Islands in the Net Read Free

we’re a weird breed.” David smiled self-consciously. “To live here, you have to have a kind of dumb love for bad luck. Isla Malhaldo, that was Galveston’s first name, you know. Isle of Bad Luck.”
    â€œWhy?” Laura’s mother said obligingly. She was humoring him.
    â€œCabeza de Vaca called it that. His galleon was shipwrecked here in 1528. He was almost eaten by cannibals. Karankawa Indians.”
    â€œOh? Well, the Indians must have had some name for the place.”
    â€œNobody knows it,” David said. “They were all wiped out by smallpox. True Galvestonians, I guess—bad luck.” He thought it over. “A very weird tribe, the Karankawas. They used to smear themselves with rancid alligator grease—they were famous for the stench.”
    â€œI’ve never heard of them,” Margaret Day said.
    â€œThey were very primitive,” David said, forking up another scop pancake. “They used to eat dirt! They’d bury a fresh deer kill for three or four days, until it softened up, and—”
    â€œDavid!” Laura said.
    â€œOh,” David said. “Sorry.” He changed the subject. “You ought to come out with us today, Margaret. Rizome has a good little side biz with the city government. They condemn it, we scrap it, and it’s a lot of fun all around. I mean, it’s not serious money, not by zaibatsu standards, but there’s more to life than the bottom line.”
    â€œâ€˜Fun City,’” her mother said.
    â€œI see you’ve been listening to our new mayor,” Laura said.
    â€œDo you ever worry about the people drifting into Galveston these days?” her mother said suddenly.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Laura said.
    â€œI’ve been reading about this mayor of yours. He’s quite a strange character, isn’t he? An ex-bartender with a big white beard who wears Hawaiian shirts to the office. He seems to be going out of his way to attract—what’s the word?—fringe elements.”
    â€œWell, it’s not a real city anymore, is it?” David said. “No more industry. Cotton’s gone, shipping’s gone, oil went a long time ago. About all that’s left is to sell glass beads to tourists. Right? And a little, uh, social exotica is good for tourism. You expect a tourist burg to run a little fast and loose.”
    â€œSo you like the mayor? I understand Rizome backed his campaign. Does that mean your company supports his policies?”
    â€œWho’s asking?” Laura said, nettled. “Mother, you’re on vacation. Let Marubeni Company find their own answers.”
    The two of them locked eyes for a moment. “ Aisumasen ,” her mother said at last. “I’m very sorry if I seemed to pry. I spent too much time in the State Department. I still have the reflexes. Now that I’m in what they laughingly call private enterprise.” She set her chopsticks across her plate and reached for her hat. “I’ve decided to rent a sailboat today. They say there’s an offshore station—an OPEC, or something like that.”
    â€œOTEC,” David corrected absently. “The power station. Yeah, it’s nice out there.”
    â€œI’ll see you at supper then. Be good, you two.”
    Four more Canadians came in for breakfast, yawning. Margaret Day filtered past them and left the dining room.
    â€œYou had to step on her toes,” David said quietly. “What’s wrong with Marubeni? Some creaky old Nipponese trading company. You think they sent Loretta’s grandma here to swipe our microchips or something?”
    â€œShe’s a guest of Rizome,” Laura said. “I don’t like her criticizing our people.”
    â€œShe’s leaving tomorrow,” David said. “You could go a little easier on her.” He stood up, hefting his tool chest.
    â€œAll right, I’m sorry,” Laura told