Hunter's Run Part 9

"Are you having a seizure?" Maneck demanded.

It was too much. Ramon howled and kicked his feet, pointing at the alien in derision. He couldn't speak. The absurdity of his situation and the powerful strain his mind had been under amplified the humor of Maneck's confusion until he was helpless before it. The alien moved forward and then back, agitated and uncertain. Slowly, the fit faded, and Ramon found himself spent, lying on the ground.

"You are unwell?" Maneck asked.

"I'm fine," Ramon said. "I'm fine. You, though, are very funny."

"I do not understand."

"No. No, you don't! That's what makes you funny. You are a funny, funny, sad little devil."

Maneck stared solemnly at him. "You are fortunate that I am not in cohesion," it said. "If I were, we would destroy you at once and start again with another duplicate, as such fits indicate that you are a defective organism. Why did you undergo this seizure? Is it a symp-tom of cancer?"

"Stupid cabron, cabron, " Ramon said. "I was " Ramon said. "I was laughing laughing."

"Explain 'laughing.' I do not comprehend this function."

He groped for an explanation the alien would understand.

115 "Laughter is a good thing," he said weakly. "Pleasurable. A man who cannot laugh is nothing. It is part of our function."

"This is not so," Maneck replied. "Laughing halts the flow. It interferes with proper function."

"Laughing makes me feel good," Ramon said. "When I feel good, I function better. It's like food, you see."

"That is an incorrect statement. Food provides energy for your body. Laughing does not."

"A different kind of energy. When something is funny, I laugh."

"Explain 'funny.'"

He thought for a minute, then recalled a joke he had heard the last time he was in Little Dog. Eloy Chavez had told it to him when they went drinking together. "Listen, then, monster," he said, "and I will tell you a funny story."

The telling did not go very well. Maneck kept interrupting with questions, asking for definitions and explanations, until Ramon finally said irritably, "Son of a wh.o.r.e, the story will not be funny if you do not shut up and let me tell it to you! You are ruining it with all your questions!"

"Why does this make the incident less funny?" Maneck asked.

"Never mind!" Ramon snapped. "Just listen."

The alien said nothing more, and this time Ramon told it straight through without interruption, but when he was finished, Maneck twitched its snout and stared at him from expressionless orange eyes.

"Now you are supposed to laugh," Ramon told it. "That was a very funny story."

"Why is this incident funny funny?" it said. "The man you spoke of was instructed to mate with a female of his species and kill a large carnivore. If this was his tatecreude, tatecreude, he did not fulfill it. Why did he mate with the carnivore instead? Was he he did not fulfill it. Why did he mate with the carnivore instead? Was he aubre aubre? The creature injured him, and might have killed him. Did he not understand that this might bethe result of his actions? He behaved in a contradictory manner."

"That's why why the story is funny! Don't you understand? He f.u.c.ked the the story is funny! Don't you understand? He f.u.c.ked the chupacabra chupacabra!"

"Yes, I comprehend that," said Maneck. "Would the story not be more 'funny' if the man had performed his function properly?"

"No, no, no no! It would not be funny at all all then!" He glanced side-long at the alien, sitting there like a great, solemn lump, its face grave, and couldn't help but start to laugh again. then!" He glanced side-long at the alien, sitting there like a great, solemn lump, its face grave, and couldn't help but start to laugh again.

And then the pain came-world-rending, humiliating, abasing.

It lasted longer than he had remembered; h.e.l.lish and total and complex as nausea. When at last it ended, Ramon found himself curled tight in a ball, his fingers scrabbling at the sahael, sahael, which pulsed with his own heartbeat. To his shame, he was weeping, betrayed as a dog kicked without cause. Maneck stood over him, silent and implacable, and, in that moment, to Ramon, a figure of perfect evil. which pulsed with his own heartbeat. To his shame, he was weeping, betrayed as a dog kicked without cause. Maneck stood over him, silent and implacable, and, in that moment, to Ramon, a figure of perfect evil.

"Why?" Ramon shouted, ashamed to hear the break in his voice.

"Why? I didn't I didn't do do anything!" anything!"

"You threaten to contract cancer to avoid our purpose. You engage in a seizure that impairs your functioning. You take pleasure in contradictions. You take pleasure in the failure to integrate. This is aubre aubre.

Any sign of aubre aubre will be punished thus." will be punished thus."

"I laughed," Ramon whispered. "I only laughed!"

"Any laughter will be punished thus."

