Occultus Liber

The Cyclops was attending Yale, having made a fortune in India selling keys, locks, and bagels. Currently, he had a lot on his mind. (C. Real Estate. Sec. 6.66. 6BC–30AD.) His suit was tailored in the best Savile Row tradition — a regimental tie, leather shoes — quite the courtly Cyclops. So neat and trim he was, so balanced in dress from head to toe he was, he even acquired the nickname of Trimmer. With a wry sense of humor, he spoke in coherent paragraphs, choosing his words for their quality as well as their quantity. He listened interestedly to others, just one sign of his unshakeable good manners. He performed impeccably at large functions and enlighted all with his wit and charm. Currently, he was studying law and was even in the midst of writing his own autobiography, Reflections in a Cyclops’s Eye. His wife was a woman of consummate good taste. (More on her later.) Thus far in his climb, the Cyclops had delighted the boards at Alcoa, Gulf Oil, Bank of America, and Proctor and Gamble. He had grown to love rare books and horse racing. In addition to this, he had become a collector of valuable art and owned original canvases by Klee, Seurat, Degas, Renoir, and Rembrandt. He was well-versed in literature and lectured friends on the virtues of writers from Chaucer to Samuel Johnson. In actuality, he had become something of a financial genius and could consistently pick the budding entrepreneurs who would blossom into great industrialists. Indeed, due partially to his scholarship and the fact that he was so well versed concerning The Seven Pillars of Wisdom, he became known within certain circles as T.E. Cyclops (T.E. standing for The Eternal). Small details helped to define the exquisite Cyclops. For example, he was prone to wearing little pendent trinkets that clinked like delicate, little regal bells as he moved most assuredly through the layers of high society, the grand monde: the Palaces, the Courts, the Chambers, and the Tribunals. Oftentimes he would delight a party by arriving in a powdered wig in addition to a gold lace coat, pumps, and white silk stockings. His entry into any hall might further be accented by a spontaneous quote, “To the devil!,” upon which he would get a burst of applause even though half didn’t get the joke. Traveling through a sea of guests, one was certain to find the Cyclops bestowing a word of promise here and a smile there, a snatch of whispered advice, or a roll of mumbled caution. His solitary eye could catch an entire room in a single glance. And given a list of fifty names, he could recite them back hours later without a single misplacement. He was prone to carrying snuff, which he would inhale through a nose beautifully formed since he had had its irregular lines redone by the renowned Dr. Doitlittle, so it was now slightly pinched at the top of each nostril and hardly, if ever, did run. The orbit of his eye (depending upon the light socket) was typically horizontal and thin; still, should he ever make a face, a grimace, or a sign of displeasure, his eye would become inflamed with that old Cyclops brawn, and either turned everyone on with excitement or caused them to cower in fear, drained of any ounce of courage. As a matter of fact, he even had the ability to peer and to find behind the face of any honest man the buried person within, the shadows of which others less able could never understand. He could confront a man of five-and-forty years, well respected and established, a literal triumph among his peers, and secretly suggest to him his most hidden fears whether they be in the passion of the soul, such as pride, contempt, or stubbornness, or in matters more bearing upon the body, such as a corn on the bottom left heel, a boil on the tailbone, or a mole above the left tit, and thereafter prescribe how best to get rid of it. His face was one face, just as his brain was one brain, and his eye was one eye. But the passengers aboard his presence would more certainly than not view him in different lights: doctor, broker, lawyer, historian — depending upon the view, he could simply satisfy everyone; even father and son would share the same conclusions, and in this manner he brought families together. For it always feels good when two on opposite rungs share a common view. And even though matrimony was his stable lot to the women round about, he was quite a rogue. External luxuries throughout, cruel anxieties within, so many women were thin, poor creatures hungry for love from husbands they had had to steal from to make possible that satin dress that graced the halls of the most current balls. These were poor women, emotionally starved, who were better briefed on the backs of their husbands than on their fronts, women who cooed and fell at the feet of a beast, who, in turn, admired each and everyone her beauty. For with every hand the Cyclops took and graced with the plant of his lips, he would extend the respect with a wink or two and a promise to later get a better view upon which to plant his compliments. Generous on all accounts, the Cyclops grew richer in public view by donating valuable art to institutions in debt. No one had given more great art in donation than the Cyclops. He had a knack for saving managers of sound judgment but little luck, who found their respective businesses in the red, all to help heal their shattered world. He restored life and replaced even the lord in the common view.