this wasn't the time to ask them. In any case, he kept looking at that wonderful litde hundred-acre oasis down there. The one sunny green spot in all of Thunderclap. The one nice place. And why not? Nothing but the best for Our Breaker Buddies.
And, in spite of himself, one question did slip out.
"Ted, why does the Crimson King want to bring the Tower down? Do you know?"
Ted gave him a brief glance. Eddie thought it cool, maybe downright cold, until the man smiled. When he did, his whole face lit up. Also, his eyes had quit doing that creepy in-and-out thing, which was a big improvement.
"He's mad," Ted told him. "Nuttier than a fruitcake. Riding the fabled rubber bicycle. Didn't I tell you that?" And then, before Eddie could reply: 'Yes, it's quite nice. Whether you call it Devar-Toi, the Big Prison, or Algul Siento, it looks a treat. It is a treat."
"Very classy accommos," Dinky agreed. Even Stanley was looking down at the sunlit community with an expression of faint longing.
"The food is the best," Ted went on, "and the double feature at the Gem Theater changes twice a week. If you don't want to go to the movies, you can bring the movies home on DVDs."
"What are those?" Eddie asked, then shook his head. "Never mind. Go on."
Ted shrugged, as if to say What else do you need?
"Absolutely astral sex, for one thing," Dinky said. "It's sim, but it's still incredible-I made it with Marilyn Monroe,
Madonna, and Nicole Kidman all in one week." He said this with a certain uneasy pride. "I could have had them all at the same time if I'd wanted to. The only way you can tell they're not real is to breathe directly on them, from close up. When you do, the part you blow on... kinda disappears. It's unsettling."
"Booze? Dope?" Eddie asked.
"Booze in limited quantities," Ted replied. "If you're into oenology, for instance, you'll experience fresh wonders at every meal."
"What's oenology?" Jake asked.
"The science of wine-snobbery, sugarbun," Susannah said.
"If you come to Blue Heaven addicted to something," Dinky said, "they get you off it. Kindly. The one or two guys who proved especially tough nuts in that area..." His eyes met Ted's briefly. Ted shrugged and nodded. "Those dudes disappeared."
"In truth, the low men don't need any more Breakers," Ted said. "They've got enough to finish the job right now."
"How many?" Roland asked.
"About three hundred," Dinky said.
"Three hundred and seven, to be exact," Ted said. "We're quartered in five dorms, although that word conjures the wrong image. We have our own suites, and as much-or as little-contact with our fellow Breakers as we wish."
"And you know what you're doing?" Susannah asked.
"Yes. Although most don't spend a lot of time thinking about it."
"I don't understand why they don't mutiny."
"What's your when, ma'am?" Dinky asked her.
"My...?" Then she understood. "1964."
He sighed and shook his head. "So you don't know about Jim Jones and the People's Temple. It's easier to explain if you know about that. Almost a thousand people committed suicide at this religious compound a Jesus-guy from San Francisco set up in Guyana. They drank poisoned Kool-Aid out of a tub while he watched them from the porch of his house and used a bullhorn to tell them stories about his mother."
Susannah was staring at him with horrified disbelief, Ted with poorly disguised impatience. Yet he must have thought something about this was important, because he held silence.
"Almost a thousand," Dinky reiterated. "Because they were confused and lonely and they thought Jim Jones was their friend. Because-dig it-they had nothing to go back to. And it's like that here. If the Breakers united, tfiey could make a mental hammer that'd knock Prentiss and The Weasel and the taheen and the can-toi all the way into the next galaxy. Instead there's no one but me, Stanley, and everyone's favorite super-breaker, the totally eventual Mr. Theodore Brautigan of Milford, Connecticut.
Harvard Class of '20, Drama Society, Debate Club, editor of The Crimson, and-of course!-Phi Beta Crapper."
"Can we trust you three?" Roland asked. The question sounded deceptively idle, little more than a time-passer.
"You have to," Ted said. 'You've no one else. Neither do we."
"If we were on their side," Dinky said, "don't you think we'd have something better to wear on our feet than moccasins made out of rubber fuckin tires? In Blue Heaven you get everything except for a few basics. Stuff you wouldn't ordinarily think of as indispensable, but stuff that... well, it's harder