Ramon felt something like vertigo. He had forgotten. He had forgotten again that this thing on the far end of his tether was not a strangely shaped man. The mind behind the opaque orange eyes was not a human mind. It had been easy to forget. And it had been dangerous.

If he was to live-if he was to escape this and return to the company of human beings-he had to remember that this thing was not like him. He was a man, however he had been created. And Maneck was a monster. He had been a fool to treat it otherwise.

117 "I will not laugh again," Ramon said. "Or get cancer."

Maneck said nothing more, but sat down next to him. Silence stretched between them, a gulf as strange and dark as the void between stars. Many times Ramon had felt estranged from the people he was forced to deal with- norteamericanos, norteamericanos, Brazilians, or even the full-blooded Brazilians, or even the full-blooded mejicanos mejicanos to whom he was related courtesy of rape; they thought differently, those strangers, felt things differently, could not wholly be trusted because they could not wholly be understood. to whom he was related courtesy of rape; they thought differently, those strangers, felt things differently, could not wholly be trusted because they could not wholly be understood.

Often women, even Elena, made him feel that way too. Perhaps that was why he had spent so much of his life by himself, why he was more at home alone in the wilderness than he had ever been with the others of his kind. But all of them had more in common with him than Maneck ever could. He was separated from a norteamericano norteamericano by history, culture, and language-but even a gringo knew how to laugh, and got mad when you spat on him. No such common ground united Ramon and Maneck; between them lay light-years, and a million centuries of evolution. He could take nothing for granted about the thing at the other end of the by history, culture, and language-but even a gringo knew how to laugh, and got mad when you spat on him. No such common ground united Ramon and Maneck; between them lay light-years, and a million centuries of evolution. He could take nothing for granted about the thing at the other end of the sahael sahael. The thought made him colder than the breeze from the mountains.

It was something Mikel Ibrahim, the manager of the El Rey, had said more than once: If lions could speak, we still wouldn't understand them. His only chance was to never let himself forget that he was tethered to a lion.

Maneck nudged him. "Time to resume our functioning."

"Give me a minute," Ramon said. "I don't think I can walk yet."

Maneck was silent for a time, then turned and began pacing between the abandoned lean-to and the trees. The sahael sahael tugged and stretched as the alien moved. Ramon tried to ignore it. Somewhere in the blindness that was the tugged and stretched as the alien moved. Ramon tried to ignore it. Somewhere in the blindness that was the sahael sahael's punishment, Ramon had bit his tongue. His mouth tasted of blood. Not alien ichor: coppery human blood. When he spat, it was red. If he had harbored any doubt or fears that he might have been something inhuman after Maneck andhis fellow demons had done whatever it was they had done to him, they were gone now. Maneck had shown how far removed it was from humanity, and so it had also shown how much Ramon was indeed a man.

"There's something," Ramon said. "The plan you have-watching me and then searching. If I'm really the same as the pendejo pendejo that's out there now, I can tell you some things that he'd do. Specific things. that's out there now, I can tell you some things that he'd do. Specific things.

Not just something any man might think of."

Maneck strode back to Ramon's side as he stood and brushed ashes and litter from his alien robes.

"You have insight into the man's probable flow," Maneck said.

"You will express this insight."

"The river," Ramon said. "He'll head toward the river. If he can make it there and build a raft, he can ride it down to Fiddler's Jump.

There are fish to eat, and the water's safe to drink. He could travel day and night both and he wouldn't have to rest. It would be the best thing for him to do."

Maneck was silent, its snout moving as if tasting the idea. And why not, Ramon thought. Tasting ideas was no stranger than anything else about the creature that controlled him.

"The man was here," Maneck said at last. "If it is his function to approach the river, it becomes a better expression of our tatecreude tatecreude.

You have functioned well. To avoid aubre aubre is better than funny." is better than funny."

"If you say so."

"We will proceed," Maneck said and led Ramon back to the flying box.

As they swooped over the forest, he began to think more carefully about the campsite they had left behind. Small things tugged at his attention. Why had the other Ramon left the camp and returned to it so many times? Why had he gone to the trouble of catching and skinning animals when there were perfectly good sug beetles to eat?

Where was the spit he'd used to roast the little animals? Slowly it 119 119 occurred to Ramon that his double out there in the bush was up to something. There was a plan forming besides his own, and he couldn't quite make out its shape.

