A couple of geeky Korean kids were seated
at the communal workbench, eating donuts and wrestling with drivers.
"It's all politics with them. Everything. You should hear them argue
about whether it's cool to feed meat to the store cat! Who was working
behind the counter?"
"He wouldn't tell me his name. He told me to call him --"
"Waldo."
"Yeah."
"Well, that could be any of about six of them, then. That's what they
tell the cops. They probably thought you were a narc or a fed or
something."
"I see."
"It's not total paranoia. They've been busted before -- it's always
bullshit. I raised bail for a couple of them once."
Andrew realized that Kurt thought he was offended at being mistaken for
a cop, but he got that. He was weird -- visibly weird. Out of place
wherever he was.
"So they owe me. Let me talk to them some more."
"Thanks, Kurt. I appreciate it."
"Well, you're doing all the heavy lifting these days. It's the least I
can do."
Alan clapped a hand on his shoulder. "None of this would exist without
you, you know." He waved his hand to take in the room, the Korean kids,
the whole Market. "I saw a bunch of people at the Greek's with laptops,
showing them around to each other and drinking beers. In the park, with
PDAs. I see people sitting on their porches, typing in the
twilight. Crouched in doorways.
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