Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:02):
Chapter thirteen, Manny Manny woke up feeling like his mouth
was filled with cotton and his head was filled with spiders.
It took him a few long seconds to remember where
he was and what had happened to bring him here.
He activated his deck and was shocked to see that
more than a day had passed since he dropped into bed.
His first guess was that he was suffering some side
(00:23):
effect from Skullfucker Mike's blood. He couldn't think of any
other times he'd slept that long, although he also couldn't
think of any other times he'd survived a drone attack
and an intentional car crash in the same minute. Meret.
He cursed and then called out Reggie. He looked over
to the cot the journalist had been sleeping on. It
was dark in the little room Nana Yazi had provided.
(00:44):
He could see the outline of Reggie's empty cot and
not much else. The room was just one tin by
tin section of an old shipping crate. Manny knew the
only things in the room besides their cots were a
table with a built in coffee maker and a pair
of folding chairs. Manny sat up owned as every palpable
thing in his body popped and then rose to his feet.
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As he stumbled to the door, his deck started to
populate with messages from friends and family back in Austin.
By the time his hand touched the knob, there were
more than fifty translucent messages hovering at the edges of
his field of vision. He blink selected a mass response template,
filled it with the names of everyone who had sent
him something, and typed out an update not dead details later.
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He almost sent it, but then he noticed one of
the names, Ayisha Martinez, Oscar's wife. He could only see
the first few lines of the message without opening it,
but what he saw made it clear she was terrified
for her husband. Manny De selected her from the list
and sent the mass message off to everyone else, and
then scrolled through his messages until he found Oscar's message stack.
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The other fixer still hadn't said anything, not since the
assault had begun. Many opened up Aisha's message. He tried
to read it, he really did, but his brain wouldn't
let his eyes focus on the words. His heart started
to pound, his gut curdled, and instead of reading it,
he typed her a quick response, I'm alive. I'm so sorry,
but I don't know where Oscar is or if he's
(02:08):
made it out, And then he typed a sentence he
knew instantly he'd regret. I will do everything I can
to find your husband. Then he sent the message and
stepped out of the room into the dying light of
the late North Texas afternoon. Rolling fuck unspooled around him.
It was crowded, or at least more crowded than it
had been yesterday. Dozens of people and non human people
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were packed onto the gantry ways and into the sundry
buildings added around the rollers and up on the spires.
One building that jutted off the rear roller looked like
a carousel ride, with little rocket ships instead of horses.
It appeared to function as a spinning bar. Drunk people
rode little ships while bartenders in the middle kept them
liquored up. Someone shoved by him, a heavily chromed person
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with three tails, each topped by the fully articulated and
seemingly sentient head of a cat. One of the cat
heads belched a small puff of fire at manny As
where we passed. He shook his head and squeezed his
way over to the main roller. It helped little to
pretend he was just pushing his way onto the Austin Metro.
While he walked, he noticed a message from Reggie. He
blink clicked it open and heard Reggie's voice in his
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ear at the rooftop bar, drinking my way through some research.
Fund me when you wake up, I'm onto something. Of course,
Manny had already been on his way there before he'd
seen Reggie's message. That was the simple reality of British journalists.
If it was possible for one to be drinking, that's
what they'd be doing. The walk took about ten minutes.
He crossed a combination of gantry ways, staircases, and even
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one webbed net. The bar was packed when he arrived,
but it was easy enough to pick out Reggie. Both
his holographic screens were up and active on the bar
top in front of them. He was seated next to
Skullfucker Mike, and they were deep in conversation when Manny
walked up. Hey, brother, Reggie said, you've been out for
a long time. Yeah, Manny said, nothing like that's ever
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happened to me before. How long were you out? The
journalist thought for moment and then answered, odd. Guess like
a day he said, Mike told me that's not weird. Yeah,
the chrome man chuckled. All medicines got side effects, My
weird ass blood is no different. Y'all. Cute little humans
ain't made for it. Schoolfucker. Mike and Reggie were both
clearly drunk, and just as clearly not as drunk as
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they planned to be by the end of the night.
