Even on the runway at 80% power, it was rather quiet. The behemoth quickly gathered speed. Fifty knots read the airspeed indicator, sixty, ninety, one-hundred-and-thirty.

"Rotate," said the captain.

The sky began to tilt as he moved the yoke back.

"Gear-up!"

"Gear's coming up, Skip."

"Climb established," said the engineer. "Airspeed 170 knots..."

I was astounded. We took to the air with the ease of a ballet dancer.

At four thousand feet, captain Brand locked in the autopilot and got out of his seat. Some electronic magic took control, automatically moving the yokes in response to the slightest wind and air density changes. The machine was set for Level 220, that's 22,000 feet the captain explained, which will be increased to Level 390 at Way Point One when a portion of the fuel has been burned off. Speed was set to zero-eighty-four. The navigation system was set to sequence through six intermediate waypoints without manual intervention. The captain explained that he was on board just in case something went wrong, definitely not for the routine of flying.

When the captain completed the extensive explanation of the flight control system, he sat down again, leaned back, and stretched himself out in his seat. Eventually he poured himself a mug of coffee from a nearby thermos jug that had been kept in a pouch. With his coffee mug in hand he chatted with the engineer.

From this time on the flight was rather boring. One after another the pre-programmed waypoints came up. Each time the system generated minor heading corrections, and the monotony continued.

Touchdown was scheduled for 12:14 hours. We landed one minute late. I could see the F-15 already parked as we approached, with someone standing beside it. I could imagine his grin as we drew up beside him. He waved and pointed to the car he had already rented. What a show-off!

We left immediately for Vancouver. Tony was free until ten the next morning. This meant we had time to locate the beach, even enough time to check it out and have a swim, followed by a quiet dinner in town before driving back to the air show camp.

"They call it Wreck Beach," said Tony as we were on our way to the city. "I've been told that everyone in town knows where it is. All you have to do is ask."

"Wreck Beach, that's our name!" I said disappointed.

Tony grinned. "I could have told you that, but I didn't have the heart. You were so proud of the name you invented."

"You mean you knew?"

He grinned even more, and nodded.

As for finding it, Tony was right, it wasn't difficult to locate someone who could give us directions. "Drive to the university," said the first person we asked. "Past the Museum of Anthropology you'll find a sign on the right side of the road that says 'Trail No. 6.' The trail will take you to the beach. But watch for it, the sign isn't large. You'll probably find a lot of bikes and motor cycles parked nearby."

Naturally we got lost. Vancouver is a city with many beaches, but nowhere could we see either the museum or the 'Trail No. 6' sign. We asked again and again. "Go on some more, just a bit further," they said.

"There is the sign!" shouted Tony as we drove by the Number Six sign. Surprisingly, there was ample parking not far away. But to call the path to the beach a trail, was a misnomer. To judge by the traffic it carried, it was more like a highway that wound its way down a steep hillside through virgin forest. Broad wooden stairs were provided where the hill was too steep. It certainly was the busiest trail I had been on for some time.

Most people came empty-handed, some with towels. A few carried lawn chairs. Others carried their ice chest to the beach. One person that I saw struggling uphill carried a huge backpack.

"Is this the trail to Wreck Beach," Tony asked someone. I had doubted it. I saw no warning signs that indicated that we were approaching a nudist beach. But the answer was, yes.

Most people were surprisingly well dressed. Many of the girls wore pretty dresses, some totally white. I began to wonder what we were getting into. At this point I no longer doubted that this was the correct trail. Suddenly, where the trail ended, we came into the open and faced what looked like a sea of naked people.

The tide was low as we arrived. Consequently the edge of the ocean was a long way from the crowd and the dry sand of the beach. It appeared that there were just as many people at the water in the distance as were lying on the sand or walking in between the two. A stiff breeze was driving the water, reminiscent of Hawaii, though with much smaller breakers coming in.

Tony was delighted. We soon found out that the water was much colder than it ever gets in Hawaii. Tony said that he didn't mind the cold.

He was delighted with everything, the people, the atmosphere, the uncomplicated freedom, and the ease of getting ready for swimming. He loved everything, even the cold water.

The size of the crowd was substantially larger than the one I had encountered in Leipzig. Still, I noticed the same feeling of unity there. One girl told us that almost 25,000 people come to this beach, "mind you, not all at once," she added and smiled.

Another thing that Tony found delightful was the food that was served at the beach. One had a choice of Mexican food, Thai food, sandwiches, submarines, hotdogs, cake, fruit cocktail, fruit punch, wine, a half a dozen different kinds of beer, soft drinks, and even cider. The only thing one couldn't get was coffee and champagne. Also, there was entertainment. If one didn't feel like swimming, one could play volleyball. And if one liked music, there were several guitarists at the beach whose soft melodies were carried thinly over the sand, but far enough to reach a small circle of listeners.

"What I find remarkable about what is happening here," said Tony to me, "is that this entire huge happening is against the law in Canada. The law prohibits nudity in public places, but here it is happening in a big way and no one is interfering."

"Ah, coming to this beach must be worth the risk of breaking the law," I said to Tony.

"The twenty-five thousand people who come here can't all be perverted, lawless maniacs," Tony replied.

