Read Online Schismatrix plus by Bruce Sterling - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Bruce Sterling
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, adventure, Fantasy, Science Fiction - General, Fiction - Science Fiction, Space Opera, Short Stories, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Science fiction; American, Anthologies (non-poetry), Fiction anthologies & collections
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up there with guy wires, or some such thing. You have to build a theatre anyway, don't you? You might as well put it in midair where everyone can see it."
"Of course," Lindsay said. He smiled as the idea sank in. "We can put our corporate logo on it."
"Hang pennants from it."
"Sell tickets inside. Tickets and stock." He laughed aloud. "I know just the ones to build it for me, too."
"It needs a name," Ryumin said. "We'll call it... the Kabuki Bubble!"
"The Bubble!" Lindsay said, slapping the floor. "What else?" Ryumin smiled and rolled another cigarette.
"Say," Lindsay said. "Let me try some of that." Whereas, throughout this Nation's history, its citizens have always confronted new challenges; and whereas, The Nation's Secretary of State, Lin Dze, finds himself in need of aeronautic engineering expertise that our citizens are uniquely fitted to supply; and whereas, Secretary Dze, representing Kabuki Intrasolar, an autonomous corporate entity, has agreed to pay the Nation for its labors with a generous allocation of Kabuki Intrasolar corporate stock; now, therefore, be it resolved by the House of Representatives of the Fortuna Miners' Democracy, the Senate concurring, that the Nation will construct the Kabuki Bubble auditorium, provide promotional services for Kabuki stock, and extend political and physical protection to Kabuki staff, employees, and property.
"Excellent," Lindsay said. He authenticated the document and replaced the Fortuna State Seal in his diplomatic bag. "It truly eases my mind to know that the FMD will handle security."
"Hey, it's a pleasure," said the President. "Any dip of ours who needs it can depend on an escort twenty-four hours a day. Especially when you're going to the Geisha Bank, if you get my meaning."
"Have this resolution copied and spread through the Zaibatsu," Lindsay said. "It ought to be good for a ten-point stock advance." He looked at the President seriously. "But don't get greedy. When it reaches a hundred and fifty, start selling out, slowly. And have your ship ready for a quick getaway."
The President winked. "Don't worry. We haven't been sitting on our hands. We're lining up a class assignment from a Mech cartel. A bodyguard gig ain't bad, but a nation gets restless. When the Red Consensus is shipshape again, then our time has come to kill and eat."
THE MARE TRANQULLITATIS PEOPLE'S CIRCUMLUNAR ZAIBATSU: 13-3-'16
Lindsay slept, exhausted, with his head propped against the diplomatic bag. An artificial morning shone through the false glass doors. Kitsune sat in thought, toying quietly with the keys of her synthesizer.
Her proficiency had long since passed the limits of merely technical skill. It had become a communion, an art sprung from dark intuition. Her synthesizer could mimic any instrument and surpass it: rip its sonic profile into naked wave forms and rebuild it on a higher plane of sterilized, abstract purity. Its music had the painful, brittle clarity of faultlessness. Other instruments struggled for that ideal clarity but failed. Their failure gave their sound humanity. The world of humanity was a world of losses, broken hopes, and original sin, a flawed world, yearning always for mercy, empathy, compassion.... It was not her world.
Kitsune's world was the fantastic, seamless realm of high pornography. Lust was ever present, amplified and tireless, broken only by spasms of superhuman intensity. It smothered every other aspect of life as a shriek of feedback might overwhelm an orchestra.
Kitsune was an artificial creature, and accepted her feverish world with a predator's thoughtlessness. Hers was a pure and abstract life, a hot, distorted parody of sainthood.
The surgical assault on her body would have turned a human woman into a blank-eyed erotic animal. But Kitsune was a Shaper, with a Shaper's unnatural resilience and genius. Her narrow world had turned her into something as sharp and slippery as an oiled stiletto.
She had spent eight of her twenty years
"Of course," Lindsay said. He smiled as the idea sank in. "We can put our corporate logo on it."
"Hang pennants from it."
"Sell tickets inside. Tickets and stock." He laughed aloud. "I know just the ones to build it for me, too."
"It needs a name," Ryumin said. "We'll call it... the Kabuki Bubble!"
"The Bubble!" Lindsay said, slapping the floor. "What else?" Ryumin smiled and rolled another cigarette.
"Say," Lindsay said. "Let me try some of that." Whereas, throughout this Nation's history, its citizens have always confronted new challenges; and whereas, The Nation's Secretary of State, Lin Dze, finds himself in need of aeronautic engineering expertise that our citizens are uniquely fitted to supply; and whereas, Secretary Dze, representing Kabuki Intrasolar, an autonomous corporate entity, has agreed to pay the Nation for its labors with a generous allocation of Kabuki Intrasolar corporate stock; now, therefore, be it resolved by the House of Representatives of the Fortuna Miners' Democracy, the Senate concurring, that the Nation will construct the Kabuki Bubble auditorium, provide promotional services for Kabuki stock, and extend political and physical protection to Kabuki staff, employees, and property.
"Excellent," Lindsay said. He authenticated the document and replaced the Fortuna State Seal in his diplomatic bag. "It truly eases my mind to know that the FMD will handle security."
"Hey, it's a pleasure," said the President. "Any dip of ours who needs it can depend on an escort twenty-four hours a day. Especially when you're going to the Geisha Bank, if you get my meaning."
"Have this resolution copied and spread through the Zaibatsu," Lindsay said. "It ought to be good for a ten-point stock advance." He looked at the President seriously. "But don't get greedy. When it reaches a hundred and fifty, start selling out, slowly. And have your ship ready for a quick getaway."
The President winked. "Don't worry. We haven't been sitting on our hands. We're lining up a class assignment from a Mech cartel. A bodyguard gig ain't bad, but a nation gets restless. When the Red Consensus is shipshape again, then our time has come to kill and eat."
THE MARE TRANQULLITATIS PEOPLE'S CIRCUMLUNAR ZAIBATSU: 13-3-'16
Lindsay slept, exhausted, with his head propped against the diplomatic bag. An artificial morning shone through the false glass doors. Kitsune sat in thought, toying quietly with the keys of her synthesizer.
Her proficiency had long since passed the limits of merely technical skill. It had become a communion, an art sprung from dark intuition. Her synthesizer could mimic any instrument and surpass it: rip its sonic profile into naked wave forms and rebuild it on a higher plane of sterilized, abstract purity. Its music had the painful, brittle clarity of faultlessness. Other instruments struggled for that ideal clarity but failed. Their failure gave their sound humanity. The world of humanity was a world of losses, broken hopes, and original sin, a flawed world, yearning always for mercy, empathy, compassion.... It was not her world.
Kitsune's world was the fantastic, seamless realm of high pornography. Lust was ever present, amplified and tireless, broken only by spasms of superhuman intensity. It smothered every other aspect of life as a shriek of feedback might overwhelm an orchestra.
Kitsune was an artificial creature, and accepted her feverish world with a predator's thoughtlessness. Hers was a pure and abstract life, a hot, distorted parody of sainthood.
The surgical assault on her body would have turned a human woman into a blank-eyed erotic animal. But Kitsune was a Shaper, with a Shaper's unnatural resilience and genius. Her narrow world had turned her into something as sharp and slippery as an oiled stiletto.
She had spent eight of her twenty years
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