Head On (Lock In, #2)

by John Scalzi

Sanborn opened her mouth to say something, then closed it quickly. “Oh, look at that,” Vann said. “It’s always nice when a lawyer remembers they might need a lawyer themselves.”

“Now. What does all of this mean to you?” “It means it’s time for you to bring Ms. Sanborn in, Director Burgess.” “Vann, one of my agents died today. I need to know what’s going on.” “Bring in Sanborn, Burgess,” Vann said. “And then stay in the room.” Burgess stood up. “Fine. Just so you know, Sanborn got herself a lawyer.” “That’s fine,” Vann said. “We like lawyers.”

“So, no, Sanborn. I don’t need you to talk. I don’t need you to do anything. We already have you. And what we already have you for is enough to keep you locked up until you are roughly older than the fucking moon. I didn’t bring you here to talk, Sanborn. I brought you here just so I could have the pleasure of telling you how much I’m looking forward to having you rot away the rest of your goddamned life.”

Sanborn started crying for real. We all watched her sob for a bit, and then Curtis cleared his throat. “Let’s talk about what you want,” he said. Vann pointed to Sanborn. “This is doing me just fine, Mr. Curtis.”

“It’s nice to know I’m not the only person you’ve strong-armed today,” Burgess said to Vann, outside the conference room. Vann shrugged. “It’s my gift,” she said. “Interesting way of putting it,” Burgess said.

“I did not destroy another threep,” I said. “A car did.” “You got hit by a car.” “Twice.” “So, once for the experience and twice to be sure?” Tony asked. “Hey, weren’t you hit by a car when you were a kid?” “It was a truck.” “Same concept. Three times is a fetish, Chris,” Tony said. “Which is your business. But it gets pretty pricey. You might want to take up a less expensive hobby, like cocaine.”

“Is that all? I thought you were going to ask something hard.” “And if you can get the answer to me in the next hour or so that would be great.” “Ah, okay, there it is,” Tony said. “You know I’m charging you out the ass for this one.” “With the amount of work I give you I think I should get a volume discount,” I said. “Yeah, no. There’s that old saying: Fast, cheap, and good, you get to pick two. The two you just picked are fast and good. Cheap has just left the building.” “Then make it worth my money, Tony.” “I always do,” he said, and disconnected.

he’s already got the security clearance so he’s got the only cool thing about the gig.” “It’s not the only cool thing,” Vann said. “You also get to shoot people.” “That’s not actually all that cool, though, is it,” I said. “Blood. Death. Paperwork.” Vann looked over to me. “I’m having a long day, Chris. Indulge me.”

“Well, fuck me,” Vann said, and drove up to the barrier set up in the road. A cop came up and started making rotating motions. “Turn it around,” he said. Vann grabbed her wallet and flipped out her badge. “Tell me where to park,” she said. The cop was not impressed. “I told you to turn it around.” “And I told you to tell me where to park,” Vann said. “But if you want to get into a pissing match about it, Officer”—she read his badge—“Wheeler, I’m sure we can find a way to have you be a school safety officer for the rest of your natural life.” Wheeler looked at Vann, exasperated. “What are you, an asshole?” “Yes,” Vann said. “I am an asshole. Now tell me where to park.”

The sound of music came from the second floor of the mansion. I followed it up the stairs and found it emanating from a large, stately library room. Amelie Parker was in the room as well, on a chaise longue, reading a book. I peered at the spine. It was The Great Gatsby, which I thought was a little on the nose.

I reached up and took a book down from the shelf, a classic children’s book from Catherynne Valente.

“It’s a nice tribute,” I said, gesturing to the field. “It’s all right,” Vann said. I glanced over to her. “Don’t get too excited,” I said. She nodded her head toward the field. “This isn’t why I’m here.”

This novel took me rather longer than usual to write, for a number of reasons but one big one being simply that 2017 was a raging trash fire of a year, filled with horrible people trying to do horrible things and often succeeding. It’s harder to bear down creatively when the world is burning.

Head On is important to me, not only because I like the world and love the characters who are in it, but also because, simply, it’s here and done. Every novel I try to

do something new with my writing—push a boundary of some form or another to keep growing as a writer and a creative person. This time around, it turns out the “new thing” is writing a novel when an entire planet is trying to pull focus. I think this is going to be a good skill to have, because I doubt 2018 will be any better on this score. I’d really, really like to be wrong! I guess we’ll see.

She encouraged me, supported me, and loved me through it. She is the best of people, and every day I am reminded how stupendously, genuinely lucky I am that I get to be with her. I hope each of you in your life has someone like her in it.