Paul Theroux - O-Zone

"Mutants," Barry said.

"I couldn't tell."

"Let's get out of here," Rinka said. "It's all animals."

"I wish we knew something about those aliens," Hardy said. "They must be illegals of some kind."

"You didn't even know they were here!" Barry said, and bore down on him, and backed Hardy to the window.

Seeing his hesitation — he was trying to think of a way of reassuring them — the Eubanks and the Murdicks turned on him. It was very late, their eyes looked boiled in their faceplates, they began shouting. Was this some kind of joke? A whole day had been spent in traveling here and making camp, and just as they begin to relax they find out they're surrounded by Skells! Hey, they could have had all the Skells they wanted in New Jersey!

They went on yelling, competing with each other, their voices gonging in everyone's earphones. It wasn't bad enough that they had come without maps, it wasn't risky enough to be here on their own — no, they had to be here in a flimsy haunted condo with aliens in the bushes. And it was dark! These animals had technology — they could rush Firehills at any moment and slip through the alarm beam and kill them all!

"Leave him alone, you porkers!" Fisher said. But Barry ignored the boy, and went for Hardy again. "You work for one of the biggest research agencies in the country," he said, squaring his faceplate against Hardy's, "and they send you here with false information."

"Not false information," Fisher said. "No information! That's different. We're generating data—"

"Those aliens might have penetrated O-Zone just this morning," Hardy said.

"They live here," Holly said. "And we paid money to come here, and we're not even safe!"

"If they live here, then we've made a very big discovery," Hardy said, forcing himself to whisper to these shrieking people. "This is officially a degraded area and it apparently supports a small human population."

"It might not be small," Fisher said.

"It's definitely not human," Rinka said. It was all going to be so different, Moura thought: a pleasant flight, and then a foray over the new territory — towns and city-stains that hadn't been seen from the ground for fifteen years; and then camp, a meal, and the tape of the trip in this undisturbed place. And hadn't someone mentioned the possibility of a long recreational slumber in the sleep capsules? Afterward, when the party was over, a triumphal return to New York, and a celebration in Coldharbor Towers. But no — instead, it had become uncertain and possibly dangerous. Two of the couples were panicky. The Eubanks were furious and the Murdicks vengeful. Willis was talking about gassing and burning the aliens. Hooper looked defeated — he wore an expression of helplessness and woe, which he could not conceal behind his mask; he looked as if he had been jilted. Hardy was still trying to fend off the others and deal with their loud cheated-sounding accusations.

Moura's face was set in a frown of resignation. She had never believed in the trip, she had not wanted to take it in the first place. What she had begged for was to be away from Fisher — perhaps Africa, just for a few days. She suspected that Hardy had arranged this O-Zone party for business reasons — perhaps he needed cover. All her fears were confirmed; in fact, this was all much worse than she had feared. But she did not say what she felt. Hearing the others complaining loudly helped her a little and eased her frustration.

Only Fizzy was happy, and pleasure made his mouth grim. Because only he had seen the aliens, he had become essential to them. He knew where the aliens were, he had analyzed them, he had all the information. He alone was calm. He had called out a few abusive names and then gone back to his computer, where he now sat, his head slightly inclined, his fingers stroking the keys. He was playing something, and swallowing in an affectionate way, and still speaking fondly and juicily of feeding it raw data.

"I'm getting a little more color," he said. "Quit the noise."

Murdick was stamping, he was impatient. He wore a glittery silver suit of armored fiber. He was a small skinny man and in his oversize helmet-mask he looked absurd and over-prepared. His anger was unconvincing, and, like his antenna spikes and his two-inch bootsoles, seemed like just another aspect of his absurdity. He was overdoing it, because he was afraid.

He had stopped talking about burning the aliens. He said that he and Holly certainly weren't going to bolt, but they wanted to do something before the aliens were on top of them. Rinka was probably right in thinking that there might be many more of them out there: it was a frightening thought. All those eyes!

"Someone should take a little trip," Hooper said. "Before we do anything rash we need another sighting. Something more tangible. A shoot — some more tape."

Fisher kicked the table leg and squawked with a suddenness that silenced the room. Everything they needed to know was on the tube! There was no point in leaving this room! There was nothing more they could find out from the air. Everything that was possible to shoot on a flying trip tomorrow, Fisher could tell them right now.

Hooper was shaking his head. Fizzy, when he was pedantic, was unbearable, and he could not be stopped. But the boy saw pain on Hooper's face and spoke quietly to him.

"I found you a woman," he said, and tapped a line on the screen: Subject G. Female. "She's about fifteen, and boy can she run."

"This all sounds imaginary," Moura said.

"I'd like to see them," Hooper said.

"If they exist," Rinka said. She turned her faceplate at Hooper. She was very attractive and so there was something particularly ugly and repellent in her face when she showed disgust. "And you want to go near them?"

Hardy said, "It could be risky to go on a shoot. You'd be taping them on the ground. And it's a violation of the Access Pass."

Barry let his cold eyes rest on Hardy. He said, "You swore there was no one in O-Zone but us."

"That's what he said." Willis Murdick peered into Hardy's faceplate. "There's no one else here."

"And he keeps talking about 'them.'"

"Officially there are no aliens in O-Zone," Hardy said.

Murdick said, "Then officially we wouldn't be taping anyone. I say we go on a shoot."

So the party ended. The Eubanks said they were too frightened to sleep. The Murdicks hid themselves in their bubble. Hooper said he would stand first watch, and he took up a position on the roof of Firehills with a gas-gun that Willis had forced upon him. Hardy and Moura locked themselves into their unit, and Fisher moved his sleep capsule into "The Operations Unit" — he had taped the new name to the door and given himself the title Director. He would sleep there, he said, in case of something additional to add to the data base — another projection or detail.

It was two o'clock in the morning, and in their fear and anger and confusion the travelers had not noticed that the new year had begun.

Hooper was impatient on the roof of Firehills, standing watch under the dim flakes of starlight — their shining seemed to keep him in darkness. He was murmuring, trying to remember. When Murdick had given him the gas-gun and another lethal-looking black pipe, the little man had said, "Burn all prostitutes, beggars, lepers, wackos. ."But wasn't there a lot more?

Being alone here made Hooper jumpy. This was serious— this was urgent. He considered whether they should leave as soon as it was light, then decided that it was a necessity to look for the aliens; considered whether it should be a large shoot, then decided on a small scouting party — and decided that he should be leader; considered the time and decided soon, then today — at dawn, or when they could get ready; and finally decided to go after the little bastards right now.