it’s—”
“Punishment.” He shrugged.
“But, ye gods,
man, it doesn’t help anybody! It can’t possibly be efficient—a pipe would do
the work ten times as well. And you could train those men to do something
useful.”
He stood
up, towering over me. “There are more honest people than jobs out here as it
is. You want more of them put out of work so a thief or a murderer can learn a
trade?” The question was rhetorical. “By the Aurant ,
you sound like my wife! Nothing ever suited her, either.”
I stared at
him, amazed to think that he was actually married. He’d never mentioned a wife .... I’d never even wondered about his past. With some
people it’s easy to forget how much of another person’s life lies hidden from
view.
Ang laughed once, glaring at me with his head bent to one side. “What is it with
you, Gedda ? What are you really after out here?” This
time he actually wanted to know.
I didn’t
answer, afraid to tell the truth, afraid he would leave me behind if I told him
now that I wanted to go to
Fire
Lake
.
“Yeah, Gedda ,” Spadrin goaded, “what are
you running away from ... what’s your crime?” He pushed himself up again,
watching me with hard eyes.
I looked
down. “Impersonating a police officer.” I turned away
toward the lockers.
“Well, that
suits.” Ang’s voice was sour.
I turned
back. “What do you mean by that?”
“It suits
your Technocrat arrogance. You Techs can strut around Kharemough like tin gods, but your gods or ancestors or whatever the hell you worship
don’t own this world. You make some damn good machinery, and you know how to
tend it. But I heard you won’t even talk to half the people on your own planet
because they don’t meet some half-assed standard of genetic purity. And you
come in here and tell me the Company’s not humane enough to criminals!”
It was the
longest speech I’d heard from Ang since I’d met him.
I couldn’t begin to justify the complexities of Kharemoughi social structure to someone like him; I didn’t even try. I merely said, “My
being wrong doesn’t make you right.” His mouth snapped shut. I went on, as
reasonably as I could, “If you find the Company so eminently fair, why aren’t you still working for them?”
The frown setted more deeply into his face. He sat down again, tugging at his
religious medal. He said, “I
got sick
of never getting rich ... of finding more ways for some faceless bloodsuckers
to get rich instead.” He stared at the walls of the room, spoke to them, as if his voice could somehow reach through them into the depths
of the installation. “My wife used to work here. She left, years ago, because
she couldn’t stand the Company anymore. She took my son. Said I was wasting my
life. She was just like the Company: never satisfied. She didn’t understand why
I wouldn’t leave. She didn’t understand about World’s End.” He shook his head,
as if he were shaking it free of ghosts. “No one understood why I go out there.
Because you have to go out there to know her better than any human being ....”
For a moment I thought he was still talking about his wife. “For years I saw
the independents, those skywheelers and losers,
trying to do my job ... and some of them doing it! Getting
rich off of World’s End, instead of me. But I always knew she’d show me
her heart someday. And then I—” He broke off, glancing around him. “We’ll all
be rich. I promise you that much.” He actually smiled. It only made his face
more expressionless.
“You have a
real plan?” Spadrin asked. “What is it?”
I touched
the pouch where I kept my brothers’ picture, feeling tension tighten in my
chest. If Ang had a definite plan in mind, that would
make it much harder to get him to cooperate with my search.
But Ang pointed at the walls, shaking his head. He said in a
whisper, “Not yet.”
Spadrin frowned, but he nodded. I sighed, waiting to show Ang the picture, and tell him the truth
“Punishment.” He shrugged.
“But, ye gods,
man, it doesn’t help anybody! It can’t possibly be efficient—a pipe would do
the work ten times as well. And you could train those men to do something
useful.”
He stood
up, towering over me. “There are more honest people than jobs out here as it
is. You want more of them put out of work so a thief or a murderer can learn a
trade?” The question was rhetorical. “By the Aurant ,
you sound like my wife! Nothing ever suited her, either.”
I stared at
him, amazed to think that he was actually married. He’d never mentioned a wife .... I’d never even wondered about his past. With some
people it’s easy to forget how much of another person’s life lies hidden from
view.
Ang laughed once, glaring at me with his head bent to one side. “What is it with
you, Gedda ? What are you really after out here?” This
time he actually wanted to know.
I didn’t
answer, afraid to tell the truth, afraid he would leave me behind if I told him
now that I wanted to go to
Fire
Lake
.
“Yeah, Gedda ,” Spadrin goaded, “what are
you running away from ... what’s your crime?” He pushed himself up again,
watching me with hard eyes.
I looked
down. “Impersonating a police officer.” I turned away
toward the lockers.
“Well, that
suits.” Ang’s voice was sour.
I turned
back. “What do you mean by that?”
“It suits
your Technocrat arrogance. You Techs can strut around Kharemough like tin gods, but your gods or ancestors or whatever the hell you worship
don’t own this world. You make some damn good machinery, and you know how to
tend it. But I heard you won’t even talk to half the people on your own planet
because they don’t meet some half-assed standard of genetic purity. And you
come in here and tell me the Company’s not humane enough to criminals!”
It was the
longest speech I’d heard from Ang since I’d met him.
I couldn’t begin to justify the complexities of Kharemoughi social structure to someone like him; I didn’t even try. I merely said, “My
being wrong doesn’t make you right.” His mouth snapped shut. I went on, as
reasonably as I could, “If you find the Company so eminently fair, why aren’t you still working for them?”
The frown setted more deeply into his face. He sat down again, tugging at his
religious medal. He said, “I
got sick
of never getting rich ... of finding more ways for some faceless bloodsuckers
to get rich instead.” He stared at the walls of the room, spoke to them, as if his voice could somehow reach through them into the depths
of the installation. “My wife used to work here. She left, years ago, because
she couldn’t stand the Company anymore. She took my son. Said I was wasting my
life. She was just like the Company: never satisfied. She didn’t understand why
I wouldn’t leave. She didn’t understand about World’s End.” He shook his head,
as if he were shaking it free of ghosts. “No one understood why I go out there.
Because you have to go out there to know her better than any human being ....”
For a moment I thought he was still talking about his wife. “For years I saw
the independents, those skywheelers and losers,
trying to do my job ... and some of them doing it! Getting
rich off of World’s End, instead of me. But I always knew she’d show me
her heart someday. And then I—” He broke off, glancing around him. “We’ll all
be rich. I promise you that much.” He actually smiled. It only made his face
more expressionless.
“You have a
real plan?” Spadrin asked. “What is it?”
I touched
the pouch where I kept my brothers’ picture, feeling tension tighten in my
chest. If Ang had a definite plan in mind, that would
make it much harder to get him to cooperate with my search.
But Ang pointed at the walls, shaking his head. He said in a
whisper, “Not yet.”
Spadrin frowned, but he nodded. I sighed, waiting to show Ang the picture, and tell him the truth
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