Return to Pleasure Island, Cory Doctorow [e book reader for pc TXT] 📗

wanna go on more rideth!"

His brother said, "We'll go on more rides after we see a doctor."

The youngest dropped to his knees and cried. "No!" he said, hammering his fists
on the ground. "No no no no!" George watched in alarm as the boy went all the
way over to donkey. His cries turned to brays, and his shorts split around his
haunches and tail. His shirt went next, and George smoothly vaulted the counter
and stood in front of the donkey, blocking him from passers-by. The other two
made a run for it. George snagged the middle by his collar, but the boy tore
free and took off down the midway. George looked about wildly for security, but
they still hadn't arrived.

Then Joe tore past him, moving faster than George had ever seen him go. He
caught the boys and stuffed one under each arm, kicking and squirming. He
grinned ferociously as he pinned them beneath his knees at George's feet. He
clamped his hands over their mouths. "Got 'em!" he said to George.

A security team emerged from the utilidor beside George's booth, wearing clown
makeup and baggy pants. Two of them tranquilised the boys and the third fitted
the donkey out with a halter and bit. The clown slapped the donkey's haunch
appreciatively. "He's a healthy one."

The security team disappeared down the utilidor with the Mitchell brothers: two
boys and a donkey. Joe smacked George on the back. "Did you see me catch them?
Like greased lightning! Bounty, here I come!"

George didn't mind sharing his bounty with Joe, so he just smiled and nodded and
went back around to his booth.

#

Bill named his son Tom. Names weren't very important to their people, but the
soft ones' world demanded them. Within a week, Tom was eagerly toddling through
their cabin, tasting everything, exploring everything. His eyes shone with
curious brilliance. The clever son of a clever son.

George loved Bill's son. He loved to watch Tom as he gnawed at their bedding, as
he dug at the floor in search of grubs. Tom was clearly delighted with his
surroundings, and George basked in Tom's delight. Bill could barely restrain
himself from picking Tom up and hugging him every moment. The only time he left
George alone with Tom was a few precious moments after each evening's meal, when
he would duck into the woods to find some new toy for Tom: a crippled chipmunk;
a handful of pretty rocks; a discarded beer can. The son built bizarre towers
out of them, then knocked them down in a fit of giggles. Tom ate all day long,
and spoke a steady stream of adorable nonsense.

Bill hardly spoke to George. Their evening meals were given over to watching the
son eat. George didn't mind. Talking to the Guests all day wore him out.

When Tom was two months old, Joe came by George's booth.

"Well, it's final. Tomorrow, we shut down the midway. Too old-fashioned -- it's
only stood this long because some of the older Imagineers had an emotional
attachment to it. I told 'em: 'That's _your_ demographic, not the _target_
demographic.' So we're knocking it down. HorrorZone's gonna be _huge_." He
skipped off before George could say anything. His ears were long and pointed. It
wasn't the first time George noticed it, but now, he could see that Joe's
hunched-over gait wasn't just because of his belly.

George built a dozen cones for the Guests, but his heart wasn't in it. Besides,
most of the Guests already had their hands full of gummi spiders and snakes,
from the Actionland Jungle Treats buffet. His thoughts were full of Joe, and he
turned them over in his slow, cautious manner. Joe was turning into a donkey. He
didn't think that one of their kind could turn into a donkey, but this was
Pleasure Island. Indulging your vices was a dangerous pastime here. He should
tell Bill, but there was no phone at the cabin. He couldn't send a runner for
him, because this was family business. His shift wouldn't end for hours yet, and
this was too important to wait.

Finally, he called his Lead. "I have to get offstage. I'm having a bad day."

Technically, this was allowed. Management didn't want anyone onstage who wasn't
100 percent. But it was something that none of the brothers, not even Joe, had
ever done. The Lead was surprised, but he sent over a soft one to relieve
George.

#

Orville and Bill were sitting out front of the cabin, watching Tom, when George
got back. He wrung his hands as he approached them, not sure of what to say, and
whether he should talk in front of Orville at all. He held his left thumb in his
right hand, and it comforted him, a little.

Bill and Orville were so engrossed in Tom's antics that they didn't even notice
George until he cleared his throat. Orville raised his eyebrows and looked
significantly at Bill.

"I just saw Joe," George said. "On the midway. His ears are pointed, and he's
walking all hunched over. I give him a few days at the most before he's all the
way gone." George held his breath, waiting for Bill's reaction.

"Too bad," Bill said. "It was inevitable, I suppose. A child of the tongue! What
was father thinking?"

Orville smiled and puffed at his pipe. "Don't you worry about it, George. Joe's
going to be much, much happier. Focussed. If you'd like, I can bring him out
here to live. Little Tom could have pony rides."

