head, draws his knees up and rests his forearms on
them.
--There is nothing new under the sun, Simon. It's all as it has always been. There is only
one change, and the world is still waiting for it. The world is an egg, waiting to be
born, waiting for Enclave to usher it across. Until then, it's all the same old shit.
I lean forward.
--Sure, sure, you'll transmute yourself into ectoplasm and lead your crusade and we'll all
be turned into pixie dust and join the cosmos. But you said,
again.
--Did I? Funny. Well, as I also said before,
senility at last.
--Daniel.
--Simon. Enough. I'm tired. You said you wanted a name.
--I do.
--The Enclave who brought you up, did you recognize him?
--Man, you all look the same to me. All just a bunch of cadavers waiting to happen. You're
the only one I can tell apart. And that's just because you look more dead than the rest.
He laughs, lips peeling up over gray gums, mouth open wide, barking laughter.
--
More dead.
You know better, Simon. I'm more alive than you, more alive than anyone else with the
Vyrus. Certainly more alive than the sleepwalkers out there on the streets with no idea of
the universe's true nature.
I shift, unfolding my legs.
--A name?
He nods.
--A name. Yes. The Enclave who brought you up, he used to be with the Hood. He'll give you
a name.
--Good enough.
I push myself up off the floor.
--Simon.
--Yeah?
--I will want something in return.
So much for a clean getaway.
--What's that?
--We talked the last time you were here.
--Uh-huh.
--I told you something.
--You told me you thought you were failing.
He looks at the floor, running his fingers over a nail head that sticks up from the
floorboards.
--That's true, I am. But I told you something else.
Fuck.
--I don't remember.
--Don't be like that, girls.
--What?
He looks up.
--Did I?
He taps his forehead.
--What did I say?
--Nothing.
He watches me out of those holes in his face.
--Senility. Strange. Well.
He stands.
--You should go.
--What about?
--Hm?
--You said you'd want something for the name.
--Yes. Yes. Come see me, Simon. Come see me more often.
--Daniel, I'll try, but. I'm pretty busy most of the time.
He puts his hand on my shoulder. The heat radiates through my jacket.
--Come see me, Simon. It's what I want.
Like I said, it'll cost more than blood or money.
--OK. I'll come.
--Good. Good. Now go downstairs and get your name.
I start for the stairs.
--Names. Simon, that reminds me.
--Uh-huh?
--You had a perfectly good one: Simon. It suits you. It says something about you. Why did
you change it?
--Lots of infecteds change their names.
--I know. But why did you?
--I don't know. Terry said a new name was a good idea.
--And why the name you chose?
--Shit. I was seventeen. I was just turned into a Vampyre. Joe Pitt. I thought it sounded
cool.
He laughs again.
--You're right. It does. It does. Well. Careful in the Hood. And come see me when you get
back.
Joe.
--Yeah.
The Enclave who showed me in is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, sitting on the
last step.
--Daniel said you know the Hood turf, said you'd have a name of someone I could talk to up
there.
--He means Percy.
--OK. Where do I find him?
He leads me to a work area under the loft. Some benches with tools for doing basic repairs
on the warehouse, a sink, a stove with a huge boiling pot on top. He finds a pencil and
paper and writes down an address on 150th, near Jackie Robinson Park. I look at the scrap
of paper.
--What do I tell him?
--Nothing. I'll let him know you're coming.
--How you gonna do that?
He gestures to the warehouse.
--We don't have much, but I do know how to use a pay phone.
I slip the paper into my pocket.
--Any tips on how I can get up there?
He stands on tiptoe to look into the pot, then reaches for a giant wooden spoon and gives
the contents a stir.
--You could do what the
them.
--There is nothing new under the sun, Simon. It's all as it has always been. There is only
one change, and the world is still waiting for it. The world is an egg, waiting to be
born, waiting for Enclave to usher it across. Until then, it's all the same old shit.
I lean forward.
--Sure, sure, you'll transmute yourself into ectoplasm and lead your crusade and we'll all
be turned into pixie dust and join the cosmos. But you said,
again.
--Did I? Funny. Well, as I also said before,
senility at last.
--Daniel.
--Simon. Enough. I'm tired. You said you wanted a name.
--I do.
--The Enclave who brought you up, did you recognize him?
--Man, you all look the same to me. All just a bunch of cadavers waiting to happen. You're
the only one I can tell apart. And that's just because you look more dead than the rest.
He laughs, lips peeling up over gray gums, mouth open wide, barking laughter.
--
More dead.
You know better, Simon. I'm more alive than you, more alive than anyone else with the
Vyrus. Certainly more alive than the sleepwalkers out there on the streets with no idea of
the universe's true nature.
I shift, unfolding my legs.
--A name?
He nods.
--A name. Yes. The Enclave who brought you up, he used to be with the Hood. He'll give you
a name.
--Good enough.
I push myself up off the floor.
--Simon.
--Yeah?
--I will want something in return.
So much for a clean getaway.
--What's that?
--We talked the last time you were here.
--Uh-huh.
--I told you something.
--You told me you thought you were failing.
He looks at the floor, running his fingers over a nail head that sticks up from the
floorboards.
--That's true, I am. But I told you something else.
Fuck.
--I don't remember.
--Don't be like that, girls.
--What?
He looks up.
--Did I?
He taps his forehead.
--What did I say?
--Nothing.
He watches me out of those holes in his face.
--Senility. Strange. Well.
He stands.
--You should go.
--What about?
--Hm?
--You said you'd want something for the name.
--Yes. Yes. Come see me, Simon. Come see me more often.
--Daniel, I'll try, but. I'm pretty busy most of the time.
He puts his hand on my shoulder. The heat radiates through my jacket.
--Come see me, Simon. It's what I want.
Like I said, it'll cost more than blood or money.
--OK. I'll come.
--Good. Good. Now go downstairs and get your name.
I start for the stairs.
--Names. Simon, that reminds me.
--Uh-huh?
--You had a perfectly good one: Simon. It suits you. It says something about you. Why did
you change it?
--Lots of infecteds change their names.
--I know. But why did you?
--I don't know. Terry said a new name was a good idea.
--And why the name you chose?
--Shit. I was seventeen. I was just turned into a Vampyre. Joe Pitt. I thought it sounded
cool.
He laughs again.
--You're right. It does. It does. Well. Careful in the Hood. And come see me when you get
back.
Joe.
--Yeah.
The Enclave who showed me in is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs, sitting on the
last step.
--Daniel said you know the Hood turf, said you'd have a name of someone I could talk to up
there.
--He means Percy.
--OK. Where do I find him?
He leads me to a work area under the loft. Some benches with tools for doing basic repairs
on the warehouse, a sink, a stove with a huge boiling pot on top. He finds a pencil and
paper and writes down an address on 150th, near Jackie Robinson Park. I look at the scrap
of paper.
--What do I tell him?
--Nothing. I'll let him know you're coming.
--How you gonna do that?
He gestures to the warehouse.
--We don't have much, but I do know how to use a pay phone.
I slip the paper into my pocket.
--Any tips on how I can get up there?
He stands on tiptoe to look into the pot, then reaches for a giant wooden spoon and gives
the contents a stir.
--You could do what the
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