Lanark_ a life in 4 books - Alasdair Gray [218]
“This is Hell,” said Lanark.
“There are worse hells,” said Jack.
The bus was painted to look like a block of Enigma de Filets Congalés. On the side it said NOW EVERYONE CAN TASTE THE RICH HUMAN GOODNESS IN FROZEN SECRETS, THE FOOD OF PRESIDENTS.
Jack led Lanark to a seat on the top deck and brought out a cigarette packet labelled POISON. He said, “Like one?”
“No thanks,” said Lanark and stared as Jack lit a white cylinder with DON’T SMOKE THIS printed along it.
“Yes, they’re dangerous,” said Jack, inhaling. “That’s why the council insisted on the warning.”
“Why doesn’t it stop them being made?”
“Half the population is hooked on them,” said Jack. “And the council gets half the money spent on them. They’re an Algolagnics product. There are less dangerous drugs, of course, but they wouldn’t be so profitable if they were legalized.”
A bus going the other way carried a sentence past the window: QUICK MONEY IS TIME IN YOUR POCKET—BUY MONEY FASTER FROM THE QUANTUM EXPONENTIAL.
Jack said, “You were being sarcastic—weren’t you?—when you asked if Ritchie-Smollet could spare me?”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t mind. Yes, he depends on me, does old Smollet. So does Sludden. I choose my bosses carefully. That bloke was my boss once.”
Jack pointed through the window at a tattered poster covering the end of a derelict tenement. It showed a friendly-looking man behind a desk with telephones on it. The words below said ARE YOU LOOKING FOR A FACTORY SITE, A FACTORY OR A LABOUR FORCE? PHONE 777-7777 AND SPEAK TO TOM TALLENTYRE, CHAIRMAN OF THE WORK FOR UNTHANK BOARD.
“Tallentyre was a very big man after they scrapped the Q39 project,” said Jack. “In fact he was provost for a while. But Sludden did for him in the end. Sludden pointed out that the posters were put up in parts of Unthank where the unemployed lived, and folk with power to start new factories didn’t live in Unthank anyway. So the action shifted to Sludden and Smollet, and so did I. I enjoy being where the action is. That’s why I’m with you, just now.”
“Why are you with me?”
“You aren’t what you pretend, are you? I agree with Gow. You’re some sort of agent or investigator. Why ask about cleansing and social stability when you work for Ozenfant and carry a council passport?”
“I don’t work for Ozenfant. And what use is a council passport to me?”
“It could get you a very well-paid job.”
“I want that!” said Lanark excitedly. “How do I get one? I want that!”
“Ask the employment centre to put you on the professional register,” said Jack sulkily. He seemed disappointed.
Lanark looked out of the window, feeling more hopeful. The bus was passing busy new shops whose fronts spread along whole blocks and showed brightly packaged food and drugs and records and clothes. He noticed many restaurants with oriental names and many kinds of gambling shops. In some he glimpsed people sitting with bags and baskets at counters, apparently gambling for food. The gaps left by demolished buildings were crammed with parked cars and surrounded by fences with wild threats scrawled on them in bright paint. CRAZY MAC KILLS, they said and MAD TOAD RULES, and THE WEE MALCIES ARE COMING, but they didn’t distract from the larger message of the posters. These showed pictures of family life, sex, food and money, and their words were more puzzling.
BOOST YOUR THERMS WITH NULLITY GREEN—BAG HER IN YOUR BLOCKAL BLOOPER-MARKET.
GRIND YOUR SPECTACLES WITH METAL TEA, THE SEX CHAMP ON THE CHILIASM.
THE SWEETEST DREAMERS INHALE BLUE FUME, THE POISON WITH THE WARNING.
WISE BUYERS ARE THE BEST SEXERS—BUY HER A LONG LIFE, AN EASY DEATH FROM QUANTUM PROVIDENTIAL. (SHE’LL LOVE YOU FOR IT.)
Lanark said, “What a lot of instructions.”
“Don’t you like advertisements?”
“No.”
“The city would look pretty dead without them—they add to the action. Read that.”
Jack pointed to a small poster on the bus window which said:
ADVERTISING OVERSTIMULATES, MISINFORMS, CORRUPTS.
If you feel this, send your name and address to the Council Advertising Commission and receive your free booklet explaining why we can’t do without