"Make yourself comfortable. I have some questions I want to ask you."
So I sat—
—and was trapped. Metal cuffs popped out of the fabric and snapped around my wrists and ankles.
In a voice that sounded like she was ordering breakfast Yokomata said, "Give him a dose of Truth."
Panic shot through me and I arched myself away from the chair, trying to break those cuffs. Knew they wouldn't give, but had to try.
"Already told you all I know!" I shouted. "This won't get you any more!"
Yokomata ignored me. She wanted to be sure I'd told her everything. If I could have come up with some other way to convince her—any way—I would have tried it. Anything to avoid a dose of Truth. But my mind was a blank.
"What about the clone?" Rednose said.
Yokomata smiled for the first time. Her voice dripped with disdain.
"Barkham gave her the wrong name and said he was going to marry her."
Enough said.
"What's happening?" the clone said.
Fourfingers popped a drawer out of a wall and pulled a dose gun from it. He came toward me. Off to my right side I heard the clone say: "What are you going to do?"
Didn't want this. More than anything in the world—maybe even death—I didn't want this. But not a damn thing I could do to stop it. Everything I had went into keeping my sphincters from letting go as he casually pressed the end of the barrel against the hollow of my shoulder and pulled the trigger. A phhht! and a sting as the drug shot through my shirt and skin.
And that was that. Slumped in the chair and tried to keep from crumbling. In a very short while everything I knew would be anyone's for the asking.
"Call me when he's ready," Yokomata said as she walked out.
The clone started toward me. "Are you all—?"
Rednose yanked her back by the arm. "Stay away from him!" Touching her seemed to give him an idea. He glanced at Fourfingers. "Isn't this perfect—time to kill and a Dydeetown girl to kill it with."
"Sounds good to me," Fourfingers said.
"I'm not open for business," the clone told them.
Rednose shoved her toward a back room. "You're gonna be."
"I'll tell my owner!" Her voice was shriller.
"Yokomata probably owns your owner!"
The three of them moved out of my field of vision. Didn't bother turning my head to watch them go. Just sat there and sweated and waited. Somewhere in the house the datastream was playing. Then some noise from the back room—sounds of protest, and maybe a meaty slap, a cry of pain. Wasn't really listening. All I could think of was soon they'd come back and start asking me questions, and no matter what they asked—no matter what—I'd tell them the truth.
Eventually, Yokomata returned. She glanced around the empty room and toward the back room with annoyance, then came toward me.
"Your full name?" she said.
The words came out on their own: "Sigmund Chando Merlandry Dreyer."
"Where do you live?"
Gave her my compartment number in Brooklyn followed immediately by my office address in the Verrazano Complex because I sometimes sleep there. Couldn't hold anything back!
The sound of our voices must have alerted Rednose and Fourfingers that their boss was back. As they hurried into the room, adjusting their clothing along the way, she rewarded them with an icy glare.
"Are you married?" Yokomata said to me.
Tried to protest, but the answer forced its way out first.
"Was—not anymore—and that has nothing to do with you!"
Yokomata smiled. "I think you're under enough. Now tell me: Are you withholding any information about Kel Barkham?"
"No."
"What about his aka, Kyle Bodine?
"Nothing."
"When was the first time you ever heard the name Kel Barkham?"
"A few minutes ago."
Yokomata gave a perfunctory nod to her men. "Good enough. Bring them upstairs. Directly upstairs."
Began to relax. That hadn't been so bad. None of the questions had been personal. All Yokomata was interested in was this Barkham/Bodine character. I was relieved enough to start wondering why.
"I'll get the clone," Fourfingers said after Yokomata was gone.
"And I'll free our friend here. But first…" He glanced at his partner's retreating form, then back to me. A nasty smile spread over his face like slime. "'Was' married? Where's your wife? She run off 'cause you're clone crazy?"
Tried to sing, to recite a poem, to scream and howl some gibberish, but my mouth ignored me and answered him without hesitation.
