The Search for the Dice Man by Luke Rhinehart Read Free Book Online Page B

told me your father had an interesting past. He sounds great!’
    When I looked carefully at the first page the main headline sent a chill through me: ‘Dice Cult Creates Robots’ A lesser headline proclaimed modestly: ‘I was aRandom Sex Slave’. The next page was equally straightforward: ‘Dice Commune Worships Chance and Chaos’, and a subhead proclaimed: ‘Mysterious Leader Still Sought.’
    Standing in front of the bench I looked down balefully at Honoria, who looked back with her usual cool aplomb. Then I slowly lowered myself on to the bench next to her and read on.
    According to former sex slave Anita Ransom, the commune brainwashed people into giving up their free will to the commands of dice. Diceguides forced everyone to break down habits and inhibitions and become random multiple personalities. Ms Ransom painted a lurid picture – cult indoctrination into a ‘schizophrenic existence where you had to be somebody you weren’t’, ‘where you could lose your life savings in a second, or make money by stealing or prostitution’ ‘Nothing was taboo,’ said Ms Ransom. ‘People were doing everything!’ The cult worship of their Dice Daddy Luke Rhinehart led to random ‘contributions’, orgies, and perhaps even some sort of Russian roulette human sacrifice. Luke himself appeared constantly in new disguises and personalities, a master fox, thus evading the FBI now for twenty years.
    There were only two small photographs connected with the articles – one of Anita Ransom of sex-slave fame, who looked about as sexy and abused as a slightly stoned McDonald’s counter clerk; and a second of Luke, a photo I immediately recognized as having been taken fifteen years earlier at Luke’s trial. My father was smiling benevolently through his thick glasses at the camera, looking for all the world as threatening as a slightly tipsy stamp collector.
    With a grunt I shoved the pages away on to Honoria’s lap.
    ‘Utter total bullshit crap,’ I said, angry at the articles for both their lies and their probable truths.
    ‘But such entertaining crap,’ said Kim.
    ‘I’m afraid that the accepted cliché is that where there’s smoke there’s fire.’ said Honoria.
    I looked at her and slowly shook my head.
    ‘Jesus. And yesterday two FBI agents wanted to know if I knew anything about my father.’
    When both women expressed surprise I had to fill them in on the interview, talking about it adding to my overall annoyance. When I’d finished, Kim was sitting on the edge of the bench in bright-eyed excitement, her soggy towel folded on her lap and her tanned legs stretched out in front of her, while Honoria was looking again at the pages.
    ‘I hate to think what my father would think of this,’ Honoria said after a pause, then turned to me. ‘You’ve got to find your father. If he has anything to do with this nonsense you’ve got to convince him to stop.’
    ‘Shit on that,’ I snorted, the idea of wasting any time at all on my father having all the appeal of a barium enema.
    ‘And if he’s alive,’ Honoria went on, ‘you can find out what this is all about and get your father clear of this mess, maybe offer him some money, if that’s what he needs.’
    I stood up and strode away from the bench, staring bitterly at the cluster of ducks which had paddled over hoping for a handout. First my father deserts me when I need him, and now he seems to be returning when I least want him.
    ‘I don’t care about this fucking mess,’ I snapped. ‘As far as I’m concerned this man is not my father.’
    ‘Unfortunately, his name
is
Luke Rhinehart,’ commented Honoria.
    ‘So?’
    ‘So my father will go through the roof if he sees an article like this. If we can’t clear it up there’s no telling what he’ll do about our getting married.’
    ‘It’s company policy,’ I said, looking sullenly back at her, ‘that my father is dead.’
    ‘I’m afraid
this
father,’ said Honoria wryly, holding up the