The Best of Michael Swanwick by Michael Swanwick Read Free Book Online Page B

at the ceiling. A fly buzzed somewhere in the room, and he did not look for it. In the streets iron-wheeled carts rumbled by, and children chanted a counting out game.
    After a time he rose, dressed, and washed his face. He went to the hostel’s dining room for breakfast.
    There, finishing off a piece of toast, was DiStephano.
    “Good morning, Mr. Mbikana. I was beginning to think I’d have to send for you.” He gestured to a chair. Wolf looked about, took it. There were at least three of the political police seated nearby.
    DiStephano removed some documents from his jacket pocket handed them to Wolf. “Signed, sealed, and delivered. We made some minor changes in the terms, but nothing your superiors will object to.” He placed the last corner of toast in the side of his mouth. “I’d say this was a rather bright beginning to your professional career.”
    “Thank you,” Wolf said automatically. He glanced at the documents, could make no sense of them, dropped them in his lap.
    “If you’re interested, the African Genesis leaves port tomorrow morning. I’ve made arrangements that a berth be ready for you , should you care to take it. Of course, there will be another passenger ship in three weeks if you wish to see more of our country.
    “No,” Wolf said hastily. Then, because that seemed rude, “I’m mostanxious to see my home again. I’ve been away far too long.”
    DiStephano dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin, let it fall to the tablecloth. “Then that’s that.” He started rise.
    “Wait,” Wolf said. “Mr. DiStephano, I…I would very much like an explanation.”
    DiStephano sat back down. He did not pretend not to understand the request. “The first thing you must know,” he said, “is that Ms. Horowitz was not our first Janis Joplin.”
    “No,” Wolf said.
    “Nor the second.”
    Wolf looked up.
    “She was the twenty-third, not counting the original. The show is sponsored every year, always ending in Boston on the equinox . So far, it has always ended in the same fashion.”
    Wolf wondered if he should try to stab the man with a fork, ifhe should rise up and attempt to strangle him. There should be rage, he knew. He felt nothing. “Because of the brain implants.”
    “No. You must believe me when I say that I wish she had lived. The implants helped her keep in character, nothing more. It’s true that she did not recall the previous women who played the part of Janis. But her death was not planned. It’s simply something that—happens.”
    “Every year.”
    “Yes. Every year Janis offers herself to the crowd. And every year they tear her apart. A sane woman would not make the offer; a sane people would not respond in that fashion. I’ll know that my country is on the road to recovery come the day that Janis lives to make a second tour.” He paused. “Or the day we can’t find a woman willing to play the role, knowing how it ends.”
    Wolf tried to think. His head felt dull and heavy. He heard the words, and he could not guess whether they made sense or not. “One last question,” he said. “Why me?”
    DiStephano rose. “One day you may return to our nation,” he said. “Or perhaps not. But you will certainly rise to a responsible position within the Southwest Africa Trade Company. Your decisions will affect our economy.” Four men in uniform also rose from their chairs. “When that happens, I want you to understand one thing about your land: We have nothing to lose . Good day, and a long life to you, sir.”
    DiStephano’s guards followed him out.
    ***
    It was evening. Wolf’s ship rode in Boston harbor, waiting to carry him home. Away from this magic nightmare land, with its ghosts and walking dead. He stared at it and he could not make it real; he had lost all capacity for belief.
    The ship’s dinghy was approaching. Wolf picked up his bags.

Ginungagap
    Abigail checked out of Mother of Mercy and rode the translator web to Toledo Cylinder in Juno