Chapter Eight
Jack and John
“Democracy, it seems, is all right for some.”—The one formerly known as the market cleaner
Jack and John were in the bowels of the institute, reading meters.
Things had come to a head.
The institute was in a pickle over the energy crisis, and frantic women were not something Jack and John were trained to deal with.
“We need to find a way of harnessing things,” said John.
“Harness?” said Jack. “Like in a woman?”
John looked at him. “Talk like that and you’ll end up in the Art Centre or worse.”
“There’s a worse?” said Jack. “You see that place? The men are as defeated as a squashed banana.”
John didn’t answer. He had heard that joke so many times he could spell it backward.
He returned to the meter, wrote down a few figures, began to calculate, and stop
