The Simulacra

‘What are you afraid of?' Mrs Kongrosian said suddenly, acutely.

‘I don't know,' Nicole confessed.

‘I've seen Richard like this. It must be the climate, here. It's so dismal and monotonous. But I thought from his description of you that you'd never be this way. He always made you sound so brave. So forceful.'

‘I'm sorry to disappoint you.'

Mrs Kongrosian patted her on the arm. ‘You don't disappoint me. I like you very much. I'm sure it is the climate that's getting you down.'

‘Maybe so,' Nicole said. But she knew better. It was more than the rain. Much more.

15

The hard-eyed, middle-aged and utterly professional NP man said to Maury Frauenzimmer and Chic Strikerock, ‘You're both under arrest. Come along with me.'

‘You see?' Maury said with scalding accusation to Chic.

‘I told you so! The bastards have it in for us. We're the fall-guys in this. The lowest dupes on the ladder -- the ultimate simps.'

With Maury, Chic left the small, familiar, cluttered office of Frauenzimmer Associates, the NP man immediately behind them. He and Maury trudged gloomily, in silence, to the parked police car.

‘A couple of hours ago,' Maury burst out suddenly, ‘we had everything. Now, on account of your brother, look what we've got. Nothing.'

Chic did not respond. There was no answer he could make.

‘I'm going to get you, Chic,' Maury said as the police car started up and moved towards the autobahn. ‘So help me god.'

‘We'll get out of this,' Chic said. ‘We've had troubles before. They've always passed. Somehow.'

‘If only you had emigrated,' Maury said.

And I wish I had, too, Chic thought to himself. Right now Richard Kongrosian and I would be -- where? In deep space, on our way to our frontier farm, beginning a chaste, new life. And instead ... this. He wondered where Kongrosian was, right now. Doing just as badly? Hardly likely.

‘Next time when you start to leave the firm -- ‘ Maury began.

‘Okay!' Chic said savagely. ‘Let's forget it. What can be done now?' The one I'd like to get, he thought, is my brother Vince. And, after him, Anton and old Felix Karp.

The NP man seated next to him all at once said to the NP man driving, ‘Hey look, Sid. A roadblock.'

The police car slowed. Peering, Chic saw, at the roadblock, an army mobile weapons carrier; on it, a big gun pointed eerily at the lines of cars and wheels halted by the barricade across the eight lanes.

Beside Chic the NP man drew his hand weapon. So did the driver.

‘What's going on?' Chic asked, his heart labouring.

Neither NP man answered; their gaze was riveted on the army unit blocking the autobahn in effective, trained fashion. Both men had become acutely tense; Chic could sense it. It permeated the interior of the car.

At that moment, as the police car crept along almost touching the car ahead, a Theodorus Nitz commercial slipped in through the open window.

‘Do people seem able to see right through your clothing?' it squeaked at them, bat-like, as it slithered into concealment under the front seat. ‘In public, does your fly seem to be unzipped and do you need to glance down -- ‘

It died into silence as the NP man driving venomously shot it with his pistol. ‘Jeez, I hate those things,' he spat out with aversion.

At the sound of the shot the police car was immediately surrounded by soldiers, all armed and all hair-trigger alert.

‘Put your weapons down!' the sergeant in charge barked.

Reluctantly, the two NP men tossed their guns aside. A soldier plucked the car door open; the two NP men stepped warily out, their arms raised.

‘Whom were you shooting at?' the sergeant demanded, ‘At us?'

‘A Nitz commercial,' one of the NP men said shakily.

‘Look in the car, under the seat; we weren't shooting at you -- honest!'

‘He's telling the truth,' a soldier said finally, after poking about in the car. ‘There is a dead Theodoras Nitz commercial under the seat.'

The sergeant reflected and then decided. ‘You can go on. But leave your weapons with us.' He added, ‘And your prisoners. And from now on you take all your orders from GHQ, not from the higher police.'

At once the two NP men hopped back into their car; the doors slammed shut as they drove off into traffic as rapidly as possible, through the opening in the army barricade. Chic and Maury watched them go.

‘What's up?' Chic asked.

‘You're free to go,' the sergeant informed him. ‘Return to your homes and stay inside. Don't participate in anything going on in the streets; no matter what seems to be happening.' The squad of soldiers moved off then, leaving Chic and Maury standing alone.

‘It's a revolt,' Maury said, his jaw hanging. ‘By the army.'

‘Or by the police,' Chic said, thinking rapidly. ‘We're going to have to hitch hike back to town.' He hadn't hitch hiked since he was a kid; it seemed odd to be doing it now, in his adult years. It was almost refreshing. He began to walk down the stalled lines of traffic, his thumb out. Wind blew in his face; it smelled of land and water and big cities.

He took a deep, full breath of it.

‘Wait for me!' Maury yelled, and hurried after him.

In the sky, to the north, an immense, grey, mushroom-like cloud all at once formed. And a rumble stirred through the earth, jarring Chic and making him jump. Shielding his eyes he peered to see; what had happened? An explosion, perhaps a small, tactical A-bomb. Now he inhaled the reek of ashes and knew definitely what it was.

A soldier, striding past him, said over his shoulder, ‘The local branch of Karp und Sohnen Werke.' He grinned starkly at Chic and hurried on.

Maury said in a soft voice, ‘They blew it up. The army blew up Karp.'

‘I guess so,' Chic said, dazed. Again, reflexively, he stuck out his thumb, searching for their ride.

Above, two army rockets streaked in pursuit of an NP ship; Chic watched them until they were gone from sight.

It's a full-scale war, he said to himself, awed.

‘I wonder if they're going to blow us up, too,' Maury said.

‘I mean the factory. Frauenzimmer Associates.'

‘We're too small,' Chic said.

‘Yeah, I guess you're right,' Maury said, nodding hopefully.

It's good to be small, Chic realized, in times like this. And the smaller the better. Right down to the vanishing point.

Ahead of him and Maury a car had stopped. They walked towards it.

Now, to the east, another fungus-shaped mass of cloud material expanded to fill the sky, and again the ground shook. That would be A.G. Chemie, Chic decided as he got into the waiting car.

‘Where you boys headed for?' the driver of the car, a plump, red-haired man, inquired.

Maury said, ‘Anywhere and everywhere, mister. Just so it's away from all this trouble.'

‘I agree,' the plump, red-haired man said, and started the car into motion. ‘Oh, how I agree.' It was an old, out-of-style car but it was good enough. Chic Strikerock sat back and made himself comfortable.

Beside him, visibly relieved, Maury Frauenzimmer did the same.

‘I guess they're getting them big cartels,' the red-headed man said as he drove slowly forward, following the car ahead of him through the barricade's narrow aperture and out the far side.

‘Sure are,' Maury said.

‘About time,' the red-headed man said.

‘Right,' Chic Strikerock said. ‘I'm with you there.'