Travels in Nihilon Read Online Free Page A

but rhymes still rattle their way into my head.’
    â€˜I’m a poet as well,’ Adam interrupted him, glad that he should have something in common with this fine old man. But the man stared at him coldly: ‘You may think you’re a poet,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t say you were, you liar!’
    â€˜I’ve had several books published,’ Adam said, still trying to smile, though sorry he hadn’t one of the volumes with him so that he could present it to his friend.
    â€˜You aren’t a poet,’ the old man cried. ‘If you say you are, you’re a fraud, an imposter, a saboteur, a renegade, a Cronacian spy!’
    Adam stepped away, appalled at this unjust attack. The barman picked up a beer mug to smash his head in for offending the old man, but the old man told him sharply to put it down, then apologized to Adam: ‘He’s a fool, you see. Always attacking people, and I can’t stand it, being a poet. However, just listen to my latest composition.
    Freedom’s fight is my last bride
    And Nihilon is by my side.
    My last sight shall be the sky
    For geriatrics never die.
    I composed it for this march, and we old Gerries (as the young affectionately call us) will sing it as an anthem when we charge into the Cronacian scum.’
    â€˜You see,’ he went on, ‘in this country we don’t send our young and able-bodied men to fight. Why should they waste their time? They’re too busy working for Nihilon, building it up and breeding children. The principles of rational nihilism never let you down. Since the old have to die anyway, they are sent into battle. Of course, there are disadvantages. Though there is a certain amount of dash, and a great deal of ferocious guts in us Gerries, there can’t be much question of a decisive breakthrough into Cronacia, because we’re never able to keep up the push for long. Nevertheless, when we storm down the hill towards the Cronacian outposts in brigade column, we put the fear of the devil into them, with flags fluttering, trumpets sounding, and the shrill scream of our throats. I haven’t been in a charge yet, but I know what it’s like because the fighting we Gerries do is shown all over the country on television and in the cinemas. I’ve often sat up most of the night at the rest home, cheering them on. The glory won’t go unrecorded, and that makes a difference, because our actions are shown to the young fellows and others who stay at home praising our courage and tactics, and who only wait for the day when they’ll be old enough to have a go. So I shall be there tomorrow morning, because we’re going to deal such a blow against the Cronacians that they won’t forget it in a hurry. We’ll teach them a lesson for the shooting they started this morning. We were called from our rest homes further up the valley as soon as the news came through. Oh yes, we’ll show those pirates. You’ll hear what we do to them. Do you want to see President Nil’s Atrocity Recommendations?’
    He fumbled in his pocket to try and find this revealing document, but then began to cough, bent over till the skin of his skull went red, right to the roots of his grey hair. The bartender had listened with tears streaming down his cheeks, and on seeing Adam again, he stopped weeping and grabbed his collar, saying with a ferocious cry:
    â€˜Pay up!’
    The old man righted himself, forgetting his search for the piece of paper. ‘How much does he owe?’ he gasped.
    â€˜Sixty-two klipps, sir.’
    Adam pulled his travellers unit back across the counter: ‘You said forty-two a few minutes ago.’
    â€˜He means well,’ the old man said to Adam, leaning over and straightening the bartender’s tie. He picked up the travellers unit, put on a monocle, and held it to the light. ‘Change it for him,’ he snapped.
    â€˜Certainly, sir,’ said the bartender.