“Hey.”
Chase glanced at him. “Me?”
“Yeah.”
“What?”
“I’m Kieran.”
“I’m Chase.”
“Hi.”
“Uh … hi.”
“I’m in your Planetary Science class.”
“I know.”
“How’d you do on the test?”
“D.”
“I got an A.”
“Whatever.”
“I…uh … I wanted to meet you.”
“Why?”
“I…”
“Look, let’s get this out of the way. I’m not a girl.”
“I know.”
“What?”
“I know you’re not a girl. I wanted to meet you.”
“How come?”
“I…you … “
“What?”
“You kind of intrigue me.”
“Me?”
“A guy in girls’ clothes, yeah.”
“Oh.”
“So why are you in girls’ clothes?”
“I decided to stop trying to fit in. That’s why.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“Tell me about it. But you get used to it.”
Chase walked at a slower pace now.
Chase said, “That doesn’t mean I’m gay or anything.”
“No. Me neither.”
“Okay.”
“You are attractive for a guy, though.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“At least you don’t have a lot of macho bullshit.”
“Be hard to pull off macho like this, wouldn’t it?”
“At least.”
“I never really made it as a guy.”
“Do you have any friends?”
“No way. Everybody hates me.”
“Because of the girls’ clothes thing?”
“Everybody hated me before that.”
“Why?”
“That’s the way it is.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“You don’t?”
“Not even a little.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I was wondering …”
“What?”
“Maybe I could help you with class. Give you answers and stuff.”
“You’d do that?”
“Yeah.”
Chase slowed to a stop. He stared harder at his notebooks. “I have time after school.”
“Me too. Anytime.”
Chase jotted his number on Kieran’s hand, parted with a shy smile, sped away.
Daylight drained from the jet windows until the only view was black. Then lights appeared far below. Chase smelled Brutalia.
A door opened. The exoframe of Dr. Playground walked up the aisle, stood over him.
“Hi Chase.” The voice was an auto tuned swastika.
“Hi Doctor. Where’s Kieran?”
“Can I get you refreshments? Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee, Bollinger champagne, a Chardonnay, single malt whiskey…?”
“No thanks.”
“Wanted to talk with you about your superpower.”
“What about it?”
“You use it outside Brutalia.”
“Sometimes.”
“No Brutalia Limit for you, is there?”
“I don’t know. I just fly when it works.”
“What gives you the power?”
No way was he telling. “It comes to me.”
“When did it begin?”
“Last year.”
“How do you use it?”
“I don’t know. However I feel.”
“You rescue the suicidal.”
“Once.”
“You stopped going to school.”
“Yeah.”
“You stopped living at your parents’.”
“I drop in.”
“Where do you stay?”
“I sleep on clouds.”
“Not too many like you around. You have the key. If Brutalia had it we could go past the Limit. Brutalia could export its science to the world.”
“You mean if the OSD had it,” Chase said. “Then the OSD would become the OGD and take over the world.”
“You make us sound evil.”
Chase put on his black mask.
“I’m Team AXIS.”
“The Kid in the Picture.”
“I heard you decided to name me.”
“Do you have one of your own?”
“No.”
“Now you have a name. No need to thank us.”
“It’s not bad, actually. It’s Hollywood.”
“Is it?”
“Very Robert Evans.”
“Who is that?”
“You don’t know him?”
“No.”
The Kid gave that a headshake.
“The OSD expects your cooperation.”
“Fuck you.”
“That is one multi-capable verb, junior.”
“Where’s Kieran?”
“Alive. Unhurt. Cooperate or that changes.”
“I want Kieran released and returned to Quebec. Then I’ll cooperate.”
“Schoolboy crush is it?”
“Piss off you homophobic douche.”
Dr. Playground’s “face” darkened to an inky blue shot with cloudbursts of lapis lazuli.
“My superpower is the ability to end someone’s life with god-like will. I start each day by ending someone’s life. Only inside the Brutalia Limit of course. But through emissaries of the OGD I make a way to kill people all over the world. I owe myself lives taken. The only people my power doesn’t work on is the Carousel, Xoir, anyone in an encrypted exoframe. Schoolboy is an ice cream cone. Watch those screens you’ll see me end little Kieran’s life. It won’t be a Brutalia-only death because afterward I will have the body incinerated.”
“Fuck you and fuck the OSD.”
“The thing about me…I feed on the emotions of others. My suit actually runs on it. It has sensors that recycle strong emotions. To me hatred toward me feels the same as love. Violence and orgasm are one. In that way I have no ego. I have no conscience, no sense of guilt, no compassion. Yet I feel you more deeply than anyone close to you. Your feelings nourish me. This is to be truly connected to others.”
The Kid said, “You talk more than the Wicked Witch of the West. You explain yourself too much. How did you get this corny?”
It took a moment for Dr. Playground to reply. “You got moxie, Kid. You’re a real Bazooka Joe. I’m not explaining myself, I’m sharing the magic.”
