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Authors: Mick Farren
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towards the top of the cone.
‘They must have a name for this place.’
The Minstrel Boy shrugged.
‘Yeah, maybe. I dunno.’
He put two fingers in his mouth and gave a high-pitched whistle. The lizards looked up, and began lumbering slowly towards where the two men were standing. Ho and the Minstrel Boy each caught the reins of his own mount, and climbed into the saddle. They turned the lizards and rode slowly past the cone. Jeb Stuart Ho paused for a moment and stared hard at it, then he took a deep breath and started after the Minstrel Boy.
A little grey-haired man in a quilted dressing gown tugged open the lift gate and padded across the frayed carpet of the Leader Hotel lobby, and up to the reception desk. He waited until the desk clerk looked up from his comic book and deigned to notice him.
‘Yeah?’
The little man cleared his throat, and tugged the faded robe closer round his bony shoulders.
‘Did my letter come?’
The desk clerk didn’t even bother to look at the pigeonholes behind him.
‘Nothing came.’
The little man remained where he was.
‘Are you sure? Couldn’t you check?’
The desk clerk put down his comic book and looked at the little man with cold patience.
‘Nothing came, Arthur. Just like yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that and every day you’ve been here. Nothing ever comes for you, Arthur. Okay?’
Arthur cleared his throat again.
‘I’ll try tomorrow.’
The desk clerk turned over the page of his comic book.
‘You do that.’
Arthur turned away and shuffled back to the lift. Billy Oblivion sprawled in the sagging armchair and watched the tiny drama without interest. It happened every day. Every day Arthur came down from his tiny room on the twenty-seventh floor to look for the letter that would change his life. Every day the letter failed to arrive. The lift door rattled shut and Arthur returned to the twenty-seventh floor. The desk clerk went back to his comic book, and Billy went on staring at the semi-erotic frieze that was slowly crumbling away from the dirty pink wall.
For most of its residents the Leader Hotel was the end of the line. A tall warren of tiny rooms and dim corridors that smelled of decay and urine. As long as you kept paying the rent you were wholly, totally free to overdose, drink yourself to death or simply grow numb. Billy hoped that none of those things would happen to him. He hoped that one day he’d manage to get out of the place and into something better. Billy’s hope didn’t guarantee him any protection against those fates. Most people in the Leader Hotel hoped for something, but still it happened to them. The Leader Hotel was the last stop for the non-people, the ones who, for one reason or another, didn’t have credit cards.
Billy Oblivion didn’t have a credit card. He’d never had one. He’d wandered into Litz without one, found that the good life was closed to him, and wound up at the Leader. He’d been there ever since. Billy the pimp they called him now. That was on account of Darlene. Darlene had picked him up, and kept him ever since. Darlene made enough to keep them both surviving at the Leader, but never enough for them to get out. Darlene didn’t have a credit card. It had been taken away for some unspecified crime. Darlene never went into the exact details.
Not having a credit card created problems for Darlene in her profession, and Darlene’s problems automatically became Billy’s problems. Not having a credit card meant that her tricks couldn’t pay her by a straightforward credit transfer. She had to operate a kind of barter system. She fucked them, or did whatever else they wanted, and they slipped her some kind of small valuable. These she unloaded on the desk clerk, who credited them with enough to pay the rent and live. He, of course, only gave them a fraction of what the stuff was worth, and made sure they never got sufficiently ahead actually to get out of the hotel.
The
‘They must have a name for this place.’
The Minstrel Boy shrugged.
‘Yeah, maybe. I dunno.’
He put two fingers in his mouth and gave a high-pitched whistle. The lizards looked up, and began lumbering slowly towards where the two men were standing. Ho and the Minstrel Boy each caught the reins of his own mount, and climbed into the saddle. They turned the lizards and rode slowly past the cone. Jeb Stuart Ho paused for a moment and stared hard at it, then he took a deep breath and started after the Minstrel Boy.
A little grey-haired man in a quilted dressing gown tugged open the lift gate and padded across the frayed carpet of the Leader Hotel lobby, and up to the reception desk. He waited until the desk clerk looked up from his comic book and deigned to notice him.
‘Yeah?’
The little man cleared his throat, and tugged the faded robe closer round his bony shoulders.
‘Did my letter come?’
The desk clerk didn’t even bother to look at the pigeonholes behind him.
‘Nothing came.’
The little man remained where he was.
‘Are you sure? Couldn’t you check?’
The desk clerk put down his comic book and looked at the little man with cold patience.
‘Nothing came, Arthur. Just like yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that and every day you’ve been here. Nothing ever comes for you, Arthur. Okay?’
Arthur cleared his throat again.
‘I’ll try tomorrow.’
The desk clerk turned over the page of his comic book.
‘You do that.’
Arthur turned away and shuffled back to the lift. Billy Oblivion sprawled in the sagging armchair and watched the tiny drama without interest. It happened every day. Every day Arthur came down from his tiny room on the twenty-seventh floor to look for the letter that would change his life. Every day the letter failed to arrive. The lift door rattled shut and Arthur returned to the twenty-seventh floor. The desk clerk went back to his comic book, and Billy went on staring at the semi-erotic frieze that was slowly crumbling away from the dirty pink wall.
For most of its residents the Leader Hotel was the end of the line. A tall warren of tiny rooms and dim corridors that smelled of decay and urine. As long as you kept paying the rent you were wholly, totally free to overdose, drink yourself to death or simply grow numb. Billy hoped that none of those things would happen to him. He hoped that one day he’d manage to get out of the place and into something better. Billy’s hope didn’t guarantee him any protection against those fates. Most people in the Leader Hotel hoped for something, but still it happened to them. The Leader Hotel was the last stop for the non-people, the ones who, for one reason or another, didn’t have credit cards.
Billy Oblivion didn’t have a credit card. He’d never had one. He’d wandered into Litz without one, found that the good life was closed to him, and wound up at the Leader. He’d been there ever since. Billy the pimp they called him now. That was on account of Darlene. Darlene had picked him up, and kept him ever since. Darlene made enough to keep them both surviving at the Leader, but never enough for them to get out. Darlene didn’t have a credit card. It had been taken away for some unspecified crime. Darlene never went into the exact details.
Not having a credit card created problems for Darlene in her profession, and Darlene’s problems automatically became Billy’s problems. Not having a credit card meant that her tricks couldn’t pay her by a straightforward credit transfer. She had to operate a kind of barter system. She fucked them, or did whatever else they wanted, and they slipped her some kind of small valuable. These she unloaded on the desk clerk, who credited them with enough to pay the rent and live. He, of course, only gave them a fraction of what the stuff was worth, and made sure they never got sufficiently ahead actually to get out of the hotel.
The
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