Idoru. Part 37

He managed to get to his knees, holding his head, and found himself recalling an experiment they'd done in Science, back in Gainesville. Surface tension. You sprinkled pepper over the water in a gla.s.s. Brought the tip of a needle close to the film of pepper. Watched it spring back from the needle like a live thing. And he saw that happening here, his head ringing, but instead of pepper it was the crowd in the Western World, and he knew that the needle must be pointed at Rez's table.

The back of a white leather evening jacket. . . . But then he saw the Sherman tank come unmoored on the shoulders of the recoiling crowd, spinning toward him, huge and weightless, and the lights went out.

The crowd had been screaming anyway, but the dark twisted the communal pitch up into something that had Laney covering his ears. Or trying to, because someone stumbled into him and he went over, backward, instinctively curling into a tight fetal knot and clamping his hands across the back of his neck.

"Hey," said a voice, very close to his ear, "get on up. You gonna get stepped on." It was w.i.l.l.y Jude, "I can see." A hand around his wrist. "Got infrared."

Laney let the drummer pull him to his feet. "What is it? What's happening?"

"Dunno, but come on. Gonna get worse-" As if on cue, a terrible squeal of raw animal pain cut through the frenzied crowd-noise. "Blackwell got one," w.i.l.l.y Jude said, and Laney felt the drummer's hand grip his belt. He stumbled as he was pulled along. Someone ran into him, shouted in j.a.panese. After that he kept his hands up, trying to protect his face, and went where the drummer pulled him,

Suddenly they were in a cove or pocket of relative quiet. "Where are we?" Laney asked.

"This way Something clipped Laney across the s.h.i.+ns.

192 WiIIi~in. Gibson "Stool," w.i.l.l.y Jude said. "Sorry." Gla.s.s snapped beneath Laney's shoes.

A curve of greenish light, broken cursive hanging in the dark. Another few steps and he saw the Grotto. w.i.l.l.y Jude let go of his belt. "You can see here, right? That bioluminescent stuff?"

"Yeah," Laney said. "Thanks,"

"It doesn't register on my gla.s.ses. I get infrared off warm bodies, but I can't make out the steps. Walk me down." He took Laney's hand. They started down the stairs together. A black-clad trio of j.a.panese shot past them, leaving a high-heeled pump on the encrusted stairs, and vanished around the landing. Laney kicked the shoe out of w.i.l.l.y Jude's way and kept going.

When they rounded the corner at the landing, Arleigh was there, a green champagne bottle c.o.c.ked over her shoulder. There was a smear of blood at the corner of her mouth, darker than her lipstick. When she saw Laney, she lowered the bottle. "Where were you?" she said.

"The Men's," Laney said.

"You missed the show."

"What happened?"

"d.a.m.n it," she said, "my coat's up there."

"Keep moving, keep moving," w.i.l.l.y Jude said, More stairs, more landings, the rippling walls of the Grotto giving way to concrete. People kept rus.h.i.+ng down, past them, knots and singles, taking the stairs too fast. Laney rubbed his ribs where he'd come down on the gla.s.s. It hurt, but somehow he hadn't been cut.

"They looked like Kombinat," Arleigh said. "Big ugly guys, bad outfits. I couldn't tell if they were after Rez or the idoru. Like they just thought they could walk in and do it."

"Do what?"

"Don't know," she said. "Kuwayama had at least a dozen of his own security people at the two closest tables. And Blackwell probably prays for a scene like that every night before he goes to bed. He reached into hi~ jacket, then the lights went out." 0

2.

193.

"He put 'em out," w.i.l.l.y Jude said. "Some kinda remote. He can see better in the dark than I can with these infrareds. Dunno how that is, but he can."

"How'd you get out?" Laney asked Arleigh.

"Flashlight. In my purse."

"Laney-san

Looking back to see Yamazaki, one sleeve of his green plaid coat pulled free at the shoulder, his gla.s.ses missing a lens. Arleigh had taken a phone from her purse and was cursing softly as she tried to get it to work.

Yamazaki caught up with them at the next landing. The four of them continued down togerher, Laney still holding the blind drummer's hand.

