“But I’m scared,” Nummy said.
“Well, Peaches, haven’t you been scared pretty much all this dreadful day, and haven’t you come through all right? I’ve got my faults, one or two, but I’ve taken good care of you, haven’t I?”
“We’ve stolen a lot of stuff.”
“Tarnation, I did just say I have a fault or two. I didn’t make any claim to shining perfection. All I said is I’ve kept you safe. Haven’t I?”
“I guess so.”
“Guess so? You’ve got both feet to walk on, don’t you? You’ve got both hands to eat with. Your big dumb head is still on your shoulders, isn’t it?”
“I guess it is,” Nummy admitted.
“All right, then,” said Mr. Lyss. “Let’s go.”
Nummy had put his foot down, but now he found himself picking it up and doing just what he didn’t want to do, which was walk out to the stolen car with Mr. Lyss and the monster.
And when they got to the car, Nummy discovered that Mr. Lyss wanted the monster to drive.
As Xerox Boze got in behind the wheel, Mr. Lyss led Nummy around to the passenger side, where he opened both doors.
“It’ll be all right, Peaches. If I drove, I couldn’t keep him covered. This way, I’ll have a pistol aimed at him the whole time, though it won’t be necessary.”
“I don’t know what it is we’re doing,” Nummy worried.
“First it was alien bugs, which is just blind fate, no meaning to it. Then it was Frankenstein, which isn’t fate, it’s about how we try to tear apart the way things are, just to prove we can. It’s still Frankenstein, Nummy, but it’s something a lot bigger, too. Even a useless old hobo like me can see signs in the sky if they’re big and bright enough.”
Nummy looked at the sky, but he didn’t see any signs, just snow coming down.
Mr. Lyss smiled, which was a surprising thing to see, and he put a hand on Nummy’s shoulder in a way that made him think of Grandmama. “There’s big Evil in this town tonight, son, bigger than most people will ever admit exists. When it’s all over, they’ll just say it was these people machines, science run amok, which is true enough but not the whole truth. Anyway, there’s not just big Evil in Rainbow Falls tonight, there’s something else, too.”
“What else?” Nummy asked.
“From the start, things have gone our way when they never should have. We ought to be dead ten times over.”
“That’s because of you you’re so smart.”
“I’m smart enough for a hobo, but I wouldn’t be a hobo if I was as smart as I said I am. Things have gone our way for a reason, and I think I know what it is. I’ll explain that part later. But things went our way big-time when we found this broken monster, especially when you think about what broke him. He knows things about the monster-making machine only one like him could know, and in this war, that’s invaluable information. We have to find someone who knows how to use what this broken monster knows.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. But I’m going to look after you, and I’m going to do the smartest thing I know how, but I’m also going to say ‘Show me’ now and then, and just do what intuition tells me. Intuition is the little voice inside you that tells you what’s right and wrong, wise or foolish — which is different from dumb and smart. Do you feel better about this now?”
“No,” Nummy said. “Well, maybe a little better. But the Xerox Boze he’s still a monster.”
Mr. Lyss told Nummy to get into the backseat and slide over behind the driver. Then he put the long gun on the seat, barrel away from Nummy, and he said, “Don’t get it in your head to take that and go hunting rabbits.”
“I don’t hunt ever,” Nummy said.
“And remember it’s a stolen gun.”
“You stole it out of the preacher’s house.”
“That’s right. You don’t want to be part of that crime, too, considering all the other banditry you’re guilty of lately.”
“I’ll never touch it.”
Mr. Lyss closed the back door, got in front, closed that door, too, and handed the key to the Xerox Boze.
The monster started the car and said, “Where are we going?”
“Nummy,” Mr. Lyss said, “this right now is a show-me moment if ever there was or will be one.”
Mr. Lyss was quiet for a while. There was just the sound of the idling engine, and outside the snow sliding down the night, down and down, slanting in the wind.
Nummy sat staring at the back of the monster’s head, and the monster didn’t start humming sad music or anything, he just waited like Nummy.
After half a minute or more, Mr. Lyss leaned forward and clicked on the car radio.
A man on the radio was talking about a war somewhere. Then he said Rainbow Falls. Then he said people that weren’t people.
Mr. Lyss said, “Thank you very much.”
Chapter 52
The cocoon split. She was liberated. She came forth into the courthouse basement.
A mist of millions rose from her skin. An illusion of clothes formed and clung to her as the mist clarified.
She was the revolution. She would devour the past.
Nearby another cocoon disgorged another beauty. A small, swarming portion of herself became her costume.
They would devour the past but make no future. There would be perpetual revolution until the revolution devoured even itself. Then nothing.
Another cocoon ripened to the moment of delivery. He came forth into the courthouse basement. Clothes formed: a business suit, white shirt, and tie.
He was the revolution. Only a perpetual revolution could be a legitimate revolution. What revolved must take its meaning from its motion. When it ceased to revolve, it had no meaning.
She, she, he. In truth, they had no gender. Their gender was strictly their disguise. Each was an it. A colony of many tinier its. It had two purposes: to destroy and to reproduce asexually.
Another cocoon split and spat forth. A fifth cocoon and a sixth dropped their fruit into the world. Two men, a woman: three its.
They were the revolution. They were hatred and rage distilled to perfect purity. Their hunger was as great as the gravity of a black hole, which could pull worlds to their destruction.
Other cocoons in the courthouse basement were not yet ready to deliver.
The six departed and climbed stairs to the main floor.
The courthouse stood silent. It would be silent for decades, until it collapsed from lack of maintenance.
Outside, they descended the courthouse stairs, perhaps six magazine models expecting their glamour photographer to be waiting.
They did not slip in the snow. Their shoes were in fact part of their substance expressed as shoes, so they were barefoot. But their feet were the illusion of feet, and the soles and heels that met the snow-blanketed pavement were really millions of nanoanimals gripping-releasing-gripping. Their traction and balance were such that in their human masquerade, they could never slip or stumble.
As they stepped into the street and surveyed the area, they might arouse suspicion because their faces in the lamplight were in every case exquisite, more flawless beauty on display than in an exhibition of Botticelli masterpieces. And in the cold, their breath did not smoke from them in pale plumes, because although they passed for people, they had no lungs.
The neighborhood around the courthouse offered classic old homes, mostly in Federal and Victorian styles.
