Distraction

Three days after this silent debacle, Captain Burningboy a

Kevin threw a block party for the General, on the grounds of the police station. Greta and Oscar attended in full dress and, for the first time ever, as a public couple. They had of course been kidnapped as a couple, and rescued as a couple, so their appearance made perfect sense. It was also a boost for morale.

In point of sad fact, Greta and Oscar had very little to say to or do with one another at Burningboy’s farewell party. They were both hopelessly preoccupied with the exigencies of power. Besides, Kevin’s party featured a massive banquet of genuine food. After days on no-mad biotech rations, the scientists and proles flung themselves on it like wolverines.

Oscar was pained to see Burningboy abandoning him. It seemed so u

“We used to handle these things the way the Regulators do,” Burningboy confided. “Promote the best, and segregate the rest. But they ended up with an aristocracy — the Sun Lords, the Nobles, the Respected, and down at the very bottom, all the lousy newbies. In the Moderators, we use balloting. So we have turnaround; people can spend their reputations, and lose them, and earn them back. Besides — and this is the killer point here — our technique prevents decapitation attacks. See, the feds are always after ‘the criminal kingpins.’ They always want ‘the top guy in the outfit,’ the so-called mastermind.”

“I’ll really miss these briefings of yours,” Oscar said. It had been a long time since he had appeared in public with his full regalia of spats, cummerbund, and proper hat. He felt a million miles away from Burningboy, as if he were receiving signals from a distant planet.

“Look, Oscar, after thirty years of American imperial informa-tion warfare, everybody in the goddamn world understands counter-insurgency and political subversion. We all know how to do it now, we all know how to wreck the dominant paradigm. We’re geniuses at screwing with ourselves and deconstructing all our institutions. We don’t have a single institution left that works.” Burningboy paused. “Am I getting too radical here? Am I scaring you?”

“No. It’s the truth.”

“Well, that’s why I’m going to jail now. We Moderators have a kinda pet state magistrate out in New Mexico. He’s willing to put me away on a completely irrelevant charge. So I’ll be spending two or three years in a minimum security state facility. I think that once they’ve got me nice and safe in the slammer, I may be able to survive this thing you’ve done here.”

“You’re not telling me that you’re actually going to prison, Burningboy. ”

“You should try it, amigo. It’s the ultimate invisible American population. Prisons have everything that interests you. People with a lot of spare time. Weird economics, based on drugs and homemade tattoos. There’s a lot of time to think seriously. You really do regret your old mistakes inside a penitentiary.” Burningboy had an impossi-bly remote look now. Oscar was losing him; it was as if he were bound on a flower-decked Valkyrie ship for the shores of Avalon. “Besides, some of those poor evil bastards are so far gone that they actually have bad teeth. I can practice dentistry again, when I’m in stir. Did I ever tell you I used to be a dentist? That was before the caries vaccine came in and destroyed my profession.”

Oscar had forgotten that Burningboy had once been a dentist. The man had earned a medical degree. Oscar was alarmed by this, not merely because the a

“I have no regrets,” Burningboy said, emptying his cocktail glass with a flourish. “I led my people into a lot of trouble here. That wasn’t my idea — it was your damned idea — but they wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t given it my big say-so. If you change hundreds of people’s lives, you ought to pay a stiff price for that. Just to, you know, keep everybody from tryin’ it. So I’m doing the honorable thing here. My people understand about prison.”

“That is the honorable thing, isn’t it? Doing time. Paying dues.”

“That’s right. I led the charge, and now I step aside. At least I won’t end up like Green Huey.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that Huey can’t put it down, son. He can’t put down the cross and take off the crown of thorns. He can’t mosey off the stage and go sit quietly in the corner. He’s the red-hot self-declared super-savior of the meek and downtrodden, and you can’t pull a stunt like that in America without somebody shooting you. That’s just the kind of thing we do in this country. Huey looks a mile high right now, but he’s made out of meat. Sornebody’s go

“It would be very regrettable if the Governor came to harm.”

“Yeah, right.”

Oscar cleared his throat. “If you’re leaving us, General, who’s going to be in command here?”

“You are. You’ve always been in command here. Don’t you get that yet? You need to wake up a little, son.”

“Look, I don’t give any orders. I just talk to the relevant parties.”

Burningboy snorted.

“Okay, then let me rephrase my question. Who do I talk to, when I need to talk to the Moderators?”

“All right.” Burningboy shrugged. “I’ll introduce you to my anointed successor.”

Burningboy led him inside the police station. From behind the locked door of the chiefs office came a loud series of groans. Burn-ingboy produced a swipecard from inside his medicine bag, and opened the door. Kevin had his bare feet up on his desk. He was receiving dual foot rubs from a pair of nomad women. He was very drunk, and wearing a silly party hat.

“All right, ladies,” Kevin gurgled. “That’ll be enough for now. Thank you so much. Really.”

“Your metatarsals are really trashed,” said the first masseuse, with dignity.

“Can we mark off a whole hour?” said the second. “Oh, go ahead!” Kevin said royally. “Who’s to know?”

“This is my successor,” said Burningboy. “Our new security honcho. Captain Scubbly Bee.”

“That’s just great,” Oscar said. “That’s good news. Incredible. It’s so wonderful I scarcely know what to say.”

Kevin swung his oily feet from the desk. “I enlisted, man. I signed up with the mob. I’m a made guy, I’m a Moderator now.”

“I understood that much,” Oscar told him. “New alias and ev-erything. ‘Scubbly Bee,’ am I right? What is that? Not ‘Stubbly’?”

“No, Scubbly. Scubbly Bee.” Kevin pointed to a nearby shred-der. “I just trashed all my official ID. I can’t tell you how great that felt. This is the best party I ever had.”

“What’s the significance of ‘Scubbly Bee’? It must mean some-thing of drastic importance in order to sound so silly.”

Kevin gri

Burningboy shook Kevin’s hand. “I’ll be going soon,” he said. “You keep your nose clean, all right, Captain? This is the last time I want to see you so drunk.”

“I’m not all that drunk,” Kevin lied. “It’s mostly that intoxicat-ing endorphin rush from my feet.”