ref: fd9be2e172be4ae02a18d721a10f6f96ca1c924f
dir: /troff/0107.ms/
.LP .ce .ps 16 .CW HEY, WEIRD SHOES .R .ps 10 .br .ce .ps 10 .B 1 .P .PP .ps 10 .DC 2 5 Dec 1942 .PP .ps 10 Prosthetic legs at fifty percent. .PP .ps 10 Hurts. .PP .ps 10 Admit it. Scaring myself. .PP .ps 10 Duck behind the Mercedes. Vizier under much heavier guard than usual. .PP .ps 10 One right there. Laying on the ground. Check pockets. Reload. Increase dosage by twenty percent for the next ten minutes. Glance at the snow. .PP .ps 10 Legs at forty\-three percent. Not good. .PP .ps 10 Over the back of the car. Scuff shoes on pavement. Back into pockets for ammunition. Establish rhythm. But: still losing power. Find a way to recharge. .PP .ps 10 Without warning, Vizier's car pulls away from the alley. Eyes follow tracks. Realization: they're sticking with standard procedure. Exfil the VIP. .PP .ps 10 Locate a sliver and waste thirty seconds charging my legs. .PP .ps 10 Phase one is a shambles. Old woman won't like this report. .PP .ps 10 Start running after the car. .bp .ce .ps 10 .B 2 .P .PP .ps 10 The Vizier had switched himself out. Long before the barbecue. Just another changeover. Recent events scrolled by, nothing catching in his mind. .PP .ps 10 He rested in the back of his limousine, staring down at the VHS cassette in his hand. Black, rectangular plastic against pale flesh and the usual gold brocade. .PP .ps 10 Insert the cassette. .PP .ps 10 Presently, there appeared upon the screen a fifty percent blue/pink gradient field. Hovering above the smudge of colors was the familiar phrase, .ps 8 .CW USING MAGIC TO FIGHT DRUG ABUSE. .R .ps 10 The Vizier was able to take some comfort in the kerning of the typeface and the offset of the drop shadow. He pondered the traditional refrain. One benefit of membership in this ancient fraternity was the freedom to seek refuge in its various conceits. Like so many before him, he decided to proceed as if the message were addressed specifically to himself. He straightened his necktie and opened a packet of cocaine. .PP .ps 10 Word came from the driver that the Vizier's destination was within reach. .PP .ps 10 Sensing no alternative, he nodded his assent. .PP .ps 10 With some effort, reached for the remote. .PP .ps 10 "We need more .I temps .R for the party," he shouted into the glass partition. "These other ones are dead!" .PP .ps 10 The vehicle lurched to a stop and his door was yanked open by someone standing outside the window. Harsh winter sunlight invaded the armored cabin. He stared up at the man's dark, spiked hair, enveloped by the stench of some considerable amount of hair product. The man was grinning from ear to ear. .PP .ps 10 "I hope that's a limo full of money, 'cause we've brought mountains and mountains of our finest white powder." .PP .ps 10 A second man appeared, this one not grinning at all. Brown jacket, he carried a sheet of translucent green paper. The man leaned into the limousine, as if to offer some form of explication. .PP .ps 10 "My partner's not talking about the snow." .ce .ps 10 .B 3 .P .PP .ps 10 Six miles down the road I botch phase two, as well. .PP .ps 10 Specifically, I slip in the snow. .PP .ps 10 One leg powers down completely on approach to the parked limousine. Drop to a knee, then pull myself back up and lock the joint manually. .PP .ps 10 Suddenly notice the others. .PP .ps 10 Large, pink aircraft, catty\-corner on the street. Strange triangular shape. Glossy. .PP .ps 10 Spinning up my weapon to take out the newcomers and then it happens. Face down on slick pavement. Scrape my chin. .PP .ps 10 Locked leg and nothing to pull myself up with. .PP .ps 10 And now: unobstructed view of bare, partisan ankles. .PP .ps 10 Weapon charged. .PP .ps 10 Hey, weird shoes. .ce .ps 10 .B 4 .P .PP .ps 10 Lie there on the ground and consider my life. .PP .ps 10 Leaving the Basement is increasingly difficult. Even on these short missions. Place has everything I need. Diversions, companionship, nourishment. The religious stuff I can take or leave. Then there's the Shroud. .PP .ps 10 Think about my room. .PP .ps 10 Old woman keeps the heat on. Few objectionable personal habits. Doesn't seem to mind the state of my body, either. Steady supply of spare parts. .PP .ps 10 Eventually, I know, I'll be forced to leave. Whether I want to or not. Mission completion flows smoothly into extraction\(emthe natural order. But it's possible this excursion may stretch on into years. I've no way of knowing when my employer will be satisfied. Just have to keep on, keeping on. Always doing my best. .PP .ps 10 Speaking of. .PP .ps 10 Pants have gone cold. Legs dead. Visor control is on the fritz, so, pull on my gloves. .PP .ps 10 Vizier's still talking. .ce .ps 10 .B 5 .P .PP .ps 10 Shoes look soft. Puffy? No heels. Some sort of transparent section there, along the bottom. Actual logo or insignia sewn onto the side. Tongue that reads: PUMP\f(CW™\fR. Is that leather? And where are the laces? .PP .ps 10 Velcro? .PP .ps 10 Whatever, conversation is concluded. Pink aircraft has vanished more quickly than makes sense for a vehicle of that size. Car starts up again and peels out. .PP .ps 10 Me, humping it. .bp .ce .ps 10 .B 6 .P .PP .ps 10 The Vizier often diminished himself through commerce. He claimed the privilege under a branch of theological speculation less popular in the current century than in times passed. While it was necessary to conduct most transactions in private, he longed to demonstrate the art of the deal to his followers. Unbeknownst to his political advisers, he had prepared a treatise on the subject that he planned to issue in the spring. .PP .ps 10 The Vizier rested his face against window glass as the limousine accelerated into a long curve. Beneath his smart shoes, bodies of the recently deceased coalesced into insignificance. As the road behind him slowly receded from view, he thought that he could make out the silhouette of a man clad in full commando gear, sprinting forward into the vehicle's wake. .PP .ps 10 He wondered: .PP .ps 10 .I Is this the new temp? .R