The Lord of Opium

Matt was afraid the boy would lose his temper, but he merely shrugged. Dr. Angel showed them the image from the solar telescope projected onto a screen. It looked like a pot of boiling fire with whirlpools and tendrils of darker flame writhing across the surface. They climbed stairs and walked along a causeway circling the larger telescope. A man in a white lab coat was lying on a recliner and looking up into the eyepiece. He didn’t react as they passed. “That’s Dr. Marcos, my brother,” said Dr. Angel. “We’re all called Rivas, so we use our first names to distinguish us from Father.”

Lab assistants stood before banks of machinery, adjusting the focus and movement of the telescope. Dr. Angel explained each activity, but Matt had trouble remembering what she said. It was all so new and unfamiliar that he only took in one word in five. She spoke of azimuths and albedos and other strange things. Mostly, he was impressed with the sheer size of the instruments. After a while Dr. Angel took pity on him and showed him pictures the large telescope had taken.

He saw Jupiter’s moons, Saturn’s rings, and a comet that looked like a dirty snowball with water vapor streaming off it. “That’s baby stuff,” complained the Bug. “I want to see the Scorpion Star.”

“We’re not looking at it right now,” said Dr. Angel.

“I don’t care. I want to see it.”

“I’ll show you the latest picture,” she said. She flicked on a large screen to show . . . Matt wasn’t sure what he was looking at. He saw a collection of skyscrapers floating in black space. Light reflected off red walls, and the whole assembly was enclosed in a bubble of some clear substance. A hovercraft was frozen between two buildings.

“Is that a planet?” he asked.

“It’s our space station,” said the Bug. “Enlarge it, Dr. Angel. I want to see the people.”

She went to a computer, and the image grew larger. It felt like flying down toward a city. You got closer and closer to the buildings until you no longer noticed the bubble surrounding them. Windows and walkways appeared. Now Matt saw a man walking through a clear tube connected to another building. He saw a woman standing at a window next to a potted plant.

Dr. Angel moved the image from one part of the station to another.

Matt saw more hovercrafts. The Scorpion Star was so enormous that people had to fly from one end to the other. “There’s the best part,” said the Bug, pointing. The screen had moved into the heart of the buildings, where another, smaller bubble contained trees and gardens. “That’s how they get their oxygen,” said the boy. “They grow crops and raise chickens and everything. It’s like a whole world where everything is perfect. I wish I could go there!” The longing in the boy’s voice was so intense that Matt turned away from the screen to look at him.

“Earth is a good place too,” he said.

“No, it isn’t! Earth is crappy! Everybody hates me. Up there . . . ” The Bug reached out to touch the screen, and Dr. Angel jerked his hand back. “Stop it, you poo-poo brain!” he screamed. “Up there are real scientists, not fakes like you! They’ll want me. I know they will. Someday I’m going up there, and when I do, I’ll burn this place down and you with it! Let go of me!”

By now the eejits had been alerted, and they moved in to hold on to the raving boy. They wrapped the leashes around him and carried him down the stairs and out into the parking lot. Matt followed, with Dr. Angel. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I thought he would be all right.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” the woman said. “Come back by yourself whenever you like.” She left, and the eejits loaded the boy into the back and sat on either side of him. Matt realized that he would have to fly the stirabout, but fortunately, he had paid close attention to the boy’s directions.

He pulled the lever, and the recharging hose dropped away. He pushed the green button to uncouple the magnets and the go button to start moving. The stirabout almost collided with a tree on the way up, but soon Matt was effortlessly following the road back to the hospital. All the while El Bicho screamed and spat on him until the back of his shirt was wet.

The Bug had screamed himself hoarse by the time they arrived at the little hovercraft port behind the hedge. “When you’ve recovered, we can start over again,” said Matt, struggling to stay calm. Not right away, though, he thought.

“I’ll kill you,” the little boy rasped as the eejits unloaded him.