Read The Windup Girl Online

Authors: Paolo Bacigalupi

Tags: #Science Fiction, #General, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Fiction, #Fiction - Science Fiction, #High Tech, #Fantasy, #Short Stories, #Science Fiction And Fantasy, #Fiction - Fantasy, #Science Fiction - High Tech, #Fantasy - Short Stories, #Social aspects, #Bioterrorism

The Windup Girl (15 page)

BOOK: The Windup Girl
3.11Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

As they ease around the bare branches of the tree, the
khlong
taxi's passengers all make deep
wais
of respect to the fallen trunk, pressing their palms together and touching them to their foreheads.

Jaidee makes his own
wai
, then reaches out to touch the wood, letting his fingers slide over the riddled surface as they pass. Small boreholes speckle it. If he were to peel away the bark, a fine net of grooves would describe the tree's death. A
bo
tree. Sacred. The tree under which the Buddha attained enlightenment. And yet they could do nothing to save it. Not a single varietal of fig survived, despite their best efforts. The ivory beetles were too much for them. When the scientists failed, they prayed to Phra Seub Nakhasathien, a last desperate effort, but even the martyr couldn't save them in the end.

"We couldn't save everything," Kanya murmurs, seeming to read his thoughts.

"We couldn't save even one thing." Jaidee lets his fingers slide along the grooves where the ivory beetle did its work. "The
farang
have so much to answer for, and yet still Akkarat seeks to treat with them."

"Not with AgriGen."

Jaidee smiles bitterly and pulls his hand away from the fallen tree. "No, not with them. But their ilk, nonetheless. Generippers. Calorie men. Even PurCal when the famines are worst. Why else to do we let them squat out on Koh Angrit? In case we need them. In case we fail, and must go begging for their rice and wheat and soy."

"We have our own generippers, now."

"Thanks to His Royal Majesty King Rama XII's foresight."

"And Chaopraya Gi Bu Sen."

"Chaopraya." Jaidee makes a face. "No one that evil should be graced with such a respectful title."

Kanya shrugs, but doesn't bait him. Soon the
bo
tree is behind them. At Srinakharin Bridge they disembark. The smell of food stalls calls to Jaidee. He motions Kanya to follow as he makes his way into a tiny
soi
. "Somchai says there's a good
som tam
cart down here. Good clean papayas, he tells me."

"I'm not hungry," Kanya says.

"That's why you're always in such a terrible mood."

"Jaidee. . ." Kanya starts, then stops.

Jaidee glances back at her, catches the worried expression on her face. "What is it? Come on then."

"I'm worried about the anchor pads."

Jaidee shrugs. "Don't be."

Up ahead, food carts and tables cluster along the walls of the alley, all jammed together. Small bowls of
nam plaa prik
sit tidily in the centers of the scavenged table planks. "You see? Somchai was right." He finds the salad cart he wants and examines the spices and fruit, starts ordering for both of them. Kanya comes up beside, a compact cloud of dark mood.

"Two hundred thousand baht is a lot of money for Akkarat to lose," she mutters as Jaidee tells the
som tam
vendor to add more chiles.

Jaidee nods thoughtfully as the woman stirs the threads of green papaya into the mix of spices. "It's true. I had no idea there was so much money being made out there."

It's enough to finance a new lab for generip research, or put five hundred white shirts on inspection in the tilapia farms of Thonburi. . . He shakes his head. And this was just one raid. It's amazing to him.

There are times when he thinks he understands how the world works, and then, every so often, he lifts the lid of some new part of the divine city and finds roaches scuttling where he never expected. Something new, indeed.

He goes to the next food cart, stacked with trays of chile-laden pork and RedStar bamboo tips. Fried snakehead
plaa,
battered and crisp, pulled from the Chao Phraya River that day. He orders more food. Enough for both of them, and Sato for drinking. He settles at an open table as the food is brought out.

Teetering on a bamboo stool at the end of his day, with rice beer warming his belly, Jaidee can't help smiling at his dour subordinate.

As usual, even with good food before her, Kanya remains herself.
"Khun
Bhirombhakdi was complaining about you at headquarters," she says. "He said he would go to General Pracha, and have your smiling lips ripped off."

Jaidee scoops chiles into his mouth. "I'm not afraid of him."

"The anchor pads were supposed to be his territory. His protection racket, his bribe money."

