Asimov's SF, June 2007 by Issue 06 # June

Author:Issue 06 # June
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-07-10T14:00:53+00:00

SCRAWL DADDY by Jack Skillingstead

Jack Skillingstead tells us, “Readers who missed my story from last June (‘Life on the Preservation’) can find it reprinted in two Year’s Best anthologies due out this summer, one from St. Martin’s Press, the other from Prime Books. Regarding the present offering, a close encounter with a local outlaw graffiti artist naturally prompted me to speculate about a science fiction version of same.”

They zapped Joe Null’s dreams. He saw doors in his head but that wasn’t the same. Joe never mentioned the doors to Mr. Statama or any of the Fairhaven staff. It was Faye who sprang him from the institution, but Anthea who finally set him free.

One night after a drug-and-buzz session he was lying empty in his room. D&b interrupted the bad dreams. It did other things, too. On the bedside table there was a thick sketchpad and a Library Book with blank pages. The book didn’t look anything like Joe’s head but they had a lot in common. When the post-session ache subsided and the little pinwheel lights retreated from his vision Joe reached for the Library Book. He inserted a memory wafer and a text selection emerged on the inside front cover. He chose a biography of Dondi White, the great twentieth century graffiti artist. The SmartPages filled with words, then Faye walked into the room; her eyes were wrong.

Joe quickly placed the open book over his boxers. Besides emptying his head d&b sessions typically left him with an erection. Of course, Joe was eighteen, so erections were a frequent occurrence anyway. At least when he was alone.

Faye grinned. “What are you reading?”

“Nothing. I mean I just turned it on.”

“Looks like it.”

Faye was only nineteen though she looked ten years older, tall, with glossy blue side-slashed hair. The different thing about her eyes was some kind of hectic light and twitch that hadn’t been there before she’d escaped Fairhaven. She and Joe had been sequestered in adjoining rooms of the ward. Now she had been gone for weeks, and Joe was tired of having no one to talk to except the staff and Mr. Statama, who visited only occasionally. The other inmates mostly fell short of the ability to carry on coherent conversations. And Joe never liked the way Statama patted his shoulder or asked how he was doing, leaning in close, his breath too minty. Fairhaven Home wasn’t the orphanage, and Mr. Statama wasn’t the priest with blunt violating fingers. But Joe equated them, or his blood did. They were both fathers of a sort, and Joe hated and yearned for them despite himself.

“Let’s get some coffee,” Faye said.

“I thought you ran away.”

“I walked. Same as you can. Want to?”

“Just walk out.”

“Yes.”

“And go where?”

“I have a place.”

Joe drummed his fingers on the back of the Library Book.

Faye crossed the room and stood over him. “Look, do you want to come or not? We have to hurry.”

“What’s the difference?”

“The difference is between being dead and being alive. Get it?” Faye lifted the book off his lap but didn’t touch him.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.