When they reached the street, the Western World's sullen crew of doorpeople were nowhere in sight. A single policeman with a plastic rain-cover on his cap was muttering frantically into a microphone clipped to the front of his rain-cape. He was walking in tight circles as he did this, gesturing dramatically with a white baton at nothing in particular. Several kinds of alien siren were converging on the Western World, and Laney thought he could hear a helicopter.

w.i.l.l.y Jude dropped Laney's hand and adjusted his video-goggles to the street's light-level. "Where's my car?"

Arleigh lowered her phone, which apparently was working now. "You'd better come with us, w.i.l.l.y. Some kind of tactical unit is on the way.

"Nothing like it," Rez said, and Laney turned, to see the singer emerging from the Western World, brus.h.i.+ng something white from his dark jacket. "That physical thing. Too much time in the virtual, we forget that, don't we? You're Leyner?" Extending his hand.

"Laney," Laney said, as Arleigh's dark green van pulled up beside them.

194

j Maryalice opened a curved drawer that was built into the pink bed's headboard. She was wearing a black skin-suit with big red Ashleigh Modine Carter-style sequin roses on the lapels. She took out a little blue gla.s.s dish and balanced it on her knee. "I hate these places," she said. "There's lots of ways to make s.e.x ugly, but it's kind of hard to make it look this ridiculous." She knocked the gray end off her cigarette, into the blue saucer. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Fourteen," Chia said.

"About what 1 told 'em. You're fourteen, fifteen, for real, and no way you were on to me. I was on to you, right? It was my move. I planted on you. But they don't believe me. Say you're some kind of operator, say I'm just stupid, say that Rez guy sent you to SeaTac to get the stuff. Say you're a set-up and I'm crazy to believe a kid couldn't do that." She sucked on the cigarette, squinting. "Where is it?" She looked down at Chia's bag, open on the white carpet. "There?"

"I didn't mean to take it. I didn't know it was there."

"I know that," Maryalice said. "What I told 'em. I meant to get it back off you at the club."

"I don't understand any of this," Chia said. "It just scares me."

"Sometimes I bring stuff back for Eddie. Party favors for the club. It's illegal, but it's not all that illegal, you know? Not hard stuff, really. But this time he was doing something else on the side, something with the Russians, and I didn't like it. That's what scares me, that stulf Like its alive."

-195.

28.A Matter of Credit "What stuff?"

"That. a.s.semblers, they're called."

Chia looked at her bag. "That thing in my bag is a nanotech a.s.sembler?"

"More like what you start with. Kind of an egg, or a little factory. You plug that thing into another machine that programs 'em, and they start building themselves out of whatever's handy. And when there's enough of 'em, they start building whatever it was you wanted them to. There's some kind of law against selling that stuff to the Kombinat, so they want it bad. But Eddie worked out a way to do it. I met these two creepy German guys in the SeaTac Hyatt. They'd flown in there from wherever, I figured maybe Africa." She mashed the lit end of the cigarette into the little blue dish, making it smell even worse. "They didn't want to give it to me, because they were expecting Eddie. Lot of back and forth on the phone. Finally they did. I was supposed to put it in the suitcase with the other stuff, but it made me nervous. Made me wanna self-medicate." She looked around the room. She put the blue dish with the crushed cigarette on a square black side table and did something that made the front of it open. It was a refrigerator, filled with little bottles. Maryalice bent over, peering in there. The pistol-shaped lighter slid off the pink bed. "No tequila," Maryalice said. "You tell me why anybody'd name a vodka 'Come Back Salmon' Removing a little square bottle with a fish on its side. "j.a.panese would, though." She looked down at the lighter. "Like a Russian would make a cigarette lighter that looks like a pistol."

Chia saw that Maryalice didn't have her hair-extensions in anymore. "When they were taking DNA samples, in SeaTac," Chia said, "you stuck the end of your extension in there.

Maryalice cracked the seal on the little bottle, opened it, drained it in a single gulp, and s.h.i.+vered. "Those extensions are all my own hair," she said. "Grew 'em out when I was on sort of a health diet, understand? They catch people doing recreationals, when they take 196 C: those hair samples. Some recreationals, they stay in your hair a long time." Maryalice put the empty bottle down beside the blue dish. "What's he doing?" Pointing at Masahiko.

"Porting," Chia said, unable to think of a quick way to explain the Walled City.

"I can see that. You came here 'cause these places'll re-post, right?"