"I bought sex from a woman!"
The crowd roared with shock, then howls and cheers and whistles broke out.
"And I want to do it again! All of it! And I want you all to join me!"
Some cheered, others exchanged dubious glances. “Sure, we'll all sneak out together,” someone shouted.
"No,” Beaners said, pointing at the shouter, “we'll storm out together! Ten thousand knights are waiting, hidden in the trees outside the gates, with guns and swords and giant spiked balls on the ends of chains. If we have the guts to rise up, to cause a commotion and divert Security's attention, then freedom, and jobs, and sex with women will be ours!” Beaners pulled two dozen of the King's finest chocolate bars out of his purple suit pants and tossed them into the crowd. “Taste it! Take a piece and pass it on. Just taste what we've been missing!"
It is a perilous thing, to allow the downtrodden even a sliver of hope, a ghost of a chance. When your life is misery, you'll risk it even when the odds are stacked a thousand to one against you. Beaners showed them how to cut the fiberglass support poles from underneath the cots, and how to sharpen them.
They burst out of the tent sporting wide painted smiles, and set upon two Security guys lounging just outside the tent, stabbing them from all sides.
If he could have, Beaners may have called the whole thing off after he watched the men die. It was awful and brutal, the way they screamed. Their pain was real; he hadn't realized how real it would be. It was like sex, or chocolate, only bad.
The clowns tore through tents and upended pretzel stands, laughing their whooping, hiccupy laughs. Elephants howled and seals bleated. Lion tamers and stilt-walkers stepped aside and watched, wide eyed. Marks ran screaming in all directions. The clowns didn't harm the Marks—they had no quarrel with the Marks. But the few members of Management who happened to be out were torn to pieces.
Security arrived—a horizontal line of blue men with guns and shoulder-fired lasers and cluster grenades that sliced off a clown's legs so cleanly that it took a moment for the clown to realize they were off.
The clowns kept moving, kept laughing, and began to die in mounting numbers. The plan was to spread out so Security couldn't use their heavy weapons without risking injury to Marks, and to cause as much commotion as possible. They executed this plan well, because clowns are smart. They have to be smart—it's not possible to be funny and stupid. It's possible to be funny and look stupid. People often confuse the two.
"Come on, come on,” Beaners said, scanning the far end of Main Street through the chaos. A Security man spotted him, raised his gun ... and then jerked backward, an arrow jutting from his chest.
A hearty wet whinny rose above the commotion. Dozens of knights cantered into view, led by Sir Clarke. The clowns cheered. Beaners felt the strangest, most wonderful feeling glide down his back as he watched those knights race into view—knights who were, for the moment, their allies. Green Arrow, riding beside Sir Clarke, lowered his bow and gave Beaners a salute.
The clowns shifted tactics, joining the knights in attacking Security rather than attempting to evade them. Soon the outnumbered security forces lay dead or dying. Knights and clowns fanned out, seeking more, until nothing moved except knights and clowns, jugglers and fat ladies, lions, trapeze artists, and Marks.
Beaners turned at the sound of an approaching horse. “Where would she be kept?” Green Arrow asked from astride the braying horse. Beaners led him to the entrance of the underground. The heavy steel door was sealed. Eight knights with a tungsten battering ram turned it into so much twisted foil.
Beaners watched as Sir Clarke led a phalanx of knights, and Green Arrow, inside. As each stepped in, they were whisked silently down an incline. Almost immediately, there were shouts, flashes and screams. More knights raced into the entrance, guns raised.
Beaners waited until there was no more commotion, and many of the knights had returned back up (a few of them dead, carried by comrades), before venturing inside.
For some reason Beaners had always pictured the underground as a nest of narrow concrete tunnels and cramped rooms, but it was nothing of the sort. A huge, opulent expanse met him at the bottom. There were vast moving pictures on polished marble walls, sparkling blue-green streams pouring into gushing fountains, big glass balls tumbling through the air. All was silent. Beaners wandered from one cavernous room to the next, looking for Green Arrow. Occasionally he came upon the mangled corpse of someone from Management. He crossed a giant hall filled with glass balls. It had no floor save for a narrow, railed walkway. Below, glass balls disappeared into bright violet light.