At any rate, it was good being there. We stayed until after sunset. We could hardly find our way back up the trail in the dark. Of course, since we had 'dined' at the beach, there was no need to look for a restaurant on the way back to the airfield.

Throughout the next four days, Tony and I went to the beach every evening after the show. On the last day Tony found out that the Air Force team didn't need him in Seattle where the next stop of the tour was to be. He told me that the F-15 had been sold to Canada. It was left behind to be replaced by a new model. This meant that there was nothing for him to do in Seattle. The new plane would be flown by the manufacturer's test pilot, himself an air show veteran. Tony told me that this change in schedule had come as a surprise to him. He said that he was pleased though about the way things had worked out. The change in shedule gave us another three days for what we had come for.

We started early each morning during those last days and talked to as many people as we could, on every subject that came to mind. The beach was an ideal place for this. It had all the appearances of being an international meeting place. We met a college teacher from Chicago, a girl from England, a man from South Africa. Tony discovered two ex Air Force B-52 pilots in conversation about Guam. They spoke of shark infested beaches, hair-raising experiences with KC-135 tankers, and boring hauls into Nam, except for the nightmares afterwards when they found out through the grape vine what their bombing had done to the people into whose lives the bombs had been dropped.

We also met a metal sculptor. His friends called him Jason. By appearance he was the reincarnation of Van Gogh, except for the ears. He had refrained from emotional surgery.

Jason was an artist of a different kind, a metallurgy student who liked to experiment with all kinds of art. His latest adventure was metal casting into water filled molds. He told us that he had developed a special alloy that wouldn't explode when brought in contact with water, as other liquid metals do.

I told him about a New Year's party-game our family used to play at home a long time ago when we were children. The game consisted of 'free-style' lead casting into a bucket of water to see who could create the most fascinating shapes.

"But that's not art!" said Jason as though he was insulted by the analogy.

I shrugged my shoulders and said that I thought it was art of a sort.

Well, we didn't stay long with him. He had his idea about art and I had mine. Also, he was far too concerned about impressing his friends with his grandiose achievements.

Most people we met on the beach were ordinary folks. No one had special projects on the go. They were content with the world, comfortable in their illusion that nothing would upset the great apple cart for another thousand years. For most of them the world had remained upright for all of their life. They were too young to have seen World War II. Even Nam was barely remembered. Nobody had heard of Marshal Ogarkov, much less of the Ogarkov Plan of extending Soviet domination across the whole world. We got the strangest looks when we addressed the issue.

In a way I wasn't surprised at the reactions we got. This was a different beach than the one I had found in Leipzig. The atmosphere was different. Most people had come to the beach to get away from the world, rather than to deal with fundamental principles.

On our last day at the beach, we met the metal sculptor again. This time he wasn't talking about art. The topic of the day was religion, or rather he was speaking vehemently against it, and against big business and big government, and against the blindness with which people were subservient to them.

When we told him that we were from Pittsburgh, he was startled and changed the subject. Then he asked us what we were at the beach for.

"A private research mission," I told him.

"Aha!" he said and grinned.

"Not that kind of research. Serious research! We are looking for evidence in support of a new perception of a fundamental principle," I said to him. "We have a project started to create a nudist beach in North Carolina, like the one here. I have put 93,000 dollars into it. That's all the money we have, to create an oasis for people where they can have a holiday from the world of lies."

Jason stopped grinning. "That's on the level?" he asked.

"A friend of mine developed a new concept for perceiving the historic Principle of Universal Love," I said to him.

"That's going to be interesting," Jason replied and sat down into the sand where we stood. Reluctantly, we joined him.

"All love begins with our individual self-love for our humanity, which we all share," I said to him. "Whatever we find beautiful and of value is rooted there. On this basis love is naturally universal, since there is only one humanity, and that one is reflected in all of us. We are all human beings of the same humanity. Whatever love is linked to our humanity necessarily embraces the whole of mankind. It happens laterally. Are you still with me?" I asked.

Jason nodded.

"A friend of mine in Germany had created a visual construct to represent this concept in the form of a vast lateral lattice that comprises all mankind linked together laterally by threads of love for our common humanity. Are you still with me?" I asked. "OK, what I am saying is this, that we have no choice in the matter. If there is love, it has to be on the same level as everyone's, universally. That's the truth," I said. "That's the reality of our being."

Jason nodded quietly.

"Here it gets interesting," I said to him. "This lateral lattice of universal love represents three different elements, which are peace, joy, and power. The element of peace manifests what my friend calls in general terms, the universal kiss. The element of joy manifests universal economic development. The element of power, in turn, manifests science. These three together reflect the Principle of Universal Love. Love must express itself in all of the three elements, or else it is fake. It must be universal in nature to be genuine."

"Of course, of course, the Principle of Universal Love was put onto the world map in 1648 with the Treaty of Westphalia," Jason interjected.

"I know that," I said to Jason. "I'm surprised though that you are aware of it."

"I am not stupid you know," said Jason. "Indeed, I can understand what you are saying. Most people probably wouldn't, as you may have already found out. In fact, I love what you are saying. These are beautiful concepts."

"Profound concepts," I added.

