The Book of Koli (Rampart Trilogy #1) - M. R. Carey Page 0,60

quiet for a long time. Monono disappeared from the window of it, and instead there was a little man with a round, yellow face. He was scratching his head and blinking. “Okaaaaay,” Monono said after a while. “I’m making a little list of things I know about you, Cody-bou. ‘Scared of trees’ is number three, right after ‘he’s a boy’ and ‘he’s nice, but kind of dopey’. Let’s see what we can add to that list, shall we? What are your three favourite tracks of all time ever, since the world began? Go.”

I didn’t understand the question, so I couldn’t answer it. “Everyone is scared of trees,” I said.

“Nope. Just you, crazy boy. But it’s exciting. You’re very special. Top three tracks?”

“What’s a track?”

The man scratching his head came back. “You’re gonna make me work for this, aren’t you, Cody-bou?” Monono said. She give another laugh that was kind of a giggle. “But I’ll get it out of you. I’ve got all kinds of sneaky tricks up my sleeve. I’m here to make you happy, so I’ve got to get inside that weird head of yours, one way or another.”

“You know what would make me happy?” I said. “It’s that you would authorise me as a user.” I was not hopeful, but I felt like I had got to keep asking.

Monono made a sound like she was clicking her tongue against her teeth. I waited while she did it, for it seemed like she was thinking hard about what I said. “Shall I tell you a secret, Cody-bou?” she asked.

I was going to tell her again that my name was Koli, but I decided Cody was close enough for now. I nodded. “Yes.”

“Yes, please.”

“Yes, please.”

“Yes, please, Monono-chan.”

“Yes, please… Monono-chan?”

“Okay. I love this so-so-precious thing we’ve got, Cody-bou. I am all yours to do with as you will, and that includes music and games and movies and box sets like you wouldn’t believe. I am going to fly you to the moon, and the landing is going to be soft like the feathers on a duck’s bumhole. But access-confirm-red-alert-operation-mission-critical-affirmative-zero-dark-black-ops? Nope. Not on this model, dopey boy. The best I can offer you is an access code, and if you give it to someone else… well, like the song goes, I’ll be thinking of you, but I’ll play with them too. So how does that sound?”

“Yes please, Monono,” I said to her. “Give me one of those axes.”

“Access codes. You have to give it to me, Cody-bou. I’ll drop it in my start-up routine, and when you say the magic word for me, I’ll open up like a big, sexy chrysanthemum.”

“A word?” I thought hard, but I couldn’t think of nothing.

“Or a string of words. A sentence. A line from your favourite song. The only thing that matters is that it should be something nobody else will think of or say by accident.”

I got it then.

“Koli Rampart,” I told her. “The axes code is Koli Rampart.”

“Okay,” Monono said. “Got it. Now we have got a lot of work to do, little dumpling, so we’d better make a start.”

“Wh… what work?” I asked. I still didn’t have any idea, really, what kind of thing the box was, or what it could do. If I hoped for anything, it was that it might be as big and powerful as the firethrower, though I also would not of been unhappy if it was some sort of kin to Haijon’s cutter. “What work are we gonna do, Monono?”

“I’m going to sharpen your taste buds to a point, Cody-bou. But basics first. This is ‘Poker Face’, by the lady named Gaga. Twice.

“First time, just listen. Second time, you dance.”

24

A strange time in my life begun. Strange in a lot of different ways.

It was strange in how the time passed, or how I seen it passing. It was a handful of days only, but in my remembering it goes on and on like it was years. It’s hard for me to say what was one day and what was another. It’s more like a river made out of days, if that makes any sense at all. It flowed past me, and I just sit there watching. It does still, when I remember it.

And it was strange, too, in how my feelings was going up and down all the time. My stealing was sitting heavy on my mind. And it troubled me, besides, that my tech was of a peculiar kind – a kind I feared might not get