The Pure Cold Light (36 page)
“You get your sets warmed up, you’re going to wanna record this. Okay? Ready out there? Schnepfe, show ’em your penis. Ha!—just kidding. No, no, this has to be bigger than
that
.” Rimshot, more laughter. “Tonight, four people who have controlled the destiny of our nation—dare I suggest our entire planet and way of life?—are here with us, live on this very soundstage. Because of their unprecedented appearance here, and, really, because ScumberCorp owns the puking network and can do whatever it pleases, we’re not going to plug any products tonight, no cutaways, which means Schnepfe’ll have to fall off his stool if he plans to crawl off and drink. Yeah, yeah.
“Okay now, let’s get this great show moving before Congress thinks up something for me to veto. Let’s bring ’em out here. Ladies and germinals, the Chief Officers, the Fearsome Foursome, of ScumberCorporation!” He jumped to his feet and began clapping enthusiastically. The music worked a wild variation on “La Marseillaise.”
The curtain drew back on four darkly silhouetted figures. Overhead lights blazed in tight, tracking beams, and the COs paraded out. Shots intercut of an audience on its feet and pounding out a standing ovation.
The foursome, like a caterpillar, chugged across the stage and sat down. Dorjan Kosinus, looking fit and distinguished, sat nearest Odie.
“How’s it going, Mr. Chairman?” the president asked. “You and all the other—uh…”
“Scums?” Kosinus suggested, politely.
Odie laughed, reddening slightly. Did people so high up actually make fun of themselves? “Not from me did you hear that. Tell us, what brings you four out in the public eye this first time in, what, ten years?”
“Well, Odie, a very troublesome state of affairs has arisen and we’ve finally decided to do something about it.” The other three nodded. “As you know, we are involved in nearly every aspect of daily life on this planet. There’s hardly an industry, a technological advance, that we don’t have some hand in.”
“Can’t spot any flaw in that argument, no sirree.”
“Odie, I’ll speak plainly. It’s come to our attention that government has all but become the utter enemy of the people.”
Odie’s mouth hung loosely for an instant. He tried to guffaw his way out. “Not me, I’ve got nothing but friends, Dorjan.”
Kosinus did not bend. “Not on the streets, you haven’t,” he said. “Not where more than thirty million people are living in squalor, many of them mentally deficient, in need of attention of every kind, while we seal ourselves in and build up into the sky to get away from them, away from our responsibilities.”
“Well, you know what I say, I keep both feet firma-ly on the terra.” He appealed to Capitol Hill for a snare and cymbal but got nothing. He was starting to sweat copiously.
“That’s why we’ve come out of our long hibernation. We’ve deliberated this carefully. ScumberCorp has decided to turn a few things around. As the largest single employer in the world, we believe we have a voice that will be heard. That must be heard if we’re to continue as a civilization.”
“This sounds
damn
exciting,” Odie said, trying to recapture territory. “What’s your plan?”
“Well, for starters, Malcolm, we’re asking for your resignation on the grounds of unparalleled incompetency. You can take the besotted baboon on the stool there with you as you leave. I’m certain there’s a street corner someplace where you and Schnepfe can perform for idiots. We’ll see to it that you get a few assigned to you.
“In case you’re thinking of fighting this, let it be known that Congress, at our behest, has already put in motion impeachment proceedings against you. I would read the list of charges but that could take up the whole hour.”
To Odie’s horror, Capitol Hill fired a rimshot for Kosinus.
“Go quietly, Odie. We would prefer to get on to matters of importance, such as tearing down walls, rebuilding cities, and starting a rehabilitation program for Orbiters. As I speak, bulldozers are clearing land here in Philadelphia to begin construction on the Remington Mingo Memorial Rehabilitation Center for the Orbitol-Diminished. It’s a big step, I think.”
“The who?” squawked Schnepfe in his fractured, frightened delirium.
Before Kosinus could answer, Odie jumped up and pointed accusingly at all four of them. “I
work
for you. Anybody out there watching who doesn’t think so, I can prove it. These policies of mine they want to get rid of, these four are the ones who created them!
They’re
the villains! How do you answer that, Kosinus, huh?” he asked gleefully.
