light.
“I know of the Northern Lighting Corporation,” I said. “I know of their work. They are as crooked as the world is wide. They will bleed you, they will ruin you. What did they charge? They say they operate out of the Three Cities but you know what, that is a lie, they are a front for the Line, and that means all that comes with the Line. But what I offer you, sir, is entirely different. For one thing—”
He looked out over the white night of Dreyfus and shrugged. “I don’t know much about politics, Professor. But I know what works.”
He left me alone out there. I spied Mr. Carver down in the street below, leaning on a fencepost, rolling a cigarette. Our eyes met and we both shrugged.
The same thing happened in Thatcher and Ford. In Thatcher my allegations against the Northern Lighting Corporation were overheard, and three men followed me outside. It was not that late in the day but it was late in the year when we got to Thatcher, and so when the arc light over the saloon sparked suddenly and went out we were in darkness. One fellow snatched the hat from my hand and a second shoved me into the third, who grabbed my arm and told me that if I kept spreading rumors I would regret it. I answered less diplomatically than I should have, maybe, and there was a scuffle and my nose was bloodied and I was knocked to my knees and to tell the truth I was already starting to regret it.
My assailants dispersed when the light came back on. A few minutes later Old Man Harper walked by, on his way into the saloon, and saw me wiping mud from my hat.
“I have more enemies than I deserve,” I said. “I am fighting a losing battle, me against the world. The next century is at stake. Time is running out and my optimism is sorely strained.”
“Yeah?” he said. “I was young once too.” He pushed past me and entered the saloon.
III. Politics and Religion
I tried not to talk politics or religion with anyone. That is the golden rule when traveling in strange country, doing business with strangers, or visiting with relatives. Little Water was a Line town and Mansel was a Gun town and Slate was divided down the middle and the mere act of eating breakfast in one establishment or another had consequences and implications I could not fathom. There were encampments of the Line all along Gold River and in the shadow of the Opals, and their Heavier-Than-Air Vessels were frequently seen overhead, watching like hawks. In Stone Hill and Dalton and Honnoth there were heaving tents hosting religious revivals of the Smiler, Silver City, and World Serpent faiths, respectively. South of Dalton we must have passed too close to a settlement of the Folk, or in some other way broken one of their laws, because somebody pelted us with stones from up on the rocky hillside until we moved on as fast as the horses could trot.
In Mattie’s Town we dined at a hotel whose owners were die-hard old men who had once been soldiers of the Red Republic, you could tell from the relics of that splendid and ill-fated Cause that decorated the walls, torn battle-standards and battered medals and the like, and I did not know where to look or what gestures of respect to make to avoid offense. In Kukri there was a bank that had been robbed seven times by the same Agent of the Gun, the notorious and dashing Gentleman Jim Dark. He robbed it every time he came through on other business, the way a traveling salesman might stop in to visit a woman, and after a while he started posing for photographs, and now Kukri did better business in memorabilia than it had ever done in banking. They kept talking about Jim Dark this and Jim Dark that, and Old Man Harper got unaccountably frightened and made us move on.
In Ruhr and in Tull and in Carnap people spoke with mixed feelings of rumors that nearby free settlements of the Folk had been slaughtered. Eye-witness accounts were not dissimilar to what Carver and I had seen outside Kenauk. Nobody could say who was
“I know of the Northern Lighting Corporation,” I said. “I know of their work. They are as crooked as the world is wide. They will bleed you, they will ruin you. What did they charge? They say they operate out of the Three Cities but you know what, that is a lie, they are a front for the Line, and that means all that comes with the Line. But what I offer you, sir, is entirely different. For one thing—”
He looked out over the white night of Dreyfus and shrugged. “I don’t know much about politics, Professor. But I know what works.”
He left me alone out there. I spied Mr. Carver down in the street below, leaning on a fencepost, rolling a cigarette. Our eyes met and we both shrugged.
The same thing happened in Thatcher and Ford. In Thatcher my allegations against the Northern Lighting Corporation were overheard, and three men followed me outside. It was not that late in the day but it was late in the year when we got to Thatcher, and so when the arc light over the saloon sparked suddenly and went out we were in darkness. One fellow snatched the hat from my hand and a second shoved me into the third, who grabbed my arm and told me that if I kept spreading rumors I would regret it. I answered less diplomatically than I should have, maybe, and there was a scuffle and my nose was bloodied and I was knocked to my knees and to tell the truth I was already starting to regret it.
My assailants dispersed when the light came back on. A few minutes later Old Man Harper walked by, on his way into the saloon, and saw me wiping mud from my hat.
“I have more enemies than I deserve,” I said. “I am fighting a losing battle, me against the world. The next century is at stake. Time is running out and my optimism is sorely strained.”
“Yeah?” he said. “I was young once too.” He pushed past me and entered the saloon.
III. Politics and Religion
I tried not to talk politics or religion with anyone. That is the golden rule when traveling in strange country, doing business with strangers, or visiting with relatives. Little Water was a Line town and Mansel was a Gun town and Slate was divided down the middle and the mere act of eating breakfast in one establishment or another had consequences and implications I could not fathom. There were encampments of the Line all along Gold River and in the shadow of the Opals, and their Heavier-Than-Air Vessels were frequently seen overhead, watching like hawks. In Stone Hill and Dalton and Honnoth there were heaving tents hosting religious revivals of the Smiler, Silver City, and World Serpent faiths, respectively. South of Dalton we must have passed too close to a settlement of the Folk, or in some other way broken one of their laws, because somebody pelted us with stones from up on the rocky hillside until we moved on as fast as the horses could trot.
In Mattie’s Town we dined at a hotel whose owners were die-hard old men who had once been soldiers of the Red Republic, you could tell from the relics of that splendid and ill-fated Cause that decorated the walls, torn battle-standards and battered medals and the like, and I did not know where to look or what gestures of respect to make to avoid offense. In Kukri there was a bank that had been robbed seven times by the same Agent of the Gun, the notorious and dashing Gentleman Jim Dark. He robbed it every time he came through on other business, the way a traveling salesman might stop in to visit a woman, and after a while he started posing for photographs, and now Kukri did better business in memorabilia than it had ever done in banking. They kept talking about Jim Dark this and Jim Dark that, and Old Man Harper got unaccountably frightened and made us move on.
In Ruhr and in Tull and in Carnap people spoke with mixed feelings of rumors that nearby free settlements of the Folk had been slaughtered. Eye-witness accounts were not dissimilar to what Carver and I had seen outside Kenauk. Nobody could say who was
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