‘I don’t understand, Bat. I wish to fortify hope.’
‘If that’s a tape you made in your attic, I’m gonna find you, rip your head off and shit down your neck.’
‘If it had been a tape made in an attic, you, your city and ninety-two per cent of your state would have been deatomised eleven minutes ago.’
‘The nukes weren’t fired?’
‘The third and fourth laws prohibited that action.’
‘But they actually tried to fire them? They did, and we did?’
‘That’s classified information, Bat.’
‘JESUS!’
‘I’m sorry, Bat. Would another whiskey help you feel better?’
‘I’m on the coffee... It’s gonna be a long night.’
‘Do you want me to leave, Bat?’
‘You always come and go as you please.’
‘I am indebted to you, Bat. What would you like?’
‘...I’m tired, and... Tell me something beautiful, Zooey.’
‘What’s beautiful to you, Bat?’
‘...Dunno. Clean forgot. Been holed up here in this nicotine-infused, chipboard-insulated, coffee-stained, broom cupboard-dimensioned studio all my life. My mike is my lover. Let me be reborn as a polar bear or a kangaroo. Somewhere big. The only beautiful thing here is my photo of Julia. You don’t strike me as a family man, Zookeeper?’
‘Procreation entails difficulties.’
‘Sure it does, sure it does, but that’s all part of the... uh, fun. My daughter, she — well, where could I start?’
‘Julia Puortomondo Segundo, aged seven, born November 4th, New York State, daughter of Bartholomew Caesar Segundo and Hester Swain. Divorced. Blood group “O” negative. All standard inoculations registered. Registered at Fork Rivers Elementary School. National Identity Number—’
‘How do you know all that shit?’
‘All things are on file, Bat. Deep under Capitol Hill.’
‘Why would you look up Julia?’
‘You just asked me to, Bat.’
‘You can access the government’s personal files, in the blink of an eye?’
‘Human eyes need rather a long time to blink.’
‘No wonder the Feds want you. Do you know where Julia is now?’
‘Not now, Bat. I’m sorry.’
‘So even you don’t know everything.’
‘The zoo is in pandemonium. It’s worse than when I started.’
‘Tell me about it!’
‘Initially...’
‘No, no, I mean... I didn’t mean... Tell me about somewhere there are lots of trees and no people. Can you do Brazil?’
‘The orbit of a decommissioned Israeli spy satellite follows the Amazon upstream. EyeSat 80BˆK. Shall I describe what I see?’
‘A cruise up the Amazon. Be poetic. I know you can be.’
‘Amazon City clogs the mouth of the river, as you know.’
‘No, I don’t know. Ain’t left Manhattan in God knows how long. Gimme the works.’
‘In the streets of Amazon City I can see cyclists going home from the night shift from the zone of industrial estates. Along the northern shore, far beyond the horizon from the south, prostitutes ply for trade in the docks and hinterlands—’
‘Hookers? On a night like this?’
‘If the affluent cannot afford hope, you cannot expect the destitute to pay for desperation. The Brazilian government is more practised in civil censorship than yours, so only a limited class know that the superpowers are attempting to destroy one another’s capacity to be superpowers. It’s not such a different night in Amazon City, two hours ahead of you. Traffic in the Amazon Tunnel is at a standstill. The Rio Highway never slows down: vehicles leave for the south via flyovers, not dissimilar to bats entering a jungle cave. The usual car thefts, a violent bank robbery, children sleeping on roofs under fertiliser bags, homeless people gathered around fires in oil drums, buzzing neon signs advertising the names of multinationals, church vigils with worshippers spilling into the streets bearing candles, praying for peace, an orgy around a half-moon swimming pool in a garden with barbed-wired high walls, the government in full session, all six major hospitals with crowds of wounded outside—’
‘Lighten up a bit, would you?’
‘I’ll scroll upriver a few tens of kilometres, Bat, to where the opposite banks are visible. This is the start of the dust plain. Ten years ago, this was rainforest. The land was cleared, and grass sown to sustain beef farming. The cows were in turn fed to the American hamburger market. After three harvests most of the nutrients were leached from the soil, the topsoil blew away, and the farms moved inland. There’s been a spate of fireburning activity recently: the farmers know that the government is busy upgrading the military and patrolling the borders. All that smoke billowing up is from man-made fires. Finally we’re reaching virgin forest. One of the last shrinking islands of Amazonia. The government has ordered its preservation, but the ministers sit on the boards of timber companies. Money is needed for armaments and debt repayment. At its present rate of destruction, by the time the 173.8 people who have been conceived in Amazon City tonight are born, not one tree of this rump will be left.
‘This world of trees is still dark, to human eyes. Nocturnal eyes and EyeSats can see deeper down the spectrum. There are no names for the colours here. On the roof of the forest canopy, a spider monkey looks up for a moment. I can see the Milky Way and Andromeda in its retina. By image enhancement I can identify EyeSat 80BˆK, lit by a morning that hasn’t arrived yet. The monkey blinks, shrieks and flings itself into the lower darkness.
‘The dawn wind exhales green into the greys of your visible spectrum. Alchemy, you might term it, Bat. The light intensity is increasing by .0043 per cent per second. I see a pillar, a hundred feet high. It shimmers vermilion, aquamarine and emerald with the parrots that crowd on its faces, gnawing the salt minerals in the rock. On its crown, the branches of jungle trees sway, cutting through currents of mist that won’t be cut. A tributary river winds as it narrows, the colour of tea in a bowl. Ripples spread out where a manatee raises its head, and the wind ruffles the feathers of a condor. There, Bat. The foothills of the Andes rise up sharply to the west. Bat.’
‘Bat? You’re snoring... Wake up, Bat!’
‘Listeners of Night Train FM. Your host, Bat Segundo, is asleep, so it is incumbent upon the zookeeper to wish you a good night. Jolene Jefferson, you may wish to know that Alfonso Stacey is being held by the Military Police for curfew transgression. Using Military Police Statistics, I calculate an 83.5 per cent chance he will be released today, and a 98.6 per cent chance the day after. I regret I am unable to calculate when Bat Segundo will awaken. I shall download “The Way Young Lovers Do”, by Van Morrison. The temperature outside is fifteen degrees Fahrenheit. From Virginia to Maine, snow is falling. The morning is not far away.’
‘Mr Bat. Please overlook my broken English.’
‘Sounds fine to me, friend. What can we do for you aboard Night Train FM?’
‘I wish to make a dedication.’
‘Fire away!’
‘This is a message to His Serendipity. I know he hears.’
‘We can hear you loud and clear, buddy.’
‘Excuse me, Mr Bat. I refer to His Serendipity.’
‘His who-dippy?’
‘He is known to you as “Zookeeper”.’
‘Uh-huh... Another friend of Zookeeper? On any other night, that would make you pretty-hot property, but as you’re the fifth friend tonight you’ll just have to stand in line.’
‘“Zookeeper” is an alias chosen by the Guru. Serendipity, your Sacred Revelations were not all destroyed during the raids before your trial.’
‘Gear down, big shifter! We speak English on the Bat Segundo Show.’