Postsingular

"It is for some of us," said Millie, sizing up Sonic's jerky motions. "Not all that many people walk into Natural Mind by accident. Maybe this is where you need to be. A sober living environment. We've got a few bunks open."

"People live here?" asked Sonic, incredulous. "What do they do?"

"Participate in meetings-and work," said Millie. "Our clients earn their keep."

"Tiny me," said Thuy, ru

"The idea is to cut way down before ramping back up," said Millie. "Honor your natural mind. It's not slow, it's not dull, it's just subtle. Notice your details, remember to feel. Most of our graduates come back for a meeting once or twice a week. It's an island of serenity here. Check it out." She pulled out a paperback as if to start reading.

"That's all?" said Kittie. "No questio

"Like I said, Mr. Topping will interview you in a minute," said Millie Stubbs.

"Aha," said Jayjay.

"You pigheads like that word, don't you?" said Millie, baring her strong teeth in a grin.

"Of course you know who we are, right?" said Thuy.

"I see that Mr. Topping is nearly ready for you." Millie pointed across the room to where a yellow light was blinking beside the open metal stairwell.

They started up the stairs, Kittie and Thuy in the lead. Seen in the murky pastels of the quantum-mirrored walls, the four of them looked like ascending divers.

Jayjay noticed that Sonic was flexing his powerful hands. Was he pla

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Sonic. "Be chill, but don't forget to watch your ass."

The upper floor held a large, low-ceilinged office: fluorescent lights, rows of old-school computers, the hum of ventilation. Hundreds of street-worn Natural Mind clients were sitting before monitors, wearing headphones and navigating with hand gestures. The machines were linked to a hub with a cable going through the ceiling beside a ladder and a trapdoor-all leading to the ante

"How retro," said Kittie.

In this confined well-lit space, the quantum-mirror glazes were bright and clear. With the floor and ceiling reflecting each other, it felt as if they were suspended in an endless 3-D grid of worker drones.

"I'm thinking of Franz Kafka at his desk at the Workmen's Accident Insurance Company of Prague," said Thuy. "Is this, like, aversion therapy to make kiqqies hate the orphidnet?"

"We plantin' mines," said a rabbity-looking thin man sitting at a computer near the stairs. "I calls 'em mines, anyhow. They's links what blow up into ads. Catchin' folks by surprise, you understand. The trick is to stick your ad-mine onto a spot where the filter dogs ain't pissed yet. Who you gals? Maybe we done met on the orphidnet, but . . ."

"I never remember what I was doing online when I come down either," said Kittie. "I'm Kittie, and this is my girlfriend, Thuy, and we've got our sidekicks Jayjay and Sonic here too."

"Prescription John's the name," said the guy in his country accent. He reached out to shake their hands. "My problem is I'm lovin' that Hawg even more than hillbilly heroin. Been here umpty-five times."

"You're into the Big Pig too?" said Jayjay.

"Plentifully," said Prescription John. He nodded toward the wasted-away Asian woman next to him. "This here's Mary Moo. Some of our ru

"This is my fourth time through the Natural Mind spin-dry," said the skeletal Mary Moo. She had a soft, cultured, California voice. "We're going to keep it together this time, aren't we, John? When we hit the street?"

"I'm in no rush to step out," said Prescription John. "We sleeping between sheets, eating off a table, and ad-mining the orphidnet for the Man. Copacetic. It's like living with my mamma and playing video games."

All around, the spectral Natural Mind clients were peering and gesturing at their screens. A windowless office with a closed door ran along the room's rear. Jayjay couldn't peep into the office, what with its walls being covered with quantum-mirror varnish. A light over the office door glowed yellow, same as at

the foot of the stairs.

"The Man?" said Kittie, inclining her head in that direction.

"Andrew Topping," confirmed Mary Moo. "Just agree with him no matter what he says. He's rather overbearing and irritable. But all the other staffers here are quite pleasant."

Sonic was peering over Prescription John's shoulder, assessing the interface. The screen was displaying a surreal landscape modeling the San Francisco orphidnet activity. As John moved his hands, the view zoomed in and out of the user records, displaying clickstreams as colored paths through meme sculpture gardens and groves of personality trees. Now and then John would flick a fingertip to plant an ad link.

"Are all your ads for Dick Too Dibbs?" asked Thuy.

"Mostly," said Mary Moo. "Some are for businesses as well. ExaExa, I think, and Stank. I don't worry about the content. You want to stay here, you do this work."

"You can't trust Dick Too Dibbs," protested Jayjay, getting down to the purpose of their visit. "I mean, come on, the first President Dibbs got the death penalty for promoting the nants. Doesn't anyone remember anything in this country? Don't be helping the Homesteady Party. They're out to screw the little people. People like us."

"Feller says the real point of our ads is to slow down the orphidnet," said John, looking up from his screen. "Make folks unhappy with the status quo."

"Out with the old, in with the new," said Mary.

"You know it, Mary," said John. "Mary used to be a social worker. She drug-counseled me a couple of times before the orphids come."

"Drugs never appealed me," said Mary. "Too low, too dangerous. But I couldn't resist the Big Pig."

"Plant an ad here," said Sonic to Prescription John, pointing out a spot on the screen.

"You'd do fine in here, kiq," said John, placing an ad-mine.

The light on the rear wall turned green and the door swung open. A tall, pasty-faced man in a black business suit gestured to the Posse, his mouth bent into a fake smile. Using the limited local orphidnet view, Jayjay spotted a pistol in a shoulder holster under the man's coat.

"Here we go," said Kittie, stepping forward to lead the way.

"Welcome, Big Pig Posse," said the tall, doughy man, ushering them in and closing the office door. The quantum-mirrored room had two tapestry-style view screens and a red oriental rug. A humongous wood desk faced the door. To the left were a heavy wood-and-leather couch and, closer to the center of the room, a walking-chair. To the right was a grilled wall emitting a low hum. Ventilation? The view screen on the left wall showed a view of the ad-mining workroom right outside.

"I'm Andrew Topping." The man gave Kittie's hand an overly vigorous, overly long shake. "You would be Kittie Calhoun?" He turned his watchful gaze upon the others. "Sonic Sanchez, Jayjay Jimenez, Thuy Nguyen. Thanks for coming in." One by one he squeezed and pumped their hands.