And if he he was Ramon Espejo remade from a bit of flesh by unthinkable alien technology, if he was truly identical to the man out there, the man he remembered being, shouldn't he already was Ramon Espejo remade from a bit of flesh by unthinkable alien technology, if he was truly identical to the man out there, the man he remembered being, shouldn't he already know know what it was? Perhaps his simple acceptance of his ident.i.ty wasn't as straightforward as he'd thought. He found himself wondering whether the what it was? Perhaps his simple acceptance of his ident.i.ty wasn't as straightforward as he'd thought. He found himself wondering whether the sahael sahael could do more than humiliate him with pain. could do more than humiliate him with pain.

Perhaps it could slide some sort of drug into his blood that made him calmer, more accepting, more likely to ignore the questions that arose from his curious situation. Now that he considered it, this was not how he would have expected himself to react.

The alien had instructed him not to diverge from his ident.i.ty as Ramon Espejo, and he had followed that order. Was that really how a man would react? Was that how he he would have reacted, if his route to this moment hadn't been through the vat? would have reacted, if his route to this moment hadn't been through the vat?

There was no way to know. All he could do was dismiss these doubts from his mind and pin his hopes on that other Ramon Espejo, who was lurking somewhere out there in the forest. He was probably close. Three days, Maneck had said, the other had been running.

It was almost five now. He guessed that he could cover thirty kilometers in a day, especially with all the demons of h.e.l.l on his heels.

That would put his twin almost to the river by day's end. Unless his wounds had slowed him. Unless he had become septic and died alone in the woods, far from help. Ramon shuddered at the thought, but then dismissed it. That was Ramon Espejo Ramon Espejo out there. A tough-a.s.s b.a.s.t.a.r.d like that wasn't going to die easy! out there. A tough-a.s.s b.a.s.t.a.r.d like that wasn't going to die easy!

Jesus G.o.d, he better not!

Chapter 10.

Ramon had never intended to leave Earth. It was one of those accidents of circ.u.mstance, and little more. At fifteen, he'd taken work in the open pit mines of southern Mexico. One of the operators had fallen sick-too much dust in his lungs-and Ramon had taken his place. The overseer had shown him how to drive the old lift, warned him that the three-story-tall earthmovers weren't going to slow down if he got in the way, and his career had begun. Sixteen-hour days in sun hot enough to melt and crack the plastic seals around his pitted winds.h.i.+eld, moving and smoothing slag and gravel according to the shouted orders. The rags he tied over his mouth began the morning in any number of bright colors-blue and red and orange-and ended the gray of dirt. After one of the older workers had kicked the s.h.i.+t out of him, he joined a work gang under Palenki-old Palenki who was queer and crazed, mean as a rat and ruthless as the cancer that finally killed him. But he made sure no one f.u.c.ked with his 121 121 team. He was the one who'd shown Ramon how to stick a woman's sanitary pad in his hard hat to keep the sweat out of his eyes.

Those had been terrible days, working the mines. He'd slept on a company cot in a wood shack hardly better than the squatters' holes he'd grown up in. The food had tasted of grit. It was a grinding, endless exhaustion, and the money he made was hardly enough to get drunk with on Sat.u.r.day night. And still, it was work.

Palenki had been his ticket. The old b.a.s.t.a.r.d had made his crew learn. In the nights, when no one wanted anything more than to sleep and try to forget the day, Palenki made them all watch tutorials on mining technology and industrial geology. Ramon had hated it, but he didn't want to get cut from the work gang. So, half against his will, he'd learned. And though he would never have said it, he found himself enjoying it. Stone made sense to him, the way that land formed, folding ancient histories into itself until someone like him came along and cracked it open. The half-hour tutorial sessions were the best part of his day, almost worth losing the sleep for.

And perhaps Palenki had seen it in him. Because the time came when the Silver Enye s.h.i.+ps arrived at the platforms above Mexico City.

Huge beyond imagining, they hung in the sky like hawks riding an updraft. There was a contract. A colony planet. The first wave had left thirty years before, and now the Enye wanted to sling a s.h.i.+p after them to bring the industrial infrastructure that the planet would need. The first colonists wouldn't reach the planet for another several centuries, according to the clocks sitting on Earth, but with the effects of relativ-ity and the stuttering reality of the Enye drive engines, Ramon could be there in little more than a year of s.h.i.+p's time. Anyone who took a contract to go out into the black carrying the questionable fruits of human industry would by definition outlive everyone who stayed behind. That alone seemed enough to convince Palenki. He accepted a contract and signed his whole work gang up with him.