"Yes," he said, and nodded again. "I love the element of the universal kiss. That's truly profound. That is priceless. Unfortunately they are also impossible to implement," Jason added. "They would overturn the entire world if they were implemented. I doubt though that even you can live up to them."

"I try," I said to him. "We both try."

"You try and you fail," he said and began to laugh, "and I can prove it to you."

"Prove it?" said Tony in a questioning tone of voice.

"The proof lies in your own words," said Jason. "You talk about 'your' project rather than a 'project of civilization,' and so you isolate yourself from mankind in order to cure mankind's existing isolation from one another. It can't work that way. Where is the universal kiss?"

He said a few more words about Pittsburgh after that, the steel industry, and of course burlesques, as if this explained anything. At the end he invited us to a local pub that features strip shows. He seemed proud that he had thought of it. "I'll prove it to you there," he said. "Are you willing to be humiliated, and maybe learn something? Is it a deal?" He reached his hand out for a handshake.

I must have looked puzzled.

"Don't worry, the show is all free," he said. "You don't need to spend a penny, unless of course you like excellent sandwiches while you enjoy seeing a girl from our beach perform."

"From this beach?" Tony repeated. We looked at each other and agreed that we should take him up on his offer. We shook hands on that.

He said he would pick us up at our hotel.

To tell the truth, I didn't believe that he would come, but he came. He was on time to the minute. Also, he was right about one other thing. He promised that some of what we would see would be quite boring, but that the better parts would make the overall experience worthwhile.

"Have patience my friend," he said to Tony when Tony stood up ready to leave after the first act.

Tony sat down again and ordered some food to pass the time. The next act was better, livelier, filled with fun. Some of the girls appeared to have had theatrical training. Many could do the split as one might see it performed on a ballet stage; others were evidently accomplished gymnasts. One girl, performing on a vertical bar, was able to raise her feet off the ground and slowly bring them straight up, next to her head pointing to the ceiling in synchronism with the music. This act alone was worth coming for. Most people, though, came to see the girls naked, and as far as one could see, they too, were generously satisfied. The dancers' generosity was appropriately reflected in the smiles of the guy's who appreciated the 'gestures.'

The girls danced on a raised platform set up in the middle of the pub with seats and tables set up around it. The lighting was dim, colorful and mysterious, and constantly changing. The music wasn't shrill, but powerful. One could feel the table vibrating with the rhythms projected by powerful sub-woofers. The music had the secondary effect of bringing the audience and the dancers together, creating a unifying atmosphere where one aspect blended into the other, the dancing, the generosity, the smiles, generating a nice feeling, a feeling of unity.

Most of the front-row seats were soon filled, which added to the feeling of unity. At one point Tony remarked to Jason that he was glad he had selected one of the front row tables.

Long after we finished munching on our ham sandwiches and potato salad, Lora's show started. "Watch out for Lora!" Jason had told us.

"Is this the one?" Tony asked when a girl walked up the stage, proud and erect, moving swiftly up the stairs, being welcomed with the clapping of hands that everyone seemed to join in.

Jason grinned. He didn't need to answer. Before she was even on the stage one knew that something different was about to happen. The sparkling lights, the red velvet decor of the pub, the color of the stage, all seemed to have been put in place just for her. Her costume was of the 1880's, loaded with lace and ribbons as if she had just stepped out of a painting by Claude Monet. Her hair was bound up high, her dress in flowing lines. Her music too, was unusual. It had a classical flavor that echoed the power of her dance, but soon it gave way to a beautiful and sweet melody that echoed the "Mediation" from Tahis. With her encumbering garments quickly shed she performed feats to this gentle music that I had seen performed only once, by a Chinese group of acrobatic dancers. At one point she danced on her hands with her feet stretched backwards over her shoulder, moving on her hands with the movement of the music. The final part of her performance was danced like a spoof to the old traditional stripper-tune that promised something special and exciting. And this, too, wasn't an empty promise. She was beautiful to look at in whatever manner she appeared, and she interacted well with the people she had come to entertain.

As soon as she had stepped on the stage, one knew that this was going to be a show that would stand above the rest. She had a beautiful presence and reflected a kind of intelligence that was more than evident in the choreography of her dance. The dance was constantly changing and developing right through to the end, into the fun filled spoof of the very business she herself was engaged in, so that everyone to the last person there was smiling from ear to ear. There was zest and sparkle in her routines, a refreshing contrast to the dreamy erotic enticement that had gone on before in other dancer's acts, and yet it was all satisfying, out of the generosity of a beautiful soul.

At the end, long after her clothes were shed, when the music had trailed off towards its final bars, she sat on a raised platform in the middle of the stage and took one of her shoes off. She pretended it was a telephone. "What is my mission?" she asked. "To take my clothes off? Mission accomplished!" With this said, the music stopped.

"And this is eroticism?" Tony asked.

Jason nodded.

"I was hardly aware that it was," I replied.

"You won't see the likes of it in Pittsburgh," said Tony to Jason. "She's doing the impossible."

"She is an artist," said Jason. "Why must art be restricted to what fits into the stereotyped mold that the world has created for it?"

