Spacetime Donuts by Rudy Rucker Read Free Book Online Page A

didn't hear about it? That's complete bullshit. You helped plan it."
    Vernor sighed. "Just tell me your version anyway."
    "It was the Hollows. It was all fake last night. It started out with the news showing a picture of the Governor being shot. Then some guy who was supposed to be Andy Silver came on and said that Phizwhiz was our enemy and we should go out and start wrecking machines. Some nuts believed it and started trying to tear down the microwave towers. A lot of equipment got smashed and a lot of people got hurt."
    Vernor shook his head and sank back against the seat. He wished he had had a chance to take that pill—it would have made it so easy to float out of the police van, out of his body. It was getting dark and he saw several high-rise apartment buildings flash by. Everyone was watching the Hollows. You could look into each of the identical apartments, through the living-room and into the Hollownest; and in every apartment you saw the same Hollow scene, a policeman whipping a naked woman with a belt . . .
    "Where are we going?" Vernor asked.
    "We'll take you down to the station and book you," the guard answered. "You'll spend the night there, and tomorrow they'll probably ship you out to the prison. Over on the north side."
    "What about a trial?"
    The guard gave Vernor a funny look, "You'll get a trial."
    Before he could ask any more questions they had pulled into the garage under the cop shop. The police van pulled into a stall and a garage door closed behind it. A loach was waiting for them. "Governor wants to see him," he said.
    They rode the elevator up to the Governor's office on the top floor of the building. The office was not really as splendid as it should have been. Like everyone else, the Governor had cheap plastic furniture equipped with Hollowcasters to surround the tawdry reality with a sumptuous image. Unfortunately, the average Hollowcaster gave an image which was about as true to life as a five-year-old color television set. Of course it was possible to appreciate these images on their own terms—to admire the swirling flecks of static, the fuzzed edges, the slight hum, the drifting colors—just possible.
    The Governor was there in person. Apparently he took great pleasure in being the one to give Vernor the bad news. "The Angels are through," he said through his smile. "Us no longer needs your Youniqueness."
    "So who's going to give Phizwhiz soul?" Vernor asked.
    "Moto-O is," the Governor responded. "He came to us with a request for the equipment and computer time to build a soul for Phizwhiz. Us thinks he knows what he's doing. Right now, Moto-O is getting a nice trouble-free replacement for you all built."
    The Governor looked at a list. "You're just about the last one, Maxwell. We got almost all the others when we raided Waxy's last night. Where were you anyway? Helping Turner and Silver screw up the Hollows?" He paused. "If you tell us where they're hiding, we might be able to give you special consideration . . . "
    "I don't know what you're talking about," Vernor said. "Phizwhiz must have done the whole thing by himself."
    The Governor laughed. "That's not what you all said when he started turning out fusion reactors. No, Phizwhiz can't do anything this exciting on his own. He needs help. But now we're going to have that nice mechanical soul Moto-O's building."
    "Hold it," Vernor cried. "How do you know Moto-O's idea is going to work? It might take him years to get the bugs worked out."
    The Governor shrugged. "He's got six months. We've got him locked up in the EM building lab. In six months he gets a plain cell like the rest of you." The Governor leaned towards Vernor. "I was going to wait till he was finished before jailing the Angels. Until last night we didn't really have much reason to arrest you. But you guys made it easy for us with your half-assed revolution." He leaned back, "We'll do fine without the Angels."
    "Are you kidding?" Vernor protested. "The society's going to