Oryx and Crake (MaddAddam, #1)(82)

“Who knows?” says Jimmy. “Ren, Wakulla – I mean, Lotis Blue. They felt I needed some cheerful interior decoration. It’s like pre-school in here.” He still has his Hey-Diddle-Diddle coverlet.

“You wanted me to look at your foot?” she says.

“Yeah. It’s itchy. Driving me crazy. I just hope none of those maggot things got left inside.”

“If they did, they’d have burrowed out by now,” says Toby.

“Thanks a million,” says Jimmy. The scar on his foot is red but sealed over. Toby examines it: no heat, no inflammation.

“That’s normal,” she says. “The itchiness. I’ll get you something for it.” A poultice: jewelweed, horsetail, red clover, she thinks. Horsetail might be the easiest to find.

“I heard you saw a pigoon,” says Jimmy. “And it spoke to you.”

“Who told you that?” says Toby.

“The Crakers, who else?” says Jimmy. “They’re my radio. That kid Blackbeard gave them the whole story, it seems. They think you shouldn’t have killed that boar, but they’re forgiving you because maybe Oryx said you could. You know those pigs have human prefrontal cortex tissue in their brains? Fact. I should know, I grew up with them.”

“How did the Crakers learn about that?” Toby asks carefully. “Me shooting the boar?”

“The pigoon gal told Blackbeard. Don’t give me that look, I’m just the messenger here. And according to Ren I’ve been hallucinating for a while, so hey. Maybe I’m not the best judge of reality.” He gives her a lopsided grin.

“Mind if I sit down?” she says.

“Help yourself, thousands do,” says Jimmy. “Fucking Crakers wander in here whenever the whim takes them. They want to know more shit about Crake. They think I’m his f*cking guru. That he talks to me through my wristwatch. ’Course it’s my own f*cking fault because I made that up myself.”

“And what do you tell them?” Toby asks. “About Crake?”

“I tell them to go ask you,” says Jimmy.

“Me?” says Toby.

“You’re the expert now. I need to take a nap.”

“No, really, they always say you … they say you knew Crake, in person. When he was walking the earth.”

“Like that’s supposed to be first prize?” Jimmy gives a sour little laugh.

“It gives you a certain authority,” says Toby. “In their eyes.”

“That’s like having a certain authority with a bunch of … Crap, I’m so wrecked I can’t even think of a smartass comparison. Clams. Oysters. Dodos. What I’m saying is. Because, I’m tired. My guru juice is all used up. They wore me out a while ago, to tell you the truth. I never want to think about Crake again, ever, or listen to any more crapulous poop about how good and kind and all-powerful he is, or how he made them in the Egg and then sweetly wiped everybody else off the face of the planet, just for them. And how Oryx is in charge of the animals, and flies around in the shape of an owl, and even though you can’t see her she’s there anyway and will always hear them.”

“As I understand it,” says Toby, “that’s consistent with what you’ve been telling them. It’s Gospel as far as they’re concerned.”

“I know that’s what I f*cking told them!” says Jimmy. “They wanted to know the basic stuff, like where they came from and what all those decaying dead people were. I had to tell them something.”

“So you made up a nice story,” says Toby.

“Well, crap, I could hardly tell them the truth. So yes. And yes, I could’ve done a smarter job of it, and yes, I’m not a brainiac, and yes, Crake must’ve thought I had the IQ of an aubergine because he played me like a kazoo. So it makes me puke to hear them grovelling about f*cking Crake and singing his f*cking praises every time his stupid name comes up.”

“But that’s the story we’ve got,” says Toby. “So we have to work with it. Not that I’ve grasped all the finer points.”

“Whatever,” says Jimmy. “It’s over to you. Just keep doing what you’re doing. You can add stuff in, go to town, they’ll eat it up. I hear they’re fanboys for Zeb these days. Stick with that plotline, it’s got legs. Just keep them from finding out what a bogus fraud everything is.”

“That’s very manipulative,” says Toby. “Shoving it all onto me.”

“Yeah, I’m not denying it,” says Jimmy. “I apologize. Though you’re good at it, according to them. Your choice; you can always tell them to piss off.”

“You realize we’re under attack, in a manner of speaking,” says Toby.

“The Painballers. Yeah. Ren told me,” he says more soberly.

“So we can’t let these people go wandering off on their own too much. They’d most likely be killed.”

Jimmy thinks about that. “So, then?”

“You need to help me,” says Toby. “We should get our stories straight. I’ve been flying in the dark.”

“Nowhere else to fly on the subject of Crake,” says Jimmy gloomily. “Welcome to my whirlwind. He cut her throat, did you know that? Good, kind Crake. She was so pretty, she was … Just thought I’d share that. But I shot the f*cker.”