The Zenith Angle - Bruce Sterling [101]
Fawn offered Van a paperback. Van took it. An embedded needle twinged in his left forearm. Fawn’s book was an obscure, Czech-printed, English-language paperback edition of some plays and essays of Vaclav Havel. To judge by the smashed spine and dog-eared pages, it had spent hard time in the bottom of a student’s backpack.
Somehow this ludicrously crushed and smashed book gave Van a warm, grateful feeling. This artifact was so much worse off than he was.
Fawn blinked behind her glasses. “I spent a lot of time in hospitals when I was like sixteen, seventeen. I mean, a lot of time. That used to drive my dad nuts. Even my mom freaked out, and she was, like, used to our health problems.”
Van put Fawn’s book on the steel roller-tray next to his bowl of mush.
“When I got better, I made my parents send me to Prague. Because I heard that Prague was like the coolest place to get away from your crazy parents. Well, Prague was cool, but I was never a cool person. I did make this one cool friend there though. My friend Eva. She’s Czech. Eva knew my dad, so Eva was nice to me.”
Van typed at his screen.
“That book’s real rare here in America. All Czech stuff is small-press stuff. It’s a small country.”
WHAT’S IT ABOUT
Fawn ignored him. “See, here back in the USA, they always talk about Vaclav Havel like he was some kind of saint. Well, he was. He is. But my pal Eva, she’s, like, personally related to Vaclav Havel. Eva had to have this saint guy as her President.”
Van raised his brows, or tried to. The right brow moved. The left one was still numbed from his surgery.
“Eva told me, yeah, Vaclav Havel is like this saint, but a saint can’t run a government. I mean, very first thing, the country splits in half. Havel is a terrible administrator. His health was bad, all the time. And his first wife, the First Lady everybody really liked, she died of cancer. He married the second wife and nobody could stand her, because she’s, like, this hippie actress.”
Van looked at her silently. Why was Fawn torturing him like this? What on earth was the woman’s point?
“We’ve never had a really good talk like this before, you and me!” Fawn said. She removed a pair of latex gloves from her purse and found herself a tissue. “I feel like we’re really communicating now!”
With a struggle, Van found his tongue. His tongue had not been directly hurt in any way that he understood, but his tongue was really sore anyway. “Thanks,” he lisped. “It was good of you to come, Fawn.”
Fawn’s eyes briefly leaked tears. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, boss. I’m taking care of all of it for you.”
“Mmm-hmmm.”
“I’m gonna get you your money back that you spent on Grendel. Jeb said that should be my number-one priority. And wow, the way you screwed up that requisition process, getting that money back is like a full-time job.”
Van sniffed. His sinuses were a wreck.
“Jeb really admires you. I mean, for a cop, Jeb really knows a lot about computers. Jeb doesn’t mind that computer geeks are kind of hopeless idealists. Jeb knows you were really the best.”
I am the best, Van thought. Was it worth the pain to mention this out loud? No. No use in saying that at all.
“I learned so much working with you,” Fawn told him gratefully. “Like, it was so cool of you not to say anything to anybody about my stupid little love affair at the office. I had to grow out of that little problem on my own. I always heard that was unprofessional, but you know, until I really did it, with a really stupid guy like Mike Hickok, I didn’t know why it was stupid.”
Van’s heart began thudding.
“Anyway, now I’m fully briefed about that. So I’ve just folded that up and put that little subject away.” Fawn wasn’t kidding. “Van, I just got two great job offers from DARPA and Homeland Security. I can get an important, top-level staff job with a real federal bureau. They know I worked with you and Jeb, and they want me bad. You’d definitely pick DARPA if you were me, right? DARPA, they’re Advanced Research Projects, and all.”
Van nodded.
“That’s why I’m picking Homeland Security. Security