BooksBarbecue
Back The Everything Box Save as PDF
Chapters (42)
  1. DEDICATION
  2. EPIGRAPH
  3. ONE
  4. TWO
  5. THREE
  6. FOUR
  7. FIVE
  8. SIX
  9. SEVEN
  10. EIGHT
  11. NINE
  12. TEN
  13. ELEVEN
  14. TWELVE
  15. THIRTEEN
  16. FOURTEEN
  17. FIFTEEN
  18. SIXTEEN
  19. SEVENTEEN
  20. EIGHTEEN
  21. NINETEEN
  22. TWENTY
  23. TWENTY-ONE
  24. TWENTY-TWO
  25. TWENTY-THREE
  26. TWENTY-FOUR
  27. TWENTY-FIVE
  28. TWENTY-SIX
  29. TWENTY-SEVEN
  30. TWENTY-EIGHT
  31. TWENTY-NINE
  32. THIRTY
  33. THIRTY-ONE
  34. THIRTY-TWO
  35. THIRTY-THREE
  36. THIRTY-FOUR
  37. THIRTY-FIVE
  38. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  39. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  40. ALSO BY RICHARD KADREY
  41. CREDITS
  42. ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

“What I want to leave you with is a thought: with all the wonders of the world at your disposal, the one thing you shouldn’t be is boring.” The stranger turned to the policeman on his left arm. “You’re boring.” He turned to the policeman on his right. “You’re boring, too.” He shouted to the drum circle. “Technically, you’re not boring. You’re well meaning, but you’re awful. Just horrible.”

The city began to tremble. Market Street rippled down its length, like waves at the edge of the ocean. Skyscrapers swayed. Windows broke and glass rained into the streets below. The policemen let go of the stranger’s arms and tried to run, but the street was wobbling too violently for them to get more than a couple of steps before they fell. Buses and cars smashed into each other. Electrical wires snapped.

A crack opened in the street. It split a nearby crosswalk and shattered the pavement where the stranger stood. The crack, an extension of a heretofore unknown fault line, ripped open the parking lot and one by one, the Liquid Industries buses slid into the Earth, followed by the drum circle and the police. Buildings toppled behind him. When the shaking stopped, for a second there was only the sound of geysers where fire hydrants and water mains had broken. Then the silence was torn apart as a million car alarms went off at once. People covered their ears. Some screamed. Others simply turned in slow circles, looking at the damage in mute shock.

The stranger checked his map—the one he kept folded up, not the one from the guidebook—and started down Van Ness Boulevard, where he’d left himself a relatively undamaged corridor that he could pass through. He climbed over wrecked cars, made his way past shouting drivers, heading for the freeway. He took a new guidebook from his coat pocket and riffled the pages. This one had palm trees and a picture of the Hollywood Chinese Theater on the front. The cover of the book said, A WALKING TOUR OF LOS ANGELES. The stranger took a breath. Walking was the thing. The only thing right now. He headed onto the entirely undamaged 101 freeway—now mostly deserted, since all the entry ramps had collapsed—and started south.

TWENTY-NINE