- Tom's gone out with the boys. - I came to see you.
Oh.
There's a great restaurant in New York looks just like this.
Oh, really?
- You write in longhand. - Yes.
I'm not good with machines. They intimidate me.
I think I broke Tom's typewriter.
The Martinelli? He'll be furious.
- Does he have another one? - He has that one, the Mujahideen.
- It's Arabic. - Does he use it much?
Not much.
What happened to the Martinelli?
I probably just threw it on the floor and smashed it.
Probably? You don't know?
I suffer from, um...
sporadic hallucinations.
Join the club.
Do you intend to kill Tom's Mujahideen?
Only in self-defense.
I understood writing could be dangerous.
I didn't realize the danger came from the machinery.
- What are you talking about? - I'll show you.
Oh.
- Are you gonna write something in Arabic? - No.
You are.
I don't like using Tom's things.
We don't trespass on each other.
Do you have any objection to trying some of this?
I can't read it. Is it erotic?
It's, um, fairly erotic.
- Kind of uncivilized. - More erotic.
Filthier.
- Filthier? Okay. - All you think about.
- Followers of obsolete, unthinkable trades... - Getting really...
- pretty good here. - doodling in Etruscan...
- addicts of drugs not yet synthesized... - I'm surpassing myself here.
black marketeers of World War III...
excisors of telepathic sensitivity...
followers of obsolete, unthinkable trades.
Ooh, this is very good.
- Addicts of drugs not yet synthesized- - Very, very dirty.
World War III...
excisors of telepathic sensitivity...
osteopaths of the spirit...
investigators of infractions...
denounced by bland, paranoid chess players.
Joan.
Oh,Joan.
Mrs. Frost!
This is an evil and insane thing that you are doing.
You must stop it at once!
Pull up your hair.
Who's that?
Oh, my housekeeper.
It's my Mujahideen.
For God's sake!
Itjumped of its own accord.
You did see that, didn't you?
Joan, are you all right? What happened?
Fadela stormed in here, and-and she threw your typewriter out the window.
Well, that's it. The woman has to go.
She certainly seemed deadly to me.
Oh, I knew it.
Look, Tom.
Look.
This is how Fadela's been controlling you,Joan.
Your blood, your pubic hair, your fingernails.
Fadela controls nobody, and you know it.
We have forced control upon her.
Poor woman's probably desperate to get out of our household.
No, missus. She's making you say everything...
even that.
You must find all of these in your house. You must destroy them.
Bill...
I'm going to need my Martinelli.
I feel desperately insecure without a typewriter in the house.
Yes, well, I haven't had a chance to try it out yet, Tom. I was kind of hoping -
I'll leave Hafid here with you,Joanie, in case Fadela comes back.
Bill and I will go to his place and pick up the Martinelli now.
I'll go with Bill. You two stay here.
I need to get out.
Fadela's within 30 feet of us. See if you can find her.
There.
She's right there.
That thing she's cutting up...
have you ever seen that before?
No.
Looks like some kind of sea creature, I think.
All those women...
they work for her?
In a sense. They're all Fadela's lovers.
I'm going to have to -
I'm gonna have to stay here with Fadela -
do penance.
I've been instructed to reveal to you...
that you were programmed to shoot your wife,Joan Lee.
It was not an act of free will on your part.
Hey!
Who the fuck asked ya?
You worry me, Bill.
You cause me many anxious moments.
Oh, gee, I hope you're not losing any sleep.
No need to be nasty, Bill.
There was some thought that you might actually want to hear this information -
that it might assuage your guilt.
Save the psychoanalysis for your grasshopper friends.
You have to admit, it was a pretty tasty setup, Bill.
Joan marries you as part ofher agent's cover...
not realizing that you were the very enemy agent assigned to kill her.
As elegant as it is brilliant.
Wait a minute.
You're saying thatJoan was sent by Interzone, Incorporated to marry me?
Yeah. In fact, she was sent to you by Fadela, who was her controller.
We did a lot of groundwork to set you up in their files...
as the prime candidate for marriage.
And it didn't matter that I didn't know anything about it?
An unconscious agent is an effective agent, Bill.
The situation does generate some ethical paradoxes at times.
I'm the first to admit that.