Mike flashed a grin at Manny and offered a hug
that the fixer accepted awkwardly. Guy, it's good to see you,
Mike said, I gotta tell you, I'm kind of jealous
of your nap. I miss sleep like that with all
this chrome in me. He waved a hand vaguely over
his head. I can't get exhausted like that anymore. You
miss it when it's gone. I gotta drink like thirty
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of these fucking things. Mike gestured to the half full
drink in front of him. It looked like a pina colada,
a strange incense. The odor wafted it up from it
just to pass out like a normal person. Reggie was
drinking the same thing. He offered his half full glass
to Manny, these things are the best man vodka and
opium colattas. They got a little bit of th HC
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in them too. Mike at it in a high sing
song voice. Manny waved them off. I'm good, thanks, I
just woke up a minute ago. I probably shouldn't immediately
take three different drugs. Reggie and Skullfucker Mike both looked
at him like he was an alien. Weird, they said
at the exact same time. Mike laughed and Reggie looked
back at his screen as a push notification popped up
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with a cheery shitting tits. He cursed Manny and skullfucker
Mike leaned into the screen. The notification was a newswire
update with a journalist who must have been embedded with
either the SDF or Austin's forces. The title said, at
all as the Heavenly Kingdom prepares for another assault, SDF
and Austin abandoned WACO. I'm not surprised they're pulling out,
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Mike said. Your people are good enough fighters on a
normal day, but the SDF s built to dominate a
bunch of squabbling militias. They were never going to hold
off a sustained assault from a real army. The sleep
was fully banished. Now Manny was awake, and the gravity
of what had happened over the last few days sank
in again. Amid and de Shaun, We're probably dead, so
was Mr Perrone an Oscar. Holy shit, Holy shit? What
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am I going to tell Ayesha? And then the darker,
more selfish thoughts. Am I going to have time to
fly out of Austin? How the hell did the martyrs
turn into a real fucking army overnight? He asked, with
more fear in his voice than he meant to display. Well,
Reggie said as he gestured to a series of curated
social media posts from people in and around Siadad de Muerta.
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Best as we can figure, they sort of stole most
of the Republic's army. There are reports of entire units
of Republic soldiers, thousands of fight us turning at once.
He gestured to a live, updating political map of Texas.
It was a map Manny consulted regularly. The Heavenly Kingdom's
territory was outlined and read. There was a lot more
read on the map today. It seemed impossible that Sancharados,
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Manny breathed, Galveston. Yeah, Reggie gave a grim nod. Fell
about ten hours ago. Heavenly kingdoms pushing into the Lake
Houston suburbs right now the holding position Nan Dallas, though
digesting the gains, still ain't gonna be long before they
hit Austin. Mike said, maybe a week, maybe two. Many
stood there for a moment. He thought about his father,
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his friends. He thought about the house where he'd grown up.
In the view of Austin Sprawl from his roof, He
imagined golden cross banners flapping in the breeze above burnt
out buildings. He pictured gallows filled with people strung out
along Sixth Street. A knot of nausea started to build
in his belly. What will you do, Emmanuel? He heard
mister Perrone's voice echo in his conscience. Many shook the
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dead man's words away. I need to get back home,
he insisted. Is there some way you can get me
a ride? Schofucker. Mike took a long pull from his drink.
He squinted it, Manny, and the chrombed man's eyes focused.
One iris looked a lot larger than the others. Mike
swayed a bit in his seat, but he seemed lucid mostly.
And what are you gonna do in Austin, he said,
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pick up a gun and die fighting, unless you're hiding
some serious mods under that skin. I don't think your
help make a rat ship worth a difference. I know
I'm not going there to fight. I need to what
fly away, Go to fucking California. Try your luck in Europe.
Mike shook his head. You've got a chance to actually
do something. Help us get our people out of Dallas,
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and we can fuck the Kingdom's advance, maybe even throw
him back. Many thought about it, sighed, and said, I
think I do need a drink, skullfucker. Mike nodded. He
pointed over to a table lined with a dozen different
beer taps. The normal stuff, self service. I recommend the
Wheat Hayes. Pretty mild, but it's good for stock humans
like yourself. Many got up, grabbed a glass from a
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dispenser at the edge of the bar, and walked over
to the beer table. Each keg had a thick strip
of white tape across the front. The only details given
about each beer were vague, almost allegibly scrawled names. Many
found two labels that both looked like they might say,
wheat Hayes. He picked one at random, then headed back
to the bar and sat next to Reggie. Mike looked
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impressed for some reason. Good choice, he said with a nod.
Manny took a sip. It was really good, a mild
pale ale with just a hint of sour. He leaned
in and looked at the maps and scrolling updates on
reggie screen. The journalist finished writing down a couple of
notes and shook his head. I'm really sorry, man, truly,
he gestured towards the live map. This is so fucked.
