“Kevin, stop frightening me. I’m way ahead of you here. I know that the proles are a threat. I’ve known it since that May Day riot in Worcester, back in ’42. Maybe you didn’t care to notice that ugly business, but I have tapes of all that — I’ve watched it a hundred times. People in my own home state tore a bank apart with their hands. It was absolute madness. Craziest thing I ever saw.”

Kevin munched his stick and swallowed. “I didn’t have to tape it. I was there.”

“You were?” Oscar leaned forward gently. “Who ordered all that?”

“Nobody. Nobody ever orders it. That was a fed bank, they were running cointelpro out of it. The word bubbled up from below, some heavy activists accreted, they wasp-swarmed the place. And once they’d trashed it, they all ducked and scattered. You’d never find any ‘orders,’ or anyone responsible. You’d never even find the software. That thing is a major-league hit-server. It’s so far underground that it doesn’t need eyes anymore.”

“Why did you do that, Kevin? Why would you risk doing a crazy thing like that?”

“I did it for the trust ratings. And because, well, they stank.” Kevin’s eyes glittered. “Because the people who rule us are spooks, they lie and they cheat and they spy. The sons of bitches are rich, they’re in power. They hold all the cards over us, but they still have to screw people over the sneaky way. They had it coming. I’d do it again, if my feet were a little better.”

Oscar felt himself trembling on the edge of revelation. This was almost making sense. Kevin had just outed himself, and the facts were finally falling into place. The situation was both a lot clearer and rather more dangerous than he had imagined.

Oscar knew now that he had been absolutely right to follow his instincts and hire this man. Kevin was the kind of political creature who was much safer inside the tent than outside it. There had to be some way to win him over, permanently. Something that mattered to him. “Tell me more about your feet, Kevin.”

“I’m an Anglo. Funny things happen to Anglos nowadays.” Kevin smiled wearily. “Especially when four cops with batons catch you screwing with traffic lights … So now, I’m a dropout’s dropout. I had to go straight, I couldn’t keep up on the road. I got myself a crap security gig in a tony part of Beantown. I put most of the old life behind me … Hey, I even voted once! I voted for Bambakias.”

“That’s extremely interesting. Why did you do that?”

“Because he builds houses for us, man! He builds ’em with his own hands and he never asks for a cent. And I’m not sorry I voted for him either, because you know, the man is for real! I know that he blew it, but that’s for real — the whole country has blown it. He’s rich, and an intellectual, and an art collector, and all that crap, but at least he’s not a hypocrite like Huey. Huey claims he’s the future of Amer-ica, but he cuts backroom deals with the Europeans.”

“He sold out our country, didn’t he?” Oscar nodded. “That’s just too much to forgive.”

“Yup. Just like the President.”

“Now what? What’s the problem with Two Feathers?”

“Actually, the President’s not a bad guy in his own way. He’s done some good refugee work out in the West. It’s really different out there now; since the giant fires and relocations, they’ve got nomad posses taking over whole towns and counties… But that doesn’t cut much ice with me. Two Feathers is a Dutch agent.”

Oscar smiled. “You lost me there. The President is a Dutch agent?”

“Yeah, the Dutch have been backing him for years. Dutch spooks are very big on disaffected ethnic groups. Anglos, Native Americans … America’s a big country. It’s your basic divide-and-conquer hack.”

“Look, we’re not talking Geronimo here. The President is a bil-lionaire timber baron who was Governor of Colorado.”

“We are talking Geronimo, Oscar. Take away America’s money, and you’ve got a country of tribes.”

Once the charges were dismissed against Norman-the-Intern, Oscar’s krewe held a nice going-away party for him. It was very well attended. The hotel was crowded with Collaboratory supporters, who professed heartfelt admiration for Norman and deeply appreciated the free drinks and food.

“This is such a beautiful hotel,” said Albert Gazzaniga. Greta’s majordomo had arrived in the company of Warren Titche and Cyril Morello — two of the Collaboratory’s permanently disaffected activists. Titche fought for perks and cafeteria fare like a radical wolverine, while Morello was the only man in the Human Resources Depart-ment who could be described as honest. Oscar was delighted to see the three of them spontaneously coalescing. It was a sure sign that trends were going his way.

Gazzaniga was clutching a hurricane glass with a little paper par-asol. “Great little restaurant here, too. I’d eat here every day if I didn’t have to breathe all this filthy outside air.”

“It’s a shame about your allergy problems, Albert.”

“We’ve all got allergies in there. But I just had a good idea — why don’t you roof over a street between here and the dome?”

Oscar laughed. “Why settle for half measures? Let’s roof over the whole damn town.”

Gazzaniga squinted. “Are you serious? I can never tell when you’re serious.”

Norman tugged at Oscar’s sleeve. His face was scarlet and his eyes were wet with sentimental tears. “I’m leaving now, Oscar. I guess this is my last good-bye.”

“What?” Oscar said. He took Norman’s suit-jacketed elbow and steered him away from the crowd. “You have to stay after the party. We’ll play some poker.”

“So you can send me back to Boston with a nice cash present, and it won’t have to show on the books?”

Oscar stared at him. “Kid, you’re the first guy on my krewe who’s ever said a word about that sad little habit of mine. You’re a big boy now, okay? You need to learn to be tactful.”

“No I don’t,” said Norman, who was very drunk. “I can be as rude as I want, now that you’ve fired me.”

Oscar patted Norman’s back. “That was strictly for your own good. You pulled a major coup, so you’re all used up now. From now on, they’d sandbag you every time.”

“I just wanted to tell you, no hard feelings. I have no regrets about any of this. I really learned a lot about politics. Also, I got to punch out a professor, and I got away with it. Heck, that was worth it all by itself.”

“You’re a good kid, Norman. Good luck in engineering school. Try and take it a little easy with the X-ray laser gambit.”

“I’ve got a car waiting,” Norman said, shuffling from foot to foot. “My dad and mom will be real glad to see me … It’s okay that I’m leaving. I hate to go, but I know it’s for the best. I just wanted to clear one last thing with you before I left. Because I never really leveled with you about the, uh… well, you know.”

“The ‘personal background problem,’ ” Oscar said.

“I never got used to that. Lord knows I tried. But I never got used to you. Nobody ever gets used to you. Not even your own krewepeople. You’re just too weird, you’re just a very, very weird guy. You think weird. You act weird. You don’t even sleep. You’re not exactly human.”

He sighed, and swayed a little where he stood. “But you know something? Things really happen around you, Oscar. You’re a mover and shaker, you matter. The country needs you. Please don’t let us down, man. Don’t sell us out. People trust you, we trust you. I trust you, I trust your judgment. I’m young, and I need a real future. Fight the good fight for us. Please.”

Oscar had time to examine the Director’s outer office as Dr. Arno Felzian kept him waiting. Kevin passed the time feeding bits of protein to Stickley the binturong, who had just arrived from Boston by air shipment. Stickley wore a radio-tracking collar; his claws were clipped, his fangs were polished, and he was groomed and perfumed like a prize poodle. Stickley scarcely smelled at all now.