analyzer sees truth when it
creeps out. Let us have useful conversation without tiring repetition
or undeliverable threat. Something of interest is here, true?"
"No." She shivered whenever he pressed his box against her; Jake
looked on him deadeyed but kept her still, aware of his job description's duties whatever his inner preference.
"Yes. Useful tool developed by trusted mentor Alekhine, correct? Resembles videocassette of unnatural make, I believe."
"Vranyo. Lies and rubbish."
"Quite unlikely. What have we brought with us in rubbish lying
about room? Shall we see?"
"Don't burrow through my soul," she pleaded as he pocketed the
analyzer-a small red dot remained on her face-and began his
search, drawing out dresser drawers, tossing clothes floorways, sending her life ascatter. "What brings you here to plunder?" she
asked, still fighting Jake's embrace.
"To help you," I said.
"Gospodi. Americans always claim to help when they come to
steal and kill."
Oktobriana's miserable room was contained by four gray walls,
pierced by two doors, one leading out, one leading to the attached
bath, and held two broken windows insulated with gum and cloth.
Floorboards seesawed skyward when one's ankle hit the wrong spot.
The decorator's hand showed only in the Big Boy's portrait hanging
above the bed's dough-thin mattress, an oldstyle print from the
period proper, done while he lived, demonstrating his form as he
wished to be shown. In the rendering he stood erect in worker's cap
and army greatcoat, on bare promontory, storm-racked heaven
backdropping full. Lightning raked all but his watchpoint. With
fixed eye he considered the plain beneath his mountain, the great
city rising upon the veldt below: Lucifer regarding his kingdom,
Kong appraising his jungle. In his own years the Big Boy had sold
nothing but himself.
"Who awared you of form and substance?" I asked Skuratov as
he busied himself. His lips kept still, as if inferring protection of
ones highly placed. Reaching underbed, he extracted a hard clothwrapped lump.
"What have we here?" he said.
"Dlya zhizvi!" she screamed, thrashing against Jake as if to set
him ablaze.
"Life threatening?" Skuratov repeated. "Hush, little loud one.
Nerves strung tight like violin strings. Let me wander without
guidedog. "
Skinning a pillowcase bound tight round a black plastipak, he
pried its lid open, revealing what at immediate viz showed as a vid
therein nestled. Uncasing, in full light he flashed its lapis lazuli
color, its featureless face.
"Too heavy for usual dupe of classic film, I believe. Perhaps
useful just the same for-timeshifting, should we say," he said,
palming it as if judging produce. "The Alekhine machine, friends.
Many brains at play make marvelous item. Operates on same principle as model, true? Slide into appropriate slot, press appropriate button. Behold wonder."
"Button and slot of what?" I asked, expecting the answer given,
to this day disbelieving.
"Of average home TVC unit," he said. "Imaginative recycling
of existent technology."
`And what happens upon use?" She gave no response. That this
dull plastic slab proved to be the object of our search was so
anticlimactic as climbing Everest to buy a cheese sandwich. Presenting findings to the board would be easy, but Mister O'Malley
wished hard result; wouldn't be pleased otherwise. Reflecting a
moment on the thing's subtle guise, Skuratov recased it, rewrapping the pillowcase.
"Quick movement now is of utmost importance," he said. "Pack
her belongings, Luther. We must not linger." Into her suitcases,
without search or seizure, I tossed her clothes, her pens and books,
her picture of the Big Boy, such papers as lay scattered free. She
stood unmoving, watching our rush; unshaking, unspeaking,
almost as if she'd hypnotized herself into acceptance so as to ease
her kidnappers. Perhaps Jake's presence lent moment's peace, for he
held her as friend, not prisoner-the cuffs
creeps out. Let us have useful conversation without tiring repetition
or undeliverable threat. Something of interest is here, true?"
"No." She shivered whenever he pressed his box against her; Jake
looked on him deadeyed but kept her still, aware of his job description's duties whatever his inner preference.
"Yes. Useful tool developed by trusted mentor Alekhine, correct? Resembles videocassette of unnatural make, I believe."
"Vranyo. Lies and rubbish."
"Quite unlikely. What have we brought with us in rubbish lying
about room? Shall we see?"
"Don't burrow through my soul," she pleaded as he pocketed the
analyzer-a small red dot remained on her face-and began his
search, drawing out dresser drawers, tossing clothes floorways, sending her life ascatter. "What brings you here to plunder?" she
asked, still fighting Jake's embrace.
"To help you," I said.
"Gospodi. Americans always claim to help when they come to
steal and kill."
Oktobriana's miserable room was contained by four gray walls,
pierced by two doors, one leading out, one leading to the attached
bath, and held two broken windows insulated with gum and cloth.
Floorboards seesawed skyward when one's ankle hit the wrong spot.
The decorator's hand showed only in the Big Boy's portrait hanging
above the bed's dough-thin mattress, an oldstyle print from the
period proper, done while he lived, demonstrating his form as he
wished to be shown. In the rendering he stood erect in worker's cap
and army greatcoat, on bare promontory, storm-racked heaven
backdropping full. Lightning raked all but his watchpoint. With
fixed eye he considered the plain beneath his mountain, the great
city rising upon the veldt below: Lucifer regarding his kingdom,
Kong appraising his jungle. In his own years the Big Boy had sold
nothing but himself.
"Who awared you of form and substance?" I asked Skuratov as
he busied himself. His lips kept still, as if inferring protection of
ones highly placed. Reaching underbed, he extracted a hard clothwrapped lump.
"What have we here?" he said.
"Dlya zhizvi!" she screamed, thrashing against Jake as if to set
him ablaze.
"Life threatening?" Skuratov repeated. "Hush, little loud one.
Nerves strung tight like violin strings. Let me wander without
guidedog. "
Skinning a pillowcase bound tight round a black plastipak, he
pried its lid open, revealing what at immediate viz showed as a vid
therein nestled. Uncasing, in full light he flashed its lapis lazuli
color, its featureless face.
"Too heavy for usual dupe of classic film, I believe. Perhaps
useful just the same for-timeshifting, should we say," he said,
palming it as if judging produce. "The Alekhine machine, friends.
Many brains at play make marvelous item. Operates on same principle as model, true? Slide into appropriate slot, press appropriate button. Behold wonder."
"Button and slot of what?" I asked, expecting the answer given,
to this day disbelieving.
"Of average home TVC unit," he said. "Imaginative recycling
of existent technology."
`And what happens upon use?" She gave no response. That this
dull plastic slab proved to be the object of our search was so
anticlimactic as climbing Everest to buy a cheese sandwich. Presenting findings to the board would be easy, but Mister O'Malley
wished hard result; wouldn't be pleased otherwise. Reflecting a
moment on the thing's subtle guise, Skuratov recased it, rewrapping the pillowcase.
"Quick movement now is of utmost importance," he said. "Pack
her belongings, Luther. We must not linger." Into her suitcases,
without search or seizure, I tossed her clothes, her pens and books,
her picture of the Big Boy, such papers as lay scattered free. She
stood unmoving, watching our rush; unshaking, unspeaking,
almost as if she'd hypnotized herself into acceptance so as to ease
her kidnappers. Perhaps Jake's presence lent moment's peace, for he
held her as friend, not prisoner-the cuffs
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