The Doubt Factory - читать бесплатно онлайн полную версию книги автора Paolo Bacigalupi (EPILOGUE) #5

EPILOGUE

Dear Dad,

By the time you read this, our lives will have changed so much that we may not even be the same people anymore.

I’m sure you think I’m crazy for doing this, and I know you feel like I’ve betrayed you, but I finally understood that even though you were always willing to talk to me, you weren’t actually willing to listen.

I know you’ll say that there’s no law against the kind of work you do and that everyone deserves a voice, and, for sure, I can’t think of any way to stop companies like yours from existing, and I definitely can’t think of any way to make companies like yours just shut up.

I mean, free speech is free speech, right?

Anybody can get up and say anything. Anybody can get up and twist and lie and exaggerate and obfuscate. And for money, people like you and George will. But if that’s what you’re willing to do, then you should be famous for it. If that’s your job, you should be proud of it.

You’re the Doubt Factory.

You’re the place where big companies go when they need the truth to become muddy and confused. You’re the place companies go when they need science to say what’s profitable, instead of what’s true. You’re the place companies go when they need to convince people that up is down, and blue is red, and night is day, and wrong is right.

And I can’t change that.

But it’s funny how you also don’t want people to know about you or know what you do. You never want people to see you. I mean, if you’ve got free speech, it seems like you should be standing right by it, saying it loud and proud, with your name and your clients’ names attached. Not some front organization. Not some fake science journal. Not some fake research group.

You.

I realize that there’s nothing I can do to change who you are, and probably can’t change what you do, but I can change whether people see you.

I’m uploading your client files today, and even though your clients are going to make the first headlines, I think you’re going to turn out to be the story.

Congratulations. The Doubt Factory is going to be famous.

Love,

Alix

PS—Tell Mom I’m sorry for making her worry, and tell Jonah that I miss him and that the Xbox is still bugged.

Alix folded the letter and stuck it in the envelope and put a stamp on it. She’d drop it in a mailbox in some no-name town, eventually. Some nice place without any surveillance cameras on its streetlights. The letter would eventually find its way to him, long after she’d moved on.

She tucked her black-dyed hair into a ball cap and stepped out of the motel.

Moses was leaning against the rail, waiting. “All set?”

“Yeah.”

Down in the parking lot, Kook honked the van’s horn impatiently.

“Next stop Gulf of Mexico!” Adam called, waving up at them. “All aboard!”

“A beach vacation,” Alix sighed theatrically. “Just what I always wanted.”

Moses laughed. “Well… just until the heat dies down.”

Alix glanced over. “Does that mean we’re going to go after the money anonymizers? The ones I told you about?”

“Well, like you said, there’s an awful lot of cash flowing through them. American Petroleum Institute… Donors Trust… a lot of money funding a lot of doubt… and no one knows where that money’s coming from.”

“I don’t like anonymous money.”

“Yeah. I think it would be worth shining some light and seeing who’s paying for doubt these days.”

“You think Kook can get us in?”

“She says she can.”

“I don’t want this one to be like the last time. We get in and we get out and we have a real backup plan—”

“It’ll be fine.” He was looking down at the parking lot, where the rest of the crew was out of the van: Tank and Cyn and Adam and Kook, all of them waving their arms impatiently. “We aren’t alone this time.”

Kook leaned on the horn again.

“Family’s getting restless,” Moses observed, smiling.

“Are we going or not?” Cyn shouted.

“Are we?” Moses asked, holding out his hand.

“Yeah,” Alix said, sliding her hand into his. “We’re going.”