The news showed film of imperial troopers landing on a distant planet. Towns and cities burned, refugee lines snaked, bodies were shown. There were interviews with the tearful families of slain troopers. The just invaded locals — hairy quadrupeds with prehensile lips — were shown lying down tied up in the mud, or on their knees before a portrait of Nicosar. One was shorn, so the people back home could see what they looked like under all that fur. Their lips had become prized trophies.
The following story was about Nicosar demolishing his opponent in the single game. The Emperor was shown walking from one pan of the board to another, signing some documents in an office, then from a distance, standing on the board again while a commentator enthused over the way he'd played.
The attack on Gurgeh was next. He was amazed when he saw the incident on film. It was over in an instant; a sudden leap, him falling, the drone disappearing upwards, some flashes, Za springing forward out of the crowd, confusion and movement, then his face in close-up, a shot of Pequil on the ground, and another of the dead attackers. He was described as being dazed but unharmed, thanks to the prompt action of the police. Pequil was not seriously wounded; he was interviewed in hospital, explaining how he felt. The attackers were described as extremists.
"That means they might decide to call them revs later on," Za said.
He told the screen to turn off, then turned to Gurgeh. "Didn't you think I was quick there, though?" he said, grinning widely and throwing his arms wide. "Did you see the way I moved? It was beautiful!" He laughed and spun round, then half walked, half danced to the foamseat again, and fell into it. "Shit, I was only there to see what sort of loonies they had out protesting against you, but wow am I glad I went! What speed! Fucking animal grace, maestro!"
Gurgeh agreed Za had moved very quickly.
"Let's see it again, module!" Za shouted. The module-screen obliged, and Shohobohaum Za laughed and giggled as he watched the few seconds of action. He replayed it a few more times, in slow motion, clapping his hands, then called for another drink. The frothing bowl came quicker this time, the module's synthesisers having wisely kept the previous coding. Gurgeh sat down again, seeing that Za wasn't thinking of leaving just yet. Gurgeh ordered some snacks; Za snorted in derision when offered food, and crunched the roasted weirdberries that came with his foaming cocktail.
They watched imperial broadcasts while Za slurped slowly at his drink. Outside, one sun went down and the city lights sparkled in the half-light. Flere-Imsaho appeared without its disguise — Za took no notice of it — and announced it was on its way out, making yet another foray into the avian population of the planet.
"Don't think that thing fucks birds, d'you?" Za said after it had disappeared.
"No," Gurgeh said, drinking his light wine.
Za snorted. "Hey; you want to come out again some time? That visit to the Hole was a real hoot. I really enjoyed it in a weird son of way. How about it? Except let's go totally wild this time; show these constipated bonebrains what Culture guys are like when they really put their minds to it."
"I don't think so," Gurgeh said. "Not after that last time."
"You mean you didn't enjoy it?" Za said, astonished.
"Not that much."
"But we had a great time! We got drunk, we got stoned, we got well one of us got laid, and you nearly did — we had a fight, which we won dammit, and then we ran away… holy shit; what more do you want?"
"Not more, less. Anyway; I have other games to play."
"You're crazy; that was… a wonderful night out. Wonderful." He rested his head on the seat-back and breathed deeply.
"Za," Gurgeh said, sitting forward, chin in hand, elbow on knee, "why do you drink so much? You don't need to; you've got all the usual glands. Why?"
"Why?" Za said, his head coming upright again; he looked round as though startled to see where he was for a moment. "Why?" he repeated. He hiccuped. "You ask me "Why?"?" he said.
Gurgeh nodded.
Za scratched under one armpit, shook his head and looked apologetic. "What was the question again?"
"Why do you drink so much?" Gurgeh smiled tolerantly.
"Why not?" Za's arms flapped once. "I mean, have you never done something just… just because? I mean… It's um… empathy. This is what the locals do, y'know. This is their way out; this is how they escape their place in the glorious imperial machine… and a fucking grand position it is to appreciate its finer points from too… it all makes sense, y'know Gurgeh; I worked it out." Za nodded wisely, tapped the side of his head very slowly with one limp finger. "Worked it out," he repeated. "Think about it; the Culture's all its…" The same finger made a twirling motion in the air. "… built in glands; hundreds of secretions and thousands of effects, any combination you like and all for free… but the Empire, ah ha!" The finger pointed upwards. "In the Empire you got to pay; escape is a commodity like anything else. And it's this stuff; drink. Lowers the reaction time, makes the tears come easier…" Za put two swaying fingers to his cheeks. "… makes the fists come easier…" Now his hands were clenched, and he pretended to box; jabbing. "… and…" He shrugged. "… it eventually kills you." He looked more or less at Gurgeh. "See?" He spread his arms wide again and then let them fan back limply on the seat. "Besides," he said, in a suddenly weary voice. "I don't have all the usual glands."
Gurgeh looked up in surprise. "You don't?"
"Nup. Too dangerous. The Empire would disappear me and do the most thorough PM you ever seen. Want to find out what a Culturnik's like inside, see?" Za closed his eyes. "Had to have almost everything taken out, and then… when I got here, let the Empire do all sorts of tests and take all sorts of samples… let them find out what they wanted without causing a diplomatic incident, disappearing an ambassador…"
"I see. I'm sorry." Gurgeh didn't know what else to say. He honestly hadn't realised. "So all those drugs you were advising me to gland…"
"Guesswork, and memory," Za said, eyes still shut. "Just trying to be friendly."
Gurgeh felt embarrassed, almost ashamed.
Za's head went back and he started to snore.
Then suddenly his eyes opened and he jumped up. "Well, must be toddling," he said, making what looked like a supreme effort to pull himself together. He stood swaying in front of Gurgeh. "D'you think you could call me an air cab?"
Gurgeh did that. A few minutes later, after receiving clearance from Gurgeh via the guards on the roof, the machine arrived and took Shohobohaum Za away, singing.
Gurgeh sat for a little while as the evening wore on and the second sun set, then he finally dictated a letter to Chamlis Amalk-ney, thanking the old drone for the Orbital bracelet, which he still wore. He copied most of the letter to Yay, too, and told them both what had happened to him since he'd arrived. He didn't bother to disguise the game he was playing or the Empire itself, and wondered how much of this truth would actually get through to his friends. Then he studied some problems on the screen and talked over the next day's play with the ship.
He picked up Shohobohaum Za's discarded bowl at one point, discovering there were still a few mouthfuls of drink left inside. He sniffed it, then shook his head, and told a tray to tidy the debris up.
Gurgeh finished Lo Wescekibold Ram off the next day with that the press described as "contempt'. Pequil was there, looking little the worse for wear save for a sling bandage on his arm. He said he was glad Gurgeh had escaped injury. Gurgeh told him how sorry he was Pequil had been hurt.