All Tomorrow's Parties

33. DURIUS

RYDELL was midway back, through that lower-level crunch, when his sunglasses rang. He got his back to the nearest wall, took them out, opened them, put them on.

'Rydell?

'Yeah?

'Durius, man. How are you?

'Fine, Rydell said. The glasses were acting up; weirdly elongated segments of Rio street maps were scrolling down his field of vision.

'How are you? He heard the whine of a drill or power driver, somewhere in LA. 'You at the Dragon?

Durius said, 'we got major construction under way here.

'What for?

'Don't know, Durius said. 'They're putting in a new node, back by the ATM. Where they had the baby food and child care products before, you know? Park won't say what it is; don't think he knows. All the branches gettin' 'em, whatever they are. How's your ride up? How's that Creedmore?

'I think he's an alcoholic, Durius.

'No shit, Durius said. 'How's the new job?

'Well, Rydell said, 'I don't think I've figured out much about it yet, but it's getting interesting.

'That's good, Durius said. 'Well, just wanted to see how you're doing. Praisegod, she says hi. Wants to know if you like the glasses.

The Rio street maps shuddered, contracted, stretched again. 'Tell her they're great, Rydell said. 'Tell her thanks.

'Will do, said Durius. 'You take care.

'You too, Rydell said, the maps vanishing as Durius hung up. Rydell removed the glasses and put them away.

Beef bowl. Maybe he could grab some Ghetto Chef Beef Bowl on the way back.

Then he thought about Klaus and the Rooster and decided bed better check on the thermos first.