‘Please, Mr Bat. I beg of you. A short dedication. Master, your word was translated into English before the unclean burnt your scripture. With these samizdat bibles I created new Sanctuaries, in fertile soil over the sea. The Fellowship is growing anew. Brothers and sisters of manskins have studied alpha-shielding, and are ready for the White Nights. Your prophecy has come to pass. We await your return, Master.’
‘Look friend, sorry, but if you speak Japanese I’m gonna be forced to—’
‘I respectfully thank you, Mr Bat. Goodnight.’
‘Hey! I didn’t say — well, off drifts another sea-coconut into the milky turquoise. You’re listening to Night Train FM, roaring down the tracks to the lowlands of dawn, this is the Bat Segundo Show, fleeing from the wall-to-wall One Year After TV specials — as if we should celebrate the fact that the same authority which nearly blew us to Kingdom Not Come has yet to announce elections. Still, I’d better avoid politics or Carlotta will mummify me in carpet tape. It’s the first anniversary of Brink Day, as if there’s a sea-cucumber anywhere in the world unaware of the fact! The Empire State fireworks are awesome, huh? There’s a new volley every fifteen minutes. Orchids of them! Fountains of them! The night of November 30th has been one big circus tent over New York. Inbetween times, you can see Comet Aloysius veering in front of Orion... quite a sight, ain’t it? Professor Kevin Clancy, Night Train’s resident stargazer, informs me that in just under two weeks the comet will pass between the Earth and the moon. Some generations get all the luck, huh? Being alive for Aloysius, the closest visitation in history. As you heard on the news, NASA and the Defense Department assure us there’s absolutely no chance of any danger of this close shave being too close — Aloysius’s trajectory has been treble-checked by virtual-mind technology every minute of every hour since its discovery, and Earth has an all-clear. The UN Corp’s PeaceSats are primed, just in case any debris makes it into WebSpace, so we can lounge back in our ring-side seats and enjoy the pretty lights. And as if all this wasn’t enough excitement, we have an extra attraction on Night Train FM — November 30th is Zookeeper Night! Will he or won’t he? Coming up in the next half-hour we have “The Speed of the Sound of Loneliness” by Nanci Griffith, and “A Fairytale of New York” by the Pogues. These, and more, after the break.’
‘Bat?’
‘Carlotta?’
‘I have Spence Wanamaker on the videocon.’
‘Hollywood agent Spence Wanamaker?’
‘The same.’
‘Patch the man through... Mr Wanamaker! The presence of greatness.’
‘Batty! D’you know, when business brings me to New York — it’s Night Train FM. I love your way with words. The original poet DJ.’
‘Uh-huh. So you wanna syndicate and make me into a billion-dollar movie?’
‘Quick fire, Batty! Quick on the draw! I love it!’
‘Mr Wanamaker, you’re not just calling to jacuzzi my ego.’
‘Good serve, Batty. It’s about this Zooey guy.’
‘What about him?’
‘When he calls, I wanna project a few concepts with him.’
‘You’re the first major Hollywood agent to talent scout on the Bat Segundo Show.’
‘Batty! Us media survivors all engage in a little back scratching now and then!’
‘My back is not itching, Mr Wanamaker.’
‘Bat. Rupert, Mr Wanamaker and I have discussed some interesting proposals.’
‘Doubtless, Carlotta. But Mr Wanamaker is not the only suitor serenading this particular Juliet.’
‘What’s that? Other agents, Batty? Fish or fry?’
‘What?’
‘Hollywood agents or New York agents?’
‘Federal ones, Mr Wanamaker. The Pentagon wants to know how our mutual friend managed to hack and broadcast encrypted, military frequencies. It took us weeks to convince them we weren’t concealing Sword of Islam technology. We’ve still probably got microscopic spy devices combing our colons.’
‘Oh, the Pentagon! You had me worried for a moment, Batty. Au cointreau, this is excellent news. More publicity will get more butts on seats when the movie’s launched.’
‘The movie? Mr Wanamaker, you think the Pentagon is going to let you make a true-story movie about a hacker in their systems during world war three’s dress rehearsal? You may not have noticed but this is Ronald McDonald’s martial law we’re living under.’
‘Hollywood versus Washington! Fabulous concept, Batty. The info police — and let’s face it, since Brink Day its reputation is hardly what it was — may have the power of the military on its side, but we, my friend, we have the indomitable power of Mr Average! The New York Tribune brought Zookeeper onto the stage. We wanna — how can I say this as well as you could, Bat? Throw me a bone here. We wanna switch on the spotlights!’
‘Mr Wanamaker, you want to plant your cameramen outside his door, riffle through his garbage, find out if he uses rubber sheets and baby oil, and hound him to a watery death in a sports car.’
‘Batty! The public has a right to know!’
‘Bat, Mr Wanamaker’s been discussing a rolling referral fee based on accumulative royalties with Rupert. At our present rate of expenditure, we’re talking sums that will keep Night Train FM afloat financially for a long time.’
‘How long is long, Carlotta?’
‘Eleven years and four months.’
‘That’s long. But we don’t know who we’re dealing with! Nobody’s ever seen him.’
‘Or her.’
‘Exactly! A crank, a hacker, a bomber. Don’t overlook the obvious, Carlotta. Remember — three years ago something was blown up at Saragosa, and a real Dwight Silverwind did vanish over Bermuda one year later.’
‘I know he did, Batty. So tragic. His agent, Jerry Kushner, is a very dear friend of mine. I was beside myself with worry. Jerry was inconsolable for two and a half days.’
‘Have you considered, Mr Wanamaker, that Zookeeper is not just monitoring these events?’
‘Universal Studios ooooooze for talent like yours! You’re suggesting that Zooey is causing these incidents?’
‘If he’s a hacker, he’s got an uncanny knack for vidsurfing the right places at the right times. You could be roping a terrorist into your client base.’
‘He wouldn’t be the first, Batty! The mere rumour of his presence has upped Night Train FM ratings by 320 per cent according to the online web audit. That’s over thirty thousand New Yorkers, competing with the TV Nets, all-night rock concerts and Peace Vigils — on Brink Night’s first birthday! We sign a contract with Zooey, he’s gonna be my client base!’
‘He’s not going to bite.’
‘Come now, Batty. Everybody bites. You just gotta know what bait to dangle.’
‘Back On in ten seconds, Bat. All that Rupert is asking is that you try to keep him on hold during an interval and conference him to Mr Wanamaker. Simple as that.’
‘Why not ask him yourself, Carlotta?’
‘He seems to have an affinity with you.’
‘But Carlotta!’
‘Five seconds, honeybunch: 4, 3, 2, 1—’
‘Welcome back aboard Night Train FM, 97.8 ’til late, thundering through this Brink Night’s first birthday of champagne, cathedral bells and gunpowder. I am your host, Bat Segundo. Coming up we have the music of the spheres, brought to you by John Lee Hooker: “I Cover the Waterfront”. But bate your breath once more, New York. We have a caller on the line. Could it be, could it be?’
‘Hello, Bat.’
‘Hi, honey, I’m home! New York’s been waiting all night, Zookeeper.’
‘Thank you, Bat.’
‘And where are you calling from this year?’