Transcription:
Denis Joyner, AMO Mobile Radio
Oooooowwweeee! You got me when you weren’t looking, the ol’ DJ hisself, the Duke of Juice, coming at you live as I can handle on KOOOOL mow-beel radio, where you find it is where you get it, but don’t look on the dial, baby,’ cause we’re not there. We’re OTD, OD, and O Sweet Leaping Jesus could this possibly be real! It is – heh-heh – it is indeed: The Blue Man in the Silver Van come to seed your dreams and feed your lonely little monkey.
What we’re talking here is HIGH Kulture. Towering! The Immensely Outasight! Magnificent Spirit-Shots into the Void! Direct Brain-Bang Transmission Leaps! Solid-State Astral Sex-Launch! That’s right, you got it! Welcome to the Cloud-Walker Kulture Klub.
Now just between you, me, and the cave walls, kids, tonight we’ve got a bodacious show. If it don’t get you off, you must be chained down.
Think I jive? Well, brothers and sisters, check it out. We’re gonna hear Karl Marxxx doing his Number One single, ‘Undistributed Surplus Income and What It Means for Working Stiffs Like You and Me,’ featuring Peter Kropotkin on dobro and Leon Trotsky on violin. We got Jean-Paul Sartre from that new Essays-on-Tape series, in this case his neglected disquisition on postindustrial anxiety called ‘Incipient Arousal and Feelings of Doom.’ You digging it so far? Want more? Well, write this one down: out-takes from a rare Walt Disney interview where he holds forth at length between pipes of opium on Electromythology and the Tinkerbell Fetish (and hey you guys, ’fess up – don’t you remember wishing little ol’ Tinkerbell was about five feet taller?).
And why stop there? Hell, why stop at all? We’re also gonna have live, in the here and right now, the entire Mormon Tabernacle Choir doing the dirty version of ‘Staggerlee.’ Fuck me if we ain’t! Plus – mercy, mama! – the recently discovered Bach violin partitas as performed by the Tap City Strutters, Demerol Jones conducting. And if that don’t leave you squealing, heap on our regular features – like Carl Jung on astrology, Consumer Hot-Line with Attila the Hun, Corliss Lime’s ultrabitchy book reviews, and me, the Duke of Juice, on drums.
So hang in there and I’ll hang it in your ear.
When they reached Dubuque later that day they stopped at a Conoco station. Shamus called a number from the pay phone. It was a short conversation, and he came back to the car looking thoughtful.
Annalee studied his face. ‘So, where to?’
‘The City of Baton Rouge.’
‘Louisiana?’ Daniel said from the backseat. ‘That doesn’t make sense.’
Shamus smiled. ‘The City of Baton Rouge is a boat, an honest-to-god old Mississippi stern-wheeler docked just out of town.’
‘Of course,’ Annalee nodded absently, ‘the Mississippi River. And down the mighty Mississippi to the Gulf at New Orleans. From there, I suppose, to Cuba by submarine.’
Shamus tousled her hair. ‘That’s the spirit. From Cuba to Brazil by glider. At night. No moon.’
‘Just starlight on the water and the rush of wings.’
‘You got it,’ Shamus said.
Annalee started the car. ‘First let’s find this riverboat.’
‘They’d never find us in the jungle,’ Daniel said with excited conviction.
Annalee said to Shamus, ‘Truth time – do you know where we’re going or are you just jacking us up?’
‘Take the last exit before the bridge, then north along the river. Elmo Cutter, one of Volta’s field men, is going to meet us there. Beyond our immediate destination of the City of Baton Rouge, I have no idea where we’re going. But I’m sure Elmo will have some suggestions.’
Elmo Cutter was short, swarthy, and squat. A thick, black cigar – which he never lit – wagged under the grimy bill of a Chicago Cubs cap. He greeted them on the dock with an assortment of gruff monosyllables, then led them aboard.
The City of Baton Rouge was the last of its class, a steam-driven stern-wheeler riverboat of sleek and majestic line. Before the turn of the century it had carried an elegant trade of businessmen, gamblers, and high-stepping women; and even now, though stripped and abandoned in 1950, it still had an aura of green felt, soft conversation, a waltz drifting from the ballroom. You could smell the fragrant mix of sourmash whiskey, country ham, and fresh magnolias in the serving girls’ hair; almost hear the soft clicking of chips as a pot was raked in the gaming room. But not even a fulgent imagination could blur its present state of weathered, empty decay.
Elmo led them to the dining room. Once two hundred had sat down at long tables sagging with fried chicken, ham, mashed potatoes, slaw, hot biscuits, butter-slathered corn, baked quail, greens, gravy, and thick slices of pumpkin pie. Now there was only a beat-up card table and four folding chairs.
Elmo went straight to the point: ‘You split up here.’
Annalee flinched.
‘Shamus, you’re gone tonight. It’s not all set, but it’s pretty solid.’ He turned to Annalee. ‘You and the boy have a choice. You probably already know it, but you were keeping house for AMO – affiliates, so to speak. Some of the folks that stayed with you weren’t even AMO members – Dolly, for instance, we sprung just because we like her on the loose. Now she’s joined. And we’re inviting you to join if you want.’
Annalee, as blunt as Elmo, said, ‘Why weren’t we asked before? Or at least informed?’
Elmo shrugged. ‘Got me, Miss Pearse. I wasn’t there. But I’d guess there probably wasn’t much reason, seeing as how you were already sort of allied, just not official. We don’t stand on formality.’
‘What happens if we don’t want to join? Maybe we know too much.’
Elmo made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a chuckle. ‘No ma’am, you don’t know too much. Cause some inconvenience maybe, but nothing major. AMO is like mercury. That’s how we’ve survived for centuries. So if you don’t want to join forces, you get the car, the four grand, and our fond farewell. And we’d probably try to help you out if you took a hard tumble – but that ain’t a promise, just our likely inclination.’
‘And if we join?’
‘Interesting work if it’s available, fair pay, good people, expanded opportunities, and the shared benefits of alliance.’
‘Do you have school?’ Daniel said with an intensity that made both Annalee and Shamus glance at him. He didn’t notice; his attention was locked on Elmo.
‘No schools,’ Elmo told him. ‘We got teachers, though, that’ll take you on if you’re serious about learning. And we have sort of a loose network of doctors, too – some of them fairly primitive by AMO standards, but that don’t mean the medicine don’t work. So I guess you could say there’s some educational and medical benefits. Legal as well, come to think of it – some real sack-ripping lawyers. And that’s it for my sales pitch. Don’t mean to lean on ya, but we best move it along.’
‘What do you think, Shamus,’ Annalee asked. Feeling she might have slighted Daniel, she added ‘Daniel and I would appreciate your advice because we’re the two who have to decide.’
‘I told you my story,’ Shamus said. ‘They’re good friends and fair adversaries.’
‘We should join,’ Daniel said. ‘It’s practical. And some day I’ll need a teacher.’
Annalee shut her eyes and opened them almost immediately. ‘Sign us up,’ she told Elmo.
‘Done,’ he nodded. ‘And now if you’d like to check out the boat, I’ve got a few things to discuss with Mr Malloy. I’m sure you understand that ignorance is often the best protection.’