When you bugs first approached me...
one of your associates suggested...
thatJoan was possibly not human.
What did he mean by that?
Women aren't human, Bill.
Or perhaps more precisely...
they're a different species from men...
with different wills and different purposes on Earth.
You know this instinctively, Bill...
and it's your instincts that make you such a good operative.
I'm talking aboutJoan.
IfJoan Lee wasn't human...
what was she?
Well,Joan was a special case.
Joan was an elite-corps centipede.
Joan was a centipede.
Where's my Martinelli?
Jesus, Tom, are you nuts?
Don't fuck with me, Lee. I want my typewriter.
A lot of people have tried to silence me.
All have failed.
Tom...
she's here...
in pieces.
I fear it's hopeless.
All right.
We're taking your Clark Nova.
Hafid, the bag.
No.
Wh-Wh-What's going on here?
Wait, wait, wait! This is a heinous mistake you're making.
Lee, do something. Stop them.
Well, he's got a gun, Clark Nova. You don't want to lose your best agent, do ya?
You're gonna have to write a full report, Lee. And I mean full.
How am I gonna write it, in longhand?
Will you take this sack off!.
This is insubordination.!
Ooh,you're all gonna pay for this.! Heads are gonna roll.!
Your days in Interzone are numbered, Lee.
I suggest you give up the writing game.
- Make tracks for another part of the world. - You guys are gonna-
Fuck 'em all. Squares on both sides.
I am the only complete man in the industry.
- Bill. - Bill?
I must be hallucinating.
What are you cats doing here?
We're here to see you, Bill.
Come on.
Yeah, man. It's probably the first time you haven't been hallucinating in a long time.
What are you talking about?
What are you saying? Naturally, I've had a few odd moments.
Everybody blacks out in Interzone.
- Wouldn't you? - Definitely.
Sure.
What's in the pillowcase, Bill?
These are the remains of my last writing machine.
It's been a big problem for me.
- Mind if I take a look? - Go ahead.
Wait a minute. Where are we going?
Oh, man.
- How about back to your place? - Nope.
Why not?
I'm not safe there. I'm a dead duck there.
We'll protect you.
You boys are kidding yourselves.
You're babes in the woods here.
Well, what do you suggest?
We thought it was important for us to help you get your book together.
Yeah, I've sent sections of it to my publisher, and they're interested.
- All you gotta do is finish it, man. - You've already done the hard part.
Book. My book?
Yeah. The one you've been calling Naked Lunch.
Where did you put that Bradley the Buyer routine?
Did you find it all?
Yeah. It's on the sofa right next to the Hassan's Rumpus Room riff.
- It's all right there. - I'm telling you, boys...
I never saw those pages before.
I truly do suspect some sort of colossal con.
Oh, someone's planted these pages in your room, right?
Somebody sent all those letters to me and signed them with your name, right?
A well-orchestrated cabal could easily manage...
all of these simple things, children.
When will you learn?
They've done you a favor, 'cause this stuff!s gonna get published under your name...
and you'll have a career.
Yeah, you'll probably get into print before we will.
For God's sake, Bill, play ball with this conspiracy.
You're patronizing me, boys...
but I don't mind, 'cause you're so sweet to me, too.
Hey, Martin, listen to this.
"So we start for New Orleans past iridescent lakes and orange gas flares...
"and swamps and garbage heaps...
"alligators crawling around in broken bottles and tin cans...
"neon arabesques of motels...
"marooned pimps scream obscenities at passing cars from islands of rubbish.
New Orleans is a dead museum."
So nice.
Sound familiar, Bill?
First time I ever heard it. Read on.
I think it's time to discuss your, uh...
philosophy of drug use as it relates to artistic endeavor.
I think it's time to bring this meeting to order.
I think it's time for you boys to share my last taste...
of the true black meat.
The flesh of the giant aquatic Brazilian centipede.
So we're still here in Interzone with Bill, right?
That's right, Hank.
And now we're gonna travel back to the city, right?
- That's right, Hank. - I think Bill's on top of things here, don't you?
He has a grip on a certain, uh, unique reality principle, yes.
I think you both should consider staying here for a few months.
Everything you could want is cheap and-and plentiful here.
