Ambient 06 - Going, Going, Gone

of wage slaves roaming about, and save for the fact that they came in all colours, most didn’t look so different from the people I saw all the time back in my neighbourhood.
    »The old lady start all this?«
    Eulie frowned. »Madam succeeded the successor.«
    »That would have been Dryco?«
    »The successor was Mister O’Malley,« she said. »The founder, Dryden.«
    She stopped long enough to touch the nearest wall, and another picture took shape – it wasn’t on a screen; the wall became the picture, that’s the only way I can put it. Three goonpusses huddled face-on, evidently in some steakhouse, judging from how dark it was. The central figure was a nasty-looking woman filling the seat of a wingchair, flanked fore and aft by a pair of stupes. The younger one was wearing what looked like a shirt and a leotard, and lay at her feet as if ready to give her a pedicure. Some rough old piece of work stood behind the chair, lean and hungry, using a baseball bat as a walking stick. Real dark alley characters, that was for sure.
    »The Drydens. Still present, not voting.«
    We walked a little farther down the hall, until we came to yet another spot where she could put her face up against the wall. Another magic door opened up with a clank.
    »Here we are, Walter. Mute yourself.«
    »Why?«
    »Granddaughter is difficult,« Eulie said.
    The room we entered looked almost like a receptionist’s office as I might have known it. There was a desk, and chair; on top of the desk was a small pad with another little movie screen. Probably no need to add that there wasn’t a receptionist in sight. There were, however, a couple of bruisers – males, this time, about the size of the teamsters downstairs. They wore black suits with a close-in neckline that fell somewhere between Beatle and Mao. Both of them resembled funeral home bouncers hauled into service whenever the box proved too heavy for the pallbearers. Eulie nodded at them and they nodded in return, and one of them opened the door to the next room – once again, at the top level, there were real doors with real knobs. As I followed Eulie inside, I immediately wondered what exactly she was leading me into.
    »Lucidity girl,« said the granddaughter, spotting Eulie. »I’ve problemed. Assist.«
    In her haste to get us down here, my little co-conspirator had neglected to mention that the old bat’s granddaughter couldn’t have been any older than fifteen. Granted, the older I get the harder it is to tell, but in this case I’d have been willing to bet money. She sat yoga-style on top of her desk; it looked like she’d cleared a space by throwing everything onto the dark brown carpet – at least I thought it was a carpet. Not much of it showed through beneath the tossed-aside clothing, purses, shoes, empty boxes and all the standard teenage girl debris. This room wasn’t as big as the old lady’s, but it wasn’t small, and had a fireplace, which blazed away even though the air conditioning was running full blast. On the wall behind her desk hung the original of that picture Eulie’d called into existence out in the hall. Judging from the holes in the canvas it looked like the little minx had been using it as a dartboard, with icepicks.
    »What troubles?« Eulie asked, holding tight to my arm as we cleared a path through the undergrowth.
    »This unworks. Alice unhelps,« she said, holding out a shiny green hockey puck. »Command her.«
    »Alice has silenced,« Eulie said. »Show me.«
    Although the little missy wasn’t more than five feet away I did everything possible to keep from looking at her. It’s always been my experience that girls her age are shy even when they’re running around beaches half naked, but this one didn’t seem shy at all. She was dark as a Greek, and wore her hair pixied; probably couldn’t get the kink out, and didn’t want to flaunt it. That wasn’t what distressed me so, however; granddaughter wore what looked like pink pipecleaners in her ears, dirty white ankle socks and a purple stripper’s gaff, and nothing else. It didn’t seem to matter to her who might have seen what.
    »Dislodging,« said Eulie, taking the puck and tapping it. Trying not to even come close to catching granddaughter’s eye, distracted by a buzz of voices, I craned my neck around and saw, behind us, a wall covered with about fifty of those little screens. Every single one was showing a different movie; on the second row from the bottom, on the far left, I