Distraction - Bruce Sterling [221]
“I didn’t like your methods.”
“Hell, you used enough of ’em. You used damn near every one. Hell, I ain’t particular about any methods. You got a better method for me, spit it out! Let’s talk it over.”
“Hey, Huey,” Kevin said. “What about me? I have methods too.”
“You’re last year’s news, Mr. Whitey. You’re the hired help now, you’re lucky to have a damn job. Lemme talk to the Genetic Wonder here. We’re talking cognition now. This is for grown-ups.”
“Hey, Huey!” Kevin insisted. “My methods still work. I outed you on the Haitians. I figured that one out, I flew people over your border.”
Huey’s brow wrinkled in distaste. “My point is,” Huey said to Oscar, “we’re in the same boat now. If I’d just kept hold of that Collaboratory, I could have spread a new cognition on a massive scale. In fact, I’m still gonna do that—I’m gonna make the people of this state the smartest, most capable, most creative people on God’s green earth. You put a serious crimp in my production facilities—but hell, that’s all history now. Now you’ve got no real choice but to help ol’ Huey. Because you been hanging on to power by the skin of your teeth, cadgin’ favors, hiding your past. Now you’re a freak twice over. But! If you come on over to Huey now—and if you bring along your loving girlfriend, who’s the source of all this goodness in the first place, and is in the same boat as you—then you get a brand-new lease on life. In fact, the sky’s your limit.”
“First I’d have to get my temper back, Etienne.”
“Oh, pshaw! Real players don’t get angry. Why get all ticked off at me? I actually accept you. I love your goddamn background problem. See, I finally got you all figured out. If America settles down and gets all normal, then you’re on the outside for good. You’re always gonna have your nose pressed up against the glass, watchin’ other folks drink the champagne. Nothing you do will last. You’ll be a sideshow and a shadow, and you’ll stay one till you die. But, son, if you get a big head start in the coming revolution of the human mind, you can goddamn have Massachusetts. I’ll give it to ya.”
“Hey, Huey! Yo! Were you always this crazy, or did the dope do it?”
Huey ignored Kevin’s interruption, though his scowl grew deeper. “I know you can attack me for this. Sure, go ahead and do it. Tell everybody what a freak you are now. Tell everybody that your Senator’s former lover—and Moira’s now in France, by the way—took revenge on you, for the dirty trick that you pulled to cover his sorry ass. Step out in public like the fire-eatin’ boy, and nicely set fire to yourself. Or else, just see sense and come on board with me! You’ll be doin’ just exactly what you did before. But instead of just fast-talkin’ people into a new way of life—hell, words never stick anyhow—you can blast ’em into it. When you do that to ’em, they don’t go back, son. Just like you’re never going back.”
“Why would I make thousands of people into sideshow freaks? Why should everyone be as unhappy as I am?”
“Nothin’ unhappy about it! The science really works! It works just great!”
“Hey, Huey! Give it up, dude! I know this guy. You’ll never make him happy! He doesn’t know what the word means! You can’t get away with this, man—you’ve made him twice as bad!”
Huey had lost patience. He gestured absently for his bodyguards. A pair of pistol-toting goons emerged from the gilded shadows of the elegant room behind the balcony. Kevin fell silent.
“Get his hands free,” Huey told the bodyguard. “Get him a coat and hat. He’s a player. We’re talking seriously now.”
The bodyguard freed Oscar’s hands. Oscar began rubbing his wrists. The bodyguard threw someone’s dark jacket over Oscar’s prison coveralls.
Huey sidled a little closer. “Oscar, let’s talk turkey now. This thing is a great gift. Sure, it’s a little tough on you