You’re making fun of me.
Swear! I used to do more hands-on work but I got hurt on the job, they tried to put me in an office, no way. This way I still get to be outside. Sparkle fairy.
Olpert struggled to picture that giant body lumbering around with a pouch of pixie dust.
Starx smacked him on the back, handed him the clean uniform and their Citypass lanyard. Hop along little buddy, you can put your duds on in the car. First stop after we pick up Raven is We-TV Studios. Hey, maybe Wags’ll let us on Salami Talk?
Maybe, said Olpert carefully, and followed Starx, the asphalt glittering beneath their feet, to the first available Citywagon in the lot.
THE ELEVATOR DROPPED to the ground floor, fetched whoever was coming up the Tower, arrived with a thud at the viewing deck. Pushing away from the window, the Mayor smoothed her blazer and snapped the lapels straight, ready to face whoever it was.
Out stepped three Helpers in khaki: two luxuriantly moustachioed characters flanked a skittish-looking kid on crutches. Strapped over the boy’s shoulder was a callbox, its cord drooped in ringlets at his hip. A fat strip of ducktape covered the lower half of his face. His eyes were afraid.
To what do I owe, etcetera, said the Mayor.
We represent the NFLM, said the man to the cripple’s left, fingering his lanyard.
He’s Reed, said the other, and I’m Walters.
The cripple said nothing.
Mrs. Mayor, we realize you’ve been put in a compromising position, said Reed, so we’ve brought this Recruit here, Diamond-Wood, to be of assistance to you until. .
Until the Jubilee is over, finished Walters.
The HG’s really appreciate what a sport you’re being about this.
Sport? said the Mayor.
There’s talk, said Walters, of erecting a statue of you. We’re already talking to Loopy about it. How do you feel about solid gold?
Though you do have to admit, said Reed, it was spectacular — that illustration, I mean.
Three sets of eyes crawled over her body to the lower tier of the dessert cart.
Anyway, said Reed, Diamond-Wood here’s at your service. Anything you need.
A personal aide, if you will.
Not that you’d normally require such a thing. Just —
— in your —
— current —
— situation —
— we’re happy to provide logistical assistance.
And he comes with a portable phone, with a direct line to the Temple should you require anything else.
From the HG’s. They want you to know that you can —
— call anytime.
It’s a fax machine too.
Well touch green and colour me golden, said the Mayor.
Yeah! No problem!
We’ll leave you then, said Walters.
Lots to prepare for tonight! Sure you’ve got work of your own. .
And of course, Mrs. Mayor, as always, you’ll be the guest of honour.
VIP!
Obsequious goodbyes followed (two-faced fuggers, thought the Mayor), instructions were whispered to the cripple, and the elevator took the Helpers back down to ground level. Out the window, the view was of the park.
This is their idea of a joke, isn’t it? said the Mayor, and, turning away, missed the boy’s attempt, heaped over his crutches, at a vigorous and earnest shake of his head.
Make yourself useful. By the door is a keypad, see it? Enter this passcode: forty-five, ten, twenty-two, forty-four hundred, but before you go thinking you can come up here and mess around anytime you like, it changes every day.
From behind her: the tap of crutches, a pause, a digital, affirmative-sounding chirp.
Now hit STOP, she said. Solar-powered, you know that? Another of my initiatives.
Another chirp. The viewing deck shuddered to a halt.
Look at it, she said. People Park, a park for people, is how I pitched it to council. And here we are, twenty-five years later. I bet the park’s older than you are.
The cripple made a noise: Mmm.
And you know, don’t you, I hope you know — though who knows what they’re teaching you kids in school these days — that the park was all my doing? Of course engineers designed the amusements, and the actual building was taken care of by contractors. But the concept, the layout, the landscaping — all mine. I know people just think of me as a figurehead and nothing else. Most of you have no idea what I’ve done for this place.
Mmm.
I wanted a park for everybody. Young, old, handicapped, fat, whatever. Oh, some people criticized my greying measures — but how does a greenspace stand out without a little contrast? Look at it now, how it practically glows! Or will, touch green, in the spring.
Mmm, said Diamond-Wood, nodding.
Do you know what this city was before People Park? It was nothing. It was a nothing place. It was disconnected, all these neighbourhoods flung off in all the corners of the island, and in the middle was a cancer. That’s what it was, a cancer. But think of a city as a person — what should a person have in its centre?
She swivelled atop the cart: A soul. Before it had a cancer, and then it had a soul. I put the soul in. And People Park is the soul, the Mayor said slowly, of everyone. That was its purpose and what it remains. But here we are meant to be celebrating it — twenty-five years of this soul, keep in mind — and instead your organization has brought in an outsider, a fraudulent, ridiculous conjurer intent on humiliating us and stealing our souls. Because that’s what he’s here to do, make no mistake. I mean, look at me.
Diamond-Wood’s eyes were on the floor.
I said look at me.
He glanced up, quickly, then back down.
You can’t! This is your fault. It’s all your stupid organization’s fault.
The Mayor gazed out the window. I don’t think people know what they’re celebrating this weekend. They just want to be awed. They’ve forgotten. This magician — what does he have planned? Do you know? Speak, for fug’s sake!
He pointed at the ducktape.
So take it off! Oh. I bet those appleheads have some sort of regulation — well come here then, said the Mayor, and tore the gag from his mouth.
Ow, he said.
So?
Sorry, no idea.
Ah. Good thing I ungagged you then. She rubbed a hand over her face. So you have no idea what’s going to happen tonight.
Tonight?
Tonight. With the — what’s his face. Crowboy the Illuminator.
Raven? Honestly, I’m just a Recruit, hence the ducktape, and I certainly wouldn’t —
No idea.
None. The HG’s haven’t even been told anything. I don’t even think he knows. I guess he has to explore the city to figure out what he’s going to illustrate? Honestly, we’ve been told how to arrange the stage, and we’re working with Cinecity to make sure the live feeds are running, keeping the bridge blocked. That’s it. And I’m here with you!
The Mayor turned away. In the park preparations for the evening’s show were beginning: a cube van had arrived, cartons and crates of various sizes and shapes were being unloaded into the common.
Mrs. Mayor?
What.
It’s going to be amazing, I think. Tonight. It’s going to be —
Oh would you please just shut up.
The first spectators were arriving, staking claims with towels unfurled on the muddy grass. The Mayor sighed — and looked at Diamond-Wood.
Hey, she said. Come closer.
Sorry?
You enjoy magic? She beckoned with a finger. Let me show you a trick.