by Rob Summers
Chapter 7 Pinch and Obscurity
Paralegal Pinch tapped a pencil on her desk and swung back and forth in her swivel chair. She was full of energy, happily pumped, because she had just been told that Obscurity was waiting in the hallway, and Obscurity had already been snooping inside Grace House. She forced herself into the appearance of calmness, ushered in the Security Services woman, and invited her to sit down.
“Thanks for coming,” she said. “I’m Miss Pinch. We want you to know how much we appreciate the information you sent us. Lawyer Pitfall has said that you’re going to be really quite invaluable to us.”
The white-haired woman was expressionless.
“So thanks, yes. I gather you’re seeing a lot of the inside of Grace House? Anything you could tell us about what you observe would be appreciated. But we feel you ought to get something in return from us.”
Obscurity avoided Pinch’s eye. “That book,” she said slowly, as if speaking underwater, “it’s getting rejection slips. You made that happen?”
“Well, we’re keeping an eye on it,” said Pinch, not sure of where this was leading.
“Good, that’s what I wanted. Now what I need is this.” She handed Pinch a paper with a line drawing of a machine and below it a model number and a list of a few parts. “It’s not working, and the company that made it has gone out of business. I need these parts and an instruction manual. That’ll be my something in return.”
Pinch kept her smile with difficulty. “What is it?”
“Outdoor fog machine. Sometimes they’re used for rock concerts.”
Pinch considered. “You want—that is, are you connected with a rock band?”
Obscurity just stared at her.
“Maybe we can return to this,” Pinch said. She took out a notebook. “We’re particularly interested in Mr. Dignity’s reaction to his book’s non-success. We believe that he and his cousin Reason are unhappy, bewildered. Can you confirm that?”
Obscurity slowly nodded.
“Perhaps a little tension, a little distance growing up between them and Ambassador Grace? Yes?” Pinch scribbled happily. “Now, are they giving up on publishing? Just going to forget about it and go back to normal?”
“They went to a copy store,” Obscurity said flatly. “They have five hundred bound copies piled up in their library. Uh, make that four hundred ninety-nine.”
“Well, let’s not quibble. Call it five hundred,” Pinch said, writing it down. “So what are they going to do with these five hundred books?”
“Nothing. They’re going to be burned.”
Pinch looked up sharply. “Burned? They’re going to burn them? What do you mean?”
Obscurity showed a ghost of a smile. “They’re going to decide that other things are more important.”
Pinch began to be really interested. “Other things. What other things? We can’t have them, you know, getting away from this one narrow point. They have to stay focused. We’re looking for monomania here.”
“They’ve got it,” Obscurity said. “Just don’t expect it to last.”
“Well, let’s do make it last. Let’s make it last long enough to create a really thick wedge between them and the Heavenly Embassy. I might as well tell you, we intend to put some of our people in the house. In fact, we’ve already started. Now, that’s confidential. From you, Obscurity, we want more reports, although that isn’t as important now as this: do anything you can to help our Mr. Bitterly. You’ll meet him in the house. Just ask him what he wants you to do. If you two can neutralize Grace House, maybe even get it away from the Heavenites, well then, baby, we’ll get you a whole truckload of fog machines or whatever else you want.”
“I need the one now,” Obscurity said quietly.
“OK, we’ll see what we can do. I’ll call around.”
Pinch made another note. “This is all off the record, you understand. No paperwork, no record of your working for us. But once a week you can come here to me, and I’ll give you an envelope with cash in it.” Pinch wrote an amount on the edge of her tablet and tipped it so Obscurity could see. “And don’t report it on your taxes.”
Obscurity suddenly stood. “All I want is those parts.”
“We’ll do our best.”
The security woman moved to the door but turned back in the threshold, her face suddenly more human, her eyes troubled.
“Yes?” Pinch asked.
“Why do you hate them so?” Obscurity asked.
“Hate them? Don’t think that,” Pinch said, wondering what strange turn this conversation would take next. “Dignity denied his citizenship and took up with a foreign and unfriendly government. All we want is to get the house back in the right column. We don’t hate anyone; we’re trying to help them.”
“Oh.” Obscurity’s face faded to a mask again, and she glided out.
In looking over her notes, Pinch was confirmed in her impression that she was dealing with an unstable person. The strange request for a fog machine, the prophecy about a book burning, and several other hints showed it. She pondered the happenstance that Bits Bitterly was also half crazy, and wondered if these tools might fail her. Still, the plan was proceeding swimmingly. With her memory of Pitfall’s nervous attack beginning to fade, Pinch felt her own nerves relaxing. Her midnight doubts about the City’s absolute trustworthiness were fading. Nothing could ever threaten the system to which she was wedded. No, it just couldn’t be.
