Return to Pleasure Island

by Cory Doctorow

moonlight. His fleshy, unreadable face was ruddy in the glow from thecabin's door. George bit his tongue to keep from speaking.

  "He's drunk," Orville said, at last. Orville didn't beat around the bush.

  "I can see that," Bill said. "Did you get him drunk?"

  "Yes, I did. We were celebrating."

  Bill's eyes narrowed. "So you know."

  Orville smiled. "Of course I know. I set it up. I thought you'd approve: Joeclearly needed something to keep him out of trouble."

  Bill said, "This will keep him out of trouble?"

  Orville leaned against the cart's bumper, pulled out a pipe, stuffed it and litit. He puffed at it, and watched the smoke wisp away in the swamp breezes. "Ithink that Joe's going to really like life with the Imagineers. They'reManagement's precious darlings who can do no wrong. Anything they ask for, theyget. There won't be any more discipline problems."

  Bill said, "Why not?"

  Orville grinned without showing his teeth. "Where there's no discipline,there're no discipline problems. He can work whatever hours he wants. He'll haveaccess to anything he needs: budget, staff, an office, whatever. It's his dreamjob."

  Bill said, "I don't like this."

  George wondered why not. It sounded pretty good to him.

  Orville puffed at his pipe. "Like it or not, I think you'll have a hard timeconvincing Joe not to do it. He's sold."

  Bill went back into the cabin and closed the door.

  "He took that well, don't you think?" Orville asked.

  George said, "I suppose so."

  Orville said, "Is everything working out all right for you? Shifts OK?Co-workers?"

  George said, "Everything's fine. Thank you."

  Orville tapped his pipe out on the bumper, then got back into the cart. "Allright then. Good night, George."

  #

  George started cooking dinner for two. More and more, Joe spent the night in asuite at one of the hotels, "working late." George didn't know what sort of workhe was doing, but he sure seemed to enjoy it. He hardly came back to the cabinat all. The first time he'd stayed out all night, Bill had gone back to theIsland and gotten Orville out of bed to help him search. After that, Joe startedsending out a runner, usually some poor Ops trainee, to tell them he wasn'tcoming back for dinner. Eventually, he stopped bothering, and Bill stoppedworrying.

  One night, a month after Orville had come out to the cabin, George slathered amuskrat's carcass with mayonnaise and lemon and dragonfly eggs and set it outfor him and Joe.

  Bill hardly ate, which was usually a signal that he was thinking. George lefthim half of the dinner and waited for him to speak. Bill picked his way throughthe rest, then pushed his plate away. George cleared it and brought them bothmason jars full of muddy water from the swamp out back. Bill took his jar outfront of the cabin and leaned against the wall and stared out into the night,sipping. George joined him.

  "We're getting old," Bill said, at last.

  "Every night, the inside of my uniform is black," George said.

  "Mine, too. We're getting very old. I think that you're at least thirty, and I'mpretty sure that I'm twenty-five. That's old. Our father told me that he thoughthe was fifty, the year he died. And he was very old for one of us."

  George thought of their father on his deathbed, eating the food they chewed forhim, eyes nearly blind, skin crazed with cracks. "He was very old," George said.

  Bill held his two whole hands up against the stars. "When father was my age, hehad two sons. Can you remember how proud he was of us? How proud he was ofhimself? He'd done well enough that he could lose both his thumbs, and stillknow that his sons would take care of him."

  George shifted and sighed. He'd been thinking about sons, too.

  "I've wanted a son since we came to the Island," Bill said. "I never didanything about it because I couldn't take care of Joe and a son." Bill turned tolook at George. "I think Joe's finally taking care of himself."

  George didn't know what to say. If Bill had a son, then he couldn't. Theycouldn't both stop working to raise their sons. But Bill always made thedecisions for them. George didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.

  "I'm going to have a son," Bill said.

