MEMP’IS
BOOK
FIVE – “YOGA IS, as YOGA DOES”
(Saturday,
January 6, 2035)
Dirty,
heavy raindrops swirl round West Node in an early morning's glow. Norlin weaves from his decaffinator
to kitchen table, still in robe and pajamas.
A buzzer heralds the successful heating of a breakfast JatesBar; the King plays softly on KJAD... "That's when your heartaches
begin!" - dreams of a lifetime skidding, fading into a DJ's monotone,
exceptionally animated patter; yapping, in fact, like one of Terushka's little dogs.
"That was the King, things... and, now, something different for
this new dawn of Becoming, here's Miles Davis on all-free, substance-free
KJAD!" Deep bags sagging under his
darkened eyes, purple and yellow bruises still testimony to Friday's disasters,
Norlin raises a mediawand
like a dispirited magician or conductor seizing dominion back from a cartoon
mouse... silencing the abominable jas and, finally, pointing it at the screen of his pleader,
where a tiny, flashing green light indicates a successful charge of the
morning's Jatesville Journal. The window collapses into a text frame that
scrolls while a pleasant voice reads...
At the Trouble Factory, last evening,
police blamed human error, compounded by departmental aberrations for a series
of errors that led to detention of Journal paperboy Butch Holstetter
and a reported breach of security at the Specimen Depository...
A
modulated, harmonic countervoice adds...
For the lifestory
of Butch Holstetter, press control-fifteen now. For background on the Specimen Depository,
press control-thirty six now...
Norlin sips his decaffa, unsweetened, grimacing....
Thank you for continuing with this
story. Based on faulty intelligence
received from an informant who proved to be proprietor of a canine bordello and
serial cat murderer, the red-faced officers were caught flat-footed in that
flat miles away from where thieves, unknown, made their daring entry into, and
undetected escape from the hitherto impenetrable Depository.
For the shocking but true facts on dog
prostitution worldwide, press control-eighty one now. For background on previous
serial killers of animals...
The autocom
buzzes, recycling Norlin's curt message as his
fingers massage a sore spot on his chin, tongue probing the status of a tooth,
loosened in its jaw... his wand-hand wavers and the reader ventures out onto
other realms of tidings and tattle, while angry voices rattle, dealing the
disgraced Corporal his due...
"I'm an animal lover,
Norlin, you kebbin' puke,
and using animal killers as informers is just as bad killing cats
yourself. I hope they string you up by
your thumbs, disembowel you slowly, shove red-hot
pokers up your kebbin' hebe-supremecist
behind, so that you will, never again, violate the sensitivities of the
compassionate community..."
And again, only five minutes
later...
"...any
action that contracts, converts or tramples upon matter in its natural state,
whether in the name of art or industry, sir, is sin. Image the horror of a
beautiful bird in flight, killed and consumed - become a small, dark log of fex to be auctioned off at a premium because the murderer
was famous! Triple-J reminds us that..."
The weather remains foul by
the time Norlin, gathering his keys, wallet and mobilcom to go to the Trouble Factory, pauses for another comcall. But it is
Reason, and he answers, holding the receiver to his ear while she blasts
away...
"So nice of you to
pick up.
With all you've been up to, it's a wonder you can spare even thirty
seconds for family..."
"You're not family anymore," he reminds her.
"Thank
Jates... but Jody is, at least in the eyes of the
law. I called because Management here
said they were increasing my maintenance fee, as of yesterday. All but implied it was on account of you, but
I don't have the will, nor time to file appeals... they want theirs or I'm out
at the end of the month. Look, I don't
want to go to Flux, so..."
"So
why don't you get a better job? Jates Or Bust! Not chargin' round
the Viteropaedia to con people that black is white
and the sun rises in the south, but something more appropriate towards your
experience - changin' bedpans at a vegetable garden, cleanin' hotelrooms? Not that I'd expect sympathy from you, or
any other winnie," says Norlin,
holding the receiver away from his ear (which, he discovers anew, has been
cut... or bitten... by some Trouble Factory vigilante), "but those Jatesday bonus sanctions you've no doubt heard about apply
to me, too..."
"You're hardly in a position to..."
"As
long as I still have a real job to go
to, I'm going..." Norlin finishes and shuts off
the com, but hears the pleader droning on - a new topic voice-activated by his
mention of sanctions.
Sanctions!
Thank you for smart-selecting item 64-4 on sanctions against the Jatesday bonus that is customarily awarded all employees of
the Trouble Factory. Citing the high
probability of heavy legal penalties imposed against the Departmental budget
and City losses on the FexMarket, City Council
President Buck Burgess announced, yesterday, that employee lays on the fifteen
percent of forfeitures designated to...
Norlin
shuts the door behind him.