Stories From A Dead World, No. 3

FROM EMERY’S BIG BOOK ABOUT THE END [AUTHOR: EMERY]

Saul John runs a shop at the edge of town. He buys and sells junk. Since everybody has junk and doesn’t need it, he mostly buys. Saul is convinced of two things: eventually, all the junk he’s collected will be profitable, and he’ll figure out whether he likes having two first names. The two aren’t necessarily connected, but Saul is convinced of them with equal fervor. I met him recently for a mug of whale oil and a spot of conversation, and he told me that being a junk dealer pays terribly, and now that there’s no government he can’t even write off his losses. Saul and I both agree that not being able to write losses off isn’t a great loss considering that we don’t have to pay taxes anymore either. We have to pay squads of gunmen to protect us from whatever could crawl out of the wasteland, but everyone agrees that the gunmen only ask for about half of what we’d pay them to feel safe. It’s generally agreed that squads of armed men in women dressed in flak jackets and rusted-out chainmail are much more comforting than an Old World insurance policy. 

Saul John told me a story once. I’m not entirely sure if he was joking or not, so you shouldn’t treat this as anything more than fiction. I will avoid an anecdotal style as much as possible, but in order to understand the world I live in, you must also have some understanding of its people. There is no better way to understand people than to listen to their stories. Here is Saul’s: (I’m not excellent at replicating dialects, and Saul’s is particularly difficult but I’ll try my best)

“So yeh see, there were this girl, right? An’ she walks into my establishment like a peacock, only she was wearing little past a cloak and a shirt and a pair of ratty old shoes. Not carrying nutting but her pride, and that was big and plain, and set up right like her hair, all over her shoulders and down her back. She had a nice setto showders. [Saul makes a number of comments like this. Ignore them] So she slides up to my counter, sorta like yeh do when you want sumping, and she say to me…she say she want a peppergun, like yeh used to see in movies. The bigguns with the spinny barrels and all the bullets in a box on the side. I dunno what she woodda dun with it, I meen, she was a twig, she wooden be able to lift the one I had back in the ahmy, an’ that wasn’t neerly as heavy as what I passed over me counter. Das what I thought anyway, she lifts that peppergun I hand her, easer than I wooda dun, an’ sets it on her lovly showders an’ nods to me. Due yeh know what she say?

“She say, with a wink, I’ll see yeh ‘round. Howa ‘bout that?”

I didn’t say his story was very good. It gives you an idea of who Saul is though doesn’t it? I’m sure that the initial paragraph is perfectly accurate, but I have some doubts about the final exchange really took place. Most of my doubt comes directly from Saul’s outward appearance. 

 Saul isn’t tall. In fact, he’s reasonably short. He looks fat because of all the clothes he wears to keep out the dust (Saul’s shop - which he calls his ‘establishment’ - is very dusty) but he’s actually rather trim. His face is somewhat lumpy because of fights he got into when he was younger and drunker. His skin is dark, like everyone else’s, and he smells rather distinctly and vociferously of pine boards. It’s unclear where the smell comes from - possibly something he keeps in his shop - but it comes nevertheless, and follows him around wherever he goes, which isn’t far; Saul remains in his shop six days out of seven, and spends the seventh day in his house above his shop, playing cards with his friends. Saul makes more money playing poker than he does as a junk dealer. 

Saul told me two more stories about the girl with shoulders:

“The girl walks into my establishment again an’ she carries in the peppergun I soll her las’ wheek. She says is broken, and she wants her money right on the counter where she can see it an’ take it and go. I ask her what’s broke, and she says she only killed two shmuks and the third got away through the back door ‘cause the gun jammed, and she wants a new gun dats faster an’ shoots wide. So I give her a shukker and send her out the door.”

And also:

“She had some really nas showders.”

I didn’t say his stories were very good.