  #

  Bill did it the next night. He told Orville that he'd need a month off, andafter eating the dinner George made for them, he made a nest of earth andblankets on the floor of their cabin.

  George sat in the corner and watched Bill as he stared at his thumbs. It was themost important decision one of their kind ever made: a clever son of the lefthand, or a strong son of the right. George knew that his son would come from theleft hand. In the world his father had put them into, cleverness was far moreimportant than strength. After all, Bill was having the first son.

  Bill put his clever left thumb in his mouth and slowly, slowly, bit down. Georgefelt muddy tears pricking at his eyes. Bill's hand coursed with silty blood. Heignored it, and used his strong right hand to take the severed thumb from hismouth and bed it down with infinite care in the nest he'd built.

  George cautiously moved forward to peer at the thumb, which was already movingblindly in its nest, twisting like a grub. Bill looked on, his eyes shining.

  "It's perfect," George breathed.

  George felt an uncharacteristic welling up inside him, and he put his arm aroundBill's shoulders. Bill leaned into him, and said, "Thank you, George. Thisfamily wouldn't exist without you."

  They both slept curled around the nest that night.

  By morning, the thumb had sprouted tiny arm- and leg-buds, and it inched itselfblindly around the nest. George marveled at it before going to work.

  Joe stopped by his stand that day. His belly was bigger than ever, and his skinwas cracking like their father's had. "Big guy!" he shouted, vaulting thecounter into George's stand. "Where's Bill today? He wasn't at his post."

  George said, "Bill had a son last night. From his left hand."

  Joe rolled his eyes, which had gone the murky yellow of swamp water. "Wonderful,right? Ugh. There are better ways to achieve immortality, bro. I'm designing acrawl-through for HorrorZone: you're an earthworm crawling underneath agraveyard. It's gonna be huge: maggots as big as horses, chasing the Gueststhrough the tunnels; huge ghost hands grabbing at them. We're building a gianttombstone as the weenie, you'll be able to see it from anywhere on the Island.We'll build out over the midway for HorrorZone -- it's the biggest rehab we'vedone since they brought in electric power."

  As usual, George didn't know what to say to Joe. "That sounds very nice," hesaid.

  Joe rolled his eyes again and started to say something, but stopped when threeGuests came up to George's booth. George hardly recognised the Mitchellbrothers. The youngest was already three-quarters donkey, so dangerously closethat it was a miracle he hadn't been picked up already. He was hunched over, andhis hands were fused into fists. His hair had grown down over his shoulders in acoarse mane, and his lips bulged around his elongated jaws.

  The middle and eldest were well on their ways, too. The points of their earspoked out from under their hair, and they carried themselves painfully, forcingtheir legs and hips upright.

  George flipped over his phone and punched 911, but left it out of sight belowthe counter. Loudly, he said, "Come on over, boys! You look like you could useone of George's triple-dips, the best on the midway!"

  From the phone, he heard the security operator say, "Thank you, George, we'll bealong in a moment." Surreptitiously, he racked the receiver and smiled at theboys.

  "How are you enjoying your stay, boys?" he said.

  "It'th aw-thome!" the youngest said around his clumsy teeth.

  George handed him a cone piled high with floss, then started building two morefor his brothers. Joe smirked at them. George hoped he wouldn't say anythingbefore security got there.

  The eldest said, "I don't think my brother's feeling too good. Is there a doctorhere I can take him to?"

  The youngest, face sticky with confection, kicked his brothe
r. "I'm fine!" hesaid. "I wanna go on more rideth!"

  His brother said, "We'll go on more rides after we see a doctor."

  The youngest dropped to his knees and cried. "No!" he said, hammering his fistson the ground. "No no no no!" George watched in alarm as the boy went all theway over to donkey. His cries turned to brays, and his shorts split around hishaunches and tail. His shirt went next, and George smoothly vaulted the counterand stood in front of the donkey, blocking him from passers-by. The other twomade