Distraction - Bruce Sterling [173]
“You’re not telling me that you’re actually going to prison, Burningboy.”
“You should try it, amigo. It’s the ultimate invisible American population. Prisons have everything that interests you. People with a lot of spare time. Weird economics, based on drugs and homemade tattoos. There’s a lot of time to think seriously. You really do regret your old mistakes inside a penitentiary.” Burningboy had an impossibly remote look now. Oscar was losing him; it was as if he were bound on a flower-decked Valkyrie ship for the shores of Avalon. “Besides, some of those poor evil bastards are so far gone that they actually have bad teeth. I can practice dentistry again, when I’m in stir. Did I ever tell you I used to be a dentist? That was before the caries vaccine came in and destroyed my profession.”
Oscar had forgotten that Burningboy had once been a dentist. The man had earned a medical degree. Oscar was alarmed by this, not merely because the annihilation of the noble profession of dentistry was a stark barometer of America’s social damage. It bothered him because he was forgetting important things about important people. Was he too old now, at twenty-nine? Was he losing his grip? Had he taken on too much? Maybe it was the way Burningboy dressed and talked. He was a dropout, a prole, a marginal. It was just impossible to take him seriously for more than a few instants.
“I have no regrets,” Burningboy said, emptying his cocktail glass with a flourish. “I led my people into a lot of trouble here. That wasn’t my idea—it was your damned idea—but they wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t given it my big say-so. If you change hundreds of people’s lives, you ought to pay a stiff price for that. Just to, you know, keep everybody from tryin’ it. So I’m doing the honorable thing here. My people understand about prison.”
“That is the honorable thing, isn’t it? Doing time. Paying dues.”
“That’s right. I led the charge, and now I step aside. At least I won’t end up like Green Huey.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean that Huey can’t put it down, son. He can’t put down the cross and take off the crown of thorns. He can’t mosey off the stage and go sit quietly in the corner. He’s the red-hot self-declared super-savior of the meek and downtrodden, and you can’t pull a stunt like that in America without somebody shooting you. That’s just the kind of thing we do in this country. Huey looks a mile high right now, but he’s made out of meat. Somebody’s gonna kill Huey. The lone nut sniper, a crowd of spooks outside the motorcade.…” He shot Oscar a sudden opaque look. “I just hope he doesn’t get offed by somebody that I personally know.”
“It would be very regrettable if the Governor came to harm.”
“Yeah, right.”
Oscar cleared his throat. “If you’re leaving us, General, who’s going to be in command here?”
“You are. You’ve always been in command here. Don’t you get that yet? You need to wake up a little, son.”
“Look, I don’t give any orders. I just talk to the relevant parties.”
Burningboy snorted.
“Okay, then let me rephrase my question. Who do I talk to, when I need to talk to the Moderators?”
“All right.” Burningboy shrugged. “I’ll introduce you to my anointed successor.”
Burningboy led him inside the police station. From behind the locked door of the chief’s office came a loud series of groans. Burningboy produced a swipecard from inside his medicine bag, and opened the door. Kevin had his bare feet up on his desk. He was receiving dual foot rubs from a pair of nomad women. He was very drunk, and wearing a silly party hat.
“All right, ladies,” Kevin gurgled. “That’ll be enough for now. Thank you so much. Really.”
“Your metatarsals are really trashed,” said the first masseuse, with dignity.
“Can we mark off a whole hour?” said the second.
“Oh, go ahead!” Kevin said royally. “Who’s to know?”
“This is my successor,” said Burningboy. “Our new security honcho. Captain Scubbly Bee.”
“That’s just great,” Oscar said. “That’s good news. Incredible. It’s so wonderful I scarcely know what to say.”