35
Kieran awoke on the floor of a jet compartment. The only light came from the exoframe of Dr. Playground standing over him. He had seen it on TV. He made sure he wasn’t dreaming, pulled his hair. No way was he dreaming this shit.
Dr. Playground said, “Your family is dead.”
Kieran closed his eyes.
“Anything Chase told you about flying outside the Limit tell me now.”
Kieran burrowed his face into the carpeting.
“Okay. I get that. He didn’t say anything either, even with your life at stake. It will be a project finding the key. But it will be done. I think you’re the youngest person I’ve killed.”
Kieran curled up, cried into the carpeting.
“We brought you to Brutalia where we could do it my way. I invented a death tech that uses a hypnovirus channel. Hypnoviruses kill on contact. You can stop the death process anytime by telling me something useful to me. If not you will die in eighty-two seconds. It won’t hurt. Everything will feel pink then turn red then turn white. That’s when you’ve died.”
Kieran tried to think of anything Chase ever said.
He said, “Music.”
“Go on.”
“Music makes him fly.”
“Him listening to music?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I have
no fucking idea, man.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
Everything went pink.
36
Morning. Rain.
He checked the carousel. Martian Justice came out on the second Tuesday of the month, which was one week away.
No new intel on The Kid in the Picture.
No new intel on the UFB.
The Siren Syndicate was avoiding him. In the city everyone was a fucking chemist. But the deal was made. And they were good for AXIS.
No contact with Rock Hero. Maybe he was off chasing his dick.
Starbuck’s. He opened the Post. Amateur superhero convicted of second degree murder. JKM. Killed a Darius Bryant. AXIS database tagged the victim as an OSD enforcer with the street name of Murder Mouse. It was a combo of ‘roid rage and gender confusion setting off a monster diesel to go Hulk on the wrong scumbag.
At eleven The Carousel met Mayor Thorne at the KM Building. There was a conference room just for meetings with the mayor.
“While we’re at it, cool it on the God stuff.”
Thorne put up a hand. “You called me here to say that? I say what I want.”
“60 Minutes made you look like a wacko. And it didn’t help the city’s image.”
“So Christianity is ‘wacko.’”
“This is not a city created by God, it is a city created by science.”
“The city according to Kinner & Membert Industries.”
“Right. That’s the image we need. Put down the Bibles. This city is the source of 24th Century science. Tell 60 Minutes that. We want to raise this city’s stock. Don’t we?”
“Yes.”
“Do we not?”
“Of course.”
“The city is broke. The city is not taking in revenue. The city has an image problem. We need to solve that problem and bring investment.”
“Investment is always a good thing.”
“Sell the science. Sell the technology. This is a city where Wi-Fi is this…” The Carousel wrote Wi-Fi in the air with a finger. “That speaks to the future. You don’t do that. You are speaking to the past. You make this the resort city for those seeking the Rapture. Are you getting this?”
“You,” Thorne began, “are speaking power. I am speaking truth. I won’t put capital before truth. Truth is God’s purpose in this city.”
“The truth is all around you.”
“Yes it is. Do you see it?”
“I am it,” The Carousel said.
“Are you saying you are the truth?”
“I have superpowers.”
That came out wrong. Andrew Thorne gave that a thoughtful expression like he was now on the higher ground of the two of them. This meeting was devolving. Thorne was a politician, a breed of hick whose mindlessness did nothing to diminish his cunning at seeking the moment-to-moment advantage over his opponent. His opponent was anyone not under his sway. His mouth had two modes and one of them was not massage. He would do only what served the short term purpose of votes, profit or just keeping his dick attached. He would play to the stupid while being only a little less stupid himself. Thorne was a sore toenail. He would back a Thorne run for Congress just to get him out of the way.
“Let’s move on,” The Carousel said. “There’s a problem with the Board of Supervisors.”
“What is the problem?”
“It has three OSD members.”
“It also has one AXIS member.”
“What does that tell you?” The Carousel said. “The Board is an operating arm of the OSD. The city should lose the Board altogether. When was a Brutalia County established? If there is such a thing as a Brutalia County it was an entity bought by the OSD.”
“According to AXIS.”
“One role of AXIS is to identify public corruption. That’s what we do. AXIS provides the public sector with intelligence on public corruption. You receive it, you act upon it. Since when has this been a new concept, Andrew?”
“Your tone is losing my appreciation.”
“I’m not a diplomat. I won’t insult you by pretending to be. I tell you what happens, you make it happen.”
“Are we supposed to redraw the map now?”
“We both know this city is a work in progress. Nobody can even decide which state of the United States it’s in. We can do what we want with the map.”
“Let me ask you this. Is there a map for the truth?”
“Here we go. You use that word whenever it’s convenient.”
“Truth is God’s purpose for this city.”
“And God picked you to serve that purpose, right?”
Thorne spread his hands.
“And to move up to higher office next? Okay, make the leap to the outside world. How well will that go if you’re seen as a bad mayor?”
