Walter Greatshell - Apocalypse blues

"What is this?" I asked, voice cracking.

"Isn't it fabulous?" There was sarcasm in her tone. "Welcome to the Vegas of the North."

"Vegas?"

"That's what it was intended to be: Nunavut International-the world's biggest casino. Commandeered and delivered here by the happy minions of MoCo."

"How did all these people survive?"

"They're friends, family, valued employees, and honored guests of Mogul."

"What does that mean?"

The doctor leaned down beside me so I could see her. She was a strikingly tall older woman with a pink complexion and a flaxen flattop, an aging Amazon uncowed by time. Around her forehead was a hammered-gold band with a silver bauble.

Her green eyes bored into mine as she said, "Mogul is an old boys' club, a group of very powerful men who pooled their resources to bring all this here, and they call the shots-that's all there is to it. We couldn't exist without them. But most of them don't feel comfortable in here, rubbing elbows with the commoners, so they delegate from their planes outside. If they want something, we jump, but otherwise we're on our own. You do what's expected, and nobody bothers you."

"But this is incredible. All these people…" I could see little kids playing jump rope. For a minute, I was too overwhelmed to speak.

"Yes, it looks like a carnival," said Langhorne. "Some folks think they've died and gone to Disneyland. But it isn't, I can assure you. It's survival of the fittest around here, and you have to be very careful whose toes you step on. Mogul executives and family members are top of the heap; below that it's a free-for-all for power and privilege. I should tell you that as a teenage girl, you already have enemies here. You're a threat."

"But I can't get Agent X. I have a problem with my-"

She cut me off. "That's not what I mean. You're a sexual threat. A lot of power here comes from sexual patronage, and some of these dames can be very jealous of the attention of their Mogul patrons, especially if they're married to them. They've gotten to like being queen of the roost, and won't appreciate competing against a teenybopper like you-not again. They thought those days were over."

"I would never-"

"And speaking of Agent X, you can get it, I'm sorry to have to tell you. That's what I really need to talk to you about, Louise. We have been able to eliminate the risk of infection in here only through some very stringent safety protocols. It can be startling to a newcomer, but it is essential to our survival-and yours." She unclasped her headband. The gold part came away, leaving the teardrop-shaped metal knob stuck in the middle of her forehead. It had tiny rivets in it.

"What's that?" I said, recoiling.

"Don't let it scare you. It may look weird, but it's nothing more than a simple electrode and a GPS transceiver. It monitors basic life signs and triggers a security alert if your blood-oxygen level takes a dive. It's only because of these little devices that we can live together here without fear."

I suddenly noticed that all the people below had the same shiny amulets on their foreheads, including the double-Dutch girls. "Oh my God," I said.

"It's so everyone can be sure of everyone else at a glance. This is too important to leave up to individual choice. One bad apple can spoil the whole bunch. That's also why they're fixed in place permanently, so they can't be tampered with or removed."

"Permanently? How?"

"They're seated on surgical-steel posts that penetrate the scalp and are actually drilled into the cranium. I know that sounds bad, but it's actually a very safe office procedure. A few days on painkillers, and you'll never know it's there."

"I don't care! I don't want it!"

The doctor nodded understandingly. "That's a perfectly normal reaction," she said. "But you'll get used to it." She unfastened my right wrist, and I slowly brought my hand up to my brow.

Stomach whirlpooling, I thought, No way…

But it was. It was there already, a foreign lump as smooth and hard as horn. The flesh around it felt Novocained. "No, uh-uh," I said, struggling to clear my head of lingering haze. This had to be a nightmare. "Get it off!" The thing held fast, wouldn't budge. "Get it the hell off, now!"

"Hey, just think of it as a body piercing," Dr. Langhorne said, restraining me. "Some people think it's kind of cool: a tribal accessory."

"Where are the others? Mr. Albemarle! Julian!" I cried.

"Your friends have been moved to their orientation sites, where they'll each eventually be assigned a 'guardian.' They're going through the same period of adjustment you are. We all have. And speaking of periods-"

"Can't I stay with them? Please!"

"No. You're different. They're just drones, but you are something special. We know about you, Lulu. We've been told some very interesting things and would like to find out if they're true."

"You mean like I'm immune to Xombies? That's just junk Mr. Cowper made up!"

"Oh, I know. We examined you thoroughly. There's nothing physically extraordinary about you. In fact, I seriously doubt you have chromosomal primary amenorrhea, as has been reported to me."

"Of course I do! Why do you think I don't have a period?"

"I'll tell you. The reason you don't have a period is that you are suffering from prolonged malnutrition. It's affected your physical development."

"That's because we've been starving for a month!"

"Not you. You've been eating well, and thank goodness. I'm not talking about the last month, but the years before that. I'm talking about your old life. You're obviously in recovery now, but there are lasting effects of an extended bout of anorexic behavior-possibly going back to puberty. I suspect that the shock treatment of Agent X saved your life. You were a terminal case, I think."

"That's not true!" I couldn't believe what I was hearing-the bitch was out of her mind!

"I think it is. I think Agent X is the best thing that ever happened to you. That's all right-you're not alone. It's been my experience that many Agent X survivors are people who felt alienated in their previous life and found a new sense of purpose afterward. Anyone too attached to the past doesn't make it."

"That's sick! You're sick!"

"I'm not sick, and neither are you. In fact, I think you're well enough to take a little trip with me. There's someone in our clinic here you might be interested to see. I know he's very interested in seeing you."

"Mr. Cowper? Oh my God, please-" I almost toppled the chair over.

"Whoa! Cool your jets, kid. Just sit back and leave the driving to us."

Leaving my restraints on, Dr. Langhorne rolled me down a ramp to the stadium floor. I was dizzy at first, nauseated, but as we moved, things settled down. I ached to pry that metal knot off my head.

Beneath the Oz-like pseudocity was a real tent city, several thousand people bivouacked on nonskid rubber matting amid soaring backdrops of pyramids and Alps. What was funny was that the different nationalities seemed to have segregated themselves according to their cultural symbols: French was being spoken under the fake Eiffel Tower, and Japanese under Mount Fuji. I didn't get the feeling there was a lot of mingling going on, and there certainly seemed to be a concerted effort by everyone to ignore me. The older women especially looked snooty and unfriendly. One thing I found reassuring was that there were no guns in sight, no soldiers.

Speaking into my ear as she pushed, the doctor said, "Lulu, I'm going to confide something to you now that you're going to find hard to believe, but which I think will help you understand your role here. Would it surprise you to hear that Agent X was man-made?"

I couldn't honestly say I was surprised. We had talked about it often enough on the boat-that the whole thing was probably the result of germ warfare or bioterrorism or some stupid lab accident. So what? I thought bitterly. What the hell difference did it make now?