On the other side of the hall, Beaners encountered six beautiful, astonished-looking women in a big round pool of whirling water. He was too far away to see if they were naked, but close enough to see that they weren't Management. A couple were superheroes (a Scarlet Witch and a Supergirl), and the others looked like they could be from Sextown.
"Have you seen Green Arrow?” he asked. Supergirl pointed toward an archway. Beaners tipped his little hat and forged on.
Beaners found them sitting on a bed of floating marshmallows, in a courtyard. Green Arrow was comforting Diana, who was crying. Diana was a Wonder Woman—she had long black hair and a red, white, and blue costume, with hot pants that showed off long legs. Beaners got a lump in his throat watching them. He imagined comforting Roxy like that.
"Did they ... harm you?” Green Arrow asked Diana.
She shook her head. “No. But I was forced to undergo a ... medical procedure. Otherwise they left us alone."
"Do you have any idea what they wanted?"
Diana shrugged. “They barely talked to us."
"It doesn't matter,” Green Arrow said. “You're safe, that's all that matters. Let's go home.” They headed back, with Beaners leading the way, Diana and Green Arrow lagging and talking, their arms wrapped around each others’ waists.
A scrum of knights were lounging in a long hallway, smoking. A short, chubby knight pointed at a staircase. “Take a look down yon. Ye're not going to believe it.” A deep humming emanated from below.
The stairs led to a room of polished steel. Giant bronze pigs, each a dozen feet high, lined the room like golden idols. The humming vibrated deep in Beaners’ belly. He eyed the pigs uneasily.
"What in blazes is this?” Green Arrow said.
"Look at this!” Diana called from behind one of the pigs down the long row. As Beaners and Green Arrow joined her she pointed at its posterior.
The pig's tail was rising. Its hind end bulged—something gummy expanded, as if the pig was blowing a bubble out its back end. The bubble grew, swirling with colors, the walls of the bubble stretching and thinning, becoming opaque, until it was apparent that the colors and movement were inside...
Without warning, the bubble burst. Three small, naked clowns tumbled out, landing in a heap at Beaners’ feet. “Whoa!” one of them cried in a diminutive voice.
They were slick with goo, their eyes half-closed and fluttering, straining against the bright light. There was a long, awkward moment when no one spoke.
"Evidently,” Beaners said, “clowns are born of pigs after all."
"I'm sorry,” Green Arrow said, staring down at the clowns as if his head were bowed in prayer.
"I don't understand any of this,” Beaners moaned. He lurched, dragging his gaze away from the little clowns, who were falling over each other, pinwheeling their little arms. He continued down the length of the room, to the wide double-doorway at the other end. It led to a long, sloping tunnel. A far-off vibration echoed out of the tunnel, and a breeze wafted out, tickling the tufts of Beaners’ hair.
Beaners turned, found Green Arrow and Diana behind him, standing arm-in-arm. Without a word, Beaners headed into the tunnel.
The breeze varied as they descended—rising to a whistle, then falling away to nothing, then rising again after a few moments.
"It must be the machinery that runs this place,” Green Arrow ventured a
s the breeze rose again. Beaners couldn't imagine what was down there, but he was going to find out.
Ahead, the tunnel opened to their left and right. Beaners hurried, rushed to reach the big entryway just as the breeze was at its peak.
A hundred Spidermen hurtled past, seated in rows of identical plastic seats. They were all sleeping, their heads lolled back or resting on the shoulder of the Spiderman beside them. They disappeared, streaks of red and blue, out through the end of the cavernous room and into darkness.
Beaners, Green Arrow, and Diana ventured to a wide yellow line painted on the floor. Beyond it, the ground hummed with energy, waiting to carry more seats along. The wind rose; all three peered to their left expectantly.