"First you worry about Trade, now you worry about Bhirombhakdi. That old man is afraid of his own shadow. He makes his wife taste every dish for him to make sure he won't get blister rust." He shakes his head. "Stop being so sour. You should smile more. Laugh a little. Here, drink this." Jaidee pours more Sato for his lieutenant. "We used to call our country the Land of Smiles." Jaidee demonstrates. "And there you sit, sad-faced, as though you are eating limes all day."

"Perhaps we had more to smile about, then."

"Well, that might be true." Jaidee sets his Sato back on the splintered tabletop and stares at it thoughtfully. "We must have done something terrible in our previous lives to have earned these ones. It's the only thing I can think of that explains it all."

Kanya sighs. "I sometimes see my grandmother's spirit, wandering around the
chedi
near my house. She told me one time that she couldn't reincarnate until we made a better place for her to arrive."

"Another of the Contraction
phii
? How did she find you? Wasn't she Isaan people, too?"

"She found me anyway." Kanya shrugs. "She is very unhappy with me."

"Yes, well, I suppose we'll be unhappy, too."

Jaidee has seen these ghosts as well, walking the boulevards sometimes, sitting in the trees.
Phii
are everywhere, now. Too many to count. He has seen them in the graveyards and leaning against the bones of riddled
bo
trees, all of them looking at him with some irritation.

Mediums all speak of how crazy with frustration the
phii
are, how they cannot reincarnate and thus linger, like a great mass of people at Hualamphong Station hoping for a train ride down to the beaches. All of them waiting for a reincarnation that they cannot have because none of them deserve the suffering of this particular world.

Monks like Ajahn Suthep say this is nonsense. He sells amulets to ward off these
phii
and says that they are nothing but hungry ghosts, created by the unnatural death of eating from blister rust-tainted vegetables. Anyone can go to his shrine and make a donation, or else go to the Erawan shrine and make an offering to Brahma—perhaps have the temple dancers perform for a little while—and buy a hope that the spirits may be put to rest to travel on to their next incarnation. It is possible to hope for such things.

Still, the ghosts are all around. Everyone agrees on that. The victims of AgriGen and PurCal and all their ilk.

Jaidee says, "I wouldn't take it personally, about your grandmother. On the full moon, I've seen the
phii
crowding the roads around the Environment Ministry, too. Many dozens of them." He smiles sadly. "It's really impossible to fix, I think. When I think about Niwat and Surat growing up with this. . ." He takes a breath, fighting back more emotion than he cares to show before Kanya. Takes another drink. "Anyway, the fight is good. I just wish we could get hold of some AgriGen or PurCal executives and throttle them. Maybe give them a taste of blister rust AG134.s. Then my life would be complete. I could die happy."

"You probably won't reincarnate, either," Kanya observes. "You're too good to end up in this hell again."

"If I'm lucky I'll be reborn in Des Moines, and bomb their generip labs."

"If only."

Jaidee looks up at Kanya's tone. "What's bothering you? Why so sad? We'll both be reborn somewhere beautiful, I'm sure. Both of us. Think of all the merit we earned just last night. I thought those Customs
heeya
were going to shit themselves when we burned the cargo."

Kanya makes a bitter face. "They've probably never met a white shirt they couldn't bribe."

And as quick as that, she kills his attempt at good humor. No wonder no one likes her at the Ministry. "No. That's true. Everyone takes bribes, now. It's not like before. People don't remember the worst times. They aren't afraid the way they were before."

"And now you dive down the cobra's throat with Trade." Kanya says, "After the December 12coup, it seems as if General Pracha and Minister Akkarat are always circling one another, looking for a new excuse to fight. They never finished their feud, and now you do something to further anger Akkarat. It makes things unstable."

"Well, I was always too
jai rawn
for my own good. Chaya complains about it, too. That's why I keep you around. I wouldn't worry about Akkarat, though. He'll spit for a while, then he'll calm down. He may not like it, but General Pracha has too many allies in the Army for another coup attempt. With Prime Minister Surawong dead, Akkarat really has nothing left. He's isolated. Without megodonts and tanks to back up his threats, Akkarat may be rich, but he is a paper tiger. This is a good lesson for him."

"He's dangerous."

Jaidee looks at her seriously. "So are cobras. So are megodonts. So is cibiscosis. We're surrounded by dangers. Akkarat. . ." Jaidee shrugs. "Anyway, it's already done. There's nothing you can do to change it. Why worry now?
Mai pen rai
. Never mind."

"Still, you should be careful."

