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legitimate businesses.
When pressed about the most likely area of concern, he seemed to give special
recognition to blocks 30 through 40.
     
    I groaned. Some people were going to be mad at
me for saying that.
    While everyone knew Belvaille was crooked, we
still pretended we weren’t. Though not very well. Consequently, The News wrote all its stories in code. “Goodies” were weapons, “legitimate businesses”
were…not, etc.
    “Why’d you have to say my name? Aren’t you
supposed to say ‘anonymous sources’?”
    He gave me a dirty look.
    “If I say that, it’s just hearsay. If I put you
down, it’s like a real thing. So I heard about your adventure in the warehouses
today. Interesting stuff,” he said coaxingly.
    The train seemed far away.
    “So Hank, who has the most to lose in a fight?”
    “Same as always, the people with the most to
lose. Belvaille isn’t getting any bigger.”
    Rendrae wrote this down as we walked. No one
would allow him to record anything.
    “Zadeck,” he began. “I’ve been thinking he
might deserve a higher ranking in the top-twenty list. What’s your take?”
    “What is he now?”
    “Nothing.”
    I thought about this. It would certainly be
quoted and certainly have an effect on the day-to-day activities on
Belvaille—far more than me running my mouth at a casino. Still, it could piss
off anyone who got displaced.
    “I think he has an opportunity in front of him
and how he handles it will affect his ranking.”
    “A bit esoteric,” Rendrae answered sourly.
“Talk to our readers here, Hank. You know their intelligence level.”
    There was just something about Rendrae’s voice
and overall manner that broke down your normal barriers. I wondered if he was a
mutant with some kind of mind-influencing ability.
    “He’s a rising star,” I said.
    Rendrae scribbled madly, as if my simple
sentence would evaporate if not committed immediately to storage.
    “Woohoo, exciting times, exciting times, Hank.
And the both of us in the thick of it like always. Though you more so of
course,” he added humbly.
    I looked at his raggedy jacket and misshapen
hat. Rendrae was almost certainly rich with his monopoly newspaper. In fact, if
the “Most Influential” list were ever truly reported, Garm would be one and
Rendrae would be two. Actually, Wallow would probably be first if it was simply
listing raw power.
    The train came and we said our farewells,
Rendrae waddling back in the direction of the casinos.
     
    The next day I sat eating curry and eggs in a
small diner. I was right by the door. That was one of the advantages of being
hard to maim, I could sit with my back to everyone and not especially worry
about getting shot. My joke was that the ideal restaurant for Belvaille had
sixty chairs and sixty corners for those chairs to have their backs against.
    I knew all the best foods to eat on Belvaille,
and all the restaurants knew what I ordered. The cook himself came out to see
if I enjoyed it, like they did at fancy places. Except he was wearing a hairnet
and smelled of old sweat.
    After my meal I thought about the city’s
present troubles.
    I didn’t like gang wars. I could potentially
make a lot of money, but everyone was so desperate and demanding it was hard to
stay neutral. You’re either with me or against me, they all seemed to say. Then
it turned into a gamble when you chose sides.
    One time I tried to sit out a war. Just stick
my head in the ground until it passed. And someone blew up my apartment. I was
just hanging around doing nothing for a month, and boom. The worst attack on me
since I’d been on Belvaille. So I figured I might as well get paid if folks
were going to try and bring a building down on me.
    I arrived in Deadsouth, the slummiest part of
the station. But a romping good place to look for drugs. Specifically,
floppy-eared Jyen’s drugs.
    Deadsouth didn’t look much different from the
rest of Belvaille except the streets were littered with refuse and