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Although remarkably coherent； the careful reader must certainly detect the work of various voices； most or all of them already encountered in the various memos； letters； and journals presented so far。 In addition to this； the discovered manuscript （it would harm the unfolding story to say much about the circumstances of that discovery here） shows many different typefaces and editorial hands。 About thirty per cent of it was typed on a portable Olivetti； which can be positively identified as John Kenton's by the flying d and the distinctive crack running through the capital S。 Another thirty per cent is certainly the work of Riddley Walker's 1948 office…model Underwood； which was found on the desk of his study in Dobbs Ferry。 The other typefaces are those produced by the sort of IBM Selectrics then in use at the Zenith House offices。 Ten per cent of the manuscript was typed with the IBM type…ball 〃Script；〃 which was favored by Sandra Jackson。 Twenty per cent of the manuscript is in IBM's 〃Courier〃 format； which was favored by both Herb Porter and Roger Wade。 The remaining work is in IBM's 〃Letter Gothic；〃 which can be found on many （although not all） of Bill Gelb's business letters and in…house memos。
The most interesting thing about this collaboration； which is remarkably unified in spite of the stylistic interplay； is the fact that it is told in the third…person omniscient style。 Information is conveyed by use of a shifting perspective； and include many incidents at which none of the narrators…Kenton； Wade； Jackson； Gelb； or Walker…were present。 The reader may wonder if these passages （several of which are interwoven below） are informed speculation based on the available evidence； or if they are pure imagination； no more to be believed than the plots of Anthony LaScorbia's 〃big bug〃 books。 To these possibilities； the editor would first like to remind the reader that there was a sixth participant at Zenith House during those months in 1981； and then to suggest that if what Kenton； Wade； et。 al。 suspected was true…that the ivy sent to them was telepathic and to some degree manipulative…then perhaps the true narrator of Z was Zenith the mon ivy itself （or himself； to use Riddley Walker's most mon pronounal reference）。
Although insane by all normal standards of deduction； the idea has a certain persuasive charm when taken in context with other events of that year…many verifiable； such as the crash of the muter plane on which Tina Barfield was a passenger…and offers at least one explanation for the manuscript。 The idea that a telepathic ivy plant turned the typewriters of five previously normal editors into Ouija boards is an outrage to rational thought； with that much； no sane person could fail to agree。 And yet there is a certain pull to the idea； at least for this reader； a sense that yes； this is how these things happened； and yes； this is how the truth of those days came to be written down。
S。 K。
From Z； an unpublished manuscript
April 4； 1981 490 Park Avenue South New York City Skies fair； winds light； temperature 50 F。
9：16 A。 M。
RainBo Soft Drinks has its New York offices on the third floor of the building which stands at 490 Park Avenue South。 Although small （market share as of 3/1/81： 6。 5％）； RainBo is enthusiastic； a young and growing concern。 In early April of 1981； the RainBo top brass certainly has something to be excited about： they have gotten the rights （for a price they can afford） to mercially exploit the classic Harold Arlen position 〃Somewhere Over the Rainbow。〃 They are tooling up a whole new PR campaign around the song。
On this Saturday morning； executive vice president George Patella （〃I'm a knee man〃 is his favorite singles…bar pickup line。 。 。 not that he is single） has driven in from his home in Westport because a brilliant concept has e to him in the middle of the night。 He wants to memo it and lay it on his superior's desk before noon。 And after noon； there's a certain new titty…bar over on 7th Avenue that he's been meaning to check out。
His head full of animated soda bottles dancing over the rainbow in cunning little red shoes； George Patella barely registers the man who follows him in； catching the door and murmuring 〃Thank you〃 after George has used his key。 All he notices is an older gentleman； in his late sixties or early seventies； handsome in a haggard sort of way； and wearing a green military uniform。
If asked later to be more specific about this uniform； Mr。 Patella would be unable to add much； although he is by nature a friendly and helpful man （albeit one with a tendency to put his wedding ring into a rear partment of his wallet on certain occasions）。 If his head hadn't been so full of those dancing soda bottles； he might have seen that the elderly fellow with the steel gray brush…cut wore no insignia and no badges of rank。 If chivvied into total recall （or hypnotized into it）； Patella might have said this of the man who stepped into the elevator with him that Saturday morning： he was wearing a dark green shirt； a black tie held to the shirt with a plain gold bar； and dark green pants； sharply creased and cuffed； over brightly shined black shoes。 An outfit of military aspect； in other words； but one that could have been purchased at the Army…Navy store a block over for a total cost of under forty dollars。
It is the way he wears what he has on that gives the impression of military dress； once the older gentleman has pushed the button for his floor （George Patella has no idea which one）； he stands perfectly straight and perfectly still； with his hands clasped in front of him and his eyes on the lighted floor…indicator。 He doesn't fidget or call attention to himself in any way； certainly not by attempting to chat。 And there is nothing in his posture which suggests disfort。 This is a man who has stood so…not quite at attention； but certainly not at ease…many times before。 His face municates that。 That； and the idea that he perhaps enjoys such a posture。
All and all no surprise that George Patella； preoccupied with his own concerns （he's too deep within them to even realize he's softly whistling 〃Somewhere Over the Rainbow〃）； does not question the man's right to be there。 All else aside； the man in the green shirt and trousers radiates that sense of right place…right time。 And certainly George Patella does not recognize the man sharing his elevator car as General Anthony 〃Iron…Guts〃 Hecksler （U。 S。 Army Ret。）； madman； murderer； and fugitive from justice。 Patella gets off on Three to write his memo about the dancing soda bottles。 The man in the green pants and shirt stays aboard the elevator car。 Patella the soft…drink seller has one last glimpse of the military fella as he （Patella） turns the corner toward the RainBo offices： an elderly gent standing quietly erect； looking straight ahead； hands clasped in front of him； the fingers of those hands slightly bunched by arthritis。 Just standing there； just waiting for the elevator to go up； so he can get on with his own business。
Whatever that business might be。
April 4； 1981 Cony Island Skies fair； winds light； temperature 51 F。
9：40 A。 M。