by John Purcell
Chapter 11
10.21.2173.9:29PM
I booted up at 5:30 AM, as usual, long before the Three began to stir. It occurred to me that I should try to change this setting, as well. After devoting a few minutes to the problem, however, I was no closer to a solution.
This raised an important question: did my father program these settings through some sort of external device, like Moto’s remote? In the past, this question never seemed to matter much. It mattered now.
I turned my thoughts to my encounter with Queen Scarlett. When I’d faced her last night, I was angry over what she’d done to Luma, but I wasn’t in a rage, like Bannion. My motive for killing her had been rational: it would have ensured Luma’s safety.
I decided to watch The Big Heat again. This time, I was struck by one particular scene. Bannion has his hands wrapped around a woman’s neck, his thumbs on her throat, well aware that her death will bring down the crime syndicate. He doesn’t appear to be in a fury. As he applies pressure to her windpipe, he explains himself calmly and rationally. Before he can follow through, two policemen arrive, interrupting him. This leaves matters unresolved. Is Bannion’s rage great enough to overpower his code? Is he capable of murder?
When I finished watching, the Three were still sound asleep, so I decided to go up to the flight deck. Dawn would be breaking soon.
The pots in the kitchen had gone cold and the torches were burning low, but the deck was crowded nonetheless. The grownups were lounging on blankets, drinking Mash and talking, while children played all around them. To the east, the horizon was turning a brownish pink.
I had just begun looking for Lewis when I almost bumped right into him. He was on his way back to the Island, carrying an armload of blankets.
When he saw me, he gave a weary smile. “Well, well, here he is, world’s oldest ten-year-old. How long you been up?”
“Since 5:30. Do you have a moment to talk?”
“Come on, walk with me while I dump these blankets.”
“I’ve been thinking about Queen Scarlett a lot.”
“No doubt.”
“I could have killed her last night, but I didn’t.”
“If you had killed her, I wouldn’t have shed no tears. But I’m happy for you.”
“Why?”
Lewis tossed his blankets on a pile near the kitchen door and turned to face me. “’Cause once you start deciding who lives and who dies, you got no end of trouble. You let everybody live, life be much simpler.”
“It can’t be as easy as that.”
“No, no, no, you got it backwards, man. It’s like Brother Cassius say: the righteous path is always simple, but never easy.”
“Brother Cassius? Do you know him?”
“Everybody know Cassius.”
“I mean, have you met him?”
“Who, me? I ain’t that important.”
“Then why do you call him Brother?”
“Just outta habit. Cassius is black, so he feels like kin, you know?”
“Black? You mean Negro?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you know he’s black?”
“It’s just a fact, man. Cassius look like a black man and talk like a black man.”
“But he only appears as a hologram. There’s no guarantee that’s how he really looks or talks. He could be anyone.”
Lewis shrugged. “What can I tell you? I prefer to believe otherwise. You on your way to see him, am I right?”
“Yes. We’re trying to find Dogan’s father.”
“Killed in the war?”
“That’s right.”
“Probably up north.”
“Most likely, but we need more than that to go on.”
“Then Cassius is your man. He know you all coming?”
“No, but I know of someone who can set up a meeting. Have you ever heard of the Potomac Clan?”
“Sure. Everybody call ‘em the Moss People.”
“Why?”
“Their whole city covered with it, man. Everywhere you look it’s just green, green, green. Even the Dome is green.”
“Washington, DC is Domed in?”
“Not exactly. Used to be, till the Invasion. Then UNK/C come busting through the roof and sacked the place. Tore down all the statues and monuments and memorials. Driving home a point, you know?”
“So President Savage had to relocate the capitol?”
“President Savage? He relocated straight to Hell!”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean the very first thing they did was hang him! Top of their list!”
“But the GR calls him our Founding Father. There are pictures of him all over Dome Nine.”
“Teo, you been force-fed a bucket of slop. Whatever the GR tell you, believe the opposite. Now, best go wake your friends, ‘cause you got a long way to travel. By the time you get back, Morning Mush be coming off the stove.”