Ramon remembered taking the orbital shuttle up to the platform, gliding twice around Earth and ending practically right above wherehe'd started. He was sixteen, and leaving his world behind. The only regret he'd felt at the prospect was when he'd looked down from the Enye s.h.i.+p. The blue of the ocean, the white of the clouds, the industrialized land ma.s.ses glittering in the crescent nighttime like a permanent fire; Earth was prettier when you were away from it. If you backed up far enough, it was even beautiful.

Palenki had died on the trip. The tumor had been pressing on his heart for months. Ramon and the others of the work gang had scrambled to reorganize themselves, fearing that the Enye wouldn't honor the contract without Palenki, and they were right. The agreement was voided, and when the great s.h.i.+ps reached the So Paulo colony, the excess boys were sent out into the strange world as gen-eralized laborers. He'd gone from being nothing on Earth to being nothing on a colony world. There was no way to return to Earth; everyone he'd known there was already dead. But he knew what Palenki had taught him, he found more tutorials, apprenticed himself to a prospecting outfit that went bankrupt after a few years. He'd bought one of the old vans just before the foreclosure and set himself up as an independent.

That first run out into the terreno cimarron terreno cimarron had been like winning the lottery, like coming back to a place he'd forgotten. The great, empty sky, the forests and the ocean, the great fissures in the south, the towering mountains in the north. Empty. It was the first time in his memory that he'd been truly alone, and he'd wept. He remembered now how he'd sat in the driver's seat, letting the autopilot carry him, and wept like a man who'd seen Jesus. had been like winning the lottery, like coming back to a place he'd forgotten. The great, empty sky, the forests and the ocean, the great fissures in the south, the towering mountains in the north. Empty. It was the first time in his memory that he'd been truly alone, and he'd wept. He remembered now how he'd sat in the driver's seat, letting the autopilot carry him, and wept like a man who'd seen Jesus.

"You are suffering the effects of recapitulation," Maneck said. "As the structures of your brain complete their formation, the memories will become less intrusive."

Ramon looked over at the thing, wondering if it was trying to rea.s.sure him or scold him or if its agenda in speaking was comprehensible in human terms.

"What the f.u.c.k are you talking about?"

123 "As your neural paths conform to their proper flow, older patterns will command temporary inappropriate prominence."

"Thanks," he said."I wasn't worried about it." And then, a moment later, "So if I try real hard, I can make a memory grow back?"

"No," Maneck said. "The process would be impeded by will. You are not to try to remember specific events. To do so will decrease your function. You will refrain."

"Kind of like picking at scabs means they won't heal," Ramon said, then shrugged and changed the subject. "Hey. How was it you got here, anyway?"

"We partic.i.p.ate in flow. Our presence is inevitable."

"Yeah, whatever. But you monstrosities, you don't come from here, right? You can't. There aren't any cities or factories or those bug-tower things like the Turu use. You don't eat the animals or plants here the way you would if you f.u.c.kers had evolved here with them. This isn't your planet. So how was it you got here?"

"Our presence was inevitable," Maneck said again. "Given the constraints upon the flow of what your flawed language would call my people, this outcome was required."

"You hide inside a mountain," Ramon said, looking out between the thinned slats of the flying box to the green-and-orange smudge of the treetops three meters below. "You're all hot and bothered to stop this other version of me so no one finds out about you. You know what I think?"

Maneck didn't respond. A thin, transparent membrane slipped over its eyes, dulling the orange color. Ramon thought there were birds who did something like that-had eyelids they could see through. Or perhaps it was fish. Ramon grinned and leaned back.

"I think you were out there for the same reason I was. I think you're hiding from something."

"From what was the man hiding?" Maneck asked. Ramon felt a stab of unease; he hadn't meant to tell the thing about the European.

But how could it matter now?

"I killed someone. He was with a woman and he didn't treat her so good. I was drunk and he was being loud and stupid. He said some s.h.i.+t, I said some s.h.i.+t. It ended up in the alley, you know? Turned out he was the amba.s.sador from Europa. And I put a knife in him.

Anyway, I wanted to get the f.u.c.k away. Get someplace they wouldn't find me and wait for the thing to blow over. And then I find you pendejos pendejos."

"You killed one of your own kind?"

"Sort of," Ramon said. "He was from Europa."

"Had he restricted your freedom?"

"No, and he didn't f.u.c.k my wife or any of that other s.h.i.+t. It wasn't like that."

"Then why was it you killed him?"

"It doesn't bother me," Ramon said. "It was just one of those things. They happen sometimes. Like an accident. We were both drunk."

"Hard drink," the alien said. "It removed your constraints."