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cane； red and white （and Black all over 。 。 。 wouldn't Trevor love to put this in a story？）。
Zach felt hysterical laughter bubbling up in his throat。 Tom Waits's drunken piano had nothing on this bathroom。 The sink was bleeding and ejaculating： great。 Maybe next the toilet would decide to take a shit or the bathtub would begin to drool。
He looked back up at the mirror and felt the laughter turn sour； caustic； like harsh vomit on the back of his tongue。
But for certain familiar landmarks…his green eyes； the dark tangle of his hair…Zach barely knew his own reflection in the glass。 It was as if a sculptor had taken a plane to his face and shaved layers of flesh from the already prominent bones。 His forehead and cheekbones and chin were carved in stark relief； the skin stretched over them like parchment； sickly white and dry； as if the lightest touch would start it sifting from the bones。 His nostrils and eye sockets seemed too large； too deep。 The shadowy smudges beneath his eyes had bee enormous dark hollows in which his pupils glittered feverishly。 The skin around his mouth looked desiccated； the lips cracked and peeling。
It was not the face of a nineteen…year…old boy in any kind of health。 It was the face of the skull hiding beneath his skin； waiting to be revealed。 Zach suddenly understood that the skull always grinned because it knew it would emerge triumphant； that it would prise the sole identity of the face long after vain baubles like lips and skin and eyes were gone。
He stared at his wasted image in fascination。 There was a certain consumptive beauty to it； a certain dark flame like that which burns in the eyes of mad poets or starving children。
He put out his hand to touch the mirror； and the lesions began to appear。
Just a few tiny purplish spots at first； one on the stark jut of his cheekbone； one bisecting the dark curve of his eyebrow； one nestled in the small hollow at the corner of his mouth。 But they began to spread； deepening like enormous bruises； like a stop…motion film of blighted orchids blooming beneath the surface of his skin。 Now nearly half his face was suffused with the purple rot； tinged necrotic blue at the edges and shot through with a scarlet web of burst capillaries； and there was no semblance of beauty to it； no dark flame； nothing but corruption and despair and the promise of death。
Zach felt his stomach churning； his chest constricting。 He had never obsessed about his looks； had never needed to。 His parents had usually avoided fucking up his face too badly because it might be noticed。 He still had faint belt marks on his back and two lumpy finger joints on his left hand from breaks that had healed badly； but no facial scars。 He'd never even had zits to speak of。 He had grown up with no particular awareness of his own beauty； and once he realized he had it and learned what it was good for； he had taken it for granted。
Now watching it rot away was like feeling the ground disappear from under his feet； like having a limb severed； like watching the knife descend for the final stroke of the lobotomy。
（Or like watching a loved one die； and knowing you had a hand in that death 。 。 。 Zach； do you love yourself？）
The faucet was still gushing； the sink clogged nearly to overflowing with the twin fluids。 A small black pinhole had appeared in the center of each lesion on his face。 As he watched； the dots swelled and erupted。 Pain zigzagged across the network of his facial nerves。 Beads of greasy glistening whiteness welled from the tiny wounds。
Zach felt a sudden； blinding flash of rage。 What the hell was the white stuff supposed to be？ Maggots？ Pus？ More e？ What kind of cheap morality play was this； anyway？
〃FUCK IT！〃 he yelled； and seized the edges of the mirror and ripped it off its loose moorings and flung it into the bathtub。 It shattered with a sound that could have woken all of St。 Louis Cemetery。 The faucet slowed to a trickle； then stopped。
Zach took a deep breath and put his hands to his face； rubbed them over his cheeks。 His skin was smooth and firm； his bones no sharper than usual。 He looked down at his body。 No huge blossoming bruises； no cancerous purple lesions。 His stomach and hips were hollow but not emaciated。 Even the spatters of rotten blood were gone。 Nothing felt abnormal but his scrotum； which was trying to crawl up into his body cavity。
His shoulders sagged and his knees turned to water。 Zach put a hand on the edge of the sink to support himself。 As he did； he saw movement in the tub； something other than his own motion reflected in the fragments of broken mirror； a swinging motion that seemed to sweep across the glittering shards； then back； then across again 。。。
He stared at it； unable to look away； yet terrified that soon his eyes and his mind would piece together the gestalt of all the infinitesimal reflections。 He did not want to know what hung there； swinging in the mirror。 But if he looked away； it might be able to get out。
Behind him； the hinges of the door shrieked。 Zach spun around； muscles tensed； ready to fight whatever was ing for him。 He saw Trevor framed in the doorway； tousled and sleepy…eyed； his face half…bewildered； half…scared。 〃What are you doing？〃
〃How…〃 Zach swallowed hard。 His mouth and throat had gone dry； and it was difficult to speak。 〃How'd you get in？〃
〃I turned the knob and pushed。 Why did you shut yourself in here？〃
Speechless； Zach pointed at the sink。 Trevor followed the direction of Zach's finger； then shook his head。 〃What？〃
Zach stared at the sink。 It was empty； stained with nothing but dust and time。 The square of plaster above it where the mirror had hung was paler than the rest of the wall。 Trevor noticed it too。 〃Did you…〃 He saw the broken mirror in the tub and frowned。 Then his eyes fell on the bent shower curtain rod and he looked quickly back at Zach； away from the faintest of shadows slowly twisting on the wall。 He wrapped his long fingers around Zach's wrist and pulled hard。 〃Get out of here。〃
