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"It's barter here," he explained.
"Barter?"
"Yeah. You drink my pop, you give me something you think is of equal value."
I hadn't a clue what that could be. My belt? An earring?
"A name," he supplied finally. "I'll trade you my pop for your name."
I looked into his eyes, trying to gauge if he was serious or not, and I was
struck by the blackness of them. I could hardly tell where his pupils ended
and the irises began. It was like looking into a black mirror. If eyes were
supposed to be the window to the soul, this guy didn't have one.
"No way," I said suddenly. "A name is too powerful. I'll only trade my name
for yours. Here." I pulled off an earring, one of my favorites, and handed it
to him. "For the soda."
His mouth hung open a bit, but he took my earring without a protest. I turned
away, trying to figure out how I could bust into one of the cliques of girls
standing near the door.
"Adram." He stood beside me while putting my earring through a hole in his
ear.
"Amariah," I said.
"That's a boy's name, isn't it? Hebrew. 'Whom God has promised.'"
I almost choked on my pop. No one else knew that. Ariel said it was my secret.
"How did you & I mean, most people haven't heard of my name. It's not very
common."
Adram shrugged. "It's a hobby. I collect books on the origins and meanings of
names." Then he gave me a sly glance out of the corner of his eye. "You know,
you're right. Names do have power. Especially in the game, and you want to
have a skoro one. I mean, it would suck to go to the seventh level and die
with a name like Eustace. You know?"
"Eustace isn't so bad," I said, but I couldn't suppress a laugh.
"Yeah, but you wouldn't want to be remembered forever as Eustace, would you?"
"No," I agreed. "What does Adram mean?"
"It's actually short for Adramelech. I don't think it has a meaning."
"Adramelech? That's a mouthful."
"I know," he admitted. "There's nothing like being saddled with a bad name to
make you interested in others."
"What name would you prefer?"
"I don't know. Nikolai?"
I looked him over. Even though I'd barely gotten used to his real name, I
tried to see this new name on him. Taller than me, Adram was more lanky than
muscular, but I could see a hint of strength in his broad shoulders. In the
half-light, he cast a long, narrow shadow. There was something odd. about the
silhouette that stretched along the concrete floor. It seemed as though he was
standing in front of something that floated near his shoulder blades. It
stretched out on either side of him like enormous&
Wings.
MAGOG INVASION SUBTLE
Could Cultural Invasion Fulfill Biblical Prophecy?
The Apocalypse Watch, Fundamentalist Press (December 2095)
Tel Aviv, Israel There is a Russian Invasion in the youth culture of today.
Russian artists have been cropping up everywhere in designer labels, gallery
shows, film festivals, and now concert halls. Tonight Sasha Rachmanov will be
debuting his rock opera Theocracy Blues to sold-out crowds at the Tel Aviv
International Arena. Rachmanov is the latest sensation to breach the "Silent
Curtain" that has surrounded Russia since the Medusa war.
Tickets to Rachmahov's concert went for twenty-five to one hundred credits per
seat. The arena sold out in record time. Young people everywhere are already
lining up to buy tickets in other stops on Rachmanov's world tour. Anxious
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kids in London nearly downed the LINK site where advance tickets were being
sold by "pinging" for a spot in the queue so often. "It was like a denial of
service attack, except for real," said the system's manager. "These kids
wanted our stuff so bad they nearly crashed us."
Devout Christians have much to fear from Rachmanov and his ilk. In Ezekiel,
chapters 38 and 39, the Bible warns us of an end-times invasion of Israel from
Gog. In Genesis, Gog is clearly identified with the "Scythians," who were the
early ancestors of modern-day Russians. Previously scholars of the infallible
and inspired Word of God believed that these passages referred to a military
action. "However," says Dr. Thaddeus Black, Christian scholar, "the passage
merely says 'to take spoil.' It could be a cultural invasion, intended to rob
the children of Israel of their worldly goods through commercialism."
"Israel just felt receptive," said Rachmanov when asked by the mainstream
press about his choice at a public conference earlier this week. "And, of
course, there is much to celebrate in Israel. This is the two-year anniversary
of the secularization of Temple Rock. I wanted my concert to be a small part
of the commemoration of this historical moment."
It should be no surprise to Christians that a Russian would approve of the
destruction of theocracies everywhere. Russia remained staunchly atheist after
the rest of the world divided itself up into theocracies, even declining to
join in the international LINK protocols. When AW reporters wondered if there
was a connection between Rachmanov's atheism and his move to the West, the
Russian heartily agreed. "Yes, of course it's a religion thing. Now that
theocracies are relaxing, we can too." Contact your local church for
information regarding how to start a boycott of Russian art and artists in
your area.
Chapter 11 Deidre
Watching Rye disappear down the hall, I wondered if I would make Worst Mother
of the Year for letting my teenage daughter go into an illegal party alone. At
least I knew she was a good girl. She wanted to be a messiah, after all.
Beside me, Mouse tapped his foot against the wall, humming something that
sounded for all the world like Patsy Cline's "Crazy." I rubbed my face. I owed
him an apology.
"Mouse, I've been rude," I said.
He shrugged. "Hey, Dee, it's cool. I once tried to shoot you. Anyway, I
thought we had a good tease going on."
"We did." I smiled. "We do."
Mouse's expression softened in a way that surprised and intrigued me. It was
almost as if the superficial mask of humor he always wore slipped just a
little to reveal a kind of deep intensity that I'd never seen before. His foot
stopped its incessant tapping. "You look& nice tonight," he said carefully, as
if afraid I might object to the compliment. "The cop look suits you."
I looked down at my clothes. I hadn't intended to dress "cop"
tonight& Mouse, meanwhile, exuded counterculture with his hex inverter and
leather. "If I'm the cop, you must be the robber."
Mouse's smile brightened. "Fantastic. That was the exact look I was going
for."
I shook my head fondly. "Of course you were."
"Got to be true to your nature, I always say."
I frowned at that. "And my nature is cop? I've been off the job for years."
"Nah, not you, Dee. You've always been defined by your past," Mouse said, not
meeting my eye. Instead, he looked down the hall toward the music and where
Amariah had gone. "For me, the past doesn't exist. I look in the mirror and
see where I'm going, not where I've been."
"You're fooling yourself, Christian," I said, using his given name. Mouse's
real name was Christian El-Aref. I'd learned it from the news a while back. I
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was curious how a Muslim got the first name Christian, but he'd never offered
the story, so I'd never asked.
"You're just as defined by what you've done as I am," I continued. "Otherwise
no one would call you Mouse."
His black eyes sought out mine in the semidarkness of the tunnel. "That's
different. Mouse.net is just a notch in my belt. A brag point. That's not
History, with a capital H, the way you drag yours around."
"You're saying I'm some kind of a martyr?"
Mouse took a deep breath the kind that seemed to imply he didn't want to start
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