All hobbies were done on roofs. The building's interiors were generally squalid. No one seemed to care. Live and let live, and when things spilled over into the streets, there were the mechisweepers.

The lunch truck was actually another sweeper, but it was modified to dispense food. It scanned cards and issued infraheated food especially programmed for the individual's dietary needs. The computer was benevolent. Everyone ate well, even if only once a day.

Allen hobbled up behind Curtiss in the line. "Mind if I bump you?" he whispered.

"Why?" Curtiss replied. "In a hurry?"

"I sure am, brother," Allen said. He produced his card and fingered it nervously.

"Well, I'm in a hurry too," Curtiss said. "You'll have to wait."

"I can see you're in a hurry." Allen laughed and seized one of Curtiss' hands, holding it up to embarrass him. It was flecked with paint. "Yeah, you're in a hurry," Allen continued. "You're messing around up there in your Pigeon City so tough you don't have time to put on a shirt or wash your hands when the roach coach gets in."

Curtiss relented. "O.K., brother, take my place."

Allen moved up immediately and began to tap the shoulder of the girl in front of him. "Excuse me, sister, mind if I move up?"

Curtiss watched with amusement as Allen cajoled and bargained his way to the head of the line. "He always has to be different," Curtiss said to no one in particular, and the girl in front of him shook her head and smiled.

By the time Curtiss reached the window of the roach coach and presented his card, Allen was off the line and half finished with his meal. Curtiss took his tray and joined him on the steps of the building.

"What were you in such a hurry for?" Curtiss asked, sitting down beside him. Allen squinted up at the hot, midday sun and did not answer, but returned to his nearly empty tray, scooping and bolting his remaining food.

The roach coach clanged and rattled away, across Lenox Avenue. Curtiss leaned forward and he could see people clustering in the next block where they knew the coach would pull up.

"Do you like this?" Allen said suddenly.

"What?" Curtiss was confused. He knew to expect anything from Allen, but he was still often taken by surprise. Allen stood and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He was tall, and he looked proud. His limp enhanced his different approach and he knew it. Curtiss sensed a speech was coming, and he tried to cut Allen off.

"Look, brother, I only asked you why you were in such a hurry. Don't give me any lectures, O.K.?"

But Allen had drawn himself up to his full crooked height, and he would not listen. Up and down 112th Street, the people were slowing in their eating. There would be entertainment. Allen would talk. They began to gather around, and Allen drew them in with regal sweeps of his arm. He turned to Curt.

"I asked you, ‘Do you like this?' and you didn't answer. Does this mean you don't know?" Allen was using his speech voice, and a girl giggled. Curtiss lowered his head. He longed to be back on the roof.

"I'll tell you all why I was in such a hurry," Allen thundered. "It was my intention to reach the coach before anyone had eaten, and smash it." Allen looked around and reached under his dashiki. He produced a brick and held it aloft for all to see. There was a startled gasp from the crowd, and everything grew still.

The heat beat down on them all. The street felt sticky. Curtiss sipped his carton of lemonade slowly, trying to conserve its cool trickle in his dusty throat.

"Why would you do a thing like that son?" It was the old woman the people called "Raisin Face." Her lips moved and worked on the question.

"Why?" Allen yelled. "To make everybody do something, that's why! You think I don't care? I do care. Brothers and sisters, it's us, not one meal that I care for. A single meal? We wouldn't starve, and there'd be another coach tomorrow."

Now there was confusion. The crowd surged, and there were cries of "How do you know? And "What gives you the right?" They were angry. Allen stood confused and alone. Curtiss had to give him credit for trying to stay cool.

Curtiss stood and waved his arms for attention. Gradually, the noise subsided, and Curt spoke. "Why he would do it is one thing, we can like his reason or not. The fact is, he didn't do it, and I'd like to know why." Attention swung back to Allen and he blinked gratefully. Curtiss resumed his seat.

"You people want to know why I didn't do it?" Allen addressed himself to Raisin Face. "I got in the head of the line, and the brick was in my hand," the crowd leaned forward, straining not to miss a word. "but when I took a deep breath, that food smelled so good, I just had to have some." He pretended to gnaw at the brick, and the crowd laughed. Raisin Face grinned appreciatively.

The tension broke as easily as if it had never been there. Allen shuddered with relief. Mob violence was not unusual, and it was almost always fatal to the victim. It had been a close call. He looked over to Curtiss but Curt avoided his eye. "I have one more thing to say," Allen called. "There will be a meeting tonight, held by me."

"Where?" The mood of the crowd was eager. The promise of real entertainment was always with Allen's presence in an almost tangible aura.

Allen took a deep breath. "Pigeon City," he replied at last.

Click HERE for Part III