The Complete LaNague

by F. Paul Wilson

  "Want to talk to him anyway. Not a major request."

  Brode sighed. "Very well."

  He nodded to his aide who spoke into his throat mike.

  And then I waited, with the aide watching me as I watched Brode watch the mob outside.

  15.

  Noticed a thick, odd-looking silvery cuff on Arrel Lum's right wrist when he was led in. They let us to go off to a corner to talk, but first they activated his cuff.

  "What's that?" I said.

  Lum grinned sourly. "If you paid closer attention to my datacasts, you'd know. It's a gravcuff. I'm now locked to an axis through the earth's center of gravity. Plenty of vertical movement" – he moved his wrist up and down as far as he could reach – "but nothing laterally."

  "Real bloaty," I said, then explained what Brode wanted. Knew every word of what we said was being recorded but didn't care. Lum listened for a while, then turned toward Brode.

  "You know, Mr. Administrator, this could be your big chance to show you're more than just a politician. With a little creative thought on your part, you could actually come out on top here. You could prove yourself a real statesman. We haven't seen one of those in ages. We can clone out dinosaurs and dodos and Jean Harlows but–”

  "They memwiped Jean," I said.

  Lum reeled as if I'd punched him. Only the gravcuff kept him from stumbling back. He covered his eyes with his free hand. Thought for a moment he was going to break down, but he didn't.

  "I really wanted to meet her," he said softly, pulling himself together and glaring at Brode.

  "She's not dead," I told him.

  He stared at me. "Yes, she is."

  Knew he was right but tried not to think about it.

  "What's Brode trying to get from me?" I asked.

  Lum's smile was tight and a predatory. "Political salvation. Thanks to my datacast last night, the Harlow clone and the urchins have received worldwide attention. He's been getting heavy pressure from the Central Authority to defuse this bomb as quietly as possible. That's the main reason he hasn't slimed them. His political future is on the line."

  "Good. But how'd you learn all this?"

  "I'm allowed visitors. And all my friends are datapeople. So what's happening is he's passing the pressure. You're it. He's counting on getting you to cooperate."

  And I had friends counting on me to cover for them.

  "He's succeeding."

  "Well, Mr. Dreyer," said Brode from across the room. "I'm waiting. Time is critical."

  "All right," I called back. "Let's do it."

  Lum's eyes were wide. "Do what?"

  "Don't know yet."

  The big aide was motioning me toward the door. As I headed his way I heard Lum say to no one in particular: "What about me?"

  "You and I are going to have a talk, Mr. Lum," Brode said.

  "I'd rather be in my cell."

  "Nevertheless, we are going to discuss your ideas on statesmanship."

  Then the door slipped shut behind me and closed them off.

  16.

  They coached me on what to say, made me repeat it over and over until I had it down perfectly. Then they fitted me with a transparent, thumbnail-size chin mike, a finger-control toggle for on/oft, and placed me on a float platform. Another of Brode's seemingly endless supply of aides piloted the thing. From far below, the chant continued:

  "…WEN-DEEEEEE! WEN-DEEEEEE! WEN-DEEEEEE!… "

  As the platform hove into view and started its descent, the chant broke up and died. When we reached the ten meter level, I could make out a clear division in the crowd – ragtag urchins in the front, better dressed Realpeople toward the rear. The two groups weren't mixing much. Behind me, the entrances to the Pyramid were blocked with armed yellowjackets.

  Waved to the kids and toggled my chin mike on.

  HELLOOOO, URCHINS! boomed into the air from speakers somewhere in the Pyramid's wall.

  Some of them must have been Lost Boys because a murmur ran through their ranks. It grew into a new chant, shorter, choppier than the other: "Sig-gy! Sig-gy! Sig-gy!…"

  Nowhere near as loud as the Wendy chant because the Realpeople weren't joining in. Probably asking themselves who or what 'round Sol was this Siggy? After all, he hadn't been on the datastream last night.

  But the kids knew the name. All those little faces and big hopeful eyes looking up at me. Gave me a chill.

  "HAVE A MESSAGE FOR YOU ABOUT WENDY."

