Chapters (77)
- Title Page
- Contents
- Dedication
- Book 1
- Part 1
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Part 2
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Part 3
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Part 4
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Part 5
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Part 6
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Part 7
- Chapter 42
- Book 2
- Part 8
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Part 9
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Part 10
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Part 11
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Map of The Land
- Acknowledgments
- About The Author
- Also By Neal Stephenson
- Copyright
“Point being,” Pete said, “one of those people is across the river at the moment, not that far away, and Jake called me last night to say that they had lost contact with this individual and that they have drone video suggesting that he might be in serious trouble. He asked me if I might consider going across the river today and in a peaceable and neighborly way trying to sort things out.”
“You control more money than the Roman Empire at its peak,” Sophia reminded him.
“Yup.”
“Don’t you have people for this?”
“At times like this, the ‘Ameristan’ label becomes more than just a clever bit of wordplay,” Pete said. “Think Afghanistan or Pakistan. How does it work there? They have warlords. The warlords are big men, respected just because they are big men. If the big man shows up to a parley, it’s a gesture of respect and it helps to calm things down. If the big man sends a lackey, it can . . . have the opposite effect.”
Pete Borglund, warlord. It was such a bizarre juxtaposition that it shut Sophia up for a little while. He turned his attention back to Tom. “We pretty much have to go to Sioux City anyway, because of where the bridges are.”
“We could pay someone to ferry us over,” Tom pointed out.
“I don’t want to mess around with those ferry guys. Too sketchy for me. I’m a fan of bridges.”
“Okay. Bridges it is.”
“That works out great for these guys,” Pete said, nodding at Sophia and waving at the Land Cruiser. “Sophia and her crew can hand the LC back over to you guys and jump back into the car they sent ahead. Then we can use the LC as part of our caravan across the river.”
Tom nodded. Sophia didn’t. Pete’s plan made perfect sense. But now she had this feeling of people going on an adventure to which she clearly was not invited.
“If sending a warlord is a gesture of respect,” she said, “isn’t it even more respectful to send a warlady too?”
The warlady insisted on swapping places with one of the lackeys in Pete’s SUV who was qualified to take her place behind the wheel of the Land Cruiser. She didn’t even want to think about what the conversation was like in that vehicle. But here in Pete’s SUV, the topic was the wild tribes across the river and their practices.