The Ask and the Answer

“I’m asking now.”

Davy’s Noise is buzzing a little. He don’t wanna answer, I can tell.

“You don’t have to–”

“Above the stables,” he says. “Little room. Mattress on a floor. Smells like horseshit.”

We keep on riding. “Forward,” Angharrad nickers. “Forward,” Deadfall nickers back. Todd, Angharrad thinks. “Angharrad,” I say.

Davy and I ain’t talked about my ma’s book since he brought it to me four nights back. Not a word. And any sign of it in either of our Noises gets ignored.

But we’re talking more.

I begin to wonder what sort of man I’d be if I’d had the Mayor as a father. I begin to wonder what sort of man I’d be if I’d had the Mayor as a father and wasn’t the son he wanted. I wonder if I’d be sleeping in a room over the stables.

“I try,” Davy says, quiet. “But who knows what he effing wants?”

I don’t know so I don’t say nothing.

We tie up our horses at the front gates. Ivan tries to catch my eye again as I go inside but I don’t let him.

“Todd,” he says as we pass, trying harder.

“That’s Mr. Hewitt to you, Private,” Davy spits at him.

I keep on walking. We take the short path from the gates to the front doors of the Office of the Ask building. Soldiers guard those doors, too, but we walk on past ’em into the entryway, across the cold concrete floor, still uncovered, still unheated, and go into the same viewing room as before.

“Ah, boys, welcome,” the Mayor says, turning away from the mirror to greet us.

Behind him, in the Arena of the Ask, is Mr. Hammar, wearing a rubber apron. Seated in front of him, a na**d man is screaming.

The Mayor presses a button, cutting off the sound mid-cry.

“I understand the identification scheme is complete?” he asks, bright and clear.

“As far as we know,” I say.

“Who’s that?” Davy asks, pointing at the man.

“Son of the exploded terrorist,” the Mayor says. “Didn’t run when his mother did, foolish man. Now we’re seeing what he knows.”

Davy curls his lip. “But if he didn’t run off when she did–”

“You both have done a tremendous job for me,” the Mayor says, clasping his hands behind his back. “I’m very pleased.”

Davy smiles and the pink rush fills his Noise.

“But the threat is finally upon us,” the Mayor continues. “One of the original terrorists caught in the prison attack finally told us something useful.” He looks back thru the mirror. Mr. Hammar is blocking most of the view but the man’s bare feet are curling tightly against whatever Mr. Hammar’s doing to him. “Before she unfortunately passed away, she was able to tell us that, based on the patterns of the recent bombings, we can almost certainly expect a major move by the Answer within days, perhaps as soon as tomorrow.”

Davy glances over to me. I keep looking at a middle point beyond the Mayor on the blank wall behind.

“They’ll be defeated, of course,” says the Mayor. “Easily. Their force is so much smaller than ours that I can’t see it lasting more than a day at most.”

“Let us fight, Pa,” Davy says eagerly. “You know we’re ready.”

The Mayor smiles, smiles at his own son. Davy’s Noise goes so pink you can’t hardly look at it.

“You’re being promoted, David,” the Mayor says. “Into an army position. You will be Sergeant Prentiss.”

Davy’s smile almost explodes off his face in a little boom of pleased Noise. “Hot damn,” he says, as if we weren’t there.

“You will be at Captain Hammar’s side as he rides into battle at the front of the first wave,” the Mayor says. “You will get your fight exactly as you want.”

Davy’s practically glowing. “Aw, man, thanks, Pa!”

The Mayor turns to me. “I’m making you Lieutenant Hewitt.”

Davy’s Noise gives a sharp change. “Lieutenant?”

“You will be my personal bodyguard from the moment the fighting starts,” the Mayor goes on. “You will remain by my side, protecting me from any threats that may approach while I superintend the battle.”

I don’t say nothing, just keep my eyes on the blank wall.

I am the Circle and the Circle is me.

“And this is how the Circle turns, Todd,” says the Mayor.

“Why does he get to be a lieutenant?” Davy asks, Noise crackling.

“Lieutenant isn’t a battle rank,” the Mayor says smoothly. “Sergeant is. If you weren’t a sergeant, you wouldn’t be able to fight.”

“Oh,” Davy says, looking back and forth to each of us to see if he’s being made a fool of. I don’t think nothing about that.

“There’s no need to thank me, Lieutenant,” the Mayor teases.

“Thank you,” I say, my eyes still on the wall.

“It keeps you from doing what you don’t want,” he says. “It keeps you from having to kill.”

“Unless someone comes after you,” I say.

“Unless someone comes after me, yes. Will that be a problem for you, Todd?”

“No,” I say. “No, sir.”

“Good,” says the Mayor.

I look back thru the mirror. The na**d man’s head has lolled lifelessly onto his chest, drool dripping from his slack jaw. Mr. Hammar is angrily taking off his gloves and slapping them on a table.

“I am very blessed,” the Mayor says warmly. “I have achieved my ambition to put this planet back on track. Within days, maybe even hours, I will crush the terrorists. And when the new settlers come, it will be me who puts out a proud and peaceful hand to welcome them.”

He raises his hands, like he can’t wait to start putting ’em out. “And who will be right beside me?” He holds his hands out to the two of us. “Both of you.”

Davy, buzzing pink all over, reaches out and takes his pa’s hand.

“I came into this town with one son,” the Mayor says still holding out his hand to me, “but it has blessed me with another.”

And his hand is out, waiting for me to take it.

Waiting for his second son to shake his hand.

“Congrats, Lieutenant Pigpiss,” Davy says, hopping back into Deadfall’s saddle.

“Todd?” Ivan says, stepping away from his post as I climb onto Angharrad. “Can I have a word?”