  The volume of the ensuing mad cheer rattled the platform and then the Wendy chant started again.

  Hated myself for what I was about to do. To put it off a little longer, I let the chant build. Turned off the mike and said to the aide: "By the way, how can you close M.A. Central? Thought it was supposed to be open to all citizens all hours of the day."

  The aide's smile was smug. "True, but we found a forgotten ordinance that prohibits children unless accompanied by an adult."

  "Well, well," I said. "Isn't that bloaty."

  The urchin part of the crowd began shifting, squirming, and flowing, and suddenly there was B.B. on somebody's shoulders, waving and beaming with pride. Could see it in his eyes: Siggy's here. Siggy won't let us down. Siggy can do anything.

  That was the moment I made my decision.

  "Take me down to get that kid," I said.

  "That's not in the script."

  "Let me improvise a little. What I've got to say will be a lot more effective if I've got one of the Lost Boys sitting on my shoulders."

  The aide talked to the Pyramid. They must have had a conference in Brode's office because the answer took a while coming. But apparently he got the okay because we began to descend.

  Motioned to the kids below to clear a spot around B.B. They backed away from him when we got down to a height of about two meters.

  That was when I jumped ship. Over the rail and onto the ground.

  "Hey!" the aide yelled. "You can't do that!"

  Ignored him. Scooped up B.B. and hustled him toward the nearest entrance to the Pyramid. The cheering urchins made way for us.

  The aide followed us above and behind on the platform. He shouted to the yellowjackets at the door I was approaching.

  "Stop him!"

  This was it. This was where I put the blaster to my head and pulled the trigger. Was endangering Doc and Elmero and even B.B., but that couldn't be helped. Nobody could memwipe a client of mine and rub my nose in it and figure they could bully me into saying, Thank you, sir, and yes, I'll help cool some of the heat you're getting.

  Dreg that.

  Don't mind getting pushed around some. Expect a certain amount of it. That's life. Not a rad, not an oozer, not a mal. But there were limits. Brode had found mine.

  And I was going to bring him down if I could.

  The yellowjackets closed ranks ahead of me. Flicked on my chin mike, wheeled it to max, and shouted at the top of my voice: "I AM A CITIZEN OF THE MEGALOPS AND DEMAND ENTRANCE TO THE PYRAMID! THAT IS THE LAW!"

  The sound was deafening. Like hearing thunder up close from inside a cloud. Like the voice of God. All the urchins around me cringed and bowed and slapped their hands over their ears. Was almost knocked to my knees by my own voice.

  The yellowjackets were clearly shaken. Could barely hear the nearest as he spoke: "No urchins."

  "HE IS ACCOMPANIED BY AN ADULT! STAND ASIDE NOW!"

  As they winced at the noise, I slid between them before either of them could grab me. When I reached the inner floor, I raised my voice and said, "ALL RIGHT, EVERYBODY! FOLLOW–”

  My mike was suddenly cut off. But as I turned, I saw it didn't matter. Realpeople were pushing through the crowd carrying urchins in their arms, on their shoulders. The yellowjackets made halfhearted attempts to stop them, but the Realpeople were adamant. They were incensed. And the law was on their side. Even saw one of the yellowjackets pick up a kid himself and march inside.

  Like water through the floodgates of a dam, they poured in on all four sides of the ground lev
el, washing along the floor, choking ground level and rising to fill the perimeter arcades on the second. It wasn't long before the chant began again, echoing through the air, rattling the cavernous interior of the Pyramid: "WEN-DEEEEEE! WEN-DEEEEEE! WEN-DEEEEEE!. . ."

  Held B.B. on my shoulders and let him chant away, but didn't join in myself. What was the use? The Wendy he knew was dead. Brode wasn't going to bring her down and show her hollow remains to the crowd. But if things went the way I hoped, maybe this crowd would bring him down – not down here, but down. And out of office.

  He ruined a client of mine. Now I was going to ruin him. Or go down trying.

  The chant went on forever with no signs of diminishing. More people were squeezing in from outside – there were still lots more out there than in here – and pushing up to higher and higher levels on the inner walls. Given enough time, we'd soon occupy every square centimeter of the Pyramid. Erode was going to have to do something, and quick. And he did.