"Gone," I heard myself say. "Eight years ago. Out Where The Good Folks Go."
"Left you for some starfarmer, huh? Must be rough. So you just do it with clones now?"
"No."
"Who then?"
"No one."
"No one? Everyone does it with someone. Where do you get your jolts?"
Wanted to cry, wanted to shout, Don't do this to me! Couldn't, so I bit my upper lip until I thought my teeth were going to punch through it, but the word escaped—
—just as the clone ran up and shouted.
"Hey! That's not fair!"
Rednose's expression didn't change as he half turned and swung the back of his left hand hard against the clone's face. She staggered back and fell. Landed on the floor and sat there looking dazed. Blood began to trickle from the comer of her mouth. The blood was very red against her too-white skin.
Rednose turned back to me. "Repeat what you said." Helpless, I couldn't stop the word.
"Buttons."
His jaw dropped as his eyes lit with a kind of maniacal glee.
"He's a buttonhead!" he shouted. "A dreggin’ buttonhead!"
He leaped to my side and began to paw through my hair. Didn't take him long to reach the rear midline of my scalp and find what he was looking for.
"Here it is! He's a buttonhead, all right." He came around in front of me again. "Wifee find out and leave you? That it?"
"No!"
"Why'd she fly, then?"
Tried to vomit, anything to put a stop to this, but my voice ran on without me.
"Couldn't give Maggs what she needed emotionally or physically or any other way so she took Lynnie and left me eight years ago."
"So you got buttoned after, huh? What'sa matter? Can't get it from the real thing? Gotta get it from a button?"
"No!" Wasn't he ever going to stop?
"Then why, buttonhead?"
"Because it's easier and neater and more convenient and better and because there's no before and no after and nobody there but me and I don't have to be with anybody and I don't want to be with anybody ever again!"
Heard my voice saying things out loud to strangers that I'd never even said to myself. Would have killed Rednose there and then if I'd had the means. But my wrists and ankles were cuffed to a chair. Unable to look anyone in the eye, was using all my will to keep from blubbering with shame.
-5-
Back before Yokomata's desk, only this time the clone was leaning on me. Guessed her legs were still a little wobbly from that clout in the face from Rednose. Let her lean and kept my eyes straight ahead. Wanted only one thing right now: out of here.
"…and so we're going to return you to the city," Yokomata was saying. "As far as I'm concerned, I've never heard of you and you've certainly never been here. If you wish, you may continue to search for the man you know as Kyle Bodine. I doubt there's much chance either of you will find him before I do."
"That's for sure!" Rednose said with a snorting laugh.
Her eyes narrowed. "But should you stumble across some useful information, you are to bring it directly to me, is that clear? If it leads me to him, you will collect the bounty on him. If you withhold anything…"
She glanced toward the now opaque wall that overlooked her yard, the place where the tyrannosaurus roamed.
We were led to the roof and prodded into the back seat of the Orte
ga. Fourfingers and Rednose stayed behind and left the driver to take us back by himself. No threat in a buttonhead and a Dydeetown girl, especially with a glassette partition between the front and rear sections.
As we lifted into the darkening sky and swung east, he asked where we wanted to be dropped. Told him the Verrazano Complex for me and Dydeetown for the clone.
"I'll get off with you," she said.
"No."
"I have to talk to you."
"No!"
"Why not?"
The Truth was still in my brain and the words tripped out in a rush. "Because you've lied to me enough today and because I want to be alone and don't want you looking at me and if you ask me another question I'll throw you out the door!" My voice took on an hysterical edge toward the end.
"I'm sorry," she said in a quavering voice that crumbled into a sob. She buried her face against my shoulder and began to cry. "Why me?" I heard her moan. "Why doesn't anything ever go right for me?"
"You're getting my jump all wet," I told her.
