Jim Shepard - You Think Thats Bad: Stories

Like Youd Understand, Anyway: Stories
Project X
Love and Hydrogen: New and Selected Stories
Nosferatu
Batting Against Castro: Stories
Kiss of the Wolf
Lights Out in the Reptile House
Paper Doll
Flights

AS EDITOR

Youve Got to Read This (with Ron Hansen)
Unleashed: Poems by Writers Dogs (with Amy Hempel)
Writers at the Movies

THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK
PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A. KNOPF

Copyright 2011 by Jim Shepard
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

www.aaknopf.com

Knopf, Borzoi Books, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

The following stories were previously published: Happy with Crocodiles in American Scholar; Poland Is Watching in The Atlantic; Your Fate Hurtles Down at You in Electric Literature; Classical Scenes of Farewell and The Netherlands Lives with Water in McSweeneys; Boys Town in The New Yorker; Minotaur in Playboy; Low-Hanging Fruit in Tin House; In Cretaceous Seas in Vice; and The Track of the Assassins in Zoetrope: All-Story.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Shepard, Jim.
You think thats bad / by Jim Shepard. 1st ed.
p. cm.
eISBN: 978-0-307-59556-0
I. Title.
PS3569.H39384Y68 2011
813.54dc22 2010035998

Jacket image: Contortionist from Thieles Photo Rooms /
George Eastman House / Gallery Stock
Jacket design by Jason Booher

v3.1

For Shep

Kenny I hadnt seen in, what, three, four years. Kenny started with me way back when, the two of us standing there with our hands in our pants right outside the wormhole. Kenny wanders into the Windsock last night like the Keith Richards version of himself with this girl who looks like some movie stars daughter. Is that you? he says when he spots me in a booth. This is the guy youre always talking about? Carly asks once were a few minutes into the conversation. The girls name turns out to be Celestine. Talking to me, every so often he gets distracted and we have to wait until he takes his mouth away from hers.

So my husband brings you up all the time and then, when I ask what you did together, he always goes, I cant help you there, Carly tells him. Which of course he knows I know. But he likes to say it anyway.

With her fingers Celestine brings his cheek over toward her, like nobodys talking, and once theyre kissing she works on gently opening his mouth with hers. After a while he makes a sound thats apparently the one she wanted to hear, and she disengages and returns her attention to us.

Hows your wife? Carly asks him.

Kenny says theyre separated and that shes settled down with a project manager from Lockheed.

Nice to meet you, Carly tells Celestine.

Mmm-hmm, Celestine says.

The wormhole for Kenny and me was what people in the industry call the black world, which is all about projects so far off the books that youre not even allowed to put CLASSIFIED in the gap in your rsum afterwards. Youre told during recruitment that people in the know will know, and that when it comes to everybody else you shouldnt give a shit.

If you want to know how big the black world is, go click on COMPTROLLER and then RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT on the DODs Web site and make a list of the line items with names like Cerulean Blue and budgets listed as No Number. Then compare the number of budget items you can add up, and subtract that from the DODs printed budget. Now theres an eye-opener for you home actuaries: youre looking at a difference of forty billion dollars.

The black worlds everywhere: regular air bases have restricted compounds; defense industries have permanently segregated sites. And anywhere that no one in his right mind would ever go to in the Southwest, theres a black base. Drive along a wash in the back of nowhere in Nevada and youll suddenly hit a newish fence that goes on forever. Follow the fence and youll encounter some bland-looking guys in an unmarked pickup. Refuse to do what they say and theyll shoot the tires out from under you and give you a lift to the county lockup.

All of this was before 9/11. You can imagine what its like now.

For a while Kenny helped out at Groom Lake as an engineering troubleshooter for a C-5 airlift squadron that flew only late-night operations, ferrying classified aircraft from the aerospace plants to the test sites. They had a patch that featured a crescent moon over NOYFB. None Of Your Fucking Business, he explained when I first saw it. He said that during the down time he hung with the stealth-bomber guys with their Huge Deposit-No Return jackets, and he told his wife when she asked that he worked in the Nellis Range, which was a little like telling someone that you worked in the Alps.

Id met him a few years earlier when Minotaur was hatched out at Lockheeds Skunk Works. Hed been brought in for the sister program, Minion. We were developing an ATOPan Advanced Technology Observation Platformand even over the crapper it read: Furtim Vigilans: Vigilance Through Stealth.

It wasnt the secrecy as much as the slogans and patches and badges that drove Carly nuts. Only you guys would have patches for secret programs, she said. Like whatre we supposed to do, be intrigued? Guess whats going on?

In the old days Kennys unit had as its symbol the mushroom, and under it, in Latin: Always in the Dark. The black worlds big on patches and Latin. I had one for Minotaur that read Doing Gods Work with Other Peoples Money. Id heard there was a unit out at Point Mugu that had the ultimate patch: just a black-on-black circle.

Gustatus Similis Pullus, Carly said. She was tilting her head to read an oval yellow patch on Kennys shoulder.

You know Latin? he asked.

Do you know how long Ive been tired of this? she told him.

I dont know Latin, Celestine volunteered.

Tastes Like Chicken, he translated.

Nice, Carly told him.

I dont get it, Celestine said.

Neither does she, he told her.

Oooh. Snap, Carly said.

Peoplere supposed to taste like chicken, I finally told them.

Oh, right, Carly said. So whatre you guys doing, eating people?

Thats what we do: we eat people, Kenny agreed. He made teeth with his forefingers and thumbs and had them bite up and down.

Carly gave him a head shake and turned to the bar. Are we gonna order? she asked.

Its all infowar now. Delivering or screwing up content. We can convince a surface-to-air missile that its a Maytag dryer. Tell an over-the-horizon radar array that its through for the day, or that it wants to play music. And weve got lookdown capabilities that can tell you from space whether your aunts having a Diet Coke or a regular.

What Carlys forgetting is that its not just about teasing. Theres something to be said for esprit de corps. Theres all that home-team stuff.

I heard from various sources that Kennys been all over: Kirtland, Hanscom, White Sands, Groom Lake, Tonopah. Whats my motto? he said, in front of his wife, the last time I saw him. A Lifetime of Silence, she answered back, as though hed told her in the nicest possible way to go fuck herself.