Distraction - Bruce Sterling [110]
“It can work all right. The problem is that the organized-crime feds are on to the proles, so they netwar their systems and deliberately break them down. They prefer the proles chaotic, because they’re a threat to the status quo. Living without money is just not the American way. But most of Africa lives outside the money economy now—they’re all eating leaf protein out of Dutch machines. Polynesia is like that now. In Europe they’ve got guaranteed annual incomes, they’ve got zero-work people in their Parliaments. Gift networks have always been big in Japan. Russians still think property is theft—those poor guys could never make a money economy work. So if it’s so impractical, then how come everybody else is doing it? With Green Huey in power, they’ve finally got a whole American state.”
“Green Huey is a pocket Stalin. He’s a personality cultist.”
“I agree he’s a son of a bitch, but he’s a giant son of a bitch. His state government runs Regulator servers now. And they didn’t overrun that air base by any accident. Huey’s nomads really have what it takes now—no more of this penny-ante roadblock and wire-clipper nonsense. Now they’ve got U.S. Air Force equipment that’s knocked over national governments. It’s a silent coup in progress, pal. They’re gonna eat the country right out from under you.”
“Kevin, stop frightening me. I’m way ahead of you here. I know that the proles are a threat. I’ve known it since that May Day riot in Worcester, back in ‘42. Maybe you didn’t care to notice that ugly business, but I have tapes of all that—I’ve watched it a hundred times. People in my own home state tore a bank apart with their hands. It was absolute madness. Craziest thing I ever saw.”
Kevin munched his stick and swallowed. “I didn’t have to tape it. I was there.”
“You were?” Oscar leaned forward gently. “Who ordered all that?”
“Nobody. Nobody ever orders it. That was a fed bank, they were running cointelpro out of it. The word bubbled up from below, some heavy activists accreted, they wasp-swarmed the place. And once they’d trashed it, they all ducked and scattered. You’d never find any ‘orders,’ or anyone responsible. You’d never even find the software. That thing is a major-league hit-server. It’s so far underground that it doesn’t need eyes anymore.”
“Why did you do that, Kevin? Why would you risk doing a crazy thing like that?”
“I did it for the trust ratings. And because, well, they stank.” Kevin’s eyes glittered. “Because the people who rule us are spooks, they lie and they cheat and they spy. The sons of bitches are rich, they’re in power. They hold all the cards over us, but they still have to screw people over the sneaky way. They had it coming. I’d do it again, if my feet were a little better.”
Oscar felt himself trembling on the edge of revelation. This was almost making sense. Kevin had just outed himself, and the facts were finally falling into place. The situation was both a lot clearer and rather more dangerous than he had imagined.
Oscar knew now that he had been absolutely right to follow his instincts and hire this man. Kevin was the kind of political creature who was much safer inside the tent than outside it. There had to be some way to win him over, permanently. Something that mattered to him. “Tell me more about your feet, Kevin.”
“I’m an Anglo. Funny things happen to Anglos nowadays.” Kevin smiled wearily. “Especially when four cops with batons catch you screwing with traffic lights.… So now, I’m a dropout’s dropout. I had to go straight, I couldn’t keep up on the road. I got myself a crap security gig in a tony part of Beantown. I put most of the old life behind me.… Hey, I even voted once! I voted for Bambakias.”
“That’s extremely interesting. Why did you do that?”
“Because he builds houses for us, man! He builds ’em with his own hands and he never asks for a cent. And I’m not sorry I voted for him either, because you know, the man is for real! I know that he blew it, but that’s for real—the