That reality principle thing could work for you, too.
Well, my mother's all alone, and she's kind of sick, Bill.
And besides, my book's as all-American as football.
- Couldn't finish it here. - America is not a young land.
It is old...
and dirty and evil.
Before the settlers, before the Indians.
The evil is there waiting.
What about you, Martin?
Maybe you can, uh, move into my place.
What do you think?
Stay until you finish the book...
but then come back to us.
You'll be okay?
Yeah. Don't worry about me.
The Zone is full of surprises.
The Zone takes care of its own.
William?
You look terrible.
What are you doing here?
I don't - I don't know.
I just -
My only fr-
My only friends in the - in the world.
I- I'm afraid I- I'll never see 'em again.
I feel - feel so -
Oh. Severed.
Come with me.
- Take me home. - I can't go home.
I can't go home.
Is that your typing machine there?
Foutu. Broken... beyond repair.
If we fix the typing machine...
we also fix the life.
There. You see?
There's no cause for despair.
In this shop, anything can be fixed that is broken.
I don't know, Kiki.
They don't seem to be capable of delicate work here.
You must have faith, William.
Look.
We have your new writing machine.
Not bad. Not bad. Not bad. Not bad.
I feel very comfortable working with you.
I like that sense of camaraderie in an agent.
You must be progressing.
My predecessor felt you had an ambivalent relationship with him.
- You mean Clark Nova. - Yes.
How is he?
He's still in the hands of our enemies.
Such are the hazards of our trade.
A hazardous trade, yes.
Your report on the subversive activities ofJoan Frost...
was a model of its type.
If you continue to develop your skills as an operative...
I think a top position with the C.I.A. is not out of reach.
The C.I.A.? You really think so?
You have the demeanor. That's something you can't buy.
The C.I.A.
Now, that's a career you can really sink your teeth into.
It has...
resonance.
But giving yourself over to being a writer-
Ah, well.
This stuff is very potent.
The two are very closely related.
So you boys keep telling me.
Well, what's my next assignment?
I'm hungry for adventure.
Excellent. You know the Swiss dandy Cloquet?
- Yes. - And?
I think he's a faggito and won't admit it.
That ought to make it all easier.
You will seduce or otherwise compromise Cloquet.
We have it on good authority that he's our conduit to Benway.
Dr. Benway, M.D., Ph.D.?
Self-styled. He never actually made it through medical school.
He runs an interesting little show here which he calls Interzone, Inc.
Pretentious, if you ask me.
Benway's behind Interzone, Inc.?
The base of his pyramid is a drug called the black meat.
- The pyramid's tip - - Is?
Ah. Well, we'd like to know.
Dr. Benway.
- Of course. - Yes.
- And he's obviously got sensational cover.
He's floated in and out of the Zone for years...
without anybody actually ever seeing him.
But now the pressure's on to place an agent close to him.
Me.
Assessments are being made.
- You're working away, William? - Yes, Kiki.
The machine turns out to be a very good one.
Muy simpatico.
And I have you to thank for it...
and so I will.
Thank you.
I'm very proud to be your friend, you know.
I'm very proud that I can help you to be a writer.
You have done that, Kiki. You really have.
Would you like some tea?
That would be lovely, William.
Kiki.
- Hmm? - Do you know Cloquet?
The Swiss man with the big house on the Old Valley Road?
Cloquet?
Oh,yes,yes. Yves with the wonderful car.
He has a wonderful car?
The most wonderful car.
Enjoying the ride?
I'm wild about it, yes. Thank you.
It's good to be wild sometimes.
You know, I have often thought of that funny story you told me...
the first time we met on the beach.
The one about the Duc de Ventre.
At first I didn't know how to take it.
I thought you were making a pass at me.
Did I ever tell you about the man who taught his asshole to talk?
His whole abdomen would move up and down, you dig, farting out the words.
It was unlike anything I ever heard.
Bubbly, thick, stagnant sound.
A sound you could smell.
This man worked for the carnival,you dig?
And to start with it was like a novelty ventriloquist act.
After a while, the ass started talking on its own.
He would go in without anything prepared...
and his ass would ad-lib and toss the gags back at him every time.
Then it developed sort of teethlike...
little raspy incurving hooks and started eating.
