“Let me see,” Fred said, doing a quick calculation. “Corrine would be three wives ago. Right now I’m married to an evangeline named Mary Skarland.”
“An evangeline. What a charming name. I don’t believe I’ve met one of these evangelines.”
“They’re rather recent and somewhat rare,” Fred said.
“Is she here, Fred?”
“No, Myr Harger. She’s at home. I’m here on duty. Anyway, when I saw that you were here, I wanted to say hello. Also to offer my condolences for your loss.”
Samson blinked. “Henry, have I lost something?”
“I am Belt Hubert,” replied the chair, “a fraction of my former self, and Officer Londenstane is probably referring to the tragic death of your ex-wife Eleanor Starke two days ago.”
The news hit the ancient man like a train. He gulped and choked and pushed himself into a half-sitting position. “Hubert, take me to Roosevelt Clinic immediately.”
The chair’s motors revved up, and its brakes unlocked, but the girl jumped in front of it and said in a very adult tone, “Stop!”
“Kitty, is that you?”
“Yes, Sam, I’m here.”
Samson reached out over the side of the basket, and Kitty took his hand.
“Kitty, I must go. My daughter needs me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ellen, my daughter. She survived the crash. I must go be with her.”
This is where I came in, Fred thought and backed away. Outside the holo cordon he paused to sniff his hand. It stank.
BOGDAN FOLLOWS A rubberband to Troy Tobbler. If the Tobb boy happened to turn around, he’d see it stretched out on the floor behind him and either cancel it or follow it back to me.
It vibrates faster the closer we get to each other. I race along it, and it leads me to the open doors of a grand ballroom where I am stunned by a ghastly sight—the Rondy Nursery—hundreds of kids and thousands of grown-ups rubbing their heads.
Bogdan is a graduate of the Rondy Nursery, magna cum laude, having spent his first nine Rondies in them. And though that was twenty years ago, his impulse is to turn around and flee. But he spots the Beadlemyren, the two ghouls from dinner last night, standing next to the lily pond with—Bogdan discovers—Tobbler Houseer Dieter, who is handing them a toddler dressed in a bright orange-green-brown playsuit—a Tobbler toddler! The Beadlemyren attempt to bounce it, and when it begins to cry, they bounce it harder and make goo-goo faces; when it starts to shriek, they give it back to Dieter.
I weave through the crowd following my rubberband until it vibrates so fast it rumbles, and I spot him, Troy Tobbler, heading straight for the Beadlemyren. His mouth falls open and the tongue in his head begins to wag. I sprint to cut him off. The humming rubberband goes pop when we collide.
Whoa! The feck! Goldie!
Listen very carefully, Tobb. I want you to keep your big mouth shut about Hubert!
It’s enough to make him think, but only for a moment. He shoves me in the shoulder and says, Make me, Kodiak!
But I don’t shove him back. I can’t make you do anything, Troy, but there’s one thing you should think about before you say anything. If this micromine merger of ours falls through, then we won’t be leaving Chicago and we’ll be your neighbors forever.
That gets his attention. Even a boy can see the logic in it. So I crank it up a notch. Or even better, your charter will merge with them and you’ll be the ones going to Wyoming. You, Troy Tobbler, the microminer. Is that what you want?
That does the trick. I can see a parade of horrors passing through his brain. So why don’t you give the whole Hubert thing a rest and keep your fecking mouth shut.
Something in my tone? He looks suddenly defensive and says, You’re not my boss.
I know I’m not your boss, and you don’t have to listen to me, only think about what I said.
Losers, he roars and shoves past me. I grab his arm but the ceiling lights swing by in a swoosh and BAM! I’m flat on my back, all breath driven from my lungs.
He stands over me and says, Don’t never touch me, Goldie.
To the left and right of us, kids are being snatched up by vigilant adults. I swivel on my back and sweep his feet from under him with my leg. He goes down but not hard and not for long and in a flash his boot sweeps across my vision and explodes in a red ball behind my nose. Hot blood is gushing from my nose.
Legs all around, adults making a pen with their bodies. I try to stand up but get all woozy and have to fall down again and sit in my own blood. And if that’s not humbling enough I lean over and add a layer of triple mondo choco-fudgy puke.
Oh, hell, says a tugger who presses a thick wad of field dressing against my face. His partner looks down at me and says, MC, we need a medic and a mop. Tuggers are big feckers, especially when you’re on the floor. Troy tries to sneak away but they grab him. Looks like you boys need some time in the penalty box.
Not the Tobbler, not the Tobbler, Dieter is shouting from outside the circle. The Kodiak started it. Punish him.
Just then another officer shows up, not a tugger—a pike!
Pike yells at everyone, Break it up, break it up. The TUGs tell him, We’ve got the situation in hand, officer, but he yells at them to feck off.
It’s handled, officer. No need to butt in now.
The pike whips out his wand and snaps it open. The TUGs back off and give him plenty of floor. Dieter backs off too, and the Beadlemyren have eyes round like saucers.
The pike spins me around and glues my wrists together. Leave them alone! roars the room. Don’t touch them! roar the TUGs. Troy tries to sneak away again and the pike snicks him on the butt with his wand. Just a little snick but it must be cranked up all the way because Troy falls down and flops around like a fish. Everyone is screaming genocide and I’m screaming too.
Just then another officer, a belinda, shows up and orders the pike to halt. She keeps the crowd back and shouts, Stand down, Rudy, that’s an order. But the pike twists Troy’s arm behind his back and glues it way up high to his opposite shoulder. Then he lifts him up by the arm and Troy is all crazy-eyed.
Then another officer shows up, a russ who doesn’t shout but speaks in a calm voice, Officer Pells, let the boy down. The pike has to think about it. Officer Pells, I’m ordering you to release that boy at once.
Yes! Sir! The pike bounces Troy once by his arm and there’s a sharp crack. Then he drops him on the floor.
They disarm the pike and take him away. The russ unglues us, and a medic attends to Troy’s arm. The russ says, That’s quite a nose you have there, son. Then he notices my colors and he sniffs me and says, Another Kodiak?
Thursday
3.10
At the Roosevelt Clinic, the lights were low in Feldspar Cottage. The silent scent clock marked the passage of time: lavender, mushroom brie, the sea. There had been no medical rounds since midnight, and the night evangelines were slowly succumbing to the seduction of sleep. Only the skull’s eyes were wide open, but cloudy and dull.
Cyndee yawned and whispered, “I’m going for coffee. Want some?” In the chair next to her, Ronnie shook her head. Cyndee stood up and stretched her arms over her head. When she glanced at the daybed, the Ellen jacket’s feet were twitching. “Myr Starke?” Cyndee said. She reached to touch her shoulder, forgetting it was a jacket. “Ronnie, get the vurt gloves!”
Ronnie was already out of her chair. She dashed to the table and fumbled for gloves in the dark. Suddenly all the cottage lights came on, the door swung open, and Concierge strode in with a procession of physicians, Jennys, medtechs, and carts. They surrounded the tank and set frantically to work. Wee Hunk appeared too, in a tiger-striped bathrobe. He glanced at the tank but joined the evangelines at the daybed.