The Nervous System Read Online Free PDF Page B

have a general—”
    â€œUnofficial polling.” The senator gives me a generous look at his front teeth, uniformly capped, exclusive stuff. “Son, I am the chair of the Congressional Commission on Appropriations. Now, do you have any sense of what that is, educated brother like yourself, watching your C-SPAN? What we do on this commission?”
    I scan my head, seeing where I fucked up. Problem with any lengthy conversations these days is I forget what I just said.
    Figure I’ll play along with the man’s delusion that Washington operates in the way it used to. Well, he should know better than me, I suppose, for I might as well still be asleep in that army hospital in Frankfurt. Or at the safe house in Islamabad. Wherever.
    Say, “Civics, yeah. Been a good while. Didn’t school us on civics in the corp.”
    â€œIndeed. Well, then. We deal with defense, homeland security, commerce in general. Most relevant, son, we handle labor—military and civic construction. See where I’m going with this, young man? Are you ‘digging’ me here?” he says, making air quotes with his stubby fingers.
    â€œNo sir, I’m afraid I don’t—”
    â€œWell, let’s consider what you just said. If in fact our mutual friend the good district attorney is engaged in collecting such information on his own steam, why, sir, I’d have to say let’s hold on a moment. That’s illegal.”
    â€œI have to say I was not aware of that, senator …”
    Howard shakes his hand in the air.
    â€œThat’s you talking, and I have to accept your word at face value. Being as you are a working man, doing what you can do in these very troubled and troubling times.”
    â€œYeah, I appreciate that.”
    The senator closes his eyes, holds up his palm. “ Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. Isn’t that just the way, son?”
    Aw, Lord. Of course the big man is church-crazy. Well, that’s Harlem for you in a nut. Say, “Beg pardon, senator, I don’t follow.”
    â€œGalatians 6:2. It’s the One True Word, young man.” Senator points his eyes at me. Teeth on display, that alligator smile.
    Man, these fucking get-happy-Jesus sociopaths are the slipperiest. Him and his fucking wife, Senator what’s-her-name. Koch. Bad crazy white woman.
    Senator saying, “ Bear one another’s burdens … You tell me this: you tell me if the good Mr. District Attorney Rosenblatt is the kind of man who enjoys conducting ‘unofficial’ polls, collecting, as it were, information—unofficially, mind you—for his own edification and education, information to be used to suit his very own purposes, and perhaps the furtherance and glorification of Mr. DA Rosenblatt’s financial and professional position. Would you say he leans partial to this kind of practice, young man?”
    My chest hurts. I need a pill. Need Purell TM . But I dig an angle. “Well, if you’re suggesting he’s a cagey motherfucker, capable of, well, extortion and blackmail, I’d say positively hell yes.”
    The senator’s eyes light up. “Son, understand, the good Lord did not put me down here on this earth to cast aspersions on my fellow man, be he of any color or creed. But it has to be said, now, if this Rosenblatt is running blackmail schemes, extortion, etc., it pains me, but I believe this is the kind of person who might … take such activities one step further. Create fictions, falsehoods which might prove favorable to his person. Or, more correctly, his purse. Do you read me?”
    Goddamn if this guy doesn’t use fifty words when five would do the job. Makes for easier obfuscation.
    Don’t respond. I raise my eyebrows a bit, waiting.
    The senator looks toward the door for a second, clears his throat. Leans in, gets all intimate.
    â€œSon, it’s no business of mine what you