“Tipping a wobbler into the goal now and then hardly endangers anything but a couple of turf accountants. I never did anything over the top.”
“Your Pryce Slyder?” She scoffed. “No one could ever figure out how you got it to curve that sharp.”
Aaron smiled. “That was a bit of genius, wasn’t it? Made quite a bit of sterling off an endorsement for Bering Footwear.”
“You really don’t know…” Anna sighed and put her back to him, stooping to sift through the clothes. “Does anything in this shithole not have Arsenal on it?”
Aaron looked up at her ass, four feet in front of his face and right at eye level. Black silk pulled taut over porcelain skin as she leaned forward to rummage the pile. He rested back on his elbows, running his gaze up and down every curve of her leg, enjoying the view. It struck him as odd he didn’t want to attempt talking her into a one-nighter. Regarding her as above that gave him pause. Ever since Allison, women had been the enemy. Yet in this tiny, white-haired, Manchester-loving sprite, he’d found an exception. Was it something about her, or had he been wrong about women in general? Morose thoughts gave way to amusement, and his grin widened each time she cursed at a tiny little cannon symbol or something generally close enough to Arsenal colors to earn her contempt.
“Could ya bend a little farther down, luv? Tryin’ to see if you’re a natural white.”
She didn’t, nor did she straighten. “You’re a pig, Aaron. In every sense of the word.”
“Thanks, luv.” The enthusiasm leaked out of his voice. Her banter in the park, a friendly back and forth about an ancient song, had reminded him too much of Allison. Even the way she jabbed at him over frictionless had a certain playfulness to it amid the vitriol. His wife had never been one for the sport. She didn’t hate it; the woman had no opinion. Manchester, Arsenal, or a jar of pickles―it didn’t matter one whit. Granted, his wife had been much more innocent than Anna seemed. Then again, so was he back then. Perhaps Allison’s hadn’t been the only death that afternoon.
“I’m clueless why Lauren was so fecking insistent I recruit you. She’s probably loving every minute of watching me squirm havin’ to deal with a damn Arsenal wanker. I just don’t fathom what women see in a chav like you. You’re all charm and smiles and suave, but all you want is a one night fuck. It’s all the same clapped out bullshit.” She stood up with a plain black shirt wadded into a fist on her hip. “I mean… I can see it. You’ve definitely got the ability to talk the knickers off a girl, an’ this on the lam scruffy bad-boy act has a certain appeal to it. But in the end, you’re just a shallow, arrogant, selfish, prick.”
Aaron sat upright, red faced, his pointing finger shaking with anger. “You’ve no idea who I am. Who the feck do you think you are to judge anything about me?”
She leaned back, one eyebrow climbing.
He slouched, head down, elbows on his knees. A hundred women flashed by in his memory, most blurred to smears of color and fragrance in a haze of alcohol. Every woman he used up and threw away became another mark on the scorecard, another victory over the gender. Why should any of them deserve his respect now? He’d lost the only one he’d ever cared about. No, he’d not lost her―he killed her. It’s my fault. I wasn’t strong enough to resist. Aaron’s hands flew to the sides of his head, clenched to fists full of his hair. Talis’s awful harpy voice reverberated in his consciousness.
Kill your partner.
He sobbed once, but swallowed it. His face soured to a sneer. The dead frictionless orb rocketed across the room and embedded half in the wall. She jumped at the sudden smash.
“I wasn’t always… This isn’t who I was.”
Anna slipped into the shirt, which covered her to an inch above the knee. She eyed the flakes of pulverized concrete collecting on the floor and seemed about to snipe at him again, but her face softened. “Is this some ploy for a pity shag?”
“’Ave you always been like that?”
“Like what?” She shifted her weight onto her left leg.
“Cold and unfeeling. Of course, you’re a Man U fan. D’you ever care about anyone, or is it all pissing and moaning about another lousy season?”
An instant of anger flared in her eyes. Dark, glinting sapphires bored into him. He looked up at her, ready to ride the lightning and be done with all of it. Maybe Allison’s gone off somewhere paradisiacal and hasn’t seen what a shit I’ve been. The scorn ebbed. Anna turned the same lost and forlorn stare he assumed had settled on his face to the window.
Aaron pondered an apology. As irritating as she’d been about the whole cheating thing, something about her had changed. For a moment, the woman before him had the presence of a lonely young girl, lost in a world way over her head. Anna scratched at her stomach, glanced at the floor by his feet, and wandered out of his field of view without a word.
Damn. Right. I bollocksed that up proper like.
Electronic music warbled at the window. Blinking lights adorned the chassis of a footlocker-sized hovering bot with the logo of the Geomatic Laundry Service. Creeping shadows drifted across the room, cast by the blinding glare from the grimed glass.
“I’ll get it,” muttered Aaron.
