Chapter twelve

I cleaned up Queenie’s remains, and though I curiously found an appropriate place in the Trash room for bits of dead spider, the thought of her ending up in one of these piles disgusted me. So I placed her upon a mini pyre (basically a regular-sized shield from the aforementioned stack), found a gaslamp that still worked, and I went up to the main deck. She deserved a proper send-off. Dion met me near the elevator door; he appeared to be taking another break. There didn’t seem to be any work left for him to do, however, so his down-time was warranted.

“Lester! Did you finish up your chores too?” Dion asked. Then he saw my makeshift pyre, and cocked his head curiously. “You come bearing gifts?” I didn’t answer either of his questions. I simply pulled back the piece of cloth that I had wrapped Queenie up inside of, in order to reveal her crushed body.

“Oh man,” was all Dion could say. It was less an expression of remorse, and more of nausea; he looked like he was going to puke. I folded her back up into the cloth and prepared the lamp by the gunnel.

“Queenie died, dude,” I said without turning to him, even though he probably gathered that. He came over and put an arm around me; I was pretty startled, but I tried not to show it. Black dude was hugging me and I hardly knew him.

“I told you I hate spiders, but I know what it’s like to lose something you love,” Dion said. It made me feel a bit better, even though he called her “something.” Facing me now, he continued: “What happened? I mean, it looks pretty mutilated.”

I couldn’t answer right away; I was still livid with Dexeter. Only in a dream could the death of a spider prove so egregious an offense. Thus Dion had to be made aware of Dexeter’s treachery.

“He murdered her.”

Peals of laughter erupted from Dion; I had to continue preparing the funeral rites to keep from crying. I opened the lamp and poured a bit of kerosene onto the folds of cloth. Then I lit the lamp, making sure the flame was at its greatest brilliance. Finally I used a rope to hoist the whole shebang down into the water, so it floated on the shield. The cloth hadn’t yet caught the flame, so I took a hammer I found lying on the deck, and threw it toward the pyre. With a crushing sound, the glass broke and my makeshift Molotov pyre began to burn. Dion was polite enough to wait for that processional to end, or at least until his laughter began to die down.

“I’m sorry, man, really,” Dion said, holding back his lingering snickers. “I can see this is getting to you, so I’ll be serious. You say she was murdered – by who? It’s just you and me here, really.” I looked up at Dion. I was so angry that I almost corrected him [The proper statement would be, “By whom?”], but I just stared at him through teary eyes for a moment. He got it, I think, because he nodded at me.

“You really think Dex is capable of caring enough to hurt a spider on purpose?”

“I believe he killed her because he knew I had a friend. You know, just to fuck with me.”

“It’s obvious he doesn’t like you much, Lester, but you gotta relax. He’s not out to get you.”

“I think he is. It feels like every time I turn a corner he’s making some joke at my expense. Is it that hard to believe that he wants to do more than just piss on my corn flakes?”

“Yes, it is, Lester. He’s stern, but he’s a good guy. You’re overreacting.”

“I’m gonna kill that fucker,” I said, without even thinking. Dion looked back, a bit seriously but also a bit mockingly.

“You can’t.”

“Yes I can. Are you going to stop me?”

“I would stop you if you were able to do it, but you’re not going to do it. You know why?”

“Why? Because I care about a kid who beats me and kills my pet spider? Shit, she was my friend! I don’t give a shit about that changeling! I would go after him if you were murdered, Dion.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Dion said, pretty sincerely actually. “But you still aren’t going to be able to kill Dexeter.”

“What the fuck man? You really think I’m incapable of taking out that pipsqueak!”

“Yes, I know for a fact that you won’t be able to.” Now he was talking funny.

“Explain.”

“He’s not just a kid. He’s –” Dion took a very long pause here, like he didn’t believe what he was about to say. “He’s a robot.” Now of course, I know what you’re thinking, because I was having the same thought: there’s no such thing as robots. And here it would’ve made a lot of sense to wake myself up, but that didn’t happen. I came to the conclusion that this sort of thing was normal here, like the sea of trash and mind reading. I must’ve cooled off at that point, because I wasn’t so angry anymore.

“He’s a robot,” I repeated. “Maybe I’ll throw him overboard, that should fuck up his circuits good.”

“Won’t do crap,” Dion said. “He’s designed for the open sea.” He was designed. I couldn’t quite get it yet. That little shit was not even alive. “His name says it all, Deck-setter.”

So he comes with the ship. I’ve been pronouncing his name wrong all this time, thinking it had something to do with the southern drawl black dude had inherited. That’s why he didn’t have a name: Deck-setter was just a title, like the make and model of a car. Dex was just a nickname.

“I got it. I’ll chop off his head and all his limbs, and I’ll put them all in separate containers.”

“Why don’t you just ask him about it first? It could’ve been an accident.”

“How long have you known he was a fuckin’ android?” I asked of Dion, a little angry at him now.

“Well, let’s just say he told me straightaway. He also told me not to tell you, because you’d flip out.” I was flipping out, but not because of the robot thing. I should’ve known it was a dream, but I was too pissed about Queenie. I had to behead him. “Stop coming up with ways to destroy him, Lester. He might retaliate against you.”

Dion was right. It was going to take a perfect plan in order to take him out. I would take some time in the trash room – calculating, formulating – in order to come up with something good. The flames from Queenie’s pyre began to die out, so I decided to bid Dion farewell. I couldn’t handle any more conversation with him; it was like talking to a wall. I went to the elevator without a word, and Dion looked at me, a bit sullen. He knew there was no way to appease my hatred.

Queenie! I shall avenge thee.