The Waste Lands (Page 142)

Eddie had started away, and he spoke without stopping or looking back. “I don’t know—that’s a riddle not even Blaine could answer.”

“COULD I HAVE SOMETHING to drink?” Jake asked. His voice came out sounding furry and nasal. Both his mouth and the tissues in his abused nose were swelling up. He looked like someone who has gotten the worst of it in a nasty street-fight. “Oh, yes,” Tick-Tock replied judiciously. “You could. I’d say you certainly could. We have lots to drink, don’t we, Copperhead?” “Ay,” said a tall, bespectacled man in a white silk shirt and a pair of black silk trousers. He looked like a college professor in a turn-of-the-century Punch cartoon. “No shortage of po-ter-bulls here.” The Tick-Tock Man, once more seated at ease in his throne-like chair, looked humorously at Jake. “We have wine, beer, ale, and, of course, good old water. Sometimes that’s all a body wants, isn’t it? Cool, clear, sparkling water. How does that sound, cully?”

Jake’s throat, which was also swollen and as dry as sandpaper, prick-led painfully. “Sounds good,” he whispered.

“It’s woke my thirsty up, I know that,” Tick-Tock said. His lips spread in a smile. His green eyes sparkled. “Bring me a dipper of water, Tilly—I’ll be damned if I know what’s happened to my manners.”

Tilly stepped through the hatchway on the far side of the room—it was opposite the one through which Jake and Gasher had entered. Jake watched her go and licked his swollen lips.

“Now,” Tick-Tock said, returning his gaze to Jake, “you say the American city you came from—this New York—is much like Lud.” “Well . . . not exactly …”

“But you do recognize some of the machinery, Tick-Tock pressed. “Valves and pumps and such. Not to mention the firedim tubes.” “Yes. We call it neon, but it’s the same.” Tick-Tock reached out toward him. Jake cringed, but Tick-Tock only patted him on the shoulder. “Yes, yes; close enough.” His eyes gleamed. “And you’ve heard of computers?”

“Sure, but—“

Tilly returned with the dipper and timidly approached the Tick-Tock Man’s throne. He took it and held it out to Jake. When Jake reached for it, Tick-Tock pulled it back and drank himself. As Jake watched the water trickle from Tick-Tock’s mouth and roll down his naked chest, he began to shake. He couldn’t help it.

The Tick-Tock Man looked over the dipper at him, as if just remem-bering that Jake was still there. Behind him, Gasher, Copperhead, Bran-don, and Hoots were grinning like schoolyard kids who have just heard an amusing dirty joke. “Why, I got thinking about how thirsty I was and forgot all about you!” Tick-Tock cried. “That’s mean as hell, gods damn my eyes! But, of course, it looked so good . . . and it is good . . . cold . . . clear …” He held the dipper out to Jake. When Jake reached for it, Tick-Tock pulled it back.

“First, cully, tell me what you know about dipolar computers and transitive circuits,” he said coldly.

“What …” Jake looked toward the ventilator grille, but the golden eyes were still gone. He was beginning to think he had imagined them after all. He shifted his gaze back to the Tick-Tock Man, understanding one thing clearly: he wasn’t going to get any water. He had been stupid to even dream he might. “What are dipolar computers?”

The Tick-Tock Man’s face contorted with rage; he threw the remain-der of the water into Jake’s bruised, puffy face. “Don’t you play it light with me!” he shrieked. He stripped off the Seiko watch and shook it in front of Jake. “When I asked you if this ran on a dipolar circuit, you said it didn’t! So don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about when you already made it clear that you do!”

“But . . . but …” Jake couldn’t go on. His head was whirling with fear and confusion. He was aware, in some far-off fashion, that he was licking as much water as he could off his lips.

“There’s a thousand of those ever-fucking dipolar computers right under the ever-fucking city, maybe a HUNDRED thousand, and the only one that still works don’t do a thing except play Watch Me and run those drums! I want those computers! I want them working for ME!”

The Tick-Tock Man bolted forward on his throne, seized Jake, shook him back and forth, and then threw him to the floor. Jake struck one of the lamps, knocking it over, and the bulb blew with a hollow coughing sound. Tilly gave a little shriek and stepped backward, her eyes wide and frightened. Copperhead and Brandon looked at each other uneasily.

Tick-Tock leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, and screamed into Jake’s face: “I want them AND I MEAN TO HAVE THEM!”

Silence fell in the room, broken only by the soft whoosh of warm air pouring from the ventilators. Then the twisted rage on the Tick-Tock Man’s face disappeared so suddenly it might never have existed at all. It was replaced by another charming smile. He leaned further forward and helped Jake to his feet. “Sorry. I get thinking about the potential of this place and sometimes I get carried away. Please accept my apology, cully.” He picked up the overturned dipper and threw it at Tilly. “Fill this up, you useless bitch! What’s the matter with you?”

He turned his attention back to Jake, still smiling his TV game-show host smile. “All right; you’ve had your little joke and I’ve had mine. Now tell me everything you know about dipolar computers and transitive circuits. Then you can have a drink.”