"You're thinking of that man at the anchor pads? The one Somchai saw? Did he frighten you?"

Kanya shrugs. "No."

"I'm surprised. He frightened me." Jaidee watches Kanya, wondering how much he should say, how much he should reveal that he knows about the world around him. "I have a very bad feeling about him."

"Really?" Kanya looks distressed. "You're frightened? Of one stupid man?"

Jaidee shakes his head. "Not afraid so that I will run and hide behind Chaya's
pha sin
, but still, I've seen him before."

"You didn't tell me."

"I wasn't sure at first. Now I am. I think he is with Trade." He pauses, testing. "I think they are hunting me again. Maybe considering another assassination. What do you think of that?"

"They wouldn't dare touch you. Her Majesty the Queen has spoken in your favor."

Jaidee touches his neck where the old spring gun scar still shows light on his dark skin. "Not even after what I did to them at the anchor pads?"

Kanya bridles. "I'll assign a bodyguard."

Jaidee laughs at her fierceness and is warmed and reassured by it. "You're a good girl, but I'd be a fool to take a bodyguard. Then everyone would know that I can be frightened. That's not the way of a tiger. Here, eat this." He scoops more snake head
plaa
onto Kanya's plate
.

"I'm full."

"Don't be so polite. Eat."

"You should have a bodyguard. Please."

"I'll trust you to guard my back. You should be more than enough."

Kanya flinches. Jaidee hides a smile at her discomfort.
Ahh, Kanya,
he thinks.
We all have choices we must face in life. I've made mine. But you have your own
kamma
.
He speaks gently. "Go on and eat more, you look skinny. How will you find a special friend if you're only bones?"

Kanya pushes her plate away. "I don't eat much these days, it seems."

"People are starving everywhere, and you can't eat."

Kanya makes a face and scoops a sliver of fish onto her spoon.

Jaidee shakes his head. He sets down his own fork and spoon. "What is it? You're even more glum than usual. I feel like we've just put one of our brothers in a funeral urn. What's bothering you?"

"It's nothing. Really. Just not hungry."

"Speak up, Lieutenant. I want straight talk from you. It's an order. You're a good officer. I can't stand having your sad face. I don't like any of my people to be sad-faced, even the ones from Isaan."

Kanya grimaces. Jaidee watches as his lieutenant mulls what she will say. He wonders if he was ever so tactful as this young woman. He doubts it. He has always been too brash, too easily angered. Not like Kanya, dour Kanya, all
jai yen
all the time. Not
sanuk
at all, but certainly
jai yen
.

He waits, thinking that at last he will hear her story, her full story in all its painful humanity, but when Kanya finally summons the words, she surprises him. She speaks in a near whisper. Almost too embarrassed to form the words at all.

"Some of the men complain that you don't take enough gifts of goodwill."

"What?" Jaidee sits back, goggles at her. "We won't participate in that sort of thing. We're different than the rest. And proud of it."

Kanya nods readily. "And the newspapers and whisper sheets love you for it. And the people love you for it."

"But?"

Her miserable look returns. "But you don't get promoted anymore, and the men who are loyal to you get no help from your patronage, and they lose heart."

"But look what we accomplish!" Jaidee taps the sack of money between his legs that they confiscated off the clipper ship. "They all know that if they have a need, they will be helped. We have more than enough for anyone in need."

Kanya looks down at the table and mumbles, "Some say you like to keep the money."

"What?" Jaidee stares at her, dumbstruck. "Do you think this?"

Kanya shrugs miserably. "Of course not."

Jaidee shakes his head, apologizing. "No, of course you wouldn't. You've been a good girl. You've done great things here." He smiles at his lieutenant, almost overwhelmed with compassion for the young woman who came to him starving, idolizing him and his years as a champion, wanting so much to emulate him.

"I do what I can to squash the rumors, but. . ." Kanya shrugs again, miserable. "Cadets say that being under Captain Jaidee is like starving of
akah
worms. You work and work and get skinnier and skinnier. These are good boys we have, but they can't help but feel ashamed when they have old uniforms and their comrades have new crisp ones. When they ride a bicycle two at a time, and their comrades ride kink-spring scooters."

BOOK: The Windup Girl
3.11Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Night Finds by Amber Lynn
Muffled Drum by Erastes
Green Girl by Sara Seale
Wild Hunts by Rhea Regale
The Flame Trees of Thika by Elspeth Huxley
Sweet Last Drop by Melody Johnson
A Friend of the Family by Lisa Jewell