I agreed. Her act had brought a lighthearted feeling to the place. The effect was appreciated. It contrasted with everything I had seen before in such places where the dancing slowly grinds along, dead, serious, and unfulfilling. This time the customers weren't disappointed. They weren't even disappointed that sex wasn't the number one issue of her routine, even though she had generously included everything they had come for. She had given them more; a sense beauty that was all human; an arousal of their passion for life that came to light not only in her beautiful person, but also in the music, the dance, the rhythms, in her smiles, and in her communication with the audience as human beings. And it wasn't merely satisfying! It opened the door to a sense of joy that inspired a longing in the heart for more of what is intrinsically human; a fire that one didn't dare to let dim, or even go out. Her show was more than just a cleverly stage-managed and technically good performance. It was a human performance.

"It's a rare treat to see a person hit all the bases in a single run," I said to Jason.

"She certainly did that," added Tony excitedly.

A few minutes after the show ended we had the pleasure of meeting her. Jason stood up and intercepted her as she was about to leave the pub. He invited her to join us. "I have some friends from Pittsburgh with me," I heard him say.

"Congratulations!" I greeted her when she joined us.

"A superb show, indeed!" Tony added.

"Hey, I thought the Chinese had a monopoly on twisting their bodies into impossible knots," I added jokingly. "But you proved me wrong."

She smiled gently. "I'm glad you gentlemen enjoyed yourself."

"Yes, we have. I wonder, though, what makes you so special," I said to her in response. I motioned her to sit down join us over a beer.

"Oh, you ought to tell me what you feel makes me special," she replied with a grin. "Usually people ask me what a nice girl like me is doing in a strip joint. And usually I answer, because I want to be here. The freedom that I have here, in this place, to experiment, to challenge the limits, is not available to me on any another stage. Also the money isn't bad, and the place is always crowded. A performing artist must have a place filled with people to feel if a routine works. In fact, the best routine doesn't work without it. An artist is one who stands side by side with people, with humanity, not above them. If that isn't happening, the show doesn't work. And when it does work, something happens that is beautiful, because I merely aim to mirror what is already in people's heart and soul. Nothing needs to be added. The beauty is there, the joy, the zest, the fire for life, the melody, the rhythm, even the dance is there. Every person is a dancer at heart. That's why dancing works well in communication. But that's not what you had asked, is it? Maybe you ought to tell me what you felt was so special about me."

I had to tell her to my disgrace that I didn't really know.

"But seeing all the men staring at you, doesn't this bother you or hinder your work?" Tony asked. "Surely you must know what they are thinking about and gloating over."

"What does it matter how people are being satisfied and enriched by my presence?" she cut Tony off. "Isn't it more important that they are being satisfied, that they have smiles on their faces, that they leave here with lighter hearts? As for the specifics, I don't feel responsible for what other people think. I only feel responsible for establishing a rapport with them that brightens their lives by bringing out the beauty and joy that they already have in their heart. That's what being human is all about, isn't it? I know that my dancing is also helping me too, in that respect. Sometimes I feel that shouldn't really be paid for performing, because it is done with love, and love is a two-way street. If it isn't that, it isn't love at all. So why should I get paid? I guess I get paid, because I bring in the crowds that love to be touched by love, and so I share in what they leave behind. That's how I look at the business I am in."

I embraced her for this comment with a kiss on the cheek. I urged her again to sit down and stay a while and called for the waiter.

Lora hesitated, but then complied. After we were all seated again and Jason had ordered a beer for the lady, she explained to us in a sad sort of way, "all my friends tell me that they would rather see me perform in what they call more respectable houses with respectable audiences. But these are people, too. Where is one to draw the line? As far as I'm concerned, I give a respectable show to respectable people right here."

"You're wrong," Tony interrupted. "You give an outstanding show and much more than that. I wonder if the so-called 'respectable' audiences would have the background to appreciate what you're expressing."

She looked at Jason. "Your friends are from the beach for sure, aren't they?"

Jason tried to suppress a smile and nodded. "If they weren't I would have told you."

"What is it with this beach anyway?" Tony asked.

"There is something significant going on that I haven't been able to put into focus yet," said Jason, "something I've been racking my brains to figure out."

"That's why it is called 'Rack' Beach," I added with a grin.

"Oh, give it up, Pete," said Tony, "that was a bad one."

"No, I like it," said Lora, "I've been racking my brains too. You guys are lucky to have caught me at one of my better numbers. While I can't put words to what it is that's happening at the beach, I find it possible sometimes to express the feeling through dancing."

"I can second that motion," said Tony, raising his glass.

"But that still doesn't provide a definite answer," she replied.

"I think I can help you with that answer," I said to Lora quietly. "Your dance reflects your self-love. It reflects the wonders you find in your soul. That is your art, your music. That's an awareness of your beauty as a person. It all becomes expressed together in your dancing. It becomes drawn out from its recesses to be put into expression as an outflow of your humanity. I suspect that you have a wealth of wonderful human aspects that you love yourself for. And the beach adds to that. It adds a greater sense of honesty with oneself about the riches we all have to love ourselves for."

Lora didn't reply a word. Instead, she got off her chair, came over to me and answered with a long drawn out kiss.

Tony and Jason cheered.

Tony nudged me. "I bet Steve can't top what you just said to Lora," said Tony and began to grin. "You should call Steve to find our what he would add. Also mention to him what Lora had said about her dancing and her audience. Ask him what he thinks?"