“I don’t see you avoiding power yourself.”
“Can’t get away from power,” The Carousel said. “I’m a superhero. Superheroes don’t run things. We do the dirty work. We don’t do management. We don’t do meetings. We keep out of that so we can operate freely, fast and loose, quick and dirty. But this is a different kind of city. This is one where a hand must be taken. A mask and a cape alone don’t cover it.”
“Right. You have it both ways. AXIS has killed how many people this month? The Blue Boss shows up once a month and takes the Police Department on a bender. The next day I get the bill and the hangover. Martian Justice slaughters people by the dozens. The Siren Syndicate operates outside the law, more outside than inside. But yet you’re meeting with the mayor. How does that work?”
“AXIS stands between you and the OSD. AXIS is the reason Dr. Playground isn’t the mayor and you’re not in a landfill.”
“We are on terms with the OSD.”
“You are between two forces. One of them is evil. That’s the one that takes power by force. They violate terms then you wind up with their boot on your neck worse than a World War Two poster.”
“Do you know what evil means?” Thorne said. “It means Ending Vicious Instincts Long-term. These are things of Man. I deal with Man. AXIS and the OSD. I listen to your concerns of Man. There is a place for that. But you seem to expect me to look around at all this and see only the work of Man. The massively profound egotism of that. How do you look around and see this city and still think Man has the last and only word on what happens in this world? AXIS and the OSD are two egotists I have to mediate. But don’t mistake me for your employee. The God who created all this, He is my master. Are we done yet, Mr. Carousel?”
Thorne started staring at the wall. He wasn’t getting it. The Carousel looked at the wall, saw the writing: Mayor Milo Spector.
37
Crazy Luke the Baptist wore a broad straw oriental rice farmer hat, black pajamas. He looked like redneck Viet Cong. Now picking up a shotgun with work-gloved hands. Deeply tanned, a white beard, one glass eye, one real.
Seven choppers rolled into his driveway, Motorchrist in front, the chopper thunder rattling the glass, rattling the bones.
Motorchrist got off, walked up to Luke the Baptist, took the shotgun. “I had a fuckin’ dream about you, bro. It was a vision. You were surrounded by light with angels circling.”
Luke said, “That wasn’t me.”
“No that was you, bro. And now I know what that shit means. I kept you alive for a reason.”
Motorchrist knocked him down, stomped his face. The others began stomping him, booted him bloody. Motorchrist waved them back, pulled a hunting knife. He bent over Luke. Luke spat blood into Motorchrist’s face. Luke was now in another zone beyond fear.
Motorchrist wiped the blood with one hand, wiped the hand on Luke’s shirt front.
“Your shit drops a new Motorchrist every day, you fuckin’ know that?”
“I cook only the worst shit,” Luke said. “If you don’t die, you get high. Be worthy of it.”
Motorchrist said, “You know how you get into the Motorchrists?”
Luke said, “No.”
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“You got to kill one of us to get in. Know how you become leader?”
“No.”
“You caused more of us to die than anyone else. Even me. You did so many of us,” Motorchrist said, “you are our fucking new leader. Lead us.”
Luke stared.
“I’m beginning to understand you,” Luke said. “You are seekers of your purest state. So am I, so this may be the convergence of our destinies.”
“What’s that mean?”
“This will take time to absorb fully. There is much to do.”
“Like what?”
“I have a vision.”
“You do?”
“Yes. A complex vision. Made complex by you. You remade me. Now you’re redefining me. Next we redefine each other.”
“Like how?”
Luke’s eye gleamed with an inner light. The inner light of the totally fucking insane. It would’ve been a stretch to expect him to have any sanity left.
He said, “You will put me through hell.”
“Yeah.”
“In Hell one burns. But Hell does not burn you, it forges you. It forges you into a new being with an insight you don’t find any other way. So I must use it. Or it goes to waste. Then I burn in Hell for nothing. Understand? I am a madman. And I struggle with it every day. To find its meaning. Now I see it. I was put here to save you. Now I am your leader. And you have been gifted with the insight to receive the truth. The circle is complete. We are one. We are the Motorchrists.”
“Maybe not,” Motorchrist told him.
“What does that mean?”
“I have to catch up to your kills.”
Motorchrist put the knife to Crazy Luke’s throat, opened it like a trout. Then he sliced off a piece of throat, put it into his mouth, chewed on it. The blood ran down his chin. Luke was a blood-spraying body that hit the ground. Motorchrist chewed on the wad of throat tissue, stood one hand stroking his dick under the jeans.
“Shit,” he said, “guess I’m leader again.”
The interior of the house was hot with busted air, furnished in dust and dead ferns. Behind the ferns a child was hiding.
“You,” Motorchrist said. “Come here.”
The boy looked down.
He whistled, said, “Here, boy.”
The boy walked over, kept his eyes down.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Slowly, with a sideways mouth he spewed two words. “Duff Nash.”
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