Andre had retrieved the battered carcass of the Stench Reo robot from the park, which was now riddled with about ten thousand bullet holes. It no longer functioned aside from its ability to spout its catchphrases, but they propped it up in the courtyard and the kids were absolutely amazed by it. Zoey had put on most of her Naoko costume and since her own body was also beaten to hell, it looked like they’d added the damage on purpose. A girl and her mecha-cat, post-battle.
The Halloween party was an all-day affair, the first visitors showing up at about ten in the morning. They would come in scheduled waves, the first from a special-needs school Zoey had donated to, then after lunch would be the children of any employees from Ashe Enterprises who wanted to bring them. This included the sex workers, which had caused a huge controversy when announced (the lawyers, secretaries, and other white-collar types didn’t want their kids around prostitutes and strippers, or to be seen with them in general—Zoey had told them they could stay home if they didn’t like it). After that, the maze would be open to the public, though with several layers of security screenings that would be mostly invisible to those who passed through them. They were an hour into it, which meant it was the special-needs kids going through a low-key version of the maze with their parents, gently chased by a gang of Halloween staples like the whimsical, bumbling animatronic skeletons that at a designated point would trip and fall, bursting into a pile of disconnected bones.
Meanwhile, various junk-food vendors were doling out treats. From where Zoey was standing, she could smell the intoxicating scent of molten sugar from a booth where a Japanese guy was making teppanyaki popcorn on a flat iron griddle. He’d pile the kernels and oil inside a ring of sugar, then allow it to pop under a steel bowl. Kids were walking away with the warm, sticky clumps of popcorn in paper bags.
Zoey’s arm was in a sling as she had in fact dislocated her shoulder, and she had stitches in the back of her head that were covered by her glowing pink wig. She’d gone light on the painkillers, though (they just made her sleepy), and as a result was standing there in a throbbing little pool of pain.
Megaboss Alonzo was talking at her and had been for some time, though little of what he said was registering. He was dressed as Batman, complete with the enormous white mustache that had been a staple of the character for a decade. She had been surprised when he had showed up at the opening of the maze with 2-Bladez in tow. The latter had apparently demanded to come, worried that the wiring in that skeleton was going to short out again. The man, now dressed as a pirate, had spent the morning hovering around that corner of the maze, making sure that the damned skeleton activated properly every time a group of kids passed.
Zoey sensed Alonzo was talking politics and said, “All that mayor stuff, that was Will’s deal. I’m not into all that.”
Alonzo groaned. “But by not taking a position, you’re taking a position! That’s the hell of politics.”
“I just don’t see how it will matter. You collect taxes and fund the cops, then eventually the voters and donors will say, ‘Hey, I don’t like these people over here, pass a law they can’t help but break and then act like it’s their own fault.’ We’ll be right back in the same boat.”
“That’s why you need a strong figure in that office! Somebody to stand against those tides! Did you know that in Japan, they’ve got this thing, it kind of just looks like a futon they’ve stood up on end, just a big cushion in a frame. When they’ve got someone who’s drunk or crazy, they launch this thing at them and it just wraps them up like a burrito. Then they just tip it over and throw them in the back of a paddy wagon, take them somewhere to calm down. Next day, they’re good to go. See? It’ll be like that, give people room to make mistakes.”
“For someone who is an actual professional criminal, you have a strangely utopian view of humanity.”
“I can tell you from years of long experience that for every one truly evil man, there’s a hundred wayward souls who just need to be put right. There are ways to set those people on the righteous path without handing them over to sadists to be treated like dogs.”
“Okay, well, if you win and turn the city into a nightmarish dystopia, I’m going to show up at your office and say I told you so.”
“So,” he said, subtly shifting his posture, “what are you doing tonight, after the kids go home?”
“Nothing.”
“Great, come to the club with me.”
“No, I mean I’m planning to do nothing. An evening of doing nothing is incredibly important to me right now. I need it.”
Wu appeared then, in a flannel shirt and jeans, an appearance so startling to Zoey that it might as well have been a Halloween costume even if she was sure it wasn’t. Behind him was a boy and a girl, both in their late teens, who seemed very nervous to meet Zoey. Behind them was an annoyed-looking woman Zoey took to be Wu’s wife, who seemed to silently disapprove of Zoey’s very existence.
“Zoey,” said Wu, smiling, “this is my son, Dennis, and my daughter, Rizza. Gary is away at Stanford. This is my wife, Mei.”
“Hi!” said Zoey. They were all in matching flannel and jeans—wait, was it a costume? She was afraid to ask.
“Hello,” said Mei, through pursed lips.
“I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Oh, I can’t escape hearing about you.”
To Wu, Zoey said, “See you at work tomorrow?”
Zoey vaguely remembered that she had maybe fired him the night before.
“If that is your wish, I will be here.”
Zoey stuck out her hand to Mei and said, “Good to meet you!”
She shook Zoey’s hand with the same enthusiasm she’d use to pull a wad of hair out of a drain. Wu then forced a joke and pulled his flannel family away to browse the snack stands around the courtyard.
Zoey sighed. She had about ten more hours of this ahead of her. She dug her tube of hand cream from her pocket, only to find it was empty.