are still illegal in some states. The pace of change in the way we live isn’t limited to the number of consumer products available, Mike. Hell, look at the way porn’s changed.”
“I know. I saw a TV show with the guy who invented anal sex.”
“I kind of doubt that. But, you know, some women can’t get off vaginally. Some women can’t get off without a bit of the rough stuff. Porn doesn’t invent that. It reflects what’s going on in the world. And some bad easy-listening music and ten minutes of vanilla missionary doesn’t do it for everybody. Using that book in the middle of any major city would be consigning thousands of people to hell every time.”
I stabbed my last slice of apple. “So you’re saying me finding the book would make the transcontinental pervert community very unhappy, and that they would conceivably be forced to unlearn all their special pervert tricks.”
“Mike, you’re talking about lobotomizing people. Think about it: what would that book do to me?”
“You wouldn’t want to make me ejaculate into the Baby Jesus’ head anymore.”
“Two hundred years ago, the female orgasm was mostly theoretical. Hell, a hundred years ago, the male psyche didn’t have a problem with selling women. We barely got educated. Career aspirations, forget it. The 1950s looked like fucking Babylon compared to 1776. Everything that makes me me, Mike, would be wiped away. Gimme the knife.”
“With that look in your eye? I don’t think I want you to have the knife.”
“What, you’re afraid I’m going to put it up your ass and call it romance? Gimme the fucking knife.”
I watched as she pushed the apples and oranges onto a nearby coffee table, unzipped the bananas onto the plate, sliced them, cut the passion fruit, and squeezed the pulp all over them. She started eating the mess with one of the spoons, watching the TV.
There were no ashtrays visible in the place, so I decided to press some clementine peel into service and lit up. “You don’t think maybe they just want to make America a less freakier place?”
Trix eyed me, crunching a passion fruit seed. “Three thousand years ago stable homosexual relationships were mainstream in many societies all over the world. Don’t you think the current administration would consider that kind of freaky?”
“Three thousand years ago people painted themselves blue and hunted their own food with sticks. Don’t treat me like I’m an idiot, Trix.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is that maybe, just maybe, America would get along fine without people who fuck dogs.”
“So you’re equating stable homosexual relationships with dogfucking.”
“Actually, no. You are. So why don’t you put down your studenty bullshit for one minute and talk to me like an adult?”
“Oh, fuck you, Mike. Maybe it’s a bigger subject than two people can deal with over breakfast, okay?”
“Well, guess what. It is down to two people. Sometimes that’s the way it breaks. And it can be down to one person if you like.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You can go home any time you like.” Goddamn moron that I was.
“So you can hand over this thing with a clear conscience?”
“Oh, so you’re Jiminy fucking Cricket now. No. So I can just get the job done with the minimum amount of distraction and then go home myself. You may not have noticed, but I am not having fun here, Trix. This job started out weird and it’s gotten scary. I want it to be over now. Either I don’t find the book, in which case I’m going to assume this is the end of the line, or I find the book, in which case I hand it the hell over, get paid, go home, and forget the whole thing ever happened.”
She looked at me with narrowed eyes. “You want to forget it all happened.”
“Yeah,” I said, like a goddamn moron, “yeah, I do.”
“Uh-huh. You know, I was wondering how this’d start to go wrong. I didn’t really think it’d begin with me daring to have an opinion.”
“What?”
“You want to forget it all happened? That starts with me, Mike. Look at you. Did you even realize you stood up? Your chin sticking out like a sulky child? Your fists all balled up?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Sure you did. And, you know, if you really think handing over anything that could even possibly affect people’s minds to the bastard in the White House is a good idea—or if you care so little about people that you really don’t give a shit whether it’s a good idea or