A sea of scarlet flesh rose out of the darkness. Beaners backpedaled, gawking at the monstrous thing that lay unmoving on a platform. He glimpsed long, sharp teeth inside its open mouth. Neither Beaners nor his companions had ever seen a dinosaur, so they had no name for the beast that coasted past them and disappeared back into darkness.
The next transport to arrive was empty. It stopped. They looked at each other, perplexed.
"Has it stopped to pick up lions, or clowns, but there's no one here to bring them down?” Diana wondered.
"That seems like a good guess,” Green Arrow said. “But where is it going?"
"There's only one way to find out.” Beaners crossed the yellow line, stepped onto the platform and took a seat. Diana and Green Arrow followed reluctantly.
"You found what you came for,” Beaners said to Green Arrow. He waved at them with the back of his hand. “You two go home. This is my quest, not yours."
Green Arrow shook his head. “Some of my best friends are Spidermen. One of them may have been on that transport. This affects all of us."
Beaners didn't argue. It was true, and besides, he didn't want to go into that dark tunnel alone. “If we see anyone, we should pretend we're sleeping,” he suggested. The platform began to move. Green Arrow pulled an arrow from his quiver, clenched it against his bow. It grew dark, with no sound except for the high-pitched whistling of wind. Beaners wondered if the clowns in Circus Town had fled yet. He should have told them to go, to split up and spread out. Two thousand clowns marching around would quickly draw attention, although Beaners wasn't sure whose attention they would draw at this point. If Circus Town's Management was dead, was there anyone left who cared where clowns went? Maybe. The Spidermen passing under Circus Town suggested Management in each town was not independent.
The platform slowed; Beaners laid his head against the back of the seat and mostly closed his eyes. Through slits he watched as they passed through a station that looked just like the one under Circus Town, only the floor was lined with sleeping knights in full armor. Four people, Management types, were working around them, one running a thick machine carrying a pile of knights in a scoop. There were strange black marks on the wall.
It grew dark again. They passed through another station. Vampires in black capes lay alongside werewolves and green-skinned Frankensteins. They were below Monster World. The stations kept coming, and Beaners kept watching, and thinking.
"Clown,” Green Arrow whispered in the darkness between two stations. “If we come upon a station with only one or two persons, we're going to leap off and take them captive, and find out what in blazes is going on.” It seemed a reasonable plan. They had no idea where they were going—this trail could lead to a furnace. Best to get informed.
They hit a stretch that was longer than usual. The next station was unoccupied; the floors were stacked with crates, rather than sleeping people. There were some of those funny marks on the sides of the crates.
The next station was the same, and the next as well; nothing changed except the size and shape of the crates.
Finally they passed through a station where a lone graying man was bent over an open crate, his back to them. Green Arrow leapt off, shoulder-rolled agilely and landed in a crouch, with Diana right behind.
Beaners leapt off the transport, landed on his nose, skidded, then flipped onto his back with a thud. By the time he got his wits about him, Diana had the man's arm pinned up near his shoulder blade, and Green Arrow had an arrow pointed at his chest.
"What the hell is this?” the old man whimpered. “Who unlocked you?"
"Who unlocked us?” Green Arrow spat. “We unlocked ourselves."
The man lunged forward. Diana yanked his arm; he winced extravagantly.
"What town is this?” Green Arrow asked. The man looked away; Green Arrow tensed his bow a notch.
"Belt Buckleborough,” the man said.
Beaners squinted. “What's its theme?"
The man looked at Beaners as if he were mentally challenged. “Belt buckles."
"Oh,” Beaners said, frowning.
"What's the matter?” Green Arrow asked. “Belt buckles must come from somewhere."
"But it doesn't fit with either story we've heard about how things began! Do shoes come from some other time or dimension? No. Would people take vacations in a town that made belt buckles? No."
"Well, maybe a town decided to make belt buckles to sell to the vacation towns,” Green Arrow suggested.
"Why not ask our friend?” Diana suggested, nodding toward their captive.
"What is all this?” Green Arrow demanded. “Where is all of this going?"
The man looked at his shoes. It appeared that he was not going to tell them, that he would rather take an arrow to the chest.
