Everybody Scream! by Jeffrey Thomas Page A

suburban, tree-lined roads where deep-city streets. “We’re close,” observed Noelle, sitting up on the headrest of her seat, the convertible top again open, craning her neck as the patient autopilot computer urged the vehicle at a crawl. “I think I can hear it.”
    “This looks like it’s gonna be a pretty low budget affair,” sneered Bonnie.
    “It’s a fair, not Paradise.” Paradise was a world-renowned circus-carnival-entertainment center-vacationland in the far province of Kai-hany.
    An old Choom woman on the front porch of an aging wooden house sat watching the crazy slow parade of diverse vehicles, a large cat on her lap also watching. “Goober-land,” said Bonnie, bulging her eyes back at the woman.
    “Looks like a really nice spot to live,” Noelle said. “Quiet. Trees…”
    “You look awful young for a hundred-ten, girl,” Bonnie remarked. “ Move , for Chrissakes!” She pounded her palm on the horn’s button. “Why stick this thing way out here? We’re practically out of town.”
    “The only clear spot big enough,” said Noelle.
    “They could have had it on the roof of the Canberra Mall, right in town.”
    “And compete with the carnival in the Mall?”
    “I’m just making an example. Here we go–geesh.” They rounded a bend, and up ahead they saw the traffic was taking a sharp turn left where a traffic robot was waving its arm, a yellow light flashing on its chest. A sign announced: “WELCOME TO THE NINETEENTH ANNUAL PAXTON FAIR.” A lesser sign went on: “Midway, rides, food, live entertainment, crafts, art, agricultural exposition and contests.”
    “Alright, so how much of this thing is cows and gourds?” Bonnie said.
    “I don’t know.”
    “There aren’t any farms in Punktown.”
    “There’s a few big farms on the outskirts I can think of. Two I know for sure–my dad used to take me to buy vegetables and pumpkins for Halloween.”
    “Yeah, but they’re big business-type factory farms.”
    “There’re farms out beyond Punktown, in littler towns. You don’t have to live in Punktown to enter. It’s just a convenient meeting spot. Probably hardly any of the agricultural stuff is from town.”
    “This should be positively Dark Ages.”
    “Nobody forced you to come, Bonnie.”
    “A real Punktown expo would have awards for the best gold-dust, best seaweed, best home porn-vid, best tally of customers by a prosty–they could have the people buy tickets to ride!” Bonnie laughed. “Now that would be a fun fair!”
    “Come on, don’t spoil it. You can go to the Mall anytime, but this is old-fashioned. It’s quaint.”
    “Quaint. Is it a fair or a museum?”
    “Maybe it is a museum a little, but people should stay in touch with the past…the old way of doing things, making things with your own hands.”
    Bonnie scrunched up her tanned face. “ Why? ”
    Vehicles with wheels bounced and rumbled, dipped and crackled over the dirt and stones of the huge lot created for parking, its far boundaries bordered by trees. Bonnie had a hovercar which floated a few feet off the ground, but still cursed to see the dirt parking lot ahead on the right. A second robot stood at its mouth, waving and pointing. Some people, though, were parking in smaller grass lots on either side of the road or on the sides of the road itself, and filed in a pilgrimage on foot. Bonnie slammed her horn at a family walking directly in front of her car, received a glare from the arrogant teenage son and his girlfriend. “There’s a spot,” said Noelle.
    “I want to get up close–I don’t wanna walk all that way. Is the parking free?”
    “Yup–I guess.”
    The impatient robot waved them into the giant lot, pointing down a particular corridor of vehicles. “Blast you,” muttered Bonnie, and instead wormed her way closer to the path which rose ramp-like up a steep hill to the carnival. Above the crowns of the bordering trees on the hill reared a Ferris Wheel, and the Double Helix. Loud