Bill said, "I don't think that's such a good idea. Joe's too wild to play with a
child."

Orville put a hand on his shoulder. "You'd be amazed at how docile he'll
become."

Bill scooped up Tom, who was up to his waist now, and who liked to grab onto
Bill's nose. "We'll see, then." He retreated into the cabin with his son.

Orville turned to George and said, "You've probably heard that we're taking down
the midway tomorrow. The others are all being reassigned until the rehab is
done, but I thought I'd see if I could get you a couple months off. You could
stay here and play with Tom -- it's not every day you get to be a new uncle."

Orville had always taken obvious pleasure in the transformation of boys into
donkeys. It was the whole why of Pleasure Island, after all. Orville seemed
especially pleased tonight, and George thought that he was as surprised about
Bill as George was.

George, not knowing what to say to any of it, said nothing.

#

It didn't take long for George to start missing the midway. Stuck at the cabin
with Bill and Tom, he sat against an outside wall and tried not to get in the
way. He prepared meals in silence, taking a long time in the woods, gathering up
choice morsels. Bill and Tom ate on the floor, away from the table. Bill chewed
the tougher morsels first, and then put them in Tom's mouth with his crippled
left hand. Most of the time, neither of them took any notice of George.

One day, he prepared a whole day's worth of meals and left them on the table,
then walked to the utilidor at the other side of the woods. He boarded a tram
and rode to the old midway entrance.

The midway was fenced in with tall plywood sheets, and construction crews
bustled over the naked skeletons of the new HorrorZone. Heavy machinery groaned
and crashed. Nothing but the distant silhouettes of Actionland's skyline were
familiar. George tried to imagine working here for years to come. An
overwhelming tiredness weighed him down.

He took the tram back to the cabin and stripped off his clothes. They were
browner than ever. His arms felt weak and tired. He suddenly knew that he would
never have a son of his own.

Bill and Tom were playing out front of the cabin. He sat in his usual spot
against the wall and watched them. "Bill," he said, softly.

"Yes?" Bill said.

"When will I have a son of my own?" Bill always knew the answers.

Bill gathered Tom up to his chest unconsciously while he thought. "I suppose
that once Tom is grown, you could take some time off and have a son of your
own."

To his own surprise, George said, "I want to have a son now."

Bill said, "That's out of the question, George. We're too busy with Tom." On
hearing Bill's annoyed tone, Tom leaned into him.

George said, "I'm not busy. I am old, though. If I don't have a son soon, I
won't be able to care for it until it's old enough to care for me."

Bill said, "You're thinking like Father. We're living with the soft ones now.
Orville will make sure that you and your son will be fine until he's grown."

George never won arguments with Bill. He went inside the cabin and set out
dinner.

#

Orville visited the brothers the next morning. He chucked Tom under the chin and
shook hands with Bill. Then he took George out into the woods for a walk.

"Your brother tells me you want a son of your own," he said.

George nodded, and stooped to put a small, mossy log in his basket.

"Bill doesn't want you to, huh?"

George didn't feel very comfortable discussing the family with Orville. That was
Bill's job. After some thought, he said, "Not right now."

Orville said, "I can see that that makes you unhappy. No one should be unhappy
here. I'll see what I can do. Come down to Ops tomorrow morning, we'll talk
more."

When George got back to the cabin, Bill was lying on his back on the floor,
laughing while Tom climbed all over him. Tom still babbled, but they were real
words now, though nonsensical. With his constant talking, he reminded George of
Joe, and that made him even sadder.

#

George had never been to Ops before, but he knew where it was, in a collection
of low-slung prefab buildings hidden behind the topiary sculptures near
MagicLand. He clutched his right thumb nervously as he stood and waited in the
reception area for Orville to come and get him. The secretary had taken his name
and buzzed Orville, and now kept sneaking him horrified looks. George's family
were the only of their kind to leave their homeland and join the soft ones, and
here at Ops, there were any number of low-ranking babus who'd never heard tell
of them.

Orville was all smiles and effusion as he breezed through the glass
security-door and pounded George on the back. "George! I'm so _glad_ you came
down!"

He took George by the arm and led him away, stopping to wink at the secretary,
who looked at him with a mixture of disgust and admiration.

Orville's office was buried in a twisting maze of door-lined, fluorescent-lit
corridors, where busy soft ones talked on telephones and clattered on keyboards.
He led George through his door, into an office as big as George's cabin.

Orville paced and talked. "Did I say I was glad you came? I'm glad you came.
Now, let's talk about Bill. Bill's happy. He's got what he wants. A son. He
doesn't have to take care of Joe. It's good for him."

He paused and looked at George. George nodded.

"OK. There's a problem, though. You want a son, too, only Bill won't allow it."

It didn't need any comment,