[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
they ve set up down south, or some of us, the ones without families, we can
keep moving, living outta garbage cans, picking up shitwork now and then from
scum too greedy to pay the legal wage. We die and don t get nothing to show
for it. Me, I want the bastards to know I was here before they wipe me. He
folded his arms, nodded his head, his wispy brown hair blowing out from his
face. Or we head north tonight with as much as we can haul, split up in small
groups so we can run round the roadblocks and copter traps they ll have
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
waiting for us. Cross the border how we can. The Condies ll try shoving us
back, don t want our trouble, they got troubles enough with the death squads
coming across to hunt down what they call enemies of the UD. Won t be that
easy, getting in and getting set up. Have to watch out for Condie feds, but we
can stay together, that s worth something. He chuck-led, looked about the
crowd, eyes lingering on a face here and there. That s one hard border to
close. Me and some of you, we did our bit in trade across it. Tempts me. I
know those mountains and the trails. He paused, rubbed at his nose. But I d
kinda like to take me out a copter or two. Georgia and his bunch, they got us
a good supply of rockets and launchers. There ll be gunships, but a single
man s a hard target when he knows how to be. Third choice. I d really like to
take me out a copter. He sat.
Braddock s long finger flicked to a comfortably round middle-aged woman with
short blond hair and a peeling nose. Cordelia Gudon. Tom s just about set it
out. I can t see anything else, maybe some of you can: All I got to say,
whatever the rest of us do, the kids gotta get out. She sat.
Blue.
Blue Fir Alendayo. I know the trails and the border well as Tom. Same reason.
I say we go as soft as we can far as we can, shoot our way through if we have
to, probably will, get the lot of us over the border, then those who want to
come back and make as much hell as we can for these .... She paused,
searching for a word that would adequately characterize their foes, gave it up
and went on. Well, they can. She sat, bounced up immediately, eyes shining.
And anyone who wants to stay now and shoot him a copter or two, why not. She
sat again.
The meeting went on its orderly way. Doubters and grumblers, quibblers and
fussers, minor spats and a couple of yelling matches. Hern watched them,
fascinated by a kind of governing he d never seen before, even in the few
taromate convocations he d looked in on. He took his eyes away when the
meeting was winding toward some sort of consensus. Coyote, he called.
The scruffy little man came out of nowhere, his eyes darting from the image in
the Mirror to Hern to Serroi, back to the Mirror. Yes? he said, pointed ears
spreading out from his head, pointed nose twitching.
I want those. If they re willing. Those people, their weapons and transport.
Willing? What willing? You want them, I bring them through.
No point, if they won t fight. Are you going to bring them through here or
can you transfer them directly to the Biserica?
Will I, not can I, Dom. Will I? Yes. No. Maybe. You go there. His ears went
flat against his head, then his grin was back, mockery and anticipation mixed
in it. He gig-gled. Hern the happy salesman. Death and glory, you tell em.
They buy you or they don t. Come through where I want if they buy. Not
Biserica. Maybe Southport. I think about it.
Serroi straightened. Ser Coyote.
Coyote rocked on his heels, his head tilted, long narrow eyes filled with a
sly laughter that she didn t particularly like. Little green person.
If they refuse, then Hern chooses again because your debt isn t paid.
Coyote squirmed, went fuzzy around the edges as if he vibrated between shapes,
then he wilted, even his stiff gray hair. He sighed. Yesss.
That being so, she said more calmly than she felt, put us through.
Poet-Warrior
Julia set about the reams of paperwork, the miles of red tape that should
eventually land her in the public ward of some hospital and pay her surgeon s
fees.
You know the route, you ve helped a thousand others along it. Faces pass
before you, good people, petty tyrants, both sorts overworked until anything
extra is an irritation not to be borne, both sorts harried by their superiors
and the local politicians who found attacking them a cheap window to public
favor. You re unemployed? Haven t you tried to get work? What do you mean too
old? At forty-seven? They say no one s hiring untrained forty-seven--year-old
women? You say you re a writer. What books? Oh, those. You own nothing? Not
Page 37
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
even a car? Estimated income for the year. Oh, really, you expect me to
believe that? I ve seen your name, you re won prizes. Or hi, Jule, haven t
seen you for years, what you been doing? Oh, god, I m sorry. Cancer? All that
high life catching up with you, no I m just joking, I know it isn t funny. I
hate to tell you what funding s like this year. Look, let me send you over to
Gerda. And don t be such a stranger after this. On and on. Keep your temper.