"Right now?" I said. "No, Tony!"

"Why not?" Tony looked at his watch and mumbled something to the effect that it must be about 10:30AM in Leipzig. "It would be OK to call."

"Leipzig, East Germany?" asked Jason. "You mean you are going to telephone all the way to Germany, just for that?"

I nodded.

He looked amazed.

Tony leaned over to him, pointing at me. "This guy has access to Uncle Sam's international telephone network," he whispered. "Pete is a US government agent!"

"A spy?" Jason replied.

I shook my head.

Tony nodded.

Poor Jason, he didn't know what to think now.

Instead of settling the confusion, I got up, went to the pay phone and started dialing.

I noticed Jason watching me with his eyes and mouth wide open. He must have noticed that I didn't use coins and was dialing a great number of digits.

Tony was right, Steve was at home, and it was 10:30 A.M., just as he had said. But Steve didn't understand my question at all. So I had to go back to the very beginning and tell him the whole long story about our beach project, about the air show, and finally, about Lora.

"Oh, the answer is simple," Steve replied. "Tell your friends, what they feel at the beach is a reflection of the unbroken wholeness of the totality of existence as an undivided flowing movement without borders."

"Oh, you!" I scolded him. "That will be a great help to them."

He grinned; I could hear it. He always makes that faint wheezing sound when he does.

"Pete, I'm glad that at least you recognize the value of it," his voice came back. "That makes you a genius. It took me nine years to formulate that sentence. If it's a definition you want, this is it! But tell it to them word for word. And when you have figured out what it means, call me back."

I could hear him grinning again.

He asked me if I wanted to write it down. He said that I probably should. So he gave it to me once more.

"Unfortunately, the project you told me about won't work," he added.

"Why not Steve? It better work. I've spent 93,000 dollars on it. I committed everything I own."

"I wish I didn't have to say this, but you aren't exempt from the effects of what you want to cure. Fragmentation affects you as anyone else. The burlesque business will see you as an enemy and put roadblocks in your way. The church will see you as a threat and will condemn you. The legal system will be against you, too. You'll be in for a high-wire act such as you've never dreamed of. Remember what I told you about habits of perception? You'll be up to your armpits in it as if it were quicksand. And if you try to fight it by force, remember you will be working from the same platform as those that fight you. If you fight them on their home ground they have you in their claws. And so, my friend, you would cement the divisions more firmly that you want to cure. Obviously, that's not the way to go."

"What then, can prevent a nuclear war?" I asked disappointed.

"Nothing will, Pete, nothing at all! Nothing will cure that until society has unraveled the monumental mistakes that have crept into its consciousness over the centuries. You may help perhaps by testing the doors, to see if any are unlocked, but not by knocking them down. If you push, people will push back and you'll get squashed. If you shout ignorance, they will kick you. If you preach to the masses, you will be courting coercion and brainwashing, and be starting another religion that merely adds more confusion where intelligence ought to prevail."

"There's no hope then, Steve, is there?"

"Certainly there is hope," he said, except this hope lies not with a crash program. "The problem is very, very deep, Pete. You have to reach down to the absolute bottom of the barrel to understand what's going on. Then you will start to work with that, and work with universal principles at the grassroots level. Nuclear war is only a small facet of the problem. And being a facet, you can't deal with it in isolation through a crash program. You can't even understand it in isolation."

"So, you mean there will be war, Steve?"

"There might be, not will be," said Steve. "War might break out if people can't respond to the demands of the hour. But first you must respond to the Principle of Universal Love. You must accept that you don't stand apart from humanity, as you insist by telling yourself that you are the only person in the world who is interested in advancing the unity of all mankind. That is what you are telling yourself with your insistence that you must finance the entire project yourself. In fact, it can't work the way you are going about it. You can't create a sea change in civilization without society itself taking part in the process, at least to some degree, driving the project. You can offer your idea, but society must move itself, and it will, out of the depth of its resources as human beings. The project that you want to start can be an enticing project if you go about it the right way."

"Are you saying that Sylvia and I just wasted ninety grand? That's what you're saying if you say that this can never work," I replied.

"I didn't say your investment is lost, Pete! The beach will come in handy as a sanctuary one day, when the global economic collapse comes, which seems inevitable the way things are going right now. You certainly wouldn't want to be in any city when this happens. There might even be war erupting in the background."

I stopped him. "Enough talk about war!"

He protested. He said that he wasn't talking about war at all, not primarily anyway. He prophesied that I would remember his words many years from now when the whole world-financial and economic system suddenly falls apart over night as the result of the greed-based fascism that nobody cares to address right now. "In the present world everything is vertical in its functioning, and imperial in nature. Nothing happens laterally anymore. By that, everything is doomed to disintegrate.

"However," he added, "don't be too concerned when things become very black." He said, sometimes it seems we must take huge steps backwards before we can go on ahead. "These may well be the fastest possible steps we can take to get out of the present mess. A long detour might well be the shortest way if there are no other roads available." He said he couldn't explain more on the phone.

