Read Online The Condition of Muzak by Michael Moorcock - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michael Moorcock
Ads: Link
Mandalay-ee, Where the flying fishes play-ee
… It was all so much more comfortable than the stockings, suspenders and girdle of his earlier disguise, so much more tasteful than the bright colours of a vanished youth. Indeed, it was the nicest of any of the disguises he had assumed since his boyhood. Nobody made any demands on a pierrot. All in all things weren’t looking too bad, really.
“Hide your tears behind a smile.” He sang blithely as he searched through the wicker baskets. “Hide your fears inside a file.” He found two or three more Pierrot costumes, two Harlequins, a Columbine and some masks, and bundled them all into a hessian sack.
He had decided, once his new equipment was installed, to open up the convent as a kind of health-farm. Sooner or later London would come back to a version, at least, of its old self, and this time he would be ready for it.
He paused once more beside the mirror. “I could be happy with you,” he sang, “if you could be happy with me.” He gave himself a big kiss and left a smear of makeup on the glass.
8. THE BL 755 CLUSTER BOMB IS HIGHLY EFFECTIVE AGAINST TANKS AND OTHER ARMOURED VEHICLES, AIRCRAFT, TRANSPORT, PATROL BOATS AND PERSONNEL
The convent was coming along a treat. Jerry had signed a formal lease for the place and had been lucky enough to secure the services of some ex-nuns. He had left the outside pretty much as it had always looked, but the buildings inside had been thoroughly restructured. Now wide picture windows looked out into old English gardens where pious and apple-cheeked Poor Clares worked with hoe and rake as they had worked since time immemorial. Jerry expected his first customers soon. So far his only client had been his financial backer, his sister’s friend Constantin Koutrouboussis, the young Greek millionaire who had inherited the family business on the death of his older brother Dimitri. Koutrouboussis was rarely satisfied with anything but miracles and Jerry hadn’t been in business long enough to gain experience enough to provide them. But when the Americans started arriving things should look up.
Koutrouboussis stopped off one day, on his way through to his Soho headquarters. He was carrying a new line in riding crops and was keen to show one to Jerry. “Look at that!” He swished it through the beam of dusty sunlight which entered Jerry’s spacious office by way of the half-closed blind. “The secret’s in the weight of the handle.”
Jerry was searching white plastic drawers in his desk. Of late he had affected a great deal of white. He wore a surgeon’s smock at this moment, and a chef’s hat. It contrasted nicely with his freshly stained skin. “What?”
“The handle.” Koutrouboussis put the crop back in his case. “How’s your sister keeping, by the way?”
“Oh, all right. I checked this morning.”
“Are you sure—?”
“There are no certainties in this business, Mr K.”
“I suppose there aren’t. A science in its infancy.”
“It’ll stay that way, if I have anything to do with it,” Jerry promised. “Adult science doesn’t seem to produce a satisfactory variety of results.”
Mr Koutrouboussis fingered his new beard. His hands wandered down to his expensive collar, his neat lapels, his dapper buttons. “You won’t tell the clients that?” He moved towards the wall and stared at the tastefully framed French prints showing characters from the
commedia dell’arte
.
“There aren’t any clients for our kind of science. You’re too much of a cynic for this sort of clinic…” Jerry stopped himself quickly and inspected his watches. “A drink? I’ve a wide selection of Scotches…” He gave up.
“No time.”
Jerry wondered why Koutrouboussis always made him feel aggressive. Maybe it was the tension the man carried with him; it could even be that Jerry resented his financial involvement, his power.
Mr Koutrouboussis reached the door and lifted his gloved hand in a moody wave. “No
… It was all so much more comfortable than the stockings, suspenders and girdle of his earlier disguise, so much more tasteful than the bright colours of a vanished youth. Indeed, it was the nicest of any of the disguises he had assumed since his boyhood. Nobody made any demands on a pierrot. All in all things weren’t looking too bad, really.
“Hide your tears behind a smile.” He sang blithely as he searched through the wicker baskets. “Hide your fears inside a file.” He found two or three more Pierrot costumes, two Harlequins, a Columbine and some masks, and bundled them all into a hessian sack.
He had decided, once his new equipment was installed, to open up the convent as a kind of health-farm. Sooner or later London would come back to a version, at least, of its old self, and this time he would be ready for it.
He paused once more beside the mirror. “I could be happy with you,” he sang, “if you could be happy with me.” He gave himself a big kiss and left a smear of makeup on the glass.
8. THE BL 755 CLUSTER BOMB IS HIGHLY EFFECTIVE AGAINST TANKS AND OTHER ARMOURED VEHICLES, AIRCRAFT, TRANSPORT, PATROL BOATS AND PERSONNEL
The convent was coming along a treat. Jerry had signed a formal lease for the place and had been lucky enough to secure the services of some ex-nuns. He had left the outside pretty much as it had always looked, but the buildings inside had been thoroughly restructured. Now wide picture windows looked out into old English gardens where pious and apple-cheeked Poor Clares worked with hoe and rake as they had worked since time immemorial. Jerry expected his first customers soon. So far his only client had been his financial backer, his sister’s friend Constantin Koutrouboussis, the young Greek millionaire who had inherited the family business on the death of his older brother Dimitri. Koutrouboussis was rarely satisfied with anything but miracles and Jerry hadn’t been in business long enough to gain experience enough to provide them. But when the Americans started arriving things should look up.
Koutrouboussis stopped off one day, on his way through to his Soho headquarters. He was carrying a new line in riding crops and was keen to show one to Jerry. “Look at that!” He swished it through the beam of dusty sunlight which entered Jerry’s spacious office by way of the half-closed blind. “The secret’s in the weight of the handle.”
Jerry was searching white plastic drawers in his desk. Of late he had affected a great deal of white. He wore a surgeon’s smock at this moment, and a chef’s hat. It contrasted nicely with his freshly stained skin. “What?”
“The handle.” Koutrouboussis put the crop back in his case. “How’s your sister keeping, by the way?”
“Oh, all right. I checked this morning.”
“Are you sure—?”
“There are no certainties in this business, Mr K.”
“I suppose there aren’t. A science in its infancy.”
“It’ll stay that way, if I have anything to do with it,” Jerry promised. “Adult science doesn’t seem to produce a satisfactory variety of results.”
Mr Koutrouboussis fingered his new beard. His hands wandered down to his expensive collar, his neat lapels, his dapper buttons. “You won’t tell the clients that?” He moved towards the wall and stared at the tastefully framed French prints showing characters from the
commedia dell’arte
.
“There aren’t any clients for our kind of science. You’re too much of a cynic for this sort of clinic…” Jerry stopped himself quickly and inspected his watches. “A drink? I’ve a wide selection of Scotches…” He gave up.
“No time.”
Jerry wondered why Koutrouboussis always made him feel aggressive. Maybe it was the tension the man carried with him; it could even be that Jerry resented his financial involvement, his power.
Mr Koutrouboussis reached the door and lifted his gloved hand in a moody wave. “No
Similar Books