  A floater platform like the one I'd been on outside – maybe the same one – glided out from one of the upper levels and began descending along the wall to my right. Looked like it was riding the huge shaft of midday sun pouring through the apex. Squinted into the glare and made out four figures on it.

  The chant died as we all watched and waited to see who was coming.

  "Hoodat, Sig? Wendy come?"

  Poor kid. Didn't want him to get his hopes up.

  "Don't think so, Beeb. Let's just hope they're not carrying slime guns."

  We watched it sink lower. Suddenly B.B. screamed.

  "Her, Sig! Wendy! Her! Her!"

  He was right. Couldn't believe my eyes, but there she was, Jean Harlow-c herself, standing at the front rail of the platform, looking dazed as she stared at the crowd. Couldn't believe Brode had the nerve to do this. What was he planning? Did he really think he could get away with it?

  The urchins went wild but the Realpeople around me held back. Knew why, too. They had all seen the datastream last night. They knew she had been scheduled to be wiped first thing this morning. They feared they were looking at a shell.

  They were right.

  Then I looked at her companions on the platform and almost dropped B.B. off my shoulders. It was Brode himself, one of his aides at the controls, and Lum.

  What was going on here?

  A million thoughts screamed through my mind. Was this a scam? Had they made a Wendy holosuit? Was there an actress in there? But no, it didn't look like a holo – the outline was too crisp. And what was Lum doing up there with Brode? Had they bought him off somehow? Or twisted his arm to the breaking point like they tried with me?

  The platform stopped at thirty meters. Jean still looked dazed. They must have taught her a speech. One that would send everybody home. This was going to be bad.

  She leaned forward and her soft voice, amplified hundreds of times, filled the Pyramid. "Hel – hello. They say I'm free to go. Are my Lost Boys here?"

  And then she smiled, and behind her Lum smiled, and I knew it was her. Couldn't explain how this could be, but it was really her. Suddenly found myself weeping like a dregging baby. Me, Sigmundo Dreyer, who never cries.

  And around me: Bedlam, pandemonium, delirium, ecstatic chaos. Never seen anything like it before or since. Normally staid, reserved people were laughing, crying, screaming with delight, leaping and waving their arms like maniacs. They cheered, they jumped up and down, they hugged and kissed each other and danced in circles. Could swear I heard church bells ringing.

  For a while, at that time, in that place, we were all Wendy's Lost Boys.

  17.

  Took a long time, but things finally quieted. Guess the human voicebox can take only so much abuse and then it starts to shut down.

  During the commotion I'd noticed Brode and Lum with their heads together more than once. Now Brode stepped up beside Jean and raised his hands. His deep rich voice boomed through the hollow insides of the Pyramid.

  "My fellow citizens. Due to confusion as to the exact status of her citizenship, and to avoid giving offense to the sovereign world of Neeka, I have used the emergency powers granted to me by the Central Authority in the Megalops Charter to extend Realpeople status to Jean Harlow-c, the woman you know as 'Wendy.' "

  Cheers and roars of approval rose on all sides of me as I wondered what Brode was up to.

  "That status is only temporary, however. Within a month's time she will have to return to the Outworlds."

  As a murmur of disapproval ran through the crowd, Brode hurried to explain.

  "But I don't want to see her return there alone. Like you, I want to see Wendy's dream come true."

  Never would have believed such a huge crowd could grow so silent. Not even a foot-shuffle could be heard. We were all holding our breath, wondering if he was going to say what we never dreamed we'd hear.

  "We can't use public credit, of course, so I am empowering the First Bosyorkington Bank to open a trust fund: the Lost Boys' Trust. The funds will be used to provide transportation to the Outworlds for the unfortunate children we call urchins."

  A noise, more like a seismic rumble than a cheer, began to rise from the crowd. Brode raised his voice to be heard.

  "To open the trust, I am personally donating the first ten thousand credits. If we work together, we can make Wendy's dream a reality!"