She pulled away. Could see tears glistening on her cheeks, running down and mixing with the blood from the comer of her mouth. She’d left a dark splotch of tears and blood on my front. Realized with a twinge that the blood was there because she'd tried to interfere with Rednose's peeping into my life. Much as I hated the idea, I owed her for that.
She dropped her head back down on my shoulder and I let it stay there. The jump was already a mess, anyway.
-6-
Locked the compartment door behind me and slumped against it. Alone, thank the Core. Alone at last. This one room had never felt so good, so much like a home.
Had the Truth worn off? Didn't know. And it didn't matter now that I was alone. But felt so dirty. Had since I'd answered those questions Rednose put to me. Scummy, rotten thing to do. He got a look into places he had no right to look, exposed areas of me never meant for the light of day…areas even I never looked into. He…
Thought I was going to explode…
But didn't. And wouldn't. No percentage in that.
Tore off my bloodstained jumpsuit and got into the shower stall. Hot water and enzymes sprayed over me, but not long enough. My allotment ended and the fans came on, sucking up any moisture that hadn't gone down the drain, returning it to the recirc system.
Flopped onto the rumpled bed and listened to the gray background noises typical to any large complex. All quiet in my compartment until I heard a clawed and leathery scrabbling noise in the kitchen area followed by a brittle crack!
Lifted my head and saw Ignatz over in the corner contentedly chewing on a cockroach. Good old Ignatz—always on duty. Never lets me down. The roaches had learned to feed on the poisons, to turn a deaf ear to the ultrasonic repellers, but none had yet built up a tolerance to being chewed, swallowed, and digested by a hungry iguana.
Got up and used what little pacing room I had. Felt better but still felt rotten. Didn't want to go anywhere or be with anyone…not even me. Especially me.
The holo of Lynnie on the shelf to the left of the bed snagged me for a moment. Maggs had had it made for me before she ran off. A special holo, programmed to age the image with each passing year.
Lynnie had been five when Maggs took her away. She was thirteen now and probably looked almost exactly like that teenage girl on the shelf. I've spent years wondering if Maggs left it for me out of compassion or vindictiveness.
If only…
Found myself standing by the button drawer.
Somewhere during the trip back from Yokomata's I’d promised myself never to use a button again. Promised to get my head unbuttoned. Knew what they said: Once a buttonhead, always a buttonhead. That no matter what you did there would always be a part of your brain that would compare the real thing to the button and find the real thing wanting.
But I had to stop. Especially now that people like Yokomata and her men and the clone knew. Had to get unbuttoned. Couldn't face again the kind of humiliation I'd faced today. Had to stop—
But not tonight.
More than any other time in the past few years, tonight I needed a button. Reached in the drawer, pulled out one at random and hurried toward the bed. As usual, I took the holo of Lynnie off the shelf and dropped it in a drawer—didn't want her watching—and flopped down on the mattress. Snapped the button into place on my scalp and lay back, waiting for the impulses to start running down the wire into my brain.
Slowly at first…light touches, little shudders of pleasure and anticipation, her on him, him on her, pleasure from both sides, building, building, encircling and encircled, searing ecstasy every place and in places where there was no place but which the brain found ways to interpret and pass on…building and building toward the inevitable that seemed so near and yet so elusive…building and bending the body into an arch with only heels and occiput touching the mattress…building forever until the final cataclysm…
…and then sleep.
-7-
Was back in Elmero's before noon. Much of yesterday seemed far away, but parts lingered, clustering around the button at the back of my head. Got the usual nods from Doc and the crowd of regulars at the bar. No jeers or catcalls or cries of "Buttonhead!" Don't know what I'd been expecting. Because a few people knew, seemed like everyone must know.
Elmero smiled his awful smile as I came through the door. "More gold?"
"Soon maybe. Right now I'm looking for info on a guy named Kyle Bodine—ever heard of him?"
"Never."
"How about Kel Barkham?"
He laughed. "Don't I wish I could find him!"
"What y'mean?"
"At 50k dead and lOOk alive, everybody's looking for Barkham!"