They re really trying to help you, most of them, if they get snappish it s
because they hate having to tell you they can t do anything. An-swer
patiently. Show the doctor s report. Explain you couldn t afford insurance,
you can t afford anything, you re just getting by. Say over and over what
you ve said before as you re shunted from person to person, watch them hunt
about for cracks to ease you through. Be patient. Experi-ence should tell you
that you can outwit the system if you keep at it. Try to wash off the stain of
failure that is ground deeper and deeper into you. And try to forget the fear
that is ground deeper and deeper into you as the days pass. You know the lumps
are growing. You can t even feel them yet, but you know they re there, you
have nightmares about them. Treacherous flesh feeding on flesh.
Yet more aggravation. The landlords raise the rents to pay for a sort of
sentry box they ve built into the side of the foyer, equipped with bulletproof
glass, a speaker sys-tem and controls for the automatic bolts on the inner and
outer foyer doors and the steel grill outside. An armed guard sits in the box
day and night, no strangers are allowed in without prior notice. The landlords
also save money by doing no repairs no matter how much the tenants complain.
And as the chaos increases in Julia s flesh, the disruption increases in
society around her. There are food riots and job riots. In the suburbs,
vigilante groups are beginning to patrol the streets armed with rifles and
shotguns. There are a number of accidents, spooked patrols shoot some
night-shifters going home, but are merely told to be more careful. Police are
jumpy, shoot to kill at the slightest provocation, even imagined provocation.
At first there is some outcry against this, but the protesters are drowned in
a roar of outrage from those in power. The powerless everywhere begin to
organize to protect them-selves since no one else seems willing to. No one can
stand alone in the world that is coming into being here.
Except Julia. Stubbornly alone she plods through the increasingly resistant
bureaucracy. More and more of the people she has worked with are being fired
or laid off or are walking away from impossible conditions; funding is [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl szkicerysunki.xlx.pl
they ve set up down south, or some of us, the ones without families, we can
keep moving, living outta garbage cans, picking up shitwork now and then from
scum too greedy to pay the legal wage. We die and don t get nothing to show
for it. Me, I want the bastards to know I was here before they wipe me. He
folded his arms, nodded his head, his wispy brown hair blowing out from his
face. Or we head north tonight with as much as we can haul, split up in small
groups so we can run round the roadblocks and copter traps they ll have
Page 36
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
waiting for us. Cross the border how we can. The Condies ll try shoving us
back, don t want our trouble, they got troubles enough with the death squads
coming across to hunt down what they call enemies of the UD. Won t be that
easy, getting in and getting set up. Have to watch out for Condie feds, but we
can stay together, that s worth something. He chuck-led, looked about the
crowd, eyes lingering on a face here and there. That s one hard border to
close. Me and some of you, we did our bit in trade across it. Tempts me. I
know those mountains and the trails. He paused, rubbed at his nose. But I d
kinda like to take me out a copter or two. Georgia and his bunch, they got us
a good supply of rockets and launchers. There ll be gunships, but a single
man s a hard target when he knows how to be. Third choice. I d really like to
take me out a copter. He sat.
Braddock s long finger flicked to a comfortably round middle-aged woman with
short blond hair and a peeling nose. Cordelia Gudon. Tom s just about set it
out. I can t see anything else, maybe some of you can: All I got to say,
whatever the rest of us do, the kids gotta get out. She sat.
Blue.
Blue Fir Alendayo. I know the trails and the border well as Tom. Same reason.
I say we go as soft as we can far as we can, shoot our way through if we have
to, probably will, get the lot of us over the border, then those who want to
come back and make as much hell as we can for these .... She paused,
searching for a word that would adequately characterize their foes, gave it up
and went on. Well, they can. She sat, bounced up immediately, eyes shining.
And anyone who wants to stay now and shoot him a copter or two, why not. She
sat again.
