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'
Can
we
run
it
?
’
'
Sure
,
’
the
construct
said
,
'
unless
you
got
a
morbid
fear
of
dying
.
’
'
Sometimes
you
repeat
yourself
,
man
.
’
'
It
’
s
my
nature
.
’
Molly
was
sleeping
when
he
returned
to
the
Intercontinental
.
He
sat
on
the
balcony
and
watched
a
microlight
with
rainbow
polymer
wings
as
it
soared
up
the
curve
of
Freeside
,
its
triangular
shadow
tracking
across
meadows
and
rooftops
,
until
it
vanished
behind
the
band
of
the
Lado
-
Acheson
system
.
'
I
wanna
buzz
,
’
he
said
to
the
blue
artifice
of
the
sky
.
'
I
truly
do
wanna
get
high
,
you
know
?
Trick
pancreas
,
plugs
in
my
liver
,
little
bags
of
shit
melting
,
fuck
it
all
.
I
wanna
buzz
.
’
He
left
without
waking
Molly
,
he
thought
.
He
was
never
sure
,
with
the
glasses
.
He
shrugged
tension
from
his
shoulders
and
got
into
the
elevator
.
He
rode
up
with
an
Italian
girl
in
spotless
whites
,
cheekbones
and
nose
daubed
with
something
black
and
nonreflective
.
Her
white
nylon
shoes
had
steel
cleats
;
the
expensive
-
looking
thing
in
her
hand
resembled
a
cross
between
a
miniature
oar
and
an
orthopedic
brace
.
She
was
off
for
a
fast
game
of
something
,
but
Case
had
no
idea
what
.
On
the
roof
meadow
,
he
made
his
way
through
the
grove
of
trees
and
umbrellas
,
until
he
found
a
pool
,
naked
bodies
gleaming
against
turquoise
tiles
.
He
edged
into
the
shadow
of
an
awning
and
pressed
his
chip
against
a
dark
glass
plate
.
'
Sushi
,
’
he
said
,
'
whatever
you
got
.
’
Ten
minutes
later
,
an
enthusiastic
Chinese
waiter
arrived
with
his
food
.
He
munched
raw
tuna
and
rice
and
watched
people
tan
.
'
Christ
,
’
he
said
,
to
his
tuna
,
'
I
’
d
go
nuts
.
’
'
Don
’
t
tell
me
,
’
someone
said
,
'
I
know
it
already
.
You
’
re
a
gangster
,
right
?
’
