"Tricky, though," Thor said.

"What is this Eye Dee?" Gordon asked. "May I see?"

Fang took out a driver's license and handed it to him. Gordon looked at it carefully, turning it over and over in his hands. He read the form on the back. "It says here consent to have organs recycled. You can refuse, then? Very rich place." He held the card up to the light. "Does not look difficult if you have photograph. You do not have scanner and laser printer?"

"No, we have those," Mike said. "Just making a card isn't the problem. Everything's cross-linked now. If we make a bogus drivers license for Alex or Gordon, the IRS computer looks into the DMV computer and wonders why they never paid taxes before." He looked at Alex.

"But it can be done," Bruce said. "Just not easy anymore."

Alex frowned. "Computers are high technology. I thought everyone down here--except you--I thought most Downers hated technology."

Thor laughed. "They hate it all right. Computers, too. But they still use them."

"For themselves," Steve said. "They don't like others having them."

"Is illegal to own computer?" Gordon frowned.

"How do--how can people read what you write? Like poetry? Stories?"

"It's illegal to own an unlicensed computer," Sherrine said. "But there are a lot of licensed ones, and--well, the licensing laws are hard to enforce. So there are networks, and some private boards "

"There are still publishers," Bruce said. "A few good books get out. And like Sherrine says, there are private boards--"

"Boards?"

"Computer bulletin boards," Thor said.

"People exchange files. Not so common as they used to be, now that the phone system keeps crashing. But FAPA is still going," Sherrine said.

"I was in line for full membership in the Cult until I had to drop for missing deadlines," Fang said. "But Bruce is--"

And disks are harder to get," Mike said. "But I still manage to publish File 880… "

"He's won twelve Hugos," Fang said.

For one glorious minute I thought I understood them-

Crazy Eddie raised his hand and waved it. "I've got an idea."

Bruce looked worried, but nodded at him. "The Chair recognizes Eddie Two Bats."

Crazy Eddie stood and looked across his blade-like nose. "There are still technophiles in Southern California," he said. "Enclaves clustered around the old, defunct aerospace centers. I say we take the Angels there."

There were nods of agreement. "Makes sense," said Steve. "Angels would be welcomed there. Some places."

"That's right, you still live down there," Fang said. "Do you ever get to the Denny's on--"

Bruce tapped his ring on the desk. "Edward Two Bats has the floor."

"I bet it would work!" Sherrine said.

Crazy Eddie nodded vigorously. "Damned straight! Then, after building our strength, we stage a coup! Take over in Sacramento, install the Angels as symbolic governors, and devote the State's resources to building a space shuttle to take them home again."

"So the question is how to get them to California," Bruce said.

"The Angels have to go underground," Fang said. "Work off the books. Doesn't pay so well as out front, but with no taxes you keep more, and nobody checks ID and credit cards." He and Thor exchanged glances. "It ain't so bad."

For a moment Alex felt panic. Then he realized that they took the good parts of Crazy Eddie's ideas and simply ignored the rest. And we don't have many choices anyway. "You're used to living underground," Sherrine said. "They're not. Look at them! No, I'll do something--"

"The Greens lynched a hacker in Chicago," Mike said carefully. "Last month, but I think the boy's still hanging from the old Water Tower. Of course you know that."

"That was Flash. Flash couldn't resist letting his friends know what he did. So I'm more careful, that's all," Sherrine said.

"No, we can't let you risk that," Alex said. " I mean--"

"Work underground, off books," Mike said. "Great. What can you do?"

Alex grunted. "I fly spaceships."

Bruce grinned. "Right. We'll send out your resume. But what did you do between flights?"

"I write poetry," Gordon said. "I would like to write science fiction."

"So would everyone here," Steve said. "Do you know how many people make a living writing science fiction? There weren't thirty in the whole country, at peak. Now, none."

"There's Harry Bean--" someone said.

"He's a whore. He writes for the Greens," Bruce said. "Odd jobs. Alex? What can you do besides fly ships?"

"Construction engineer." He looked at his emaciated limbs. "And if Steve's right, I'll be able to do that again in about nine years."

"He is also teacher," Gordon said.

"Kindergarten. I was a day-care father," Alex admitted. The main advantage of the truth was that you didn't have to remember a lot of details. There were other advantages, too, he supposed.

Sherrine looked at him closely. Now she knows.

Thor shook his head. "Too bad. They do background checks on day-care workers, ever since the witch hunts. Even the centers who pay 'off the books' have to be careful. Lot of work for Sherrine, and you sure can't do that until she sets it up."

In the lengthy silence that followed, everyone looked at each other, but no one said anything. Finally Sherrine sighed.

"I'm not sure I can do it," she said. "Thor's right, they're paranoid about child molesters. I'd have to build you a whole history, everything, traffic tickets, education--Look, it won't work. We can't fit them in, and we can't hide them." Fan and Thor started to object, but Sherrine overrode them. "We've just been over that. Short term, sure; but sooner or later they'd be discovered. No, there's only one option, and it took Crazy Eddie to find it. We've got to find a way to get them back into space."

"We?" said Bruce.

"Sure, Fandom!"

Mike beamed. "Of course. We'll get them high with illegal droogs."

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Black Powder and Alcohol…"

"You're going to send us back to space," Alex said.

"Perhaps I don't wish to go," Gordon said.

"Shut up. Look, with all great respect, how do you propose to do this? As far as I know, the only rockets left on Earth are military missiles." And I can't see sticking one up my arse and riding it out--

"Exactly! We hide out until we build strength and take over in Sacramento. Then--"

"There's a Saturn Five in Houston." Fang asked, "Will that do?"

Alex blinked and tried to sit up. "Saturn? Damn right." With a Saturn we could reach the moon. But--I didn't know there were any left."

"There aren't," Bruce said. "NASA took a full man-rated Saturn and laid it down as a monument. Alex, that bird will never fly again."

"Oh."

"It's right in front of the old Manned Space Center," Mike said. "Leetle hard to work on without attracting attention."

"Could steal it," Crazy Eddie said.

Bruce closed his eyes. "Steal it, Eddie? Do you know how big those suckers were?"

"Three hundred and sixty three feet high. Weighed three kilotons."

Bruce spoke patiently. "And you say we should steal it?"

"If we could round up enough pickup trucks," Eddie Two Bats said thoughtfully. "Of course it will be hard to stand it up again. I think we need an engineer."

"I see how it works," Alex said quietly to Sherrine.

"How?"

"It's Crazy Eddie's job to come up with nutty ideas, and Bruce's job to chop him down. Do any of Eddie's notions ever work?"

She shrugged.

"I could cry."

She frowned. "Over Crazy Eddie?"

"No, the rocket. The Saturn Five was the most powerful rocket ever built--Sherrine, it was the most powerful machine ever made!"