Modular Man sipped his zombie. Taste receptors made a cataclysmic null sound in his mind. "I was wondering if you might be able to tell me about what happened that night."
The android's radar painted him the unmistakable image of Hiram stepping into the bar, glancing left and right in what seemed to be an anxious way, then stepping away.
"Oh. Yes. I daresay you would not remember, would you?" He frowned. "It was an accident, I think. You were trying to rescue Jane from the Astronomer, and you got in Croyd's way."
"Croyd? The same Croyd that's…"
"Spreading the virus? Yes. Same gentleman. He had the power to… make metal go limp, or some other such nonsense. He was trying to use it on the Astronomer and he couldn't control it and he hit you. You melted like the India-rubber man, and you started firing off tear gas and smoke, mon, and a few seconds later you exploded."
Modular Man was still for a few seconds while his circuits explored this possibility. "The Astronomer was made of metal?" he asked.
"No. Just an old fella, kinda frail."
"So Croyd's power wouldn't have worked anyway. Not on the Astronomer."
Wall Walker raised his hands. "People were shootin' off everything they had, mon. We had a full-grown elephant in here. The lights were out, the place was full of tear gas…"
"And Croyd fired off a wild card talent that could only work against me."
Wall Walker shrugged. The two other customers rose and left the bar. Modular Man thought for a moment.
"Who's Jane? The woman I was trying to rescue."
Wall Walker looked at him. "You don't remember her, either?"
"I don't think so."
"You were supposed to be guarding her. They call her Water Lily, mon."
"Oh." A qualified relief entered the android's mind. Here, at least, was something he could remember. "I met her briefly. During the Great Cloisters Raid. I thought her name was actually Lily, though." Didn't I see you at the ape-escape? he'd asked. Never saw her again. Maybe she'd have some answers.
"Seems to prefer that people call her Jane, mon. Was the name she used when she worked here."
I don't have a name, the android thought suddenly. I've got this label, Modular Man, but it's a trademark, not a real name, not Bob or Simon or Michael. Sometimes people call me Mod Man, but that's just to make it easy on themselves. I don't really have a name.
Sadness wafted through his mind.
"Do you know how to get ahold of this Jane person?" he asked. "I'd like to ask her some questions."
Wall Walker chuckled. "You and half the city, man. She has disappeared and is probably running for her life. Word is she can heal Croyd's victims."
"Yes?"
"By fucking them."
"Oh."
Facts whirled hopelessly in the eddies of the android's mind. None of this made any sense at all. Croyd had blown him up and was now spreading death thoughout the city; the woman who could heal the harm Croyd was doing had fled from sight; Hiram and Travnicek were behaving oddly; and Alice had got married.
The android looked at Wall Walker carefully. "If this is all part of some strange joke," he said, "tell me now. Otherwise,"-quite seriously-"I'll hurt you badly."
Wall Walker's eyes dilated. The android had the feeling he was not terribly intimidated. " I am not making it up, mon." His voice was emphatic, matter-of-fact. "This is not a fantasy, Mod Man. Croyd is spreading the Black Queen, Water Lily is on the run, there's martial law."
Suddenly there was shouting from the kitchen.
"I don't know where he went, damn it!" Hiram's voice. "He just walked out!"
"He was looking for you!" There was a sudden crash, as if a stack of pans had just toppled.
"I don't know! I don't know! He just walked out, goddammit!"
"He wouldn't walk out on me!" "He walked out on both of us!" "Jane wouldn't walk out!"
"They both left us!"
"I don't believe you!" More pans crashed.
"Out! Out! Get out of my place!" Hiram's voice was a scream. Suddenly he appeared, rushing out of the kitchen with another man in his arms. The man was Asian and wore a chefs uniform. He seemed light as a feather.
Hiram flung the man into the outside door. He didn't have enough weight to swing it open and began to drift to the floor. Hiram flushed. He rushed forward and pushed the man through the door.
There was a silence in the restaurant, filled only by the sound of Hiram's winded breaths. The restauranteur gave the bar a defiant glare, then stalked into his office. One of the customers rose hastily to pay for his drink and leave.
"Goddamn," the other customer said. He was a lanky, brown-haired man who looked uncomfortable in his welltailored clothes. "I spent twenty years trying to get into this place, and look what happens when I finally get here."
Modular Man looked at Wall Walker. The black man gave him a rueful smile and said, "Standards fallin' all over." The android took an odd comfort from the scene. Hiram was different. It wasn't just some programming glitch.
He turned his mind back to Wild Card Day. Circuits sifted possibilities. "Could Croyd have been working for the Astronomer?"
"Back on Wild Card Day?" Wall Walker seemed to find this thought interesting. "He is a mercenary of sorts-it's possible. But the Astronomer killed just about all of his own henchmen-a real bloodbath, mon-and Croyd is still with us."
"How do you know so much about Croyd?"
A smile. "I keep my ear to the ground, mon."
"What's he look like?" Modular Man intended to avoid him.
"I cannot give a description of what he looks like right now. Fella keeps changing appearance and abilities, understand, mon-his wild car. And last time he surfaced he had someone with him, a bodyguard or something, and no one knows which is which. Or who. One of them, Croyd or the other guy, he's an albino, mon. Probably got his hair dyed and shades over his eyes by now. The other is young, good-looking. But neither have been seen for a few days-no new cases of wild card-so whichever one is Croyd, he may be someone else now. He may not be carrying the plague anymore."
"In that case the emergency's over, right?"
"Guess so. There is still the gang war going on, though."
"I don't want to hear about it."
"And the elections. Even I don't believe who's running." Seen on radar, Hiram appeared from his office, cast another anxious glance over the barroom, left again. Wall Walker's eyes tracked him over Modular Man's right shoulder. He looked concerned.
"Hiram's not doing well."
"I thought he seemed different."
"Business is way off, mon. Aces are not as fashionable as once we were. The Wild Card Day massacres were a real black eye for all wild talents. And then there was violence all over the bloody place on the WHO tour, a real cock-up, and Hiram took part… beg pardon, mon, that's something else you probably don't know about."
"Never mind," said the android.
"Okay. And now, the Croyd buggering up and dealing jokers and Black Queens all over town, a big reaction is going on. Soon it may not be… politically astute… to be seen in aces' company."
"I'm not an ace. I'm a machine."
"You fly, mon! You are abnormally strong, and you shoot energy bolts. Try and tell someone the difference."
"I suppose."
Someone walked into the bar. The radar image was strange enough that Modular Man turned his head to pick up on him visually.
The man's brown hair and beard hung almost to his ankles. He had a crucifix on a chain around his neck, outside the hair, and otherwise wore a dirty T-shirt, blue jean cutoffs, and was barefoot.
None of this was sufficiently abnormal to do more than suggest a wild card, but as the man ambled closer, Modular Man saw the different-colored irises, orange-yellow-green, set one within the other like target symbols. His hands were deformed, the fingers thin and hairy. He held a six-ounce bottle of Coke in one hand.