Video Star (Voice of the Whirlwind) Read Online Free PDF

Mexicans will probably replace her image with some vidstar, anyway,” Captain Islam said. “Urban Surgery is too much for them, right now.”
    “Okay. I want to see this in three dimensions,” Jesus said. Super Virgin’s image detached itself from the background and began rotating. He stopped it every so often and made small adjustments.
    “Make me taller,” Super Virgin said. “And skinnier. And give me smaller tits. I hate my tits.”
    “We do that every time,” Jesus said. “People are gonna start to twig.”
    “Chrome tits. Leather tits. Anything.”
    Captain Islam laughed. Two-Fisted Jesus made minor adjustments and ignored Super Virgin’s complaints.
    “Here we go. Say your line.”
    The image began moving. Virgin’s new green eyes sparkled as she held the recorder up to the mouthpiece of the telephone.
    “This is Royal Flag.” It was the name of one of Arizona’s more ideological kid gangs. The voice had been electronically altered and sounded flat. “We’ve just planted a poison gas bomb in your psychology wing. All the head cases are gonna see Jesus. The world’s gene pool will be much healthier from now on. Have yourself a pleasant day.”
    Super Virgin was laughing. “Wait’ll you see the crowd scenes. Stellar stuff, believe me.”
    “I believe,” said Ric.

14
    The video was full of drifting smoke. Vague figures moved through it. Jesus froze the picture and tried to enhance the images, without any success. “Shit,” he said. “More pickups.”
    Ric had watched the action as members of Cartoon Messiah in Folger Security uniforms had hammered their way into a hospital back door. They had moved faultlessly through the corridors to the vault and blasted their way in with champagne-bottle-shaped charges. The blasts had set off tremblor alarms in the vault and the Folger people realized they were being hit. Now the raiders were in the corridor before the vault, retracing their steps at a run.
    “Okay,” Super Virgin said. “The moment of truth, coming up.”
    The corridor was full of billowing tear gas. Crouched figures moved through it. Commands were yammering down the monitored Folger channels. Then, coming through the smoke, another figure. A tall woman in a helmet, her hand pressed to her ear, trying to hear the radio. There was a gun in her hand. She raised the gun.
    Thuds on the sound track. Tear-gas canisters, fired at short range. One of them struck the woman in her armored chest and bounced off. It hadn’t flown far enough to arm itself and it just rolled down the corridor. The woman fell flat.
    “Just knocked the wind out of her.” Captain Islam was grinning. “How about that for keeping our deal, huh?” Somebody ran forward and kicked the gun out of her hand. The camera caught a glimpse of her lying on the floor, her mouth open, trying to breathe. There were dots of sweat on her nose. Her eye makeup looked like butterfly wings.
    “Now that’s what I call poignant,” Jesus said. “Human interest stuff. You know?”
    The kids ran away across the parking lot, onto their fuelcell tricycles, and away, bouncing across the parking lot and the railroad tracks beyond.
    “We’re gonna spice this up a bit,” Jesus said. “Cut in some shots of guards shooting at us, that kind of thing. Steal some suspenseful music. Make the whole thing more exciting. What do you think?”
    “I like it,” said Ric. He put down his untasted whiskey. Jacob and his neurotoxin had made him cautious. “Do I get any royalties? Being scriptwriter and all?”
    “The next deal you set up for us. Maybe.”
    Ric shrugged. “How are you gonna move the Thunder?”
    “Small pieces, probably.”
    “Let me give you some advice,” Ric said. “The longer you hang on to it, the bigger the chance Folger will find out you have it and start cramping your action. I have an idea. Can you handle a large increase of capital?”

15
    “Is this the stuff? Great.” Marlene swept in the motel room door, grinning,