Free The Condition of Muzak by Michael Moorcock Page A

don’t worry. This gig’s free.”
    “We’ve got a few new drugs.”
    “Nar,” said Mo. “We’re not into drugs any more. Well, not at the moment, anyway. We’re into beer.”
    “You don’t mind me…?”
    “Smashing. It’ll be like the Friendly Bum days. You remember?”
    “My memory isn’t what it was.”
    “It’s a fucking opium den now. For the tourists.”
    “I’ve been staying away from the centre. My work…”
    “Oh, sure.” Mo was suddenly embarrassed. Hesitantly he offered Jerry the joint.
    Jerry enjoyed a drag. He went to sit on the ledge of the open window, looking towards Blenheim Crescent then up into the sharp blue sky. “I think we should see an improvement, soon. It’s a bit early, though.” He cocked an ear to the east, detecting a whine. He smiled. “They’re here, at last.”
    Mo joined him at the window as the first black wave of Starlifters shrieked in at minimum altitude, banking slowly until they had located Heathrow.
    “Far out!” said Mo in delight, as soon as his voice could be heard. “Those jobs carry over a hundred and fifty troops apiece. There are thousands coming in. Oh, it’s all going to liven up! The Yanks are back!”
    Jerry moved to the intercom. He must warn his staff to be ready for the extra volume.

10. RAPIER, ULTRA LOW-LEVEL AIR DEFENCE SYSTEM IN SERVICE WITH THE BRITISH ARMY AND RAF REGIMENT, ORDERED BY THE IMPERIAL IRANIAN GOVERNMENT, LIGHTWEIGHT, DIRECT-HITTING MISSILE, HIGH KILL-TO-ENGAGEMENT RATIO, OPTIONAL “ADD-ON” BLINDFIRE UNIT, OUTSTANDING COST-EFFECTIVENESS
    Jerry rubbed more of the dye into his skin, regretting once again that his machines simply weren’t up to handling his own problem. It was high time that they were overhauled, anyway, since the convent had been placed off-limits to all advisory forces: though it had only been civilian auxiliaries who had been coming in the first place; patronising the clinic now counted, on General Cumberland’s orders, as fraternisation with hostile personnel.
    Jerry couldn’t complain. It meant he could expand his own activities if he wished. In the meantime the money system had been reintroduced, Koutrouboussis had been paid back and was receiving an excellent dividend; Jerry was no longer beholden to the Greek who had, on his own initiative, formed a consortium together with his younger brother Spiro, to exploit the Cornelius patents worldwide, offering Jerry a flat commission on every client, including those who wished to change nationalities as part of their transmogrification. Jerry intended to take more of an interest in this international aspect of the enterprise now that the original clinic was running so well. Spiro, by mutual consent, would act as chief liaison man.
    When he had finished with his face he picked up a tangled sheaf of traumograph printouts, leaving black smudges on the semi-opaque paper, and crammed them into one of his desk drawers. He was wearing a white German suit, black shirt and no tie, as part of his current disguise. His hair was bleached bone white. For the moment, too, he had discarded his needle gun and wore the more comfortable vibragun which, he felt, was a trifle better in tune with the zeitgeist. Currently, he felt, the world could accept any ambiguities so long as he retained a certain dramatic resolution to events.
    He left the office and strolled through his pale blue corridors, amiably greeting his nuns, nurses and doctors as he passed them. Most of them had already made preparations to leave for the country; only a skeleton staff was to be retained in London.
    His Phantom VI was already at the gate, its motor running. He stepped into the driving seat and drove up Westbourne Park Road, turned right into Kensington Park Road, heading for Notting Hill and beyond.
    He arrived in Church Street just in time to see a silver Cadillac disappearing into Holland Street. The area was otherwise deserted of cars, although a few M-75 armoured personnel carriers were