Distraction - Bruce Sterling [14]
According to their handy pocket maps, Oscar and Pelicanos were now in a mix-and-match jungle bordered by the Animal Engineering Lab, the Atmospheric Chemistry Lab, the Animal Management Center, and a very elaborate structure that was the Collaboratory’s garbage treatment plant. None of these rambling federal buildings were visible from within the potted forest—except, of course, for the brutal, fortresslike towers of the Containment Facility. This gigantic Hot Zone was the massive central buttress for the Collaboratory’s dome. Its glazed cylindrical shoulders were always visible inside the dome, gleaming like a mighty acreage of fine china.
The probability of listening devices seemed rather low here inside the mechanical forest. They could talk in confidence, if they kept moving.
“I thought we’d never lose that geek,” Pelicanos said.
“You have something you need to tell me, Yosh?”
Pelicanos sighed. “I want to know when we’re going home again.”
Oscar smiled. “We just got here. Don’t you like these Texas folks? They sure are mighty friendly.”
“Oscar, you brought twelve people in your entourage. The locals don’t even have the dorm rooms to put us up properly.”
“But I need twelve people. I need all of my krewe. I need to keep my options open here.”
Pelicanos grunted in surprise as a spined and cloven-hoofed beast—some kind of tapir, maybe?—scampered across their path. Rare beasts from aardwolves to zebu had the general run of the Collaboratory. They were commonly sighted ambling harmlessly through the streets and gardens, like dope-stricken sacred cows.
“You arranged a few extras after the campaign,” Pelicanos said. “Well, Bambakias can certainly afford that, and they appreciate the gesture. But political campaigners are temp workers by nature. You just don’t need them anymore. You can’t need twelve people to put together a Senate committee report.”
“But they’re useful! Don’t you enjoy their services? We have a bus, a driver, our own security, we even have a masseuse! We’re living in high style. Besides, they might as well be washed up here in Wonderland as washed up anywhere else.”
“Those aren’t real answers.”
Oscar looked at him. “This isn’t like you, Yosh.… You’re missing Sandra.”
“Yeah,” Pelicanos admitted. “I miss my wife.”
Oscar waved his hand airily. “So, then take a three-day weekend. Fly back to Beantown. You deserve that, we can afford it. Go see Sandra. See how she is.”
“All right. I guess I’ll do that. I’ll fly out and see Sandra.” And Pelicanos cheered up. Oscar saw his spirits lift; it came across the man in a little visible wave. Strange business, but Pelicanos had just become happy. Despite the stark fact that his wife was in a mental institution, and had been there for nine years.
Pelicanos was an excellent organizer, a fine accountant, a bookkeeper of near genius, and yet his personal life was an abysmal tragedy. Oscar found this intensely interesting. It appealed to the deepest element in Oscar, his ravenous curiosity about human beings and the tactics and strategies by which they could be coaxed and compelled to behave. Yosh Pelicanos made his way through his life seemingly just like any other man, and yet he always carried this secret half-ton burden on his shoulders. Pelicanos truly knew the meaning of devotion and loyalty.
Oscar himself had no particular acquaintance with either devotion or loyalty, but he’d trained himself to recognize these qualities in others. It was no accident that Pelicanos was Oscar’s oldest and longest-lasting employee.
Pelicanos lowered his voice. “But before I go, Oscar, I need you to do me a little favor. I need you to tell me what you’re up to. Level with me.”
“You know that I always level with you, Yosh.”
“Well, try it one more time.”
“Very well.” Oscar walked beneath a tall green arch of pink-flowered