The belt around the neck, tightening into orgasm…
Instead, he’d let Joe come, and then he’d come, and for a second it felt like love, real love, and then it felt like betrayal.
Benny got up, carefully, so as not to disturb. Slipped on a shirt, one of Joe’s, not yet packed. Went to the window. It was dark outside, and a solitary blurb lay hovering in the air. Horny George! Faithful companion, eager to progress the Joker’s work. The blurb was a cursor to the program Benny carried inside, pointing out the next task. He waved it away.
Not yet.
He looked at his watch. Ten o’clock.
He got dressed quietly, sorted a few things out, and went downstairs. On the way, he visited the kitchen and took out a breadknife. The house was silent, no doubt experiments were still going on in the cellar. Benny laughed as he went outside. If only they knew about the creature they had under their own roof. What knowledge. Mister Million you want? Just ask me. Secrets of the bones you want. I’m the man. I’m the bearer, and one of you will get to kill me.
But not yet.
Talk about playing the Joker. Joe was only pretending to sleep. As soon as Benny had left, he got up, dressed and finished packing. His treasured copy of Mathematica Magica was waiting for him, given to him by Max, but too heavy, too restrictive. He would leave it for Benny. Through the window he watched Benny walk away. Joe carried his suitcase out of the bedroom door, kissing goodbye to the sweet comfort of years. Down the corridor, another door. He pushed it open slowly, carefully… whispering…
‘Celia?’
‘Huhhhh.’
‘It’s me. Joe. You awake?’
‘Huh?’
‘It’s Joe. You ready to leave?’
‘Hmmm.’
Benny was walking down Barlow Moor Road towards the House of Chances, barely aware of the blurbfly following him. Just knowing it was there.
Who to choose, that was the question. It’s an interesting question; if you had to choose somebody to kill you, who would you choose? A friend, a lover, a relative, a stranger? Somebody famous, religious, intelligent? Unknown, poor, stupid? A professional hitman; the quick, silent bullet in the night?
Benny’s choices: Hackle, Joe, Jimmy, Celia, Daisy, Jazir. The collected Dark Fractals, all spread out and waiting for his deliberation.
Joe was the obvious one. Lover. Not long of this world anyway. But hadn’t he messed up that chance already? Letting him live.
Hackle? The wisest. The boss. The enemy. Main target. Most wanted. Take him down with me, maybe save the rest? Maybe…
What about Celia? Little Miss Celia. Could she do it? Benny couldn’t imagine it, but then again, hadn’t he…
Once the nympho took over…
And what difference did it make, the order? They’d all fall down, one by one, in sequence. The Joker inside would see to it. What was the point of it. He didn’t know, only that it had to be done. Only then could he go home to the mother and father of all the lost chances of the world. It was his job, you see. Infect, then die. A genetic program. He had fought the Joker in bed with Joe. Won that one, but he’d made the Joker angry. Benny could feel the thing inside him, the urge, like a snake uncurling. The double helix, uncurling.
He didn’t have long left. Infect, then die. Infect, infect, infect! Infect the world with nymphomation, pass it on. Give birth to it. Not long… not long left. Must fight it, do the right thing. Keep walking…
The Joker could hear his every tangled thought, and was laughing.
Talk about not having long left. Joe was suddenly aware of the curse inside him, the cancerous gene, growing, growing. Don’t think about it. Just bundle Celia into the car. Leave. Find somewhere, somewhere safe. Wait for Celia’s lucky bone to come calling. Make a little life of what was left; his only craving now.
Benny had reached the outskirts of the AnnoDomino grounds. There was some kind of protest going on, with a bunch of people waving banners and shouting slogans at the House of Chances. ‘Free the Zero! No more blanks! Bones are bad! Whitewash! Zuze, Zuze, Zuze!’ Benny recognized them: the League of Zero, Nigel Zuze’s crew-sluts. From what he could gather, they knew that Zuze had won the double-blank.
A cloud of securiblurbs was keeping the protesters at bay, while the harassed official, called Chief Executive Crawl, moved along the line, trying to reason with them.
There was no reasoning.
The crowd pushed forward, breaking the blurb-line. Benny was vaguely aware of cop sirens approaching. A camera crew moving in. The official raising his hands, making a gesture. The blurbs going in for the attack. Screams and curses. One boy went down, holding his leg in disbelief as a blurb stung its message into him. Benny’s own blurb, Horny George, was confused by all this, which side to be on?