“Very impressive.”
Kevin flipped his cigar box shut and pointed at it solemnly. “You know what that is? It’s evil, that’s what it is. It’s bad, it’s just plain evil of us to do this to ourselves. We have no decency as a people and a nation, Oscar. We went too far with this technology, we lost our self-respect. Because this is media, man. It’s evil, prying, spying media. But we want it and use it anyway, because we think we’ve got to be informed. We’re compelled to pay total attention to everything. Even things we have no goddamn right or business paying any attention to.”
Oscar said nothing. He wasn’t about to stop Kevin while he was in a confessional mood.
“So I got rid of everybody else’s bugs. And I installed my own. Because I’m finally the hacker who became the superuser. I didn’t just crack the computers here. I’ve cracked this whole environment. I can access anything that goes on in here, anytime that I want. I’m a cop. But I’m more than a cop. I mean, being a cop would be traditional — a white Anglo guy imposing his idea of order on the restless natives, hell, every city in America was just like that once. And man, I was thrilled to do it. I loved myself, I thought I was magic. It’s just amaz-ingly interesting, like watching other people having sex. But you know, if you do that sixty or seventy times, it gets old. It just does.”
“Does it really?”
“Oh yeah. And it has a price. I haven’t gotten laid since I met you! I don’t dare! Because I’m the Secret Master Policeman. I scare the crap out of any decent woman. Indecent women have their own agenda when they have sex with the secret police. And besides, I just don’t have any time for my own needs! The Super Master Inquisitor is way too busy with everybody else’s. I’ve got to run word scans on all my verbal tapes. Every time there’s an incident somewhere I’ve got to peel the videos back. I got bugs with their batteries running down, people are findin’ ’em and stepping on them. There’s goblins lurking in the woods. There’s spooks flying overhead. There’s drunks, lost children, petty thieves. There’s fire safety and car accidents. And every last one of those things is my problem. All of it. All of it!”
“Kevin, you’re not planning to leave me, are you?”
“Leave you? Man, I was born for this. I got my every wish. It’s just that it’s turning me into a monster. That’s all.”
“Kevin, you don’t look all that bad to me. Things aren’t that bad here. This isn’t chaos. The situation’s holding.”
“Sure, I’m keeping order for you. But it’s not law and order, Oscar. There’s order, but there is no law. We let things get out of control. We let it get all emergent and unpredictable. We let it fall back to ad hoc. I’m keeping order here because I’m a secret tyrant. I’ve got everything but legitimacy. I’m a spy and a usurper, and I have no rules. I have no brakes. I have no honor.”
“There isn’t anyplace for me to get you any of that.”
“You’re a politician, Oscar. But you gotta be something better than just that. You have got to be a statesman. You’ve got to find some way to make me some honor.”
A phone rang in the office. Kevin groaned, picked up a laptop, and ran a trace with a function key. “Nobody is supposed to have this number,” he complained.
“I thought you had all of that taken care of by now.”
“Typical politician’s remark. What I got is a series of cutouts, dummies, and firewalls, and you would not believe the netwar attacks those things are soaking up.” He examined the tracing report on his laptop. “What the hell is this thing?” He answered the phone. “Yes?”
He paused and listened intently for forty-five seconds. Oscar took the opportunity to examine Kevin’s office. It was the least likely police office he had ever seen. Girlie pinups, dead coffee cups, ritual masks disemboweled telecom hardware driven into the walls with tenpenny nails …
“It’s for you,” Kevin announced at last, and handed Oscar the phone.
Their caller was Jules Fontenot. Fontenot was angry. He’d been unable to reach Oscar through any conventional phone. He had finally been reduced to calling the Collaboratory’s police headquarters through a Secret Service office in Baton Rouge. The runaround had irritated him greatly.
“I apologize for the local communications systems, Jules. There’s been a lot of change here since you left us. It’s good to hear from you, though. I appreciate your persistence. What can I do for you?”
“You still mad at Green Huey?” Fontenot rasped.
“I was never ‘mad’ at Huey. Professionals don’t get mad. I was dealing with him.”
“Oscar, I’m retired. I want to stay retired. I didn’t ever want to make a call like this again. But I had to.”
What was wrong with the man? It was Fontenot, all right, but his native accent had thickened drastically. It was as if the man were speaking through a digital “Cajun Dialect” vocoder. “To meck a caw lak diss …”
“Jules, you know that I always respect your advice. Your leaving the business hasn’t changed that for me. Tell me what’s troubling you.”
“Haitian refugees. You get me? A camp for Haitians.”
“Did you just say ‘Haitians’? Do you mean black, Francophone people from the Caribbean?”
“That’s right! Church people from Haiti. Huey gave ’em politi-cal asylum. Built a little model village for ’em, in the backwoods. They’re living way back in mah swamps now.”
“I’m with you, Jules. Disaster evacuations, Haitian refugees, charity housing, French language, that’s all very Huey. So what is the problem?”
“Well, it’s somethin’, It’s not just that they’re foreigners. Reli-gious foreigners. Black, voodoo, religious, refugee foreigners who speak Creole. It’s something lots weirder than that. Huey’s done something strange to those people. Drugs, I think. Genetics maybe. They are acting weird. Really weird.”
“Jules, forgive me, but I have to make sure that I have this straight.” Oscar lifted his hand silently and began gesturing frantically at Kevin-Get This On Tape. Open Your Laptop. Take Notes! “Jules, are you telling me that the Governor of Louisiana is using Haitian refugees as human guinea pigs for behavioral experiments?”
“I wouldn’t swear to that in a court of law — because I cain’t get anyone to come out here and look! Nobody’s complaining about it, that’s the problem. They’re the happiest goddamn Haitians in the whole world.”
“It must be neural, then. Some kind of mood-altering treat-ment.”
“Maybe. But it’s not like any kind of dope I ever saw or heard tell of. I just don’t have the words to properly describe this situation. I just don’t have the words.”
“And you want me to come and see it with you.”
“I’m not saying that, Oscar. I’m just saying… well, the parish police are crooked, the state militia is crooked, the Secret Service won’t listen to me anymore, and nobody even cares. They’re Haitians, from a barren, drowning island, and nobody cares. Not a damn soul cares. ”
“Oh, believe me, I care, Jules. Trust me on that one.”
“It’s more than I can stand, that’s all. I can’t sleep nights, thinkin’ about it.”
“Rest easy. You have done the right and proper thing. I am definitely going to take steps. Is there a way that I can contact you? Safely, confidentially?”