O-Bi, O-Ba: The End of Civilization Page #2

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If it drops away, it'll

mean the crack has widened.

It's as hopeless as your

mission to keep people happy.

But it's important

to know if the walls

around us are cracking

or not, isn't it?

Very important.

But I do not need the

panes to know they are cracking.

You've invented this

job just to keep us busy.

Everything is cracking here,

it's plain enough.

I often hear

cracks at night.

Everone does.

Tell me:
Is it true

that if the dome collapses,

we are in for

death out there?

Actually, there

is another problem.

Bugger it!

Why do you plant

leaflets with Kraft?!

Is this your only problem?

Your joke makes

a political issue.

Now listen, mug.

I plant the Booroo trash

just out of concern for him.

Now that the Booroos are missing,

he has lost track of life, you see?

I found him wasting away daily,

so I hit upon the leaflet stuff.

Now look how happy

it's made him.

- He is fighting the Booroos again.

- So it's an affection for Kraft?

Sh*t, no.

Kraft is a damn bastard and blockhead,

but he's a good chess player.

If he died,

I would lose the partner.

All right, go ahead with

leaflets, but make them smarter.

How smarter?

Like writing that

Kraft's wife has survived,

asked for asylum with the

Booroos and hit the hot line.

Then he'll be

ashamed to show it off.

Hey!

And if the dome breaks up,

will you still be tailing after us?

- You want to buy it?

- Yes.

- How many?

- One.

- One for six arks, or two for ten.

- But I want one.

Not here, patsy.

Six arks.

I only have five arks.

Nothing doing.

The price's six.

Wait.

You can coin

medals out of it.

But it's more silver

than in your arks.

The arks will be the only legal

tender in the Ark, once we've got there.

I got nothing more to pay.

Keep it.

I give it to you,

because I pity you,

pigeon.

- Hi!

- You could have knocked.

They need you.

Who?

Some machine that keeps the

dome together is breaking apart.

None of us can fix it.

We need a specialist.

We found one among

those ragamuffins down there,

an engineer who would do it.

But he is a freak,

like the rest of them.

- So what am I to do?

- Persuade him,

psyche him to it.

You have

the right approach.

Promise him an ice-cream,

onion and a good lay

every morning on the Ark,

if he fixes that junk.

I have a feeling

I've met you before.

I was one of those

messiahs who made rounds

promising a salvation to

those who would make it here.

- The Ark.

- Oh, I see.

Well, you looked

more inspired then.

I got atropine in my eyes,

used typical gestures and rhetoric.

You may learn it.

And besides the makers of

attractive promises always appear inspired.

That Annunciation of the Ark

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