They stumbled into the hall； and Trevor yanked the bathroom door shut behind them。 He stood for a moment with his eyes closed； breathing hard。 Then he shoved Zach down the hall toward the kitchen； grabbing his arm and hustling him along when he didn't move fast enough。
〃Hey…what…don't…〃
〃Shut up。〃
Trevor groped for the kitchen light switch； pushed Zach toward the table； then sat down and buried his face in his hands。 Zach saw that Trevor's shoulders were trembling。 He reached out to massage the tightly wound muscles； but Trevor went even stiffer； then reached up and slapped Zach's hands away。 〃Don't touch me！〃
Zach felt as if his heart had been plunged into ice water。 He backed away from the table； toward the kitchen door。 〃Fine！ You don't want me here； your ghosts don't want me here！ Maybe I'll just get the fuck out！〃 He glanced around the room； trying to locate the bag containing his laptop and OKI。 It was leaning against the fridge； and he would have to walk back past the table to get it。 His glasses were still in the bedroom too。 So much for grand exits。
But Trevor didn't even look up。 〃I do want you here。 I think they do too。 Sit down。〃
〃Don't tell me what to…〃
〃Zach。〃 Now Trevor raised his head。 His face was haggard； his eyes had a dazed； shell…shocked gleam。 〃Don't give me any shit。 Please。 Just sit down and talk to me。〃
Unmollified but curious； Zach pulled out the other chair。 He didn't want to leave； but he hated being pushed away。 〃What do you want to talk about？〃
〃What did you see in there？〃
〃All kinds of shit。〃
〃Tell me。〃
Zach told him everything。 At the end of the telling he found himself angry again； but not at Trevor。 He was mad at the house； as mad as he had been when he broke the mirror。 Fuck its pathetic funhouse scares； fuck its cheap moral judgments。 He wanted to knock Trevor over the head； drag him out of here forever； then get on puserv and score two plane tickets to some remote sundrenched Caribbean island。
When Zach had finished talking； Trevor didn't say anything for a very long time。 His right hand lay flat on the tabletop； fingers splayed wide。 Cautiously； Zach put his own hand over it； and Trevor didn't pull away this time。
〃What did you see？〃 Zach asked finally。
Trevor stayed silent for so long that Zach thought he wasn't going to answer at all。 Then he looked up at Zach。 His pupils were enormous； and so very black against the paleness of his eyes。
〃My father；〃 he said。
Neither one of them felt like going back to sleep。 They stayed in the kitchen talking about other things； anything but the silent house around them。
Trevor was still visibly upset； so Zach tried to distract him； asking about ics he liked and hated； trying to get him to argue about politics。 （Zach believed in trying to undermine； subvert； and chivvy away the vast American power structure in as many tiny ways as possible； while Trevor opined that it was best to either go out and blow shit up or simply slip through the cracks and ignore the system altogether。） When Zach mentioned his idea of wiping clean the police records of every drug offender he could find； Trevor interrupted。 〃Could you 。 。 。〃
〃What？ You want to smoke another joint？〃
〃No。 Could you show me some of that puter stuff？〃
Zach smiled evilly； flexed his fingers in front of Trevor's face； and assumed a bogus Charlie Chan accent that had always driven Eddy into paroxysms of annoyance。 〃Where would honorable boyfriend like to go？ Citibank？ NASA？ The Pentagon？〃
〃You can break into the Pentagon？〃
〃Well； that'd take some work；〃 Zach admitted。 〃Hey； I know what。 Let's see if the power's really turned on！〃
〃You mean break into the electric pany？〃
〃Sure。〃
〃But if it's on； won't they notice and turn it off？〃
〃We're not gonna change anything。 That is； unless you want to。 We'll just take a look。 First we need a number。〃
Before Trevor could say anything； Zach had his laptop and cellular phone arranged and assembled on the table。 He dialed 411； waited； then spoke： 〃Raleigh 。 。 。 the number for Carolina Power & Light； please。〃 He scrawled it on one of his yellow Post…its and showed it to Trevor。
〃But isn't that just their office？〃
〃It isn't just anything。 It's a seed of information。 Now watch what we can grow from it。 Turn off that light。〃
Trevor got up and flipped the overhead switch。 Now the kitchen was lit only by the soft silver glow from the puter screen。 Zach dialed some more numbers。 Then his fingers flew over the keys with a rapid…fire staccato sound。 He pointed at the screen。 〃Check this out。〃
Trevor leaned over Zach's shoulder and saw：
：LOGIN： LA52
PASSWORD：
WC？RA
WC％
〃What's that？〃
〃COSMOS；〃 Zach said reverently。 〃AT&T's central data bank。〃
〃Wow。〃
〃Yeah。 So…〃 Zach typed a few more characters； then entered the phone number he'd gotten from directory assistance。 〃We get a list of all Carolina Power & Light numbers。 Including their puter dial…ups。 Including accounts。〃 Even as he spoke； this information was scrolling down the screen。
〃How did you get into COSMOS in the first place？〃
〃Stolen username and password。〃
〃Isn't that dangerous？〃
〃The guy I stole 'em from doesn't even know I exist。 All I stole was information。 It's still there for him to use。〃 Zach looked up from scribbling another number。 〃That's the beauty of cyberspace。 You can take all the information you want； and nobody loses anything。〃
〃Then how e you're in so much trouble？〃
〃Well； since They don't even like you ripping off information； just imagine how irate They get when you start siphoning money out of Their bank accounts。〃
〃They？〃
〃The Conspiracy；〃 said Zach darkly。 〃Hang on…〃 He was dialing again； then typing rapidly。 〃Okay！ We're in！〃
〃Now what？〃
〃Now I figure out how their system works。〃 Zach scowled at the screen； tapped a few keys； snarled his fingers into his hair and pulled it down over his face。 The light from the screen turned his face bluish…white； accentuated the hollows beneath his cheekbones and around his eyes。 〃You can do a search for either a name or an address。 Let's