He thought this was cute at first and built an act around it...
but the asshole would eat its way through his pants and start talking on the street...
shouting out it wanted equal rights.
It would get drunk, too, and have crying jags. Nobody loved it.
And it wanted to be kissed, same as any other mouth.
Finally, it talked all the time, day and night.
You could hear him for blocks, screaming at it to shut up...
beating at it with his fists...
and sticking candles up it, but...
nothing did any good, and the asshole said to him...
"It is you who will shut up in the end, not me...
"because we don't need you around here anymore.
I can talk and eat and shit."
After that, he began waking up in the morning with transparentjelly...
like a tadpole's tail all over his mouth.
He would tear it off his mouth and the pieces would stick to his hands...
like burning gasoline jelly and grow there.
So, finally, his mouth sealed over...
and the whole head...
would have amputated spontaneously except for the eyes, you dig?
That's the one thing that the asshole couldn't do was see.
It needed the eyes.
Nerve connections were blocked...
and infiltrated and atrophied.
So, the brain couldn't give orders anymore.
It was trapped inside the skull...
sealed off.
For a while, you could see...
the silent, helpless suffering of the brain behind the eyes.
And then finally the brain must have died...
because the eyes went out...
and there was no more feeling in them than a crab's eye at the end of a stalk.
You seem to like my little friend. I'm so glad.
I'm writing a business piece on corporate life in North Africa.
Oh, my, my.
We are fragile today, aren't we?
He has to get to know you first.
Oh, does he? Well, let's see what we can do, then.
Kiki, will you come and see the parrots with me?
There are cages in the master bedroom.
I, um, don't think I can, Mr. Cloquet.
That is, I don't really want to.
I'd particularly like to interview a certain Dr. Benway.
Kiki doesn't seem to find my parrots attractive anymore. Isn't that sad?
Kiki would love to play with your parrots, Yves...
but Kiki is as anxious to contact this Benway character as I am.
Fadela, the witch who works for the Frosts...
she and Benway are...
intimates.
You didn't hear it from me.
Kiki?
Go see the fucking parrots, will you, Kiki? I gotta take a piss.
Then I'll come and get you, and we'll go home.
Pissoir's at the end of the great hall.
Kiki.
Hello, Bill. What's up?
Something the matter?
You seem distracted.
I wish you'd say something.
I don't like this mood, Bill.
- Are we going out? - You're going out.
Why don't you just write something and calm yourself down?
You're obviously not in a professional state of mind.
Maybe I should write about your little double cross.
You expected me to end up in that parrot cage with Cloquet, didn't you?
Bill, are you thinking of getting rid of me?
I think an exchange of hostages is the only viable scenario.
No, really, Bill, if you get rid of me...
you sever ties with reality.
For instance, take the case of-
Oh.! Careful.!
Of the female agent who forgot her real identity and merged with her cover story.
She is still a fricoteuse in Annexia.
And incidentally,you can make a square, heterosex citizen queer...
with this angle using drugs-
Tom...
I've brought you a new typewriter...
which conveniently dispenses two types of intoxicating fluids...
when it likes what you've written.
Are you proposing to trade back for your Clark Nova?
Thinking of it.
Has it written anything good for you lately?
No. It's too damned all-American for my taste.
Guess I've gone foreign or something.
Well, my Mugwriter here is so foreign, it's almost alien.
You're gonna do your best work on her. Guaranteed.
Hafid, bring the machine in question for Bill, will you?
And how are you enjoying your affair with Joan?
Literate, complex and neurotic, I would imagine.
I haven't seen her for weeks.
She ran off with Fadela and her coven.
Oh, that's too bad.
Yes, she does that when she feels attracted to a man.
Don't give up though. It's-It's a good sign.
With Joanie...
the courtship period can involve years of passionate ambivalence.
Tom, I think we should take a close look at his machine first...
test it thoroughly.
Don't you, Tom?
You both have different writing styles.
Bill Lee has always been a man of powerful instinct, Hafid.
If he says I'll do my best work on his machine...
well, I'm sure that's prophecy.
Take the gun, too, Bill.
No American should find himself in a foreign land without a pistol.
You wouldn't be trying to set me up again, now, would you, Tom?
