Free Think Yourself Lucky by Ramsey Campbell Page A

doing what she told you, weren't you, David?"
    Rex's version of sympathy made David round on him. "And what do you do, since we're talking?"
    "I'm in advertising. I'm in ideas."
    "Then I hope you've given Andrea a few, or hasn't she told you she's looking for some?"
    "Rex," Andrea said, and a good deal less softly "We've discussed bringing personal matters into the workplace, David."
    "I thought I was talking about work."
    "No call for cleverness. You aren't being a writer now."
    This enraged David more than he could have explained. "Would you like me to go back out?"
    "I wouldn't, no. We can't afford to get the firm in trouble. I'll look into the position with the street, but meanwhile you'd better stay here."
    He felt like a child rebuked in public by a mother, not that his own had ever had much reason. As David lifted the flap in the counter Rex said "So Andy says you're a writer."
    "Why did you want to tell him that?" Too late David grasped that Rex had her comment about cleverness in mind. "I've never been one," he assured Rex, "and I never will be."
    "Stay randy, Andy," Rex said and winked at David on his way to the door.
    David looked away from him and managed not to glance at Andrea as he logged on the terminal. Alerts were waiting to be dealt with—seats to be booked on planes, special requests to be cleared with travel operators, complaints to be followed up—and he began to type, so rapidly that it outran some of his thoughts. This was as close as he would ever come to being a writer, he vowed to himself. He would be happy to forget everything that had happened since he'd gone out to distribute the flyers. Certainly none of it could make him write.

TWELVE
    "Pests."
    The woman stares at the flyer I'm holding out and then at me. "There's a few of those round here right enough."
    Does she think she's on my level and entitled to agree, or is she suggesting I'm one of the vermin infesting the streets? They're inviting you to sign up for the Feet For Jesus marathon or collecting for Stand Up For Insects. There's World Without Weapons with a web address that looks like a joke its supporters didn't realise they'd made, and there are memorial funds for people I'm certain you'd want to forget if you'd known them. "Please do treat yourself to a notice," I say into the woman's smug wrinkled face. "You never know when I'll be needed."
    She pinches the sheet between a finger and an even stumpier thumb. "What use is this to anyone? Where's a number to call?"
    PESTS EXTERMINATED—GET LUCKY. "Don't you worry," I tell her. "I go anywhere I'm called for."
    She does her stupid best to look as if she's understood at the same time as finding me unhelpful. "Are you in the book?"
    "We're past those. I'm your future. Look for me online."
    "You aren't making it too easy for anyone, are you?"
    "I'm giving them what they deserve."
    She can't be expected to grasp this, and so she tries asking "Just what do you do?"
    "You'd have to see it for yourself."
    She peers into my eyes and seems about to ask another question. Perhaps she sees something, or possibly not as much as she supposed she would, because she thrusts the flyer at me. "I don't want it, thank you. No use to me."
    "Too late. It's yours now. You'll have to wait and see how it applies."
    I let her glimpse the depths of my eyes again before I leave her in the crowd. The flyer flutters in her hand, and I'm amused to see the shiver infect all of her. Maybe she needn't fear me; it depends if I have time. She's less of a candidate than the motorist who nearly ran me down on the pedestrian crossing or the cyclist who had a crack at it on the pavement. Still, maybe I've still to meet today's winner, and so I carry on handing out my literature. "Pests squashed," I call and feel as if an evangelist who's ranting in the middle of the street is trying to blot me out. "Parasites rubbed out. No job too small, no job too big. You know which you are, madam."
    I can see I'm not appreciated. They