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You're gonna stay here to cover the fall, Mike asked.
Reggie shook his head. He looked frustrated. Got a message
from my editor a bit ago, and they're trying to
work out an extract for me. Gonna send a team
at here to drive me west to El Paso. I
guess it's not safe to fly out of Austin right now,
so he trailed off. The three of them drank in
silence for a minute. Schoolfucker might gulp down the last
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of his glass and ordered another, along with three shots
of bourbon. Manny started to turn down the shot, but
it was soon apparent that Mike wanted all three shots
for himself. He downed them all in the space of
around a second, belched loudly, and then returned to staring
at Reggie screen. Fuck, he sighed out again. Fuck it
he fuck fuck. Manny was halfway through his beer when
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Donald Ferris approached. The old documentarian wore a burgundy velvet
waistcoat underneath a slightly battered but well tailored tweed jacket.
He had a glass of probable whiskey at his hand
and the soberst eyes Manny had seen that day. Hello,
the gentleman school funcker, Mike, getting caught up on the
latest catastrophes. All way yep, said Mike, how you been.
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The older man shrugged and took his seat at the table.
He gulped his whiskey and looked down the table at Manny.
It was strange to see an actual old person this
close up. The creases on his forehead and around his
lips were so deep they could have been carved with
a knife. There were spots on him, a clear sign
he'd taken no juven treatments at all. His face had
a deep, craggy richness that lent every word, he said,
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a certain vague majesty. Donald Ferris spoke, and Manny felt
compelled to listen. You can hope this. You know who
was stuck negotiating with the kingdom now, and they are
most recalcitrant. But the fucky quite a second, Reggie interrupted,
fuckyans really. Donald and Mike exchanged a look, then a laugh.
Donald replied, the city's not exactly famed for consistency. Almost
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any collective now and you can think of would be appropriate.
He took another sip from his glass and set it
down on the bar top with a clack. Donald Ferris
leaned in at that and eyed the glasses. He rotated
it around on the table. He tapped it again, smiled,
and looked back up to the group. Now, young man,
let me explain why you should go risk your life
on a daring and dangerous rescue mission. Manny grunted and
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shook his head reflexively defensive. I'd rather not talk about
it right now, if that's cool, he said. I just
woke up. This place is ridiculous, and I'm not going
to decide to go into terrible danger because some old
man gilt trips me at a bar. Suit yourself. Donald smiled,
I can't imagine how stressful this is all bidden for you.
I'm a little surprised you'd choose to trip balls at
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a time like this. What do you mean, Manny asked,
with growing anxiety. That's a white haze, right, I think
Mike said it was a wheat haze, but I couldn't
really read the labels. Shit, Mike cursed, while Donald Ferris
fought back a laugh. What, Manny asked, Mike should have
warned you. The wheat haze is normal alcohol. The white
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haze packs about two hits of the surgic diethyl acid.
Put pint be anxious, not in. Manny's gut began to
pound in pulse. He looked to skullfucker Mike, furious. What
the funk man? Mike winced, he looked genuinely rueful. I'm
really sorry, he said. I'm not used to it making
a difference. Most people here take two or three hits
acid with their breakfast cigarettes. Oh shit. Manny slumped forward
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and put his head in his hands. He started to hyperventilate.
The edges of his vision blurred, and Manny couldn't tell
if that was from the drugs. Kicking in or just
a consequence of his own panic. He could feel Oscar's
face hanging out just at the back of his mind,
afloat on a river of guilt. He didn't want to
know what a headful of acid would do with those feelings.
I gotta get back to the room, he said, I
can't handle that. Donald put a hand on his shoulder.
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He was stronger than Manny would have guessed. You've got
a headful of surprise, I said, boy, the last thing
you need is to sit in a dock room and
stew with your demons. He exchanged another look with skullfucker
Mike and said, brain breakers ought to be kicking off
right now. That's the place for a man in your condition.
But started Manny, what the hell is that? Reggie asked, Wait,
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Manny continued. Donald ignored him and replied to Reggie, it's
the best damn party on the continent, or at least
the best one humans can attend and survive. I don't
really want to, Manny started. Scoffucker Mike added his hand
to Manny's shoulder. You really do trust us on this.
In the end, scofucker Mike and Donald convinced him to go.
