Reamde

“What, he doesn’t think you’re worthy of his niece?” Wallace said in a tone of mock wonderment. “Richard Forthrast went straight a long time ago. He’ll not help you with your embarrassment of hundred-dollar bills.”

“He found a way,” Peter said. “So can I.”

“Peter. Before we part ways, hopefully forever, I’d like to speak with you briefly about something.”

“Go ahead.”

“I can see that you’ve spoken forthrightly. So now I want to respond in kind and tell you that all that stuff about the Russians was just BS. A scare tactic, pure and simple.”

“I figured that out already.”

“How, exactly?”

“A minute ago you said you were going to give the thumb drive to a Russian hacker in the backseat of the Suburban. But just now you threw it in the fire.”

“Clever boy. So I needn’t tell you that there is no Suburban in the parking lot. You can look for yourself.”

Peter did not look. He was almost excessively ready to believe Wallace.

“I am in business for myself,” Wallace said. “A small-timer without the muscle to back up my business, and so I have to play these mind games sometimes, as a way of judging people’s sincerity. It worked in this case. I can see that you have played me straight. Otherwise it would have come through in your eyes.”

“That’s okay,” Peter said. “We used to watch this stupid program called Scared Straight. I think you scared me straight just now.”

“Oh really!” Wallace drawled. “You’ve turned a new leaf! This was your last big score! You’re getting out now. Going on the straight and narrow path, like Richard Forthrast.”

“He did it…” Peter began.

“… so can you,” Wallace finished. “I think that is all bollocks, but I shall take my leave now and wish you luck.”

“IS PETER A drug user?” Richard asked.

“No, he’s straight edge,” Zula said with a quick roll of the eyes and air quotes. “Why?”

“Because that looked like a drug transaction to me.”

She looked back over her shoulder. “Really? In what way?”

“Just something about the psychological dynamic.”

She gave him a penetrating look through her glasses.

“Which I admit doesn’t explain the antics with the thumb drive and trying to kill himself with a DVD,” he allowed.

She averted her gaze and shrugged.

“Never mind,” he continued.

“So D-squared lowered the boom on Skeletor about the apostrophes.”

“Yeah. A well-planned attack, I’d say. And it led to, among other things, the change where D’uinn became Dwinn.”

“Gosh, the way people talk about it on the Internet…”

“You’d think it was a much bigger deal. No. Not at the time, anyway. But this is how history is done now. People wait until they have a need for some history and then they customize it to suit their purposes. A year ago? Only the most hard-core T’Rain geeks would have heard of the Apostropocalypse and it would be considered a footnote. Maybe amusing at most.”

“But ever since the Forces of Brightness went all Pearl Harbor against the Earthtone Coalition—”

“It’s become important in retrospect,” Richard said, “and it’s been blown up into this big thing. But really? It was just an excruciatingly awkward dinner. D’uinn got changed into Dwinn. Supposedly for linguistic reasons. But it set a precedent that Don Donald had the authority to change things that Devin had done in the world.”

“Which he then went on to abuse?”

“According to the Forces of Brightness,” Richard said. “But the fact is that D-squared has been discreet, restrained, only changed things in places where Devin really pissed down his leg. Things that Devin himself would have changed, had he gone back and reread his work and thought about it a little harder. So it’s mostly not a big deal.”

“To you maybe,” Zula said, “but to Devin?”

Richard thought about it. “At the time, he really acted like he didn’t care.”

“But maybe he really did,” Zula said, “and has been plotting his revenge ever since. Hiding things deep in the Canon. Details of history that Geraldine and herm it was like a dog whistle.”

Richard shrugged and nodded. Then he noticed that Zula was gazing at him. Waiting for more.

“You don’t care!” she finally exclaimed. Then a smile.

“I did at first,” he admitted. “I was shocked at first. One of my characters got ganked, you know. Attacked without warning by other characters in his party. Cut down while he was defending them. So of course that was upsetting at the time. And the furor, the anger over the last couple of months—how could you not get caught up in that, a little? But—I’m running a business.”

“And the War of Realignment is making money?”

“Hand over fist.”

“Who’s making money hand over fist?” asked Peter, breaking in on them. He unslung a black nylon duffel bag and placed it on his lap as he sat down. He was gripping a rolled-up wad of paper napkins, applying direct pressure to his DVD wound.

“You ask an interesting question,” said Richard, looking Peter in the eye.

“Just joking,” Peter said, immediately breaking eye contact.

“Well,” said Zula, and tapped her phone to check the time. “Could you take a picture of me and my uncle before we hit the road?”