I asked him to try. He said it was impossible because I was thinking in a technical mode, and not in an intelligent mode. Most people are trained merely as technicians. They were never trained for living. They were brought up as if life were merely a job. "But life is much more than that. It is something wide, profound, a great mystery, a realm apart from merely working and caring, a realm where we are human beings. If we educate ourselves merely as technicians, we may miss the whole point as if life had nothing to do with finding intelligence and being involved with its development."

He said that this neglect has gone on for so long that it simply can't be turned around overnight. "Even when the house crumbles and comes crashing down, you still won't know what hit you. You will blame a million causes and miss the right one."

He said he could tell me the answer to finding peace, but that I wouldn't understand it. "You would grasp a fragment maybe, and use it out of context, and this could be more harmful in the end." He said that I would have to find the answer by myself, and he predicted that I would!

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Steve."

"Oh it was that," he grinned. "I can assure you! Of course if you get your beach project going before the crunch comes, should you choose to go about it the right way, you can count on my visit on opening day."

I assured him that he would be the guest of honor. "...And please give my regards to Ushi."

"Thanks Pete," said Ushi. She had been listening in on the other phone. "It's nice to hear your voice," she added. "And good luck, Pete, with your project. I'm proud of you, but remember Steve is right on this one. You can't cause a sea change in the world as a private project. You have to get society to drive the project, to cause the change. That is why I became a journalist. I learned that even as a journalist, this can't be done as a private project. Society had to become the driving force in finding value in the truth and be demanding that the truth be told. That's when freedom begins, Peter."

After a few more words with Steve, saying thank you and conveying my greetings to Ushi, I hung up.

After I got back to Jason, Lora, and Tony, and told them that Steve agrees with Jason that our project won't work, and for the same reasons that Jason had already recognized, Jason responded without a word. He raised his jug of beer as for a toast and smiled.

We remained together at the pub far into the night, figuring out what Steve might have meant with his comment, and about why the beach had such a liberating effect on people.

"It makes sense," said Jason at one point, "I just can't figure out what it is that makes sense."

"It's like everything else connected with the beach," said Tony, "you can feel that there is something moving there, but you can't put it into words."

"That's not enough for me," I said a while later after the conversation had shifted onto a different subject. "I've got to be able to understand this thing precisely."

I turned to Tony and repeated what Steve had told me. "Steve told me that our project wouldn't work as we have figured it, because it would involve a denial the very principle we would build on."

"Are you serious? After you just spent 93,000 dollars on it!" Tony replied.

"What project did you spent $93,000 on?" asked Lora.

We told her about our peace camp and nudist beach project that we designed to help reverse fragmentary perceptions. We told her that we were going to invite artists and writers and set up a workshop and a hotel.

"That sounds terrific," said Lora. "Why does your friend feel it won't work?"

"He said a crash program won't work because one can't initiate intelligence through coercion. One gets caught up in what one is trying to correct. He said the burlesque business would see us as a threat and step on us. The law would hound us, the church would put up a fight, and the police would see it as an 'immoral' project."

"I know what he is saying," said Lora. "We've gone through all of that at Wreck Beach. We've been stepped on. But look, we've grown."

"She's right," said Jason. "But you don't have to do it that way."

Jason suggested that we didn't have to set ourselves apart from the world no matter how rotten it is. He quoted the Bible, surprisingly. "Whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile with him, go with him twain!" He suggested that the burlesque business wouldn't see us as a threat if we operated under its terms, making the beach a paying proposition. "Even burlesque operators respect your right to chase the buck."

"Right, people will pay if the idea is valuable," said Lora. "They've been known to put up all kinds of money for great ideas. Just provide the right platform and the thing will move on its own. That's what's been happening at Wreck Beach."

Lora said that this is what might be moving her shows. "As soon as you have a focal point, bang! Everything comes together."

I applauded.

"I suppose you could approach the legal problem in the same manner," said Tony to me. "Don't fight it! Support the legal system. It's designed to protect an individual's autonomy! That's what we intend to do, don't we? Autonomy doesn't imply a lack of responsibility. It is based on integrity. The legal system won't challenge nudity on this platform if it doesn't appear as a threat to the public's welfare."

"I wish this could be said about Wreck Beach," added Lora. "Have you noticed the drugs on the beach? I fear drug abuse may get the thing closed down some day."

"And what about the church... How can you satisfy the church?" asked Jason.

"Maybe we won't need to satisfy them at all," I replied.

Jason looked up with a questioning look in his eye and laughed.

"We are not in competition with them," I added.

"OK, just try to tell them that," said Tony.

"We could tell them that our project is designed to roll back the fruits of the tree of knowledge that caused mankind to become separated from their God. We could tell them that we want to reverse what Adam had told Eve, that they were naked," I said.

"Yes, there can be a lot of 'poverty' in knowledge that is like nakedness, that makes you feel small," said Jason. "But the church won't understand this." He laughed again. "Well, maybe they shouldn't fault a project that aims to close the rift between God and man," he added. "That's what every church aims for. However, they won't see it that way."

"We can also carry this thing into all kinds of other areas," said Tony, "including the military. This might be the first peace camp ever that respects the military in their efforts to provide security for the nations. This view might net the armed services more PR points than all the air shows put together."

"What was this thing you were saying about artists and writers?" asked Jason. "You mentioned a workshop?"