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Reggie surprisingly opted to stay at the bar and continue
his work. He said he was close to something. Manny
really wished he chosen to come along. He didn't know
the journalist well, but Mike and Donald were complete strangers.
Manny was not looking forward to the drugs kicking in.
He also was sure a giant rave room was the
best place for him to be when they did. As
they approached it, many realized he'd seen the structure when
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they first arrived at the City of Wheels. Brain Breakers
was a three story cube at the top of Rolling
Fox highest gantry. The cube appeared to have been knitted
together from long strands of black metal. Multi colored light
pulsed inside it and bled out through the gaps and
the knitted metal of the sides. Schoolfucker Mike led them
down the gantry towards the cube. There didn't appear to
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be any kind of entrance. The wall on this side
was the same knitted steel as every other side, but
once they reached it, Mike simply stepped into the wall.
The woven metal writhed like something alive and curled back
to admit the big post human. The metal tendrils caressed
Mike's body. As he walked through, Manny flashed a questioning
look at Donald. De it feels nice, he explained Manny side,
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exasperated and furious. Is this whole damned city built around
drugs and fondling? Yes? Donald grinned, a spidery old man grinned.
Now inside with you, many sides swallowed and walked up
to the wall. The metal, which felt surprisingly soft and warm,
slithered around him, and mother of god, it felt good.
That might have had something to do with the acid
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percolating in the back of his brain. The sensation was
a cross between being tickled and being caressed. He was reminded,
uncomfortably of his mother's stroking his forehead when he had
a fever as a child. And then he was through.
It took him a moment to realize he was breathing
heavily and covered in cold sweat. It was then that
Manny got his first view of the interior of Brain Breakers.
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It looked a little like a space station designed by
m c esher with a drunken hr Geiger as the contractor.
There were a half dozen different stages protruding at various
levels from the walls. Three of the stages were currently occupied.
One performer was an enormous, seemingly sentient xylophone that pranced
about on stage, playing itself with eight knob and arms.
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Another stage held four human looking individuals. They were all naked,
and they were all fighting. Many watched and slack jawed
awe as they punched in and kicked and choked each other.
Every impact sent a chorus of warbling sounds pouring out
from speakers at the base of the stage. The longer
he listened, the more hypnotic the music seemed. The third
inhabited stage held what looked like a normal d J
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booth with a presumptive person behind it. Manny guessed that
was the source of the bass, heavy rhythmic pounding that
filled the square. The remaining stages were empty for now,
but the place was so full of sound that Manny
couldn't imagine two more acts making things any louder. It
was chaotic and confusing and a little uncomfortable, but after
a few seconds, Manny started to pick up on an
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overarching rhythm. All three acts were making very different music
at very different paces, but somehow it all tied together.
The inner walls of the place were covered in projection art.
Giant human sized silhouettes stalked the walls, floor, and roof.
At times, they moved so fast they looked almost like
wisps of smoke. But here and there one would stop
long enough for Manny to get a solid look. He
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saw several different figures. A tall, muscular but androgynous person,
a small, lithe young woman, a broad squat man with
a bald head. They danced around each other, flittering up
and down the walls. Their pace in the nature of
their motions varied depending on the tempo and pitch of
the music nearest to them. It was mesmerizing. Manny stared
for what felt like minutes. The sensation of his body
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faded away from him, and his vision tunneled in on
the dancing figures. Their dance had looked joyous and sensual
at first, but the longer he watched, the more frenetic
it seemed. The more danger he spotted in their jerking limbs,
the arc of their necks, the uncontrolled way they spun
round and into one another. Anxiety started to build in
the pit of his stomach. And then there was a
person beside him, Mike, Hey, Buddy. He grinned. The other
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man's pupils were the size of dinner plates. He clenched
and ground his teeth back and forth. It o'kaiefa, put
a hand on your shoulder. Uh sure, Manny said, surprising himself.
Cool Mike smiled and did so. His hand felt supportive, comforting.
How you liken the party? Manny really wasn't sure it
was beautiful here. Now that skullfucker Mike had pulled his
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attention from the dancing silhouettes, he'd started to focus more
in the crowds of people dancing and drinking and fucking
across the assorted dance floors, cuttle spaces and bar tops
of brain breakers. Most of the celebrants were visibly chromed.
He saw a woman with six arms, a couple of
things he could only describe as dick centaurs, a man
with the head of a dolphin, and countless people in
bizarre costumes built of light and fur and liquid metal.
