“Apologies, First Cousin.” John bowed insincerely and half-hopped onto the opposite seat in the ‘copter cabin. “The adoption scene always touches me.”
Cheng rolled his eyes, but Hazel continued as if he were alone.
“I didn’t have any sweets and hugging arms when I got to America. Just rolled down the gangplank in a wooden cart and got dumped in front of a Purple Gown. ‘Member them?”
“Yes.” Albert was already bored.
“They all had moles on their cheeks. Ugly mothers. Not like the ones today. Took us away like we were yesterday’s garbage. In a way, we were, reminders of what was coming from the Allahs. Cleaned out France of too many Christians. Already made the Jews disappear.”
“How can you remember? You were only two years old,” Cheng snapped.
“Beaten by my older adoptive brothers, the kids in the ‘hood in Boston. Called a retard, spy, Camel. Me.” He tugged on his blond hair.
“The fondness of childhood memories.” Albert sneered. “Yet look how wonderfully you turned out. A respected vidsports personality.”
Hazel stretched his Gelinium leg so it lightly brushed Cheng’s shin; he grinned inwardly at the First Cousin’s discomfort. The Fake General’s discomfort, he thought acidly. “With a few bumps along the way.”
Cheng leaned back with a deadly stare. “It would give me great joy to hear your life story, Hazel.”
“But you’re busy.”
“No, I don’t care. Anything?”
“Tomas Stilton never left the country.”
Cheng’s eyes fluttered closed. “He did. You just lost him.”
“I have someone in his security guard…”
“He left.” Cheng’s rheumy brown eyes drilled into Hazel.
“How do you know?”
Cheng couldn’t very well explain Tomas had activated his A3 double to cover himself. “Did Derek Singh respond?”
“He will eventually. And then I’ll be invited to talk…”
“And will say what I tell you. Hopefully we can catch this now, before Grandma goes too far.” Hazel waited patiently. “She’s altering the school curriculum.”
“Again?”
“This time it’s significant.”
John automatically tapped the vidrecorder lashed onto his left shoulder. A journalist would vidrecord his own funeral, Cheng thought wryly.
“That crap she threw out today will be in there,” the First Cousin said.
“Grandma’s always talked about overcoming hate.”
“This is different.”
Hazel’s eyes narrowed. “How?”
“I’ve given you enough.”
“You’ve given me nothing, First Cousin. I’ve given you everything. Trust and love.”
The First Cousin frowned and tapped on the cockpit door and the ‘copter slowly rose; he grinned at Hazel’s uneasiness. “I’ll drop you off, don’t worry.”
Hazel glanced down at the fading treeline.
Cheng handed the reporter a slim sheet of paper filled with Grandma’s tight neat scrawl.
VANGUARD FOR INTRODUCTION TO SCHOOLS:
• Teach origins of anti-Muslim legislation of 2030s and impact on society
• Teach origins of anti-Muslim immigration laws of 2040s and impact on society
• Teach origins of Muslim deportations of 2050s and impact on society
• Teach restrictive immigration laws of 2060s including impact on society
• Teach Arab history
• Introduction to the Quran
It took Hazel a few moments to be able to physically hand back the paper. He was pale.
“You can’t let this happen, Cheng,” Hazel shouted.
Two Black Tops stood in the doorway of the cockpit with Pflia machine guns; Cheng brusquely waved them back inside.
“She’s letting in some of the Camel refugees, isn’t she? Bullshit dissenters, we all know the stories, poor fucking things who don’t want to squat to Mecca and bugger little boys and only want freedom. That’s what she’s up to, isn’t she?”
Cheng wished it were only that.
12
Touch my ass again and you’ll be pissing out of your ear.” The full-figured woman wearing Puppy’s black bathrobe waved a frying pan like a tennis racket.
Puppy dropped both bags of groceries onto his living room floor and froze.
Ty helped up Mick, angrily wiping the blood from his mouth.
“Bitch,” Cobb growled.
“You want a piece of me, too, Grandpa?” She clenched her groin.
No, Puppy thought. No. This was not possible.
The woman suddenly sneered at Puppy. “Think you can explain how to turn on the shower?”
How could this be?
She rapped the frying pan against Puppy’s head, and not gently, either. “Shit for brains, you mute?”
“Mooshie.”
“The lips work. Excellent. Maybe the hands and feet are next. Shower, bubblehead. I smell like old farts. And clean clothes would be nice. Something not so shabby.” She plucked at the frayed sleeves.
“Mooshie Lopez,” he said dully.
“I bet you’re the smart one of the group.”
“Watch her,” Ty warned. “I’d hit the chiquita but I don’t hit women.”
“Don’t let that stop you.” Mooshie loosened the belt loop.
Ty considered the swelling around Mick’s mouth and backed off slightly. Lopez grunted and threw the pan into the sink.
“I don’t do powdered eggs, either.”
She headed into the bathroom, Mick and Ty warily giving way. Stunned, Puppy followed and leaned against the sink, staring. Mooshie waited impatiently.
“You want a peek?” She tugged at the bathrobe.
“Please. No.”
“Don’t think I’m good looking?” Lopez self-consciously brushed back her thick black hair.
“Of course I do, I mean, you’re…right?”
Lopez laughed that baritone of joy, the Mooshie roar, the happiness that could knock down a lamp post, the laugh of love that Grandma had recorded as the sign-off to the vidnews every night. Sleep well my darlings and don’t forget to laugh.
Soon Mooshie’s laugh had become a signature. A new line of shoes. You want them to make you happy, don’t ya? Cue Mooshie laugh. That artificially processed cheeseburger hit the spot? Cue Mooshie laugh. Wouldn’t it be nice to get away for a weekend in Albany at Hudson Inns? Cue Mooshie laugh.
Puppy smiled weakly. Mooshie cupped his chin.
“I don’t understand it, either, handsome. But here I am and I smell like dirt.” She tugged aside the shower curtain.
Puppy headed directly into the bedroom, ransacking the drawers. Mick and Ty watched from the