"Oh, that's simple." I explained to him that autonomy is an artist's everyday way of life. "Artists are scientists," I told him. "They produce from out of the depth of their intelligence, not just from thinking, but from the bottom of a keen awareness where discoveries are made, original discoveries of fundamental principles, which are then expressed."

"And the public?" asked Jason.

"It's like Lora has put it," I said to Jason. "I'm not responsible for what the public thinks?"

"Good!" Lora approved. "I try not to coerce anyone. The rest is outside my realm of responsibility."

I applauded.

Lora smiled. "If you ever need a social director, get in touch with me," she said grinning. "Your project sounds like something I would love to be involved in."

I said we would keep her in mind and wrote her address and phone number on a beer mug coaster.

Jason stopped laughing and told Lora not to put her hopes up, because this project won't work. "It can't possibly work," he said, "and not for any of the reasons that were discussed tonight."

"I thought you liked the project," I replied. "I thought you approved of the idea."

"Of course I approve, but I also know that it won't work," he said. "I played along with you guys, because I thought you were all joking and dreaming wonderful dreams. Seriously now, it won't get off the ground. I admire you devotion to humanity. It appears that you are throwing everything you have into this project. My first reaction had been that you are insane. That's why I hoped you were joking. What you are doing is not only insane, it is also immoral."

"What's immoral about a project to enhance the unity of mankind?" I asked. "We hope to create the same thing that you have here in Vancouver. What is immoral about that?"

"The way you propose to implement it is immoral. You said you would be funding the whole project yourself. This is immoral," said Jason.

"What then would you have me to do, Jason? Would you want me to form a public corporation and sell shares? That would never work for sure," I replied.

"That would be even more immoral," said Jason. "If you had proposed that, I wouldn't be talking to you at all, because of the gross immorality involved. If you were to do that, you'd playing on people's greed. You would be enticing them to give you their money that you will never have to give back. You would promise them a few dividends that you are not obliged to pay either. You would tell them instead that the golden egg that you have laid is of great value, hoping that the public will chase after this egg at ridiculous prices in a bidding war orgy of stealing from one-another. That's how the stock market works, doesn't it? This whole system stinks, Peter. It develops a mentality in people that is as far removed from their humanity as is New York from Vancouver."

"You mean, as far as is the moon," I added. "I fully understand what you are saying, Jason, but why is it immoral to pay for the project myself?"

"Do I have to spell everything out for you? It is immoral, because it has the same effect, Peter," he replied and began to laugh. "Your approach makes you an arrogant piece of shit. You assume in your arrogance that there are no human beings out there in the world that have the capacity to feel the joy in participating in a development project for the advancement of humanity. You think that you are the only human being on the planet that has the capacity to feel like a human being and act like a human being. What you propose is a great project, yes. I like the idea a lot. But there should be thousands of people volunteering their support for it, just like you did. They should be contributing money or whatever in an active way of taking part in this development. That's how a nation functions. People volunteer to act as human beings, putting their money on the line for something that must be done for the sake of the nation, or humanity, to create a better world."

"Or to protect the world that we already have," Tony interrupted.

"Right!" said Jason to Tony. Then he turned back to me. "You don't give anyone a chance to be a part of this movement. You prejudge humanity. You say that there aren't any human beings out there. You say that you are the only one. So, being steeped in your arrogant denial of humanity, you feel impelled to sacrifice all that you have in order to be able to carry the burden for the project yourself. By doing so, you deny the very principle that you intent to promote. People who do this sort of thing are generally called hypocrites. What I am trying to say is, that it is not the project that won't work. The project is great. It's the way you go about it that will cause it to fail. You are trying to promote the universal kiss as an aspect of our humanity, while denying its reality. How do you expect this to work? A kiss is a two way street. And what do you think the word, universal, means? Does it include no one except you? You say, yes, on this count too. That's what makes your project immoral."

Jason turned to Tony. "What happens in this pub here," he said to him, "is far more moral than what you guys are aiming to do. That's why Lora's project in this pub works exceedingly well, and yours will fail. You talk about universal love. Ha! Where is the science? Where is the commitment to the truth? Where is the passion to embrace all humanity?"

He raised his beer mug for a toast and began to smile, looking at me. "Don't take it too hard, Pete. The rotten state of the world that you got trapped in isn't your fault alone."

I didn't reply a word out of shame.

Tony just smiled. Evidently, Tony found this entire episode amusing.

"You don't seem to understand your own history," Jason continued, addressing both of us. "When your country declared its independence from the British Empire, the empire fought back, but it lost the battle to retake its lost colonies. The British Empire was defeated miserably on the battlefield. However, it didn't loose the war. The kingpin of the oligarchy of the time, the Second Earl of Shelburne, had previously invited Adam Smith, a loyal servant of the empire, to come up with a plan to defeat the new American State by other means should that ever become necessary. This scribbler, Adam Smith, responded to the request of his boss by creating the free-trade weapon as a means for preventing the economic development of the new nation, thereby bankrupting it. The plan was accepted. It was incorporated into the Paris Peace Treaty that formally ended of the war with America. And the Empire's plan worked. As expected, in a few short years the United States was bankrupted by the free-trade weapon, which the Americans had taken in like a Trojan Horse. However, Alexander Hamilton, the US Treasury Secretary, had been able to read the imperial game plan by its effects. He promptly defeated it with protectionist measures. The empire is still singing the blues to the very day, about protectionist measures, which the imperials are trying to eliminate around the world. With Hamilton's protectionist measures the empire lost its second round and America was on the way to rapid development. It developed itself into a powerful industrial nation, supported by countless entrepreneurs. That's what universal means, Peter. It means that everybody is a part of the process with no one standing aside. Here the sea change becomes everyone's game. That is how your nation was built."

