The Lord of Opium

“Why would anyone want to live away from Gaia?” The Mushroom Master reached for a piece of chicken.

Matt exchanged looks with Cienfuegos. “You know, that’s a good question. El Patrón went to huge expense to create the space station, but we don’t know what it’s for.”

“I know he never went there,” said the jefe. “Dr. Rivas and his daughter tried to visit once. El Patrón had them arrested in Aztlán and brought back.”

“How do people get there?” said Chacho. “On TV they show rocket ships flying to other planets.”

“Pfft! The other planets are lifeless balls of rock,” scoffed the Mushroom Master.

Matt turned to him, or at least to the umbrella. “How do you know?”

“I read books. We have a perfectly good library in the biosphere,” said the old man. “It’s a hundred years out of date, but that doesn’t matter. The planets were dead then and still are. Only Gaia is alive.” Salsa and chips were rapidly disappearing under his umbrella.

“People use the Sky Hook to reach the Scorpion Star,” said Cienfuegos. “It’s a long tether attached at one end to a mountain in Ecuador and at the other to the space station. An elevator goes up and down, carrying people and supplies.”

“May I have another piece of chicken?” the Mushroom Master asked.

“You can have as much as you like,” said Matt.

The old man sighed with pleasure. He tipped the umbrella slightly to reach the food and quickly righted it again. Matt heard chewing noises from inside.

“You know, it isn’t going to rain,” said Listen from the far end of the table.

The umbrella tipped up again. “I remember you. I wondered at the time why you weren’t in the Brat Enclosure. You’d like it there. Lots of games and playmates.”

“I would not like it,” Listen said. “Why don’t you put that thing away? Nothing’s going to fall on your head.”

“Are you sure? A star might come loose,” the old man said.

“You’re making fun of me ’cause I’m a little kid, but I’m smart. A star is a ball of fire millions of miles away. It isn’t going to fall on anybody.”

“Don’t talk back to adults, Listen,” said Sor Artemesia.

“Listen. What an interesting name,” the Mushroom Master said. “You must hear all kinds of things.”

“I got ears like a bat,” the little girl said.

“It’s true that I don’t need an umbrella,” conceded the old man. “I’ve lived all my life under a roof, and the sky scares the dickens out of me. But I’m going to put the umbrella away just for you, child.” He furled it and placed it on the ground by his feet. Matt noticed that his eyes were closed. “I can do this,” he murmured. He opened his eyes and gasped.

A crescent moon hung not far above the horizon. Rose and saffron hues glowed above the western hills, while the sky overhead was deep blue as though saturated with light. The Mushroom Master’s eyes filled with tears. “I’ve seen pictures, but none of them were as glorious as this. Oh, thank you, thank you, Listen, for pulling me out of my shell.” The old man gazed, spellbound. Above the moon, gradually becoming clearer, was a brilliant point of light.

“That’s the evening star,” said Chacho. He, too, was spellbound by the colors.

“That’s not a star. It’s the planet Venus,” said Listen. “You can tell ’cause it doesn’t twinkle.”

“Sometimes I don’t want too much information,” Chacho said.

39

MARÍA LEARNS THE TRUTH

Matt hung Chacho’s drawing next to the lady in the white dress. It was surprisingly good, considering that his friend had little art training. Chacho said he’d been sketching things for as long as he could remember. His grandfather had encouraged him, buying paper and paints, but when the old man died, all that had ended. Chacho was packed up with dozens of other unwanted children and shipped to the orphanage where Matt had first met him.

“Drawing wasn’t allowed there,” said the boy. “We worked all day and at night recited the crotting Five Principles of Good Citizenship and the Four Attitudes Leading to Right Mindedness.” Matt remembered noticing how clumsy Chacho’s hands had seemed, but Eusebio had the same hands. It showed that you couldn’t judge people by their outward appearance.

“The picture is really good,” Matt said. “Would you mind doing a painting of Mirasol? I’ll get you whatever you need.”

Chacho looked up and, for the first time in many days, smiled. “I could work at the guitar factory. It would give me something to do.”