Walked out in the precise morning and bought a paper .. .
Nothing .. .
I called from a drugstore phone booth . . . and asked for
“Lieutenant Gonzales . . . who’s calling?”
“I want to speak to O’Brien.”
A moment of static, dangling wires, broken connections .. .
“Nobody of that name in this department . . . Who are you?”
“Well let me speak to Hauser.”
“Look, Mister, no O’Brien no Hauser in this bureau. Now what
do you want?”
“Look, this is important . . . I’ve got info on a big shipment of
H coming in . . . I want to talk to Hauser or O’Brien . . . I don’t do
business with anybody else . .”
“Hold on . . . I’ll connect you with Alcibiades.”
I began to wonder if there was an Anglo-Saxon name left in
the department .. .
“I want to speak to Hauser or O’Brien.”
“How many times I have to tell you no Hauser no O’Brien in
this department . . . Now who is this calling?”
I hung up and took a taxi out of the area . . . In the cab I real-
ized what had happened . . . I had been occluded from space-time
like an eel’s ass occludes when he stops eating on the way to
Sargasso . . . Locked out . . . Never again would I have a Key, a
Point of Intersection . . . The Heat was off me from here on out
. . . relegated with Hauser and O’Brien to a landlocked junk past
where heroin is always twenty-eight dollars an ounce and you can
score for yen pox in the Chink laundry of Sioux Falls . . . Far side
of the world’s mirror, moving into the past with Hauser and
O’Brien . . . clawing at a not-yet of Telepathic Bureaucracies, Time
Monopolies, Control Drugs, Heavy Fluid Addicts:
“I thought of that three hundred years ago.”
“Your plan was unworkable then and useless now . . . Like da
Vinci’s flying machine plans . .”
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