Dead Planet XXX
“Categorization, the mental act
of treating individuals as identical
members of a class, is an abstraction
whose accuracy must be always
open to question.”—John C. Wright,
Null-A Continuum: Continuing
A. E. van Vogt’s World of Null-A
[“First, you find a little thread, the little thread leads you to a string, and the string leads you to a rope, and from the rope you hang by the neck. What kind of thing was coming down—and what did it have to do with him?”]
___________________
Rick: “Okay, what should I do now?”
Marty “The Martian” Augustine: “You can't top this deal. They said they'd let us both breathe some.”
Rick: “What does that mean?”
Marty “The Martian” Augustine: “It means, Rick, we gotta play it low. We don’t know each other anymore. You don't look like anyone I know, right? Goodbye. And stay away—you’re nothin’ but Trouble from now on. With a big fat capitol T.”
Dix Handley the Heavy: “Yeah, who’re you?”
Rick: “Who am I? Who are you?”
Dix Handley the Heavy: “I'm Friday. You’re Saturday—I don’t know shit about tomorrow. I'm here today—but you’re the tomorrow man. Get it? Friday, Saturday, Sunday—what’s the difference? You know, you're not anybody anymore. Not Dix Handley the Heavy’s friend or Marty “The Martian” Augustine’s friend either.”
Rick: “I know what you mean. I’m on my own.”
Dix Handley the Heavy: “Maybe I’d be your friend—if the price was right, tho?
Rick: “Oh, great. Then you can be my friend, all mine—nothing but love & kisses. How much?
Dix Handley the Heavy: “What d’ya got?”
Rick: “A cigarette.”
Dix Handley the Heavy: “A C-note gets ya zip.”
Rick: “How about a James Madison?”
Dix Handley the Heavy: “Maybe—maybe not.”
[Rick hands him the bill Augustine found on him. What’s good for the Boss—is good for the Heavy.]
Dix: “What do I have to do?”
Rick: “I want you to be around. Just in case I need some muscle. I don’t trust the Lizards an inch.”
Dix: “Maybe.”
Rick: “Maybe if your boss says maybe.”
Dix: “Maybe.”
Rick: “Let's see how good you are at spelling. Can you spell the word "Los Angeles?”
Dix: “LA spells "Trouble."
Rick: “That's a good boy. Now you practice saying that. Because one of the best ways to be friendly with me—is to know what LA means.”
Marty “The Martian” Augustine: “I just heard about LA on the vidscreen a couple of minutes ago. How’d you know?”
Rick: ”Twenty years, I lived in LA. Did in a lotta droids. LA doesn’t exist anymore.”
Marty “The Martian” Augustine: “Yeah?”
Rick: “They’re parking it—in Saturn orbit. Along with the rest of Earth. There goes the Terra Mob.”
[Rick leaves Marty & Dix sitting there—their jaws hitting the floor. He takes off in his Jag hover-craft—heading back home. Thinking about things.]
“Categorization, the mental act
of treating individuals as identical
members of a class, is an abstraction
whose accuracy must be always
open to question.”—John C. Wright,
Null-A Continuum: Continuing
A. E. van Vogt’s World of Null-A
[“First, you find a little thread, the little thread leads you to a string, and the string leads you to a rope, and from the rope you hang by the neck. What kind of thing was coming down—and what did it have to do with him?”]
___________________
Rick: “Okay, what should I do now?”
Marty “The Martian” Augustine: “You can't top this deal. They said they'd let us both breathe some.”
Rick: “What does that mean?”
Marty “The Martian” Augustine: “It means, Rick, we gotta play it low. We don’t know each other anymore. You don't look like anyone I know, right? Goodbye. And stay away—you’re nothin’ but Trouble from now on. With a big fat capitol T.”
Dix Handley the Heavy: “Yeah, who’re you?”
Rick: “Who am I? Who are you?”
Dix Handley the Heavy: “I'm Friday. You’re Saturday—I don’t know shit about tomorrow. I'm here today—but you’re the tomorrow man. Get it? Friday, Saturday, Sunday—what’s the difference? You know, you're not anybody anymore. Not Dix Handley the Heavy’s friend or Marty “The Martian” Augustine’s friend either.”
Rick: “I know what you mean. I’m on my own.”
Dix Handley the Heavy: “Maybe I’d be your friend—if the price was right, tho?
Rick: “Oh, great. Then you can be my friend, all mine—nothing but love & kisses. How much?
Dix Handley the Heavy: “What d’ya got?”
Rick: “A cigarette.”
Dix Handley the Heavy: “A C-note gets ya zip.”
Rick: “How about a James Madison?”
Dix Handley the Heavy: “Maybe—maybe not.”
[Rick hands him the bill Augustine found on him. What’s good for the Boss—is good for the Heavy.]
Dix: “What do I have to do?”
Rick: “I want you to be around. Just in case I need some muscle. I don’t trust the Lizards an inch.”
Dix: “Maybe.”
Rick: “Maybe if your boss says maybe.”
Dix: “Maybe.”
Rick: “Let's see how good you are at spelling. Can you spell the word "Los Angeles?”
Dix: “LA spells "Trouble."
Rick: “That's a good boy. Now you practice saying that. Because one of the best ways to be friendly with me—is to know what LA means.”
Marty “The Martian” Augustine: “I just heard about LA on the vidscreen a couple of minutes ago. How’d you know?”
Rick: ”Twenty years, I lived in LA. Did in a lotta droids. LA doesn’t exist anymore.”
Marty “The Martian” Augustine: “Yeah?”
Rick: “They’re parking it—in Saturn orbit. Along with the rest of Earth. There goes the Terra Mob.”
[Rick leaves Marty & Dix sitting there—their jaws hitting the floor. He takes off in his Jag hover-craft—heading back home. Thinking about things.]
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