The meeting went on its orderly way. Doubters and grumblers, quibblers and
fussers, minor spats and a couple of yelling matches. Hern watched them,
fascinated by a kind of governing he d never seen before, even in the few
taromate convocations he d looked in on. He took his eyes away when the
meeting was winding toward some sort of consensus. Coyote, he called.
The scruffy little man came out of nowhere, his eyes darting from the image in
the Mirror to Hern to Serroi, back to the Mirror. Yes? he said, pointed ears
spreading out from his head, pointed nose twitching.
I want those. If they re willing. Those people, their weapons and transport.
Willing? What willing? You want them, I bring them through.
No point, if they won t fight. Are you going to bring them through here or
can you transfer them directly to the Biserica?
Will I, not can I, Dom. Will I? Yes. No. Maybe. You go there. His ears went
flat against his head, then his grin was back, mockery and anticipation mixed
in it. He gig-gled. Hern the happy salesman. Death and glory, you tell em.
They buy you or they don t. Come through where I want if they buy. Not
Biserica. Maybe Southport. I think about it.
Serroi straightened. Ser Coyote.
Coyote rocked on his heels, his head tilted, long narrow eyes filled with a
sly laughter that she didn t particularly like. Little green person.
If they refuse, then Hern chooses again because your debt isn t paid.
Coyote squirmed, went fuzzy around the edges as if he vibrated between shapes,
then he wilted, even his stiff gray hair. He sighed. Yesss.
That being so, she said more calmly than she felt, put us through.
Poet-Warrior
Julia set about the reams of paperwork, the miles of red tape that should
eventually land her in the public ward of some hospital and pay her surgeon s
fees.
You know the route, you ve helped a thousand others along it. Faces pass
before you, good people, petty tyrants, both sorts overworked until anything
extra is an irritation not to be borne, both sorts harried by their superiors
and the local politicians who found attacking them a cheap window to public
favor. You re unemployed? Haven t you tried to get work? What do you mean too
old? At forty-seven? They say no one s hiring untrained forty-seven--year-old
women? You say you re a writer. What books? Oh, those. You own nothing? Not
Page 37
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
even a car? Estimated income for the year. Oh, really, you expect me to
believe that? I ve seen your name, you re won prizes. Or hi, Jule, haven t
seen you for years, what you been doing? Oh, god, I m sorry. Cancer? All that
high life catching up with you, no I m just joking, I know it isn t funny. I
hate to tell you what funding s like this year. Look, let me send you over to
Gerda. And don t be such a stranger after this. On and on. Keep your temper.
They re really trying to help you, most of them, if they get snappish it s
because they hate having to tell you they can t do anything. An-swer
patiently. Show the doctor s report. Explain you couldn t afford insurance,
you can t afford anything, you re just getting by. Say over and over what
you ve said before as you re shunted from person to person, watch them hunt
about for cracks to ease you through. Be patient. Experi-ence should tell you
that you can outwit the system if you keep at it. Try to wash off the stain of
failure that is ground deeper and deeper into you. And try to forget the fear
that is ground deeper and deeper into you as the days pass. You know the lumps
are growing. You can t even feel them yet, but you know they re there, you
have nightmares about them. Treacherous flesh feeding on flesh.
Yet more aggravation. The landlords raise the rents to pay for a sort of
sentry box they ve built into the side of the foyer, equipped with bulletproof
glass, a speaker sys-tem and controls for the automatic bolts on the inner and
outer foyer doors and the steel grill outside. An armed guard sits in the box
day and night, no strangers are allowed in without prior notice. The landlords
also save money by doing no repairs no matter how much the tenants complain.
And as the chaos increases in Julia s flesh, the disruption increases in
society around her. There are food riots and job riots. In the suburbs,
vigilante groups are beginning to patrol the streets armed with rifles and
shotguns. There are a number of accidents, spooked patrols shoot some
night-shifters going home, but are merely told to be more careful. Police are
jumpy, shoot to kill at the slightest provocation, even imagined provocation.
At first there is some outcry against this, but the protesters are drowned in
a roar of outrage from those in power. The powerless everywhere begin to
organize to protect them-selves since no one else seems willing to. No one can
stand alone in the world that is coming into being here.
Except Julia. Stubbornly alone she plods through the increasingly resistant
bureaucracy. More and more of the people she has worked with are being fired
or laid off or are walking away from impossible conditions; funding is [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]