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SWAT team helicoptered in to rescue him.
There were a few bruises and scratches, and lots of ringing
ears, but no major injuries. Hinton Lea feted me as the hero of the
186  WITPUNK
hour, though you could tell a lot of them were a bit disappointed
that the drama had not achieved a Wtting conclusion.
You d think they d be suUciently grateful to petition for my
early release, or at least a few months parole. But oh no. Fair and
grateful people don t get to live in places like Hinton Lea.
The trial was straightforward enough. I d got rid of the chip
back on his suit visor in the garden, and everyone thought he d
just scored a bad batch of pills. So he was sentenced to tagging
for life, but the legal squabbles over Jezzer and his property were
another matter.
The judge made some very Wne calculations according to all
the people Jezzer had harmed. A big piece of him went to Wayne
Roberts, another slice to Hinton Lea as a whole. Other individu-
als who had been injured or whose property had been damaged
won minor portions.
Hundreds of others claimed his actions had stressed them so
much they were on tranks or in counseling and entered claims for
a morsel of Jezzer or his property. Also, Natasha Wled for divorce,
demanding half his stuT.
While the lawyers argue, Jezzer and I belong to Hinton Lea,
our labors administered by the Community Council. I don t know
who the oUcial remote-holder is, but I ve not seen one since that
night.
Jezzer sleeps in the attic of the Parish Hall.
I m sharing Wayne s family caravan with Mo.
Wayne wasn t keen on this arrangement, and still fears for the
caravan s suspension. Mo quietly explained to him how compli-
cated things might become if she were to tell the police about how
she had been the one who got Jezzer sacked. Wayne might lose his
nice, new, and better-paid job (the one that Jezzer used to have),
and it would mean that Jezzer would have to have a retrial and . . .
Wayne saw that she spoke with great wisdom and caved in
gracefully. On what we think of as our  wedding night, he left a
half-bottle of Happy Shopper champagne by the bedside. See? A
considerate gesture doesn t have to cost much, does it?
Wayne understands that you ve got to meet people in the mid-
dle, even if they are taggies.
BAGGED  N TAGGED  187
We ve just been sweeping the streets. Jezzer s changed a bit.
 I ve done a Pareto Analysis, he said.  I don t expect that d
mean much to you, but it s an extremely powerful business tool
that helps you direct resources more productively. Now look at
this graph I ve drawn. It shows how there are slightly more sweet
wrappers in Elm Close, but a considerably larger concentration of
cigarette ends  but, interestingly, almost no cigar butts  down in
the park. The cigar butts are more randomly scattered, though
they tend to be . . .
 Jezzer, I said (I m on rather more familiar terms with him
these days),  shut up.
 Anyway, I ve designed these survey forms for us to record dis-
tribution of litter according to area, time of day, and season. As you
can see I ve already coded them up, so s we can borrow a spread-
sheet and database package with a view to optimizing our . . .
I walked away. Mo was waiting for me on a garden wall.
This is all still wrong. Us being here. But Mo makes it okay.
We will get out of here one day. And we will win.
Amanda and the Alien
Robert Silverberg
Amanda spotted the alien late Friday afternoon outside the Video
Center, on South Main. It was trying to look cool and laid-back, but
it simply came across as bewildered and uneasy. The alien was dis-
guised as a seventeen-year-old girl, maybe a Chicana, with olive-
toned skin and hair so black it seemed almost blue, but Amanda,
who was seventeen herself, knew a phony when she saw one. She
studied the alien for some moments from the other side of the street
to make absolutely certain. Then she walked over.
 You re doing it wrong, Amanda said.  Anybody with half a
brain could tell what you really are.
 Bug oT, the alien said.
 No. Listen to me. You want to stay out of the detention cen-
ter, or don t you?
The alien stared coldly at Amanda and said,  I don t know
what the crap you re talking about.
 Sure you do. No sense trying to bluT me. Look, I want to help
you, Amanda said.  I think you re getting a raw deal. You know
what that means, a raw deal? Hey, look, come home with me, and
I ll teach you a few things about passing for human. I ve got the
whole friggin weekend now with nothing else to do anyway
A Xicker of interest came into the other girl s dark, chilly eyes.
But it died quickly, and she said,  You some kind of lunatic?
188
AMANDA AND THE ALIEN  189
 Suit yourself, O thing from beyond the stars. Let them lock
you up again. Let them stick electrodes up your ass. I tried to
help. That s all I can do, is try, Amanda said, shrugging. She
began to saunter away. She didn t look back. Three steps, four,
Wve, hands in pockets, slowly heading for her car. Had she been
wrong, she wondered? No. No. She could be wrong about some
things, like Charley Taylor s interest in spending the weekend
with her, maybe. But not this. That crinkly-haired chick was the
missing alien for sure.
The whole county was buzzing about it: Deadly nonhuman life
form has escaped from the detention center out by Tracy, might
be anywhere, Walnut Creek, Livermore, even San Francisco, dan-
gerous monster, capable of mimicking human forms, will engulf
and digest you and disguise itself in your shape. And there it was,
Amanda knew, standing outside the Video Center. Amanda kept [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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