Jason said that one could well imagine what happened at this point. "Evidently, Adam Smith's backup plan was called upon. His backup plan was to stop the industrial development in America.

"Adam Smith had been commissioned to devise such a process by studying the fall of Rome," said Jason. "Obviously he obliged his master. He developed his famous system of greed-based fascism, misnamed economics. The system was designed not just to bankrupt a targeted nation, but to destroy its very soul. The system was designed to alienate people from their economy and from their humanity. Naturally, the empire proudly promoted this new and hidden system of warfare against the American nation, the Adam Smith System, all over the world. It became so intensively promoted, that whoever dared to disagree was promptly ridiculed, or worse. The outcome of course was a string of banking collapses, economic collapses, and periods of depression. The great stock market crash of 1928, followed by the great depression of the 1930s, must be seen for what they really were, Adam Smith's gift to a nation designed to destroy its very soul. That's what the traitor had targeted and in due course did destroy. Adam Smith understood the process that was involved. He evidently understood the principle of the universal kiss, and true to his master's calling, Adam Smith used his understanding of this principle to prevent its unfolding around the world. If you want to rescue America's soul you have to elevate it, raise it up, make it into a light that shines out of its own brightness. That's how America was built. That is how it can be brought back. That's what Adam Smith destroyed and is honored for his treachery like a god. Greed-Based Fascism is not the pearl of great price it is made out to be, and Greed Based Economics does not exist as it is a contradiction in language. It is the queen of the night."

Jason sighed. "As you well know, the fabled Adam Smith system still rules today. Franklin Roosevelt suspended it temporarily. He was allowed to suspend it, because the oligarchy needed America to save its hide from Hitler, its own creation. But as soon as Roosevelt's body was in the grave in 1945, Adam Smith was back and the destruction of America began anew. Today, the entire global financial and economic system is collapsing, thanks to Adam Smith. The system is collapsing, because there is no value left in the economic process. Every person of society if focused only on his or her little isolated self. There is no value being produced for society where there is no universal economic development ongoing. Society collapses inwardly when this happens. As I said, there can be no economic development happening without the universal kiss. The universal kiss is the key-element. Your founding fathers called it the principle of the general welfare. What they really meant was the universal kiss. When that is missing, greed rules, and greed will rule for as long as no scientific and spiritual development is taking place by which the nation can reclaim its Soul that becomes reflected in its kiss for one-another. When greed rules the universal kiss is denied, shut out, and forgotten. That's what's happening in the world, Peter, and has been happening for a long time. That's why you were tempted to deny the existence of the universal kiss and finance your project yourself. But let me tell you, the very thing that you are denying, is unfolding in this pub here with people from our beach. Here, the universal kiss is alive and unfolding in numerous ways. So, as you can see, a few of us have reclaimed our Soul. If you can do the same, Peter. Then your project will not fail, but succeed. But will you do it? That's the question that only you can answer."

Jason raised his beer mug after he said this. "Welcome to the foremost university on the planet," he added and smiled. "Peter, I hope you realize that you are attending what may be the only university in existence that offers true humanist education today," he said in a solemn tone of voice and grinned, hugging Lora to his side. "And Wreck Beach University charges no tuition."

"You must understand," said Lora, "that in the modern world the demands for tuition have become inversely proportional to the value received. That's why our tuition is free at Wreck Beach University." She began to laugh.

We kept this kind of conversation up until two o'clock in the morning, interspersed with a lot of humor. Lora looked dead tired by then, and probably was so. We certainly were. Except we didn't have the luxury to go to sleep. We had to get back to the hotel, check out, drive to the airport to get onto the first plane to Seattle and be there by eight in the morning, at the latest, to catch the air show transport back home. The whole affair became quite a mad rush, all the way.

When we got to Seattle, we arrived not a minute too soon. We were just in time to see the rear cargo hatch of the C-5 being closed and secured. They had moved the flight schedule forward by thirty minutes. Luckily the front hatch was still down. We practically ran on board while the front ramp was already lifting off the ground and the first engine was being started.

"Turn Number One," as I remembered, the captain would have called.

"Number One at sixteen percent," the engineer would have replied.

As it turned out, there was no room for us on the upper deck. Every seat was taken. But who needed a seat? Not us! We found ourselves a soft spot in the cargo bay, in the back of the truck that carried the display center tent. The tent was folded into large flat bundles that resembled a giant mattress. But only God knew why they were taking the whole truck along onto the airplane. It made no sense to fly a heavy old truck around. Surely they must have trucks in Milwaukee, I thought, where we were going next. The thing puzzled me.

And another thing puzzled me too. How could it be that we got to Milwaukee so fast? I heard the wheels touch down and someone calling to us to get ready to unload.