Zeitgeist (38 page)

“It’s good to see you turning to philosophy again. In suffering is the beginning of wisdom.”

“Check this out, man, I’ve got a theory. A good person can subsume the narrative of a bad person. Because it’s easy for a good person to imagine being bad. But a bad person can’t subsume the narrative of a good person. Because they have no understanding what that’s like. It’s just beyond them, it’s beyond their language.”

“I like that theory,” said Khoklov. “It’s mathematical. It’s about surface areas, basically. It’s a kind of moral topology.”

Starlitz nodded silently. Pilots were good at math. Russians were very good at math. Russian pilots really had it on the ball, mathwise.

“It reminds me of the history of the unfortunate G-7,” said Khoklov, “which came to such a muddled end. Half the girls dead …”

“Half of them alive,” offered Starlitz.

“Canceled tours, fired staffers, a scandalous Turkish manager … A pop act as dead as mutton. Yesterday’s news, completely defunct. It was a lovely concept originally, though.”

“Outlived its proper time, man. You really don’t want to push history when it’s past. It turns right into farce. Or it’s fatal. Or it’s both.”

“Yes, but if you think about the problem with some intellectual rigor,” said Khoklov sternly, “far from your usual arty mush and cheap double-talk … What was the core G-7 concept? Seven trashy girls, from seven famous, powerful
nations, singing stupid popular music, and doomed to rapidly vanish.”

“Right. That was it exactly.”

“What if we reversed the polarity? Turned the concept inside out, for the far side of Y2K. Seven very talented girls, from seven troubled, totally obscure nations. Singing fabulous, honest, and authentic music. Determined to last as long as possible.”

“Why seven girls?”

“Why not? Good number. Dead easy. Let’s say: East Timor, Chechnya, Kashmir, Kurdistan, Kosovo, and, oh … maybe a Basque girl and a Miskito Indian from embattled socialist Nicaragua.”

Starlitz pondered the pitch. It had a solid backing but a nice kind of twist. “And they sing, what, like, in their own, obscure, teeny-tiny languages? And on native instruments? Like gamelans maybe? Assuming they have gamelans in East Timor?”

“Yes, Starlits, but they sing good music. The best music we can get. And they mean it when they sing it. And we tour the globe with the world’s least globalizable women. We get huge moral credit with every bleeding-heart critic in the world.”

“No commercial potential, man. It wouldn’t make any money.”

“Lekhi, this is the keystone of the scheme. We don’t make any money. We’re beyond that now. Why should we care about budgets? After what the twentieth century put us through, we probably don’t even have souls. We
lose
money.
Other people’s
money. We have an infinite supply of bad conscience! They fall all over themselves to make us lose their money.”

Starlitz sat bolt upright in his bed. “Absolutely! That is it! Brother, I am so with this! I can’t wait to get started! This is the Spirit of Now!” He grinned from ear to ear. “It’s a very, very happening thing.”

BRUCE STERLING is the author of the nonfiction book
The Hacker Crackdown
, as well as the novels
Distraction, Holy Fire, Heavy Weather, Schismatrix
, and
Islands in the Net
. With William Gibson he co-authored the acclaimed novel
The Difference Engine
. He also writes for popular science and travel journals. He lives with his wife and two daughters in Austin, Texas.