Distraction - Bruce Sterling [160]
“This just isn’t going to work,” Greta said. “We don’t even speak the same language. We have nothing in common.” She pointed dramatically. “Just look at that laptop he’s carrying! It’s made out of straw.”
“Why am I the only one who sees the obvious here?” Oscar said. “You people have amazing commonalities. Look at all that nomad equipment—those leaf grinders, and digesters, and catalytic cracking units. They’re using biotechnology. And computer networks, too. They live off those things, for heaven’s sake.”
Greta’s face hardened. “Yes but … not scientifically.”
“But they live exactly like you live—by their reputations. You are America’s two most profoundly noncommercial societies. Your societies are both based on reputation, respect, and prestige.”
Gazzaniga frowned. “What is this, a sociology class? Sociology’s not a hard science.”
“But it’s true! You scientists want to become the Most Frequently Cited and win all the honors and awards. While Moderators, like the Captain here, want to be streetwise netgod gurus. As a further plus, neither of you have any idea how to dress! Furthermore, even though you are both directly responsible for the catastrophe that our society is undergoing, you are both incredibly adept at casting yourselves as permanent, misunderstood victims. You both whine and moan endlessly about how nobody else is cool enough or smart enough to understand you. And you both never clean up your own messes. And you both never take responsibility for yourselves. And that’s why you’re both treated like children by the people who actually run this country!”
They stared at him, appalled.
“I am talking sense to you here,” Oscar insisted, his voice rising to an angry buzz. “I am not ranting. I possess a perspective here that you people, who are locked in the ivory basements of your own subcultures, simply do not possess. It is no use my soft-pedaling the truth to you. You are in a crisis. This is a crux. You have both severed your lifelines to the rest of society. You need to overcome your stupid prejudice, and unite as a powerful coalition. And if you could only do this, the world would be yours!”
Oscar leaned forward. Inspiration blazed within him like Platonic daylight. “We can survive this Emergency. We could even prevail. We could grow. If we handled it right, this could catch on!”
“All right,” Greta said. “Calm down. I have one question. They’re nomads, aren’t they? What happens after they leave us?”
“You think that we’ll run away,” Burningboy said.
Greta looked at him, sad at having given offense. “Don’t you always run away? I thought that was how you people survived.”
“No, you’re the gutless ones!” Burningboy shouted. “You’re supposed to be intellectuals! You’re supposed to be our visionaries! You’re supposed to be giving people a grasp of the truth, something to look up to, the power, the knowledge, higher reality. But what are you people really? You’re not titans of intellect. You’re a bunch of cheap geeks, in funny clothes that your mom bought you. You’re just another crowd of sniveling hangers-on who are dying for a government handout. You’re whining to me about how dirty morons like us can’t appreciate you—well, what the hell have you done for us lately? What do you want out of life, besides a chance to hang out in your lab and look down on the rest of us? Quit being such a pack of sorry weasels—do something big, you losers! Take a chance, for Christ’s sake. Act like you matter!”
“He’s really lost it,” Gazzaniga said, goggling in wounded amazement. “This guy has no grasp of real life.”
Flagboy’s phone rang. He spoke briefly, then handed the phone to his