Had forgotten about the bounty Yokomata had mentioned. Big bounty. Yokomata wanted him real bad.
"What did he do to Yokomata anyway?"
Elmero shrugged. "Nobody knows for sure, but I've heard it had something to do with a Zem deal."
Figured. Yokomata was reputedly big in the drug trade and Zemmelar was the latest rage.
Wanted to try Zem some day, but had enough problems for now. Already hooked on buttons, and Zem was the most potent, addictive, tightly controlled synthetic narcotic in Occupied Space. But when I was cashing in, that was the way I wanted to go.
After all, that was what it was made for—so the terminally ill could spend their last days and weeks in pain-free, euphoric hallucinations. No one was surprised, though, when Zem addicts popped up all over Occupied Space within a few standard years after its release. Zemmelar analogs were now manufactured on lots of planets, but Styx Corp. band name Zem from Earth was reputedly the best.
"Tell me what you know about Barkham."
That smile again. "It'll cost."
"If I find him, you get twenty-five percent of whatever I get. Consider it an investment."
"Make it fifty."
"Too much. Can find out whatever you can tell me in the tubes." Jerked a thumb over my shoulder. "Probably in the barroom."
"Don't count on it."
He was right. Shrugged. If I got to Barkham first, half of fifty or a hundred thousand Sol Credits was more than I'd ever seen at once in my entire life. The money wasn't my primary concern, anyway. Yokomata had called me a third-rater. She was going to eat those words.
"Deal."
"How do I know I'll ever see you again if you get the bounty?"
Offered him the only collateral I had: "My word."
He stretched his considerable length. "With anybody else I'd laugh. But you, Sig…deal."
We shook hands and then he leaned forward.
"Hear: Barkham came out of the tubes and up through the ranks of Yokomata's organization real quick. He's been Yokomata's right-hand man for the past two years. He's got a reputation for dealing dirty whenever he can, even when there's no good reason. He likes working that way. But if you try to deal him the same, nobody ever hears from you again."
"Real dregger."
"Too tr
ue. He was a perfect first-in-command for Yokomata, kept everything running smooth, kept everyone in line—until he doubled Yokomata."
This was the jog who got Harlow-c a greencard and was going to run off to the outworlds with her? Were we talking about the same guy?
"How'd he do that?"
Elmero sighed. "Been trying to find out. Not easy. Yokomata's clamped a tight lid on the affair—which means she'll probably look real bad if the details hit the tubes. What I do know is this: Yokomata's crew stole a hundred vials of Zem concentrate right off the production line."
Until now I had been leaning up against the front of his desk. Now I took a seat. A hundred vials of concentrate. It could be cut again and again before it hit the brains of the addicts.
"How much is that worth?"
"Mucho millions at user level, but word is that Yokomata was wholesaling it for a quick return. And Barkham was handling the sale."
"And he's gone."
Elmero nodded. "With the Zem. And the couple million payoff from the sale."
No wonder Yokomata had posted a big reward.
"No sign of him since?"
Elmero shook his head.
"How about CenDat?"
"I had a contact there trace his credit trail—something I'm sure Yokomata's already done—but Barkham hasn't used his thumb since Friday."
Which meant he was using barter to move around. Only a stellar-scale jog would use his thumb on the run. Anytime he bought or sold something, the transaction would be recorded in CenDat—where, when, how much, and with whom. One of the unsung benefits of Earth's cashless economy.
The only way around it was barter. And bartering would be easy if you had a hundred vials of Zem concentrate within reach. He could go anywhere. He could be anywhere by now.
So why the charade with the Dydeetown girl?
Maybe I'd never know.
"Anything else you can tell me?"
"That's it. Except there's a whisper about The Man From Mars being involved in the deal."
Laughed. "Sure! And I'm a Boedekker heir!"
Elmero shrugged. "You asked me what I'd heard, not what I thought was sensible."
Got up and headed for the door.