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It was hard to tell how much of this was
real and how much of it was the drugs. The
acid was hitting his head pretty damn hard. Skullfucker Mike
squeezed his shoulders and brought Manny back again. The fixer
blinked and then finally responded, it's a good, good, fucking great.
Let's get you some whippets and head over to the
fireworks table. They're about to open it up fireworks inside.
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Mike laughed. It's hardly a party without explosives, brother, Just
go with it in so many did. He and Mike
did some whippets, which meshed gloriously with the acid. Then
they stood up on stumbling feet and headed over to
the fireworks table. Things seemed to be just getting started
over there. Manny inspected a few different brightly colored explosive
toys before something burst next to his ear, and he
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looked up to see skullfucker Mike firing a massive Roman
candle towards the musical, punching people on the stage. The
sound of it, Holly hell, the sound it might have
been the most compelling thing his ears had ever heard.
The acid is definitely hitting hard now, Manny thought, Holy funk,
Holy funk, what is this? The rest of his night
faded into a blur of lights and music and strange,
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indefinable sense memories. It was disorienting and exhilarating an equal measure.
Hours went by the acid faded, and eventually Manny found
himself on a bunch of cushions, sitting around a table
with Skullfucker Mike and other Fuccians. He couldn't remember any
of their names, but after a few minutes of relative lucidity,
Manny was able to piece together that they were all
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friends of the people who had been captured. One of
the men, a bearded guy with multi jointed fingers the
length and with the rulers, reached over Manny to grab
a beer. He pulled it back, took a sip, and
settled into his seat. My favorite memory of Marigold, he said,
it's from back when we were still building this city,
right after we stole the bagger. She got a hair
up her ass that there ought to be a big
purple clubhouse at the top for folks to do cocaine
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in and watch sunsets. I remember she strapped an armed
little wood to her back, grabbed a can of spray paint,
took a big rail of meth, and just started climbing
up the center spindle like she was gonna do the
whole damn job herself. She got fucking stuck two thirds
of the way up, just hanging out there with her
panties in the breeze, screaming like a scared cat. Mike laughed,
I remember that me and Topez had to climb up
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in freer and then she climbed the rest of the
way up and started laying down boards. Fingerman nodded, yeah,
I remember when I climbed up there. An hour or
so later. She's all frantic and fiddling with nails and
bolts and turned to funk, but like making progress too,
And I asked her, Marigold, why are you doing this?
This ain't a one person job, and she said, I know,
but unless I start building it, it'll never be real.
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There was quiet for a while. Many could feel the
pain in the pause and see it on everyone's face.
He didn't want to say anything. He was pretty sure
there was nothing worthwhile he could say. But then he spoke, anyway,
can you tell me about the others, the other two
who were captured. Another of Mike's friends, a tall black
woman in a bright blue shark Onesie nodded and replied,
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Rick's a little dude, great painter and a pretty good pyrotechnician.
He's no kind of fighter, but he's got a real
sweet way about him. He puts people at ease, so
he goes out on a lot of these delegations to
be a good face for the city. Marigold is always
the main negotiator, but we sent Tulli out too. She's
newish to the city. Used to be an activist in
Albuquerque before the king took over and started boiling people.
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She's a good talker. We had her studying under Mary
so she could pick up some of the load in
the future. They're all good people, Fingerman added, Marigolds saved
my life a few times back during the revolution. She
helped found this place. It started out as just a
big caravan RVs and mobile hydroponics units. She'd find isolated
communities bring him food and such. No government was much
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use back then, so for a lot of folks, Mary's
caravan was the line between life and death. Yep, said
skullfucker Mike. She's the one who found topaz in me.
After the boss went missing. We were pretty lost, doing
a lot of freelance violence, but not making anything, not
building a damn thing. Marigold told us her vision for
this big, stupid city got us hooked on the idea.
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Many noticed tears at the corner of Skullfucker Mike's eyes
that felt somehow wronged him. Someone so powerful and inhuman
shouldn't be able to cry and make it look so normal.
But there he was crying. And then, for the first
time in the trip, the thing Manny had most feared happened.
He thought about Oscar. He remembered a picnic he'd taken
with the Stringer, his wife, Aisha, and their two kids.
