The Mind Game
Page 43
Weller studied Bob Shumway thoughtfully. This guy had been his guardian angel from the day he returned to Hollywood, every step of the way… . But Bob Shumway? No, it couldn’t be… .
“Did you know that Transformationalism was involved in this project, Bob?” he asked. Not Bob, not just because Bob had introduced Annie and him to Transformationalism, not just because Bob had helped him out.
Bob rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to start that shit again, are you, Jack?” he said, with a worried look on his face.
“You didn’t know that Harry Lazio was one of Fender’s backers?”
“Harry who?”
“Harry Lazio of Utopia Industries. A Transformationalist holding company. ”
“Look, Jack, all I ever did was hang around the Celebrity Center for a while,” Bob said. “And believe me, I’ve wanted nothing to do with that outfit since you came home.”
“I’m sorry, Bob,” Weller said. The idea was ridiculous. Bob had stopped hanging out at the Celebrity Center and started throwing these parties as soon as Weller had returned to the Coast. He had made his contacts and gotten out. I’m not going to let them make me stop trusting my friends, Weller told himself.
“Let’s go back inside and get another drink,” Bob said. “I want one, and I think you need one.”
Weller nodded. He followed Bob Shumway along the edge of the pool to the glass doors leading back into the party. He stood there for a moment, looking back into the darkness, and forcing himself to laugh at the image he got of a Japanese monster-movie blob reaching out to engulf him. He looked inside at the hustle and swirl of the wheeling and dealing party. If something was reaching out for him, it was in there in the neon, not out here in the dark.
“Could I ask you something, Bob?” he asked.
“Sure, kiddo.”
“If you suddenly found out that Transformationalism or something like it had helped you secretly to your present success without ever asking for anything, would you want to keep letting them do it?”
Bob eyed Weller narrowly. “If I found myself thinking that, I’d go see a shrink. ”
“Just hypothetically …”
Bob stared right into Weller’s eyes with as serious an expression as he had ever seen on the man’s face. “Well, then just hypothetically,” he said, “if I found out that someone powerful wanted to help me along, I’d bow to his good taste.”
“Would you work for him?”
Bob’s seriousness evaporated. He shrugged. “Who the hell cares?” he said. “Gulf and Western. Hot deutschemarks. Arab oil sheiks. Transformationalism. You take your backing where you can get it, and then go do your project. I’m an equal opportunity employee. I recommend the same to you.”
“You play your game, and I’ll play mine,” Weller told him.
I prefer not to play out of my league.”
“You can’t be afraid to ride the changes, boy,” Bob Shumway said paternally, and led him back into the only game in town.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Norman Spinrad was born in 1940, graduated from the City College of New York in 1961, published his first story in 1963, his first novel in 1965, and has not held a job since. In addition to somewhere between twelve and fourteen novels (depending on the counting method used), three books of short stories, two non-fiction books, and two anthologies, he has published literary criticism, film criticism, political commentary, and essays on various scientific subjects.
He has been a literary agent, had a radio phone show, and is past President and Vice President of the Science Fiction Writers of America. He has written a couple of song lyrics and had a single record out as a singer in Britain and France which never came close to making the charts.
His novel BUG JACK BARRON was briefly banned in Britain and two of his novels, THE IRON DREAM and THE MEN IN THE JUNGLE are currently on the Index in Germany, where they are nevertheless selling quite well under the table.
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Epilogue
ABOUT THE AUTHOR