The Best of Michael Swanwick Read Online Free PDF Page A

formed into slugs and covered with solid gold—anything else deteriorates too fast. The way I figure it, a man with a lead suit could go into the cavern arid shave off a fortune. There’s tons of the stuff there.” He sighed. “Someday I’m going to rummage through a few archives and go.”
    “Hawk, you’ve got to listen to me.”
    Hawk held up a hand for silence. “It’s about the drugs, right? You just found out, and you want me to warn her.”
    “Warning her isn’t good enough. Someone has to stop her.”
    “Yes, well. Try to understand, Maggie was in Hopkins for three months while they performed some very drastic surgery on her. She didn’t look a thing like she does now, and she could sing but her voice wasn’t anything to rave about. Not to mention the mental implants.
    “Imagine the pain she went through. Now ask yourself what are the two most effective painkillers in existence?”
    “Morphine and heroin. But in my country, when drugs are resorted to, the doctors wean the patients off them before their release.”
    “That’s not the point. Consider this—Maggie could have had Hopkins remove the extra nipples. They could have done it. But she wasn’t willing to go through the pain.”
    “She seems proud of them.”
    “She talks about them a lot, at least.”
    The train lurched and stumbled. Three of the musicians had uncrated their guitars and were playing more “Dead” music. Wolf chewed his lip in silence for a time, then said, “So what is the point you’re making?”
    “Simply that Maggie was willing to undergo the greater pain so that she could become Janis. So when I tell you she only uses drugs as painkillers, you have to understand that I’m not necessarily talking about physical pain.” Hawk got up and left.
    Maggie danced into the car. “Big time!” she whooped. “We made it into the big time, boys and girls. Hey, let’s party!”
    ***
    The next ten days were one extended party, interspersed with concerts. The reception in Wilmington was phenomenal. Thousands came to see the show; many were turned away. Maggie was unsteady before the first concert, achingly afraid of failure. But she played a rousing set, and was called back time and time again. Finally, exhausted and limp, her hair sticking to a sweaty forehead, she stood up front and gasped, “That’s all there is, boys and girls. I love ya and I wish there was more to give ya, but there ain’t. You used it all up.” And the applause went on and on…
    The four shows in Philadelphia began slowly, but built up big. A few seats were unsold at the first concert; people were turned away for the second. The last two were near-riots. The group entrained to Newark for a day’s rest and put on a Labor Day concert that made the previous efforts look pale. They stayed in an obscure hostel for an extra day’s rest.
    Wolf spent his rest day sight-seeing. While in Philadelphia he had hired a native guide and prowled through the rusting refinery buildings at Point Breeze. They rose to the sky forever in tragic magnificence, and it was hard to believe there had ever been enough oil in the world to fill the holding tanks there. In Wilmington, he let the local guide lead him to a small Italian neighborhood to watch a religious festival.
    The festival was a parade, led first by a priest trailed by eight altar girls, with incense burners and fans. Then came twelve burly men carrying the flower-draped body of an ancient Cadillac. After them came the faithful, in coveralls and chador, singing.
    Wolf followed the procession to the river, where the car was placed in a hole in the ground, sprinkled with holy water, and set afire. He asked the guide what story lay behind the ritual, and the boy shrugged. It was old, he was told, very very old.
    It was late when Wolf returned to the hostel. He was expecting a party, but found it dark and empty. Cynthia stood in the foyer, hands behind her back, staring out a barred window at black