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Show Acting Alone pa g e ^g living. That last detail sometimes struck a strangely discordant and familiar note in the back of Axelrad's brain; but the old man would always press on to another topic of conversation that would sweep Axelrad away in another direction with a fresh new symphony of rich vocal tones and inflections. So, in any case, this sentry stuff that the Companions put so much energy and hours into, pancaking makeup and pasting stupid silver whiskers on each other like monkeys caught up in a reverse grooming process, was all a sham. Why post a sentry in the middle of electric-fenced, razor-wired acres of one's one private Eden? Especially a sentry so patently phony? The Elder had revealed to Axelrad, and.evidently to Axelrad alone, that sentry duty was pure and simple busywork for the Companions. It was mindless motion for them to go through during idle times, to keep the military, or paramilitary spirit nominally alive, along with some semblance of discipline here at the encampment. Sometimes, like today, when he was feeling indiscreet and reckless and superior for knowing at least one thing that only he and the old man shared, Axelrad would deliberately get some outsider to chase him home overground so he could try out his secret on a grampa sentry. He would approach the tarpaper porch and look straight in the eye (or video receptor) of whoever was looking so foolish behind that painted clown face, and, instead of telling him, "Fuck you Grampa," Axelrad would say, "You're job's a sham, just to keep you from squeezing off too much." Of course, he never got any response but the customary clicks and |