The Nigger Factory by Gil Scott Heron Read Free Book Online

looking over his shoulder out into the hall from time to time.
    ‘Happ’nin’, Earl?’ Baker asked.
    ‘Nothin’ much,’ Earl replied lightly. He hated bullshit like this, but he had expected a great deal of it. ‘I could use a run-down on the score.’
    ‘Yeah,’ Baker said as though bored. ‘We got a lista shit t’gether fo’ the Head Nigger.’ He grinned and continued to look through a pile of papers in front of him. ‘We figgered maybe you could take ’um over there if you wanned to.’
    Here we go, Earl thought as he took the list from Baker. If I wanted to.
    There was a tight feeling in the pit of the SGA president’s stomach. He could feel his pulse vibrating and drumming an uptempo solo next door to his brain. He lit a cigarette and left the pack on the table. He could feel the pairs of eyes drilling holes into his forehead. Though he noticed that Abul Menkahad not looked up when he entered, he felt that even the notorious Captain Cool was tense, watching and waiting.
    ‘Yeah,’ was all that Earl said when he had completed his reading of the list.
    Ben King snorted like a bull. Earl cast a glance in the black giant’s direction and the returned stare blazed dislike. He met the look head-on. He was by no means intimidated by the huge football hero, though he had no eagerness to test the myths that had been built up pertaining to the larger man’s strength and ferocity.
    ‘So, uh, this is the score,’ Baker stammered uneasily. ‘We decided that perhaps, uh, things might be working out a little slowly for your office. We know how hard it is to get organized since we’re always tryin’ to organize things in the frat . . . we thought maybe you could, uh, use a little help to get the ball rollin’ an’ get people behind you.’ Baker was choosing his words very carefully. ‘Uh, it was shapin’ up like another one a them years like las’ year.’ The tension in the room could be felt as Baker dragged on. Earl did nothing to ease the pressure. He did not move or frown.
    ‘So we got things off the ground!’ King said suddenly.
    Earl chose to ignore King and did not even look to his left in the challenger’s direction. He wondered how much more he would be told about the things that were lying beneath the surface. He didn’t buy what Baker was saying for a second and the lie was infuriating him more than the overall maneuver. Everything was too hazy, but Baker was waiting for Earl to start the name-calling. Earl would have to force any direct split that became visible between the two groups. Baker could then go back and report that he had tried to work with the SGA leader without success. Ice. Ice. Ice.
    ‘Everybody knows the problems around here,’ the MJUMBE spokesman said slowly.
    Earl almost laughed. He could see that he was rattling Baker instead of the other way around. Baker had wanted to see him squirming, nervous, and uneasy in the unfamiliarposition of follower. Earl’s deadpan composure was reversing the pressure and anxiety was crawling deeper and deeper into Baker’s eyes.
    ‘We got the same pains in the ass that they had here forty years ago if you read back issues of The Statesman. But whenever it comes time for a direct confrontation the students shy away. They so concerned wit’ a fuckin’ piece a bullshit paper that they refuse to pull their heads outta the fuckin’ groun’. Who cares if they spent four years in hell and lived like pigs in a sty? Thass why I sed: “if you wanted to get involved.” I don’t know how concerned you are about graduatin’ on time.’ Baker leaned back.
    ‘You may git in trubble,’ Ben King baby-talked. ‘We wudn’t wan’ anything like that.’
    ‘Look aroun’,’ Baker injected. ‘We all seniors. Fo’ uv us are on football grants that they could snatch in a minnit, but ain’ no man s’pose to sit fo’ alla this shit! We cain’ live with a pipe up our assholes, can we?’
    He was talking to keep Ben King quiet. Ben was