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It had been a lovely spring day, one of the
dozen ish days a year in Austin where the air
felt good on your skin. They drank cheap beer and
eating hot dogs and watched the kayakers roll along the
Colorado River. I sent him out there, and now he's
probably dead. You know there's something else we share, Mike said,
his voice low and somber. We've both spent way too
(23:08):
much of our lives feeling helpless. Manny cocked a disbelieving
eyebrow up at Skullfucker Mike. Yeah, the chrombed Man chuckled.
I know what you're thinking, but you'd be surprised how
often the fancy hardware doesn't matter. Mike's face twitched and
more tears poured down his face. He took a deep breath,
fixed Manny with bloodshot puffy eyes, and spoke again. We
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all spend a lot of life helpless, so when you
have a chance to do something to make a difference
for someone personally, I recommend you fucking take it. Manny
woke up the next day feeling out of place and
(23:51):
vaguely unstuck from time. He could hear Reggie snoring on
the next bed. The room was very dark and it
was impossible to tell what time it might be. Manny
thought about activating his deck, but decided against it. There
was something almost nauseating about the thought of being flooded
with the outside world right now. He stood up and
went outside to wander the spindles and gantries of rolling
(24:12):
Fuck for a while. At one point a man walked
by with a plateful of breakfast burritos, and so Manny
had breakfast. A little while later he found a self
served coffee house stationed next to one of the Fondle boats,
and so he had coffee. He was just starting to
think about turning on his deck and welcoming in the
world when Donald Ferris found him. Manny, my boy, I
hope your ascid hangovers not too bad, Manny shrugged. I
(24:36):
actually feel all right. It was a it was good
and help me sort some things out. The older man smiled.
I'm genuinely happy to hear that. There's nothing like a
headful of acid to help you see what's important. Now. Listen,
I hate to interrupt your morning, but there have been
some developments. None a Yazzie and I need to talk
to you. Manny went with him back down into the
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main roller in that weird conference room where they'd met
on his first in the city. There were more people
there now. Nana Yazzi sat in the same spot at
the end of the table. Reggie was there fiddling with
one of his screens. Schuffucker Mike sat next to him,
and then at the other end of the table was
a large black dude Manny had never seen before. He
was muscular, but in the lean, wiry way of a
(25:18):
construction worker or a particularly swollen hobo. He had a long,
gaunt face with prominent sheet bones and an oft broken nose.
His hands were big, there was something menacing about them,
but his face was the least threatening thing in the world.
His eyes were litted, half, focused and dreamy. His jaw
was just a little slack. He had short hair, stubble really,
and a patchy six day beard. He looked stoned. Welcome, Nanny,
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said Nana Yazzi. She gestured towards the big man. This
is Rowland. If you choose to help us rescue your people,
he'll be your escort into the Heavenly Kingdom and your
escape plan. Donald shut the door behind them, walked around
to the other side of the table and sat down
next to Nana Yazzi. We've tried to give you. I'm
in space on this, he said, but I'm afraid both
of those things are running out. All our intelligence suggests
(26:05):
the Heavenly Kingdom is very close to another roll out assault.
They'll move on Waco in four or five days. It
could be outside of Austin in a week's time. You
are free to make whatever call you want, or offer
to fly you to Austin. Still stands, Miho, said Nana Yazzi.
But I am afraid we need you to make a decision. Now,
I'll do it, Manny said. Almost everyone looked surprised. Donald coughed.
(26:29):
Nana Yazzi's eyes went wide. Reggie did a double take. Schoolfucker.
Mike just smiled and nodded at Manny. Roland didn't look
as if he'd been affected in any way. In fact,
Manny was pretty sure he was drumming along to some
music only he could hear. It might have been Ronnie
James Dio's Holy Diver. Hey, I'm Robert Evans. I hope
(26:52):
you enjoyed this chapter. I hope you enjoyed the chapters
to come. You can find the free e pub of
every chapter and eventually the whole book at a t
r book dot com, complete with illustrations. If you want
to support me in writing the sequel, you can crowdfund
me at After the Revolution the Sequel at go fund me.
Just type and go fund me after the Revolution the Sequel. Um.
I'd like my books to always be free, so I'm
(27:14):
just going to try to crowdfund the next one and
see how that works. So After the Revolution the Sequel
on go fund me. You can also find the community
of fans of this book online at our slash after
the Revolution on Reddit. So after the Revolution the Sequel
on go fund me and our slash after the Revolution
on Reddit. A t r book dot com for the
(27:34):
whole book thanks