  That was it. Forget any more speechmaking. He tried to say something else but the Pyramid's speakers were overwhelmed by the celebratory roar of approval, amorphous at first, but soon taking form.

  "BRODE! BRODE! BRODE! BRODE!…"

  Watched Lum's grinning face and realized that Brode's bold move was not of his own devising. Lum had found a way to impart vision to an ambitious, high-ranking politico, turning him into a statesman, a man who could grab the reins of history and alter its course.

  Didn't join in the chant myself. Let B.B. sit on my shoulders and shout for both of us. Just stood there and watched Jean's stunned, tear-streaked face as she beamed down at all her Lost Boys.

  Clone-lady, I thought, do you have any idea what you've done?

  EPILOGUE

  "So Brode was lying about the memwipe," I said to Lum as we sat at Doc's table in Elmero's.

  "Of course. He was putting heavy pressure on you and didn't want her to be any part of the bargain. So he took her out of the picture by telling you, in effect, that she was dead. But he was protecting her, holding her back as a last resort."

  A lot had happened in the two days since the showdown at the Pyramid. The Lost Boys' Trust was ballooning with donations. And after Brode played and replayed the vid of his performance on the datastream, the citizenry of Chi-Kacy, Tex-Mex, and the Western Megalops were demanding trusts for their own urchins. Same in Europe and elsewhere.

  "Can the outworlds handle all those urchins?" Doc said.

  Lum nodded vigorously. "As many as we can send them. The farm worlds will set them up on big tracts and supervise the kids until they're old enough to homestead the land on their own. They'll all be landowners sooner or later. Me, too."

  "You?" I said. "Thought you were Brode's new top aide."

  "Right. But only for a while. There's a lot of change in the wind and Brode's the man who's going to spearhead most of it."

  "Sure. Because he's been such a true-believing oozer all along, right?"

  Lum shrugged. "Brode believes in taking Brode to the top. Before the Wendy affair, he was just another Megalops chief administrator, a regional big shot. Now he's sui generis – the only politico standing up for clones and urchins. He doesn't have universal support, of course, but there's enough pent-up emotion behind those issues to carry him a long, long way. He's now a world-class contender for Central Authority. If clone rights and urchin emigration are going to get him where he wants to go, then he'll champion them with all his heart."

  "And if the opposite stands would get him there?" Doc said.

  "Then he would damn clones and urchins with equal passion and sincerit
y." Lum shook his head. "An amazing man – the very soul of pragmatism. I'm going to hang around for a while to see how long I can keep him on the right track."

  "Nothing ever really changes," I said.

  "When change is imposed from the top down, I agree," Lum said. "But this… this is coming from the bottom up. It's hearts and minds making themselves felt in the upper levels. This kind of change can last."

  Didn't believe that for a minute but wasn't going to argue.

  I said, "We'll see."

  "Maybe you will, but I'll be out of here in a few years. After I put in my time with Brode, I'm heading for Neeka."

  "Why Neeka?"

  "Because Jean will be there. She fascinates me. I want to get to know her better. And maybe, if things work out..."

  He let the sentence trail off.

  "She's sterile, you know," I said, for no good reason I could think of.

  "Of course. But there'll be more than enough of kids around, don't you think? What're your plans, Sig?"

  Shrugged. "More of the same."

  "No plans for heading Out Where All the Good Folks Go?"

  "Not a chance. Born an Earthie, gonna stay an Earthie."

  "Want to work for Brode?"

  "Not interested," I said. "Don't like politicos, no matter what the wrapper."

  "Good for you." He stood and held up his thumb. "Got to run. Where do I pay?"

  Waved him off. "It's on me."

  We all shook hands and he left. Doc turned to me.

  "You mean to tell me you're not even tempted to try a new life on Neeka?"

  "Not the least."

  "Even though Jean and B.B. practically begged you to come along?"

  "Me? A farmer?"

  "There's got to be something there for you. They've got cities–”

  "They've got towns, Doc. Little towns scattered all over the map."

  The thought of all those far horizons and wide-open spaces made me shudder.

  "It'll be a shame to let her go," Doc said, eyeing me over his vial of vapor.