Cover by Rocky Kelley
As we barrel toward the August 29 premiere of Rayguns Over Texas at LoneStarCon 3 (aka the 71st Annual World Science Fiction Convention) in San Antonio, I am presenting book excerpts, one contributor per day.
Today’s selection comes from Michael Moorcock‘s “The Nostalgia Differential.”
Jerry Cornelius and his clan return in a “secret history” of Mars, by way of Texas. In typical Michael Moorcock fashion, the non-linear story unfurls across time with wry political commentary, insightful social observations, and abundant musical references.
WHEN IN GALVESTON Jerry habitually took his breakfast at the Waffle House on 25th and Broadway. It was the least infected of the joints. Here, it was impossible to catch even a glimpse of the ocean.
He was beginning to regret buying the Bishop’s Palace. When had he last eaten so much bacon? Really, it was time to stop. He was growing weak again. He reached into the darkness and found her long, soft hand. Now he could only love.
She reassured him with her grasp. He was grateful for this small, deliberate kindness. When he first came to the island he had so much wanted to find some kind of purpose. He felt certain he would come across a sign of Leadbelly or maybe one of the other Texas bluesmen here. But, leaving not so much as a playbill behind, they had gone north and east. They had no interest in time. From the brochures quantum physics and m-theory seemed to fit so well with the Moorish Gothic of the Bishops Palace. As a result he had bought the great pile with its pointed roofs, minarets and Persianate beaux-arts. There had even been a touch of early Tiffany art nouveaux. It once provided the most accurate understanding of the style why so many modernists rejected it, confusing complexity for fussy pre-modernity. Sometimes he hated to see the look of disappointment disturb the firmness of some poor mod’s features. Twenty years earlier all that had mattered was that you had a pocket full of purple hearts and a willingness to stay up all night at the Flamingo.
“Is there something wrong with the music?” She looked out at the driving rain. “Why isn’t working any more?”
“Rock and roll died the day Hair opened in New York,” he murmured, glancing around to see if he was overheard. Reactionary debased versions of Viennese Light classical with extra bass. Queen sang the dirge at the funeral of American black music. Then country wasn’t country any more. Looking up from his Big Triple, Shaky Mo Collier pushed at greasy hair with greasier fingers and gave Jerry a thumb’s up. His attention wandered.
Catherine glared in his direction. Beside him Miss Brunner watched Mo vaguely checking the action of his slick little Colt. “She was getting ready to settle down. I felt sorry for her.” He kissed the air and said something under his breath. He looked around for his grits.
“Perfect.” Miss Brunner prepared herself for prayer. By increasing the population so successfully religion again showed its relevance to modern times.
This had turned into fun. A neat little running backwards race. He panted. “Religion has done a great job keeping pace with the times. Or was it always an arm of consumerism?”
Mo looked up from his Colt. “Is that like water over there? What’s it? Tidal wave?”
“Oh, bugger!” Jerry had left his guitars in his hotel.
Excerpt from “The Nostalgia Differential” © 2013 by Michael & Linda Moorcock.