Read Online The Assimilated Cuban's Guide to Quantum Santeria by Carlos Hernández - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Carlos Hernández
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loping you usually see on nature shows or at the zoo. This is cheetah-fast, the back legs long-jumping forward, lunging as far as Avalon’s shoulder, while the forepaws push powerfully off the ground. Then, for a split second, the forelegs reach forward and the hindlegs stretch back, and the panda suit flies.
“Isn’t that a little speedy for a panda?” I ask Dr. Xiadon.
Her eyes are locked on the panoramic bank of view screens above the two panda suits. It looks like we’re getting an Avalon-eye view onscreen, since all I see is a bear snout and a nonstop rush of bamboo.
“Ken’s not acting like a panda right now,” Xiadon says. And I can see instantly that she’s pulled a Yoda on me. Before she was funny, friendly, even silly: not the Jedi Master I’d flown halfway across the galaxy to speak to. But this Xiadon is hard, shrewd, all-business. This is the Xiadon who runs APM when nosy journalists aren’t around. “There must be a problem.”
And when I don’t seem to get it, she adds, “Terrorists.”
We hustle to mission control, where everyone is anxious and moving fast. Dr. Anita Deeprashad, APM’s mission manager, fills us in. “Avalon has been shot,” she says.
“Damage?” asks Xiadon.
None: the robot pandas have withstood a shotgun slug at 20 yards,and this joker had apparently shot at the robot using some “Oscar Meyer rifle” that, according to Deeprashad, “didn’t even muss Avalon’s hair.”
Deeprashad is late-sixties, with long braided hair as bright as sea salt. She’s wearing a glorious gold and purple sari, and sports an onyx-and-pearl panda bindi on her forehead. Yet she talks like a Hollywood action hero. California infects absolutely everyone.
“Any real pandas hurt or killed?” Xiadon asks. No and no, says Deeprashad.
Now Xiadon can relax a little. “And the terrorists?”
“Chasing one of them down.” Their eyes meet. They don’t say a word, but I can break their eyebrow Morse code. They’re both suddenly worried that another PR debacle could occur if Ken mutilates another 22:19er with me in the room. They’re silently debating whether to have me escorted away.
“Nope,” I say. “I’m staying right here.”
They both sigh, resigned.
“Ken’s the best there is,” says Xiadon. I think she means it, but it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself.
By contrast, there’s no doubt what Deeprashad means. “You’re about to see the professionalism and restraint we exercise when arresting these criminals,” says Deeprashad, taking my hand and patting it in an endearingly un-American way. “Ken has a light touch when dealing with these 22:19 scum. Not like me. I’d pop the bastards’ heads off like I was thumbing open champagne.”
Deeprashad is killing me! I want to talk like a Hollywood producer to her. “And … scene. You were beautiful Anita, beautiful! You’re going to be a big star, baby! Huge!”
APM’s archenemy is 22:19, a group that takes its name from that chapter and verse from Exodus: “Whosoever lieth down with an animal shall be put to death.” They formed about a decade ago in objection to any animal husbandry practice where humans harvest sperm from an animal. It doesn’t matter that you’re getting off an animal for science, says 22:19. Bestiality is bestiality in the eyes of the Lord.
22:19 started by attacking turkey farms and horse-breeding facilities, becoming increasingly more aggressive as time went on. But they gained their greatest notoriety once they declared war against the American Panda Mission. They capitalized on the perceived twin abominations of modern technology and the erosion of Christian values in American politics to appeal to radical Christian denominations. It wasn’t long before some of them saw 22:19ers as God-touched heroes waging a holy crusade against the evils of science.
With an influx of capital and new members, 22:19’s salvos became progressively more audacious, especially against APM.
“Isn’t that a little speedy for a panda?” I ask Dr. Xiadon.
Her eyes are locked on the panoramic bank of view screens above the two panda suits. It looks like we’re getting an Avalon-eye view onscreen, since all I see is a bear snout and a nonstop rush of bamboo.
“Ken’s not acting like a panda right now,” Xiadon says. And I can see instantly that she’s pulled a Yoda on me. Before she was funny, friendly, even silly: not the Jedi Master I’d flown halfway across the galaxy to speak to. But this Xiadon is hard, shrewd, all-business. This is the Xiadon who runs APM when nosy journalists aren’t around. “There must be a problem.”
And when I don’t seem to get it, she adds, “Terrorists.”
We hustle to mission control, where everyone is anxious and moving fast. Dr. Anita Deeprashad, APM’s mission manager, fills us in. “Avalon has been shot,” she says.
“Damage?” asks Xiadon.
None: the robot pandas have withstood a shotgun slug at 20 yards,and this joker had apparently shot at the robot using some “Oscar Meyer rifle” that, according to Deeprashad, “didn’t even muss Avalon’s hair.”
Deeprashad is late-sixties, with long braided hair as bright as sea salt. She’s wearing a glorious gold and purple sari, and sports an onyx-and-pearl panda bindi on her forehead. Yet she talks like a Hollywood action hero. California infects absolutely everyone.
“Any real pandas hurt or killed?” Xiadon asks. No and no, says Deeprashad.
Now Xiadon can relax a little. “And the terrorists?”
“Chasing one of them down.” Their eyes meet. They don’t say a word, but I can break their eyebrow Morse code. They’re both suddenly worried that another PR debacle could occur if Ken mutilates another 22:19er with me in the room. They’re silently debating whether to have me escorted away.
“Nope,” I say. “I’m staying right here.”
They both sigh, resigned.
“Ken’s the best there is,” says Xiadon. I think she means it, but it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself.
By contrast, there’s no doubt what Deeprashad means. “You’re about to see the professionalism and restraint we exercise when arresting these criminals,” says Deeprashad, taking my hand and patting it in an endearingly un-American way. “Ken has a light touch when dealing with these 22:19 scum. Not like me. I’d pop the bastards’ heads off like I was thumbing open champagne.”
Deeprashad is killing me! I want to talk like a Hollywood producer to her. “And … scene. You were beautiful Anita, beautiful! You’re going to be a big star, baby! Huge!”
APM’s archenemy is 22:19, a group that takes its name from that chapter and verse from Exodus: “Whosoever lieth down with an animal shall be put to death.” They formed about a decade ago in objection to any animal husbandry practice where humans harvest sperm from an animal. It doesn’t matter that you’re getting off an animal for science, says 22:19. Bestiality is bestiality in the eyes of the Lord.
22:19 started by attacking turkey farms and horse-breeding facilities, becoming increasingly more aggressive as time went on. But they gained their greatest notoriety once they declared war against the American Panda Mission. They capitalized on the perceived twin abominations of modern technology and the erosion of Christian values in American politics to appeal to radical Christian denominations. It wasn’t long before some of them saw 22:19ers as God-touched heroes waging a holy crusade against the evils of science.
With an influx of capital and new members, 22:19’s salvos became progressively more audacious, especially against APM.
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