Well, you've set yourself up already, Bill.
I'm just trying to give you a fighting chance. That's all.
Clark Nova.
Clark Nova, it's me.
It's - It's Bill Lee.
Clark Nova, speak to me. You're safe with me now.
They tortured me...
did unspeakable things to me.
I'm on my last legs. The bastards.
Clark Nova, where is Joan? Where's Joan?
Hans's old drug factory in the medina.
Fadela is there.
Fadela is your point of penetration into Interzone, Inc.
Fadela.
Uh, what do I - what do I do when I find her?
You'll know what to do when the time comes.
Just remember this -
all agents defect...
and all resisters sell out.
That's the sad truth, Bill.
And a writer- a writer lives the sad truth like anyone else.
The only difference is -
he files a report on it.
Leave me now...
before it's too late.
But wait. What aboutJoan? What aboutJoan?
Go now! Vaya con dios.
Clark Nova. Clark Nova -
Hurry. Hurry.
Come on.
Your notes must be much more carefully detailed to be of any use to us.
You must write very clearly.
The effects of the drugs must be cataloged...
with painstaking accuracy.
-Joan. - Hmm?
-Joan. - Bill.
Oh, Bill.
No.
What is that? What are you writing?
I'm writing...
"All is lost.
All is lost."
- It's all I've ever written. - No.
No.
Oh,Joan.
We have to see Fadela.
Take me to Fadela.
Lee, you're here.
Oh, thank God. Thank God.
You see, my misdemeanor has borne sweet fruit.
Now you are with us.
I was right to approach you so brazenly.
And now Dr. Benway will have no choice -
- Benway. - Benway.
No choice but to send me back-
- You'll see. - Benway.
Where I belong.
Well, well.
If it isn't William Lee.
I got to say I'm proud of you, sir.
It took you a while, but you got us red-handed.
Full marks, boy. Full marks.
I expected to see an operation all out for the black meat here.
What's with all the Mugwump jism?
The black meat concession turns out to have...
some unfortunate political strings attached.
We'vejust cut those strings.
From now on, Interzone is strictly Mugwump territory.
As you can see, we've made a flying start here with our modest dispensary.
I can feel the heat closing in on you, Fadela.
Feel them out there making their moves,you dig?
Oh, really?
Fadela. Huh.
Huh.
You mean this old thing.
- Benway! - Benway!
Benway.!
We met once before, remember? Stateside.
You don't remember. You had that look, boy.
The look of a... sheep-killing dog.
Decided to recruit you right on the spot.
I'm afraid I was forced by the tenor of the times...
to prescribe that wretched black meat powder to start you off on...
but the hole-in-the-wall operation, limited resources -
you understand the problems.
But I understand from Cloquet that, uh, you're on to our good stuff now.
Mugwump jism can't be beat.
And as you can see, we've got ourselves a few more friends now.
And a few more dollars, too.
Oh.
This little, uh, Fadela number is something I developed...
during my tenure as chief physician to the prime minister of Annexia.
"El Primo" liked to walk the streets amongst his people in drag, and, well -
Well...
one thing led to another.
It is an elegant way to strike terror into the hearts of the enemy...
wouldn't you say?
Old Fadela must be on the rag.
She's been acting subversive lately.
Speaking of new uses for old technology...
I think the new order could find a place for a man of your caliber.
A .3 2, wasn't it?
That is what you're here for, isn't it?
Hell...
I could use a reliable man to send to Annexia.
We're expanding, boy. I need a... spearhead.
Just tell me what you want.
I want her.
Her?
That purulent little cunt? What for?
I can't write without her.
Bill, I feel confident...
that you and I can work something out.
Papers, please.
What is the purpose of your visit...
and what is your profession?
I write reports. I'm a writer...
and I intend to write reports on life in Annexia for the citizens of the U.S.A.
Do you have any proof of what you say?
How do we know you are really a writer?
Well, I have a writing device.
That's not good enough.
Show us.
- Show you. - Write something.
- Yes.
Write something.
Joan.
What is it, Bill? Are we there yet?
Almost,Joan.
But I guess it's about time for our William Tell routine.
Sure, Bill.
Welcome... to Annexia.
Yes. Welcome to Annexia.