Green Arrow jabbed the man in the thigh with his arrow; not deep, but deep enough to break the skin.
The man squealed in pain.
"Where is it going?"
"Out, to the world."
"Out to the world? Aren't we in the world?” Diana asked. When the man didn't respond, Green Arrow brandished the arrow.
"All right!” The old man held up his free hand to ward off the arrow. He took a deep breath, exhaled through his nose. “Shit. Shit, shit,” he hissed. “This is a factory."
"Well, obviously,” Beaners said, gesturing toward the boxes. “Tell us where those people are going. Those Spidermen we saw. All the clowns."
The man shook his head, his expression a mixture of pity and disgust. “Some of the factories produce belt buckles, some circus performers, some living exhibits for the historic recreation attractions. Historic recreation is very big in the United States. They can't get enough of it. Clowns sell best in France and the Soviet Confederation."
Beaners slapped the man's face. His white glove (now more brown, after days of wandering and warring) did not result in a crisp slapping sound; it was more of a thump. “You're purposely explaining this so we don't understand! Tell us! What are those giant metal pigs under Circus Town?"
"I'm trying,” the man said. “It's complicated.” He collected himself for a moment. “The mechanical pigs allow Texicorp—the corporation that owns all this—to get around the letter of international law. You're technically not human if you're birthed by an animal. Of course, the metal pigs aren't animals; it has to do with how the law was originally written, and everyone looks the other way and accepts the loophole, because they want their clowns and superheroes and whores."
"Superheroes come from pigs as well?” Diana asked. She looked badly shaken.
"Yes, anything bought and sold has to come from pigs."
"So, when clowns disappear from Circus Town...” Beaners struggled to understand. It felt like two giant fingers were pinching his temples.
"They're sold to circuses, out in the world,” the man said, nodding as if Beaners was catching on. But he wasn't, really.
"When you say ‘out in the world,’ which way is the world from here?” Beaners asked.
"It's all around, in every direction, once you get past the factories."
"And we're all the same as belt buckles out there?"
"Now you're getting it,” the man said.
To the extent that Beaners understood this new explanation, it so
unded truer than either of the previous ones. There were no supernatural events involved, and it was nasty.
"Why is all this kept from us?” Beaners asked.
The man shrugged. “It's cheaper. You manage yourselves, police yourselves, train yourselves. And there's the authenticity factor—a superhero wouldn't be much of an attraction if he didn't believe he was a genuine superhero."
Green Arrow looked at Beaners, his eyes round. “Can he possibly be telling the truth?"
"Of course I'm telling the truth!” the man interjected. A seam of blood had welled up where Green Arrow poked him.
"I don't know,” Beaners said. “I've heard so many stories about how the world began that I don't know what to believe any more.” In his gut, though, Beaners knew it was the truth. The Management woman they had passed on the road to Sextown had said she was from outside. She hadn't meant outside the towns, she'd meant outside.
The wind through the tunnel kicked up. Moments later, a transport breezed into view, filled with sleeping clowns. Hundreds of them, stacked two and three to a seat. Beaners watched them pass, dumbfounded.
"How can that be?” Green Arrow asked. “We sacked Circus Town! The clowns are all free."
"You sacked Circus Town?” the man said. “You mean a bunch of superheroes stormed the town and took control of it?"
"No,” Green Arrow said, “a bunch of knights and clowns took control of it. And the underground."
Now the old man looked dumbfounded. “That's how you got down here unlocked.” He shook his head slowly, absorbing everything, muttering under his breath. “That's why there are so many of them. Management got wind of it, went in and cleaned house. They'll have to offer deep discounts to move so much circus stuff at once."
"They cleaned house? You mean they got everyone in Circus Town? That fast?” Beaners said, his lips numb.
"It wouldn't take long. They'd bubble it over, lock everyone down, send in a crew. Lots of overtime pay, though, on such short notice. They'll start Circus Town over."
Green Arrow set the arrow with the bloody tip back in his quiver. He sighed, shook his head.
Interzone Science Fiction and Fantasy Magazine #221 Page 4