“Like this: ScumberCorp pleads guilty to various ethical violations—manipulations of mutual funds and futures markets, crimes against competitors, and a program of cold-blooded elimination of the underclass. We’ve halted all production of Orbitol and begun the dismantling of the lunar facility where we’ve been manufacturing it.” The other three nodded in agreement on each of these points.
“What about the shareholders, the directors? They’ll
never
go along with this liberal crap!”
“Why do you suppose we’ve made this a public announcement, Malcolm? It’s no longer a matter of choice but one of setting precedent.”
Odie looked as if all the blood had oozed from his body.
***
Seated beside Nebergall on his freshly covered bed, Lyell said, “This is the fourth time I’ve watched the broadcast, and I still get chills at the look on his face.”
“Yeah, he’s special, the little dork,” Nebergall replied. “I couldn’t have manufactured a better look of panic with a stylus and week to do it. I hear he’s lined up a job headlining in an undersea supper club off the Caymans. Let’s hope he stays down a good long time.”
“I was referring to Kosinus. It makes me wonder if the Gang of Four’s true personalities realize what’s happened to them, what’s going on out here.
You remember, on the disk, where we’re sitting in that weird tent, and Angel starts explaining about how he knew he’d died before because the part of him that was still Angel recalled it? I was just wondering if that holds true for each of them.”
“If it does, then everyone of them’s gone through the trip that Rueda went through, seeing as how they’re sharing the same puppeteers. If you ask me, it’s hellish poetic justice after all they did—fucking up the world for a handful of nothing. Having Rueda and Glimet driving them is just fine by me. Although, I’ll tell ya, on a slow day I may actually miss the four bastards. Don’t get me wrong, I think the extruded versions are a quantum improvement. ‘O brave new world’ and all that.”
After a moment, she said, “When we finally archive our Orbitol documentary, I think we ought to get away for a while.”
“You mean like a vacation? Like they gave Gansevoort?”
“Not like they gave Gansevoort, thank you. I don’t consider rehabilitation a holiday.”
“I’ve never had a vacation, Tommie. I wouldn’t know what to do with one, except chew my fingernails worrying about being back on the job.” He glanced sadly toward his edit suite. “All that technology, and we didn’t need to splice in anything to get this.”
“Sounds like you’re sorry you agreed to let them handle Odie.”
“Goes against the grain. Doesn’t it for you? Don’t you have a twinge of conscience that you’ve sold out by agreeing?”
She thought about it for a moment. “I think selling out has to do with principles, and we haven’t changed ours. It just feels the way it does because this used to be the enemy, and now we’re working for them.”
They sat without further comment for a time, until suddenly he asked, “Where would we go on this vacation?”
“I was thinking, New Zealand.”
“What am I supposed to do, crawl up the mountains?”
“With your salary from ScumberCorp, you can afford one of those exoneural systems now—there’s no excuse. You’ll outdistance
me
with one of those.”
“I don’t know about that job offer,” he said, and stroked the cat in his lap. “The idea of money and stability kinda scares the crap outta me.”
“Only because you’ve never had either one. Listen, Neeb, something is going to replace the Alien News Network, why shouldn’t it be something you and I create? A new entity, a viable one, slapping some real, ugly, naked truth on the screen for a change. God knows, you’ve got enough of it stored away in there. Hey, we can even do the ‘slow-food’ story now, with a slightly different spin. ScumberCorp’s out of the business and everyone else is in it. Torsion perspective.”
He pursed his lips. “Does that mean I have to give up my state of the art, intercutting, image-synthesis animation facility?”
“Move it into your new office.”
He pondered that. “No, I think I’ll keep it in the closet at home. You never know. Eventually, this new batch is going to rot, and ol’ SC will be left in the hands of people again.
Somebody’ll snort the power and get crazy. The world’s still big—they’re bound to fuck it up. And even if
they
don’t, the competition won’t toe the line unless forced to. Naw, I think my secret identity oughta stay secret, same as twelve-space. Who knows when we’ll have to
disseminate
by night again?” He grinned crookedly her way but she didn’t notice.
She was transfixed by the face of Dorjan Kosinus looming huge upon the screen. His high-definition eyes, so clear and alive, looked out upon a hundred million viewers with the sorrow and the mercy of a Messiah.
Or of an angel
, she thought, and smiled finally upon Nebergall.
Gregory Frost’s books at Book View Cafe are available at
http://www.bookviewcafe.com/index.php/Gregory-Frost/
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