after hour, dinner and the dayroom and, if I could manage it, a chat with Herrera. “Fine edge on that slicer, Gus. There’s only two kinds of people in the world: the ones who don’t take care of their tools and the smart ones.” Suspicious look from under his Aztec brows. “Pays to do things right. You’re the crumb, ain’t you?” “Yeah. First time here. Think I ought to stay?” He didn’t get it. “You gotta stay. Contract.” And he went to the magazine rack. Tomorrow’s another day. “Hello, Gus. Tired?” “Hi, George. Yeah, a little. Ten hours swinging the slicer. It gets you in the arms.” “I can imagine. Skimming’s easy, but you don’t need brains for it.” “Well, maybe some day you get upgraded. I think I’ll trance.” And another: “Hi, George. How’s it going?” “Can’t complain, Gus. At least I’m getting a sun-tan.” “You sure are. Soon you be dark like me. Haw-haw! How’d you like that?” “Porque no, amigo?” “Hey, tu hablas espanol! Cuando aprmdiste la lengua?” “Not so fast, Gus! Just a few words here and there. I wish I knew more. Some day when I get a few bucks ahead I’m going to town and see the girls.” “Oh, they all speak English, kind of. If you get a nice steady li’l girl it would be nice to speak a li’l Spanish. She would appreciate it. But most of them know ‘Gimmy-gimmy’ and the li’l English poem about what you get for one buck. Haw-haw!” And another day-an astonishing day. I’d been paid again, and my debt had increased by eight dollars. I’d tormented myself by wondering where the money went, but I knew. I came off shift dehydrated, as they wanted me to be. I got a squirt of Popsie from the fountain by punching my combination- twenty-five cents checked off my payroll. The squirt wasn’t quite enough so I had another-fifty cents. Dinner was drab as usual; I couldn’t face more than a bite or two of Chicken Little. Later I was hungry and there was the canteen where I got Crunchies on easy
credit. The Crunchies kicked off withdrawal symptoms that could be quelled only by another two squirts of Popsie from the fountain. And Popsie kicked off withdrawal symptoms that could only be quelled by smoking Starr cigarettes, which made you hungry for Crunchies . . . Had Fowler Schocken thought of it in these terms when he organized Starrzelius Verily, die first spherical trust? Popsie to Crunchies to Stairs to Popsie? And you paid 6 percent interest on the money advanced you. It had to be soon. If I didn’t get out soon I never would. I could feel my initiative, the thing that made me me, dying, cell by cell, within me. The minute dosages of alkaloid were sapping my will, but most of all it was a hopeless, trapped feeling that things were this way, that they always would be this way, that it wasn’t too bad, that you could always go into trance or get really lit on Popsie or maybe try one of the green capsules that floated around from hand to hand at varying quotations; the boys would be glad to wait for the money. It had to be soon. “Como ‘sta, Gustavo?” He sat down and gave me his Aztec grin. “Como ‘std, amigo Jorgef Sefuma?” He extended a pack of cigarettes. They were Greentips. I said automatically: “No thanks. I smoke Starrs; they’re tastier.” And automatically I lit one, of course. I was becoming the kind of consumer we used to love. Think about smoking, think about Stairs, light a Starr. Light a Starr, think about Popsie, get a squirt. Get a squirt, think about Crunchies, buy a box. Buy a box, think about smoking, light a Starr. And at every step roll out the words of praise that had been dinned into you through your eyes and ears and pores. “I smoke Stairs; they’re tastier. I drink Popsie; it’s zippy. I eat Crunchies; they tang your tongue. I smoke-” Gus said to me: “You don’t look so happy, Jorge.” “I don’t feel so happy, amigo.” This was it. “I’m in a very strange situation.” Wait for him, now. “I figured there was something wrong. An intelligent fellow like you, a fellow who’s been around. Maybe you can use some help?” Wonderful; wonderful. “You won’t lose by it, Gus. You’re taking a chance, but you won’t lose by it. Here’s the story-” “Sst! Not here!” he shushed me. In a lower voice he went on: “It’s always a risk. It’s always worth it when I see a smart young fellow wise up and begin to do things. Some day I make a mistake,