World's End

Page 22

"Tired of it?"

I felt my skin prickle. I had come to the end of believing that I would ever get permission to enter World's

End, ever master the rituals of whim and bribery that have confounded me all the while I've been here. And now this stranger seemed to be offering me clearance on a ceremonial platter. "What do you want?"

He said, "I want to go prospecting. My vehicle is a

Company junker. They don't think it can be repaired. I

think all it needs is somebody who knows his ass from a socket. I hear you Techs can fix anything. If you can fix this, we'll go together."

That was all he wanted. I let myself laugh. "If I can't

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fix it, no one can." I offered my hand. The stranger shook it, after the local custom. I asked,

"What do I call you?"

"Ang," he said.

I finished my drink, out of habit, and we left the Wait together.

26

day 23.

E could hardly believe my luck this morning, when

Ang actually showed up at my room with every permit and clearance I needed to get into World's End.

After so many weeks of maddening bureaucracy, it was like being set free from prison. I didn't bother to ask him how he'd done it--there's only one way. No matter; it seemed like a miracle.

I should have known my good fortune was too perfect to be true. This afternoon Ang took me to see the vehicle

--a triphibian rover, in bad shape but not impossible, if

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he can get me the parts I'll need. That's not the trouble.

The trouble is that there are three of us, not two. Today I met the third man.

He seemed about as surprised to see me as I was to see him, even though he'd apparently been expecting me.

He was waiting in a junkyard when I arrived with Ang, kicking at the fungal creepers that grew up through the sea of scrap metal.