The dead frictionless orb shifted in its crater, gravity at war with the fading tensile strength of broken drywall. Aaron ignored it, letting it thud to the floor as he trudged to the patio. He paused, fingertips touching the glass, staring at the metal orb lying under a layer of white dust. Was that him? Some old Arsenal tool, used up, thrown in the corner, and discarded. He pushed the sliding door to one side, enjoying the burst of non-stagnant air despite the hint of piss on the wind. Automatic gestures took Anna’s clothing from the interior of the robot while he continued to focus on the metal sphere. His hair fluttered in the blast of thrust as the delivery bot reversed from the opening and zoomed away. The tiniest bit of effort righted the old ‘stone’ and floated it onto the nightstand.
Anna took her clothes and retreated to the bathroom to change. Neither one of them dared make eye contact. She closed the door behind her, cutting off the light and leaving Aaron alone in the near dark. He stared at the bed, the hole in the wall, and out the window at the distant city full of uncountable glowing points. Billions of people went about their day, oblivious to his personal tragedy. Sitting around this shithole wasn’t getting anything done. If he spent another hour here, he didn’t trust himself not to do something rash.
“I’m off.”
“Where to?” asked Anna from behind the door.
He frowned at his boxers and gathered some clothes. “Somewhere other than here.”
ncomfortable. The word rattled around in Aaron’s mind the same way he jostled about the interior of the taxi. Several minutes spent trapped in the middle of traffic caused the self-driving vehicle to dart through the first-available opening and race into the PubTran dedicated lane on the far right side. A handful of pedestrians who had spilled off the walkpaths dove for their lives as the little wheeled box got up to a hair over sixty five. At least one coffee bounced off the roof.
Aaron risked a glance at Anna, sitting to his left. Uncomfortable. He nodded at nothing. The laundry chemicals wafting from her clothes scratched at the back of his throat, making him loathe the fixed windows in the public car. It would respond to a verbal request to turn up the airflow, but that would require breaking the silence. She’d not looked at him since he’d gotten a wonderful close-up view of her backside. He pictured the ebon silk stretched tight across her womanhood, surprising himself at the mood in which it put him. Rather than lust, the sight had struck him as beautiful, the way one might regard classical paintings.
He took Allison’s nametag out and twisted it around his fingers, tilting it back and forth to play with the shadows filling the recessed letters. Desiring a woman, even though his wife was dead, felt as disloyal as if she were still there to cheat on. None of the one-nighters triggered that feeling. Of course, he didn’t desire them. He wanted to conquer them. He wanted to p
rove to the world that Aaron Pryce hadn’t been destroyed by the loss of his wife.
Anna shifted, making him look up. She stared at him; her expression could have been pity, contempt, or regret. His face must’ve been the same. Her cheeks pinked, and she returned her gaze to the window at her left.
The PubTran car squealed on a right turn, its diminutive wheels chirping as though it moved twice its actual speed.
A placid male voice flooded the cabin. “Debris in PubTran-only lane detected. Please disregard imminent impact.”
Aaron leaned forward for a better view, blinking in shock at a sleeping, wounded, or dead man slumped on the ground. The car accelerated, intent on ramming the poor bastard out of its way. Aaron grunted and focused, flinging him into the dense crowd. The man’s boot thudded off the corner of the car, adding a horizontal spin to the flying body. Aaron twisted in his seat, watching as a section of crowd went down like bowling pins, though slow enough to seem non-injurious.
He faced front and exhaled. “Bloody cruel thing.”
“What’s that?” Anna looked over.
“This car.” He waffled a hand in the direction of the console. “It was about to run over a man.”
“Oh. Yes, that does seem cruel.” She picked at the hem of her coat where it rested over her knees. “Do you think that idiot will manage it?”
“Darwin?” Aaron shrugged. “As likely as he is to fail. He’s got friends in places I don’t.”
She peered at the small, matte-black nametag. “I don’t understand why Aurora waited so long to mention you.”
“As if I’d know,” said Aaron, sounding more tired than sarcastic. “Lightning from your hands. Can’t say I’ve ever seen that before.”
“You weren’t listening the other day when I told you about the Awakened, were you?”
“A little. You know…” He flashed an uninspired smile. “I was too busy trying to work out a route into your knickers at the time.”
She laughed.
“Good, I meant that as humor.”
“Aurora’s a clairvoyant. She helps us find others like us. Course, she’s a fickle sort. Likes to play games.”
“Games like sending a Man U fan to recruit someone who used to play for Arsenal.”
“Aye.”
The car came to a halt and the side door wound upward with a faint mechanical whirr. “We have arrived at your destination. Trip time sixteen minutes forty three seconds. PubTran Corporation regrets, but is not responsible for, delays caused by traffic conditions outside of our control. Thank you for choosing PubTran, have a pleasant day.”
Aaron lurched from the seat and climbed out, tucking Allison’s nametag in his pocket. At least the doors are big. He didn’t miss Britain’s Autocab. Talk about cramped. Anna’s second boot touched the ground at the same instant the car wheeled itself forward so it could close the door without squishing them.
“Uppity thing,” she muttered, gathering her coat and scurrying to the walkpath. “Where’s it in such a damn hurry to?”
Aaron made a noncommittal one-armed shrug and forced his way through a thick river of pedestrians to the front courtyard of an open-air café. Despite the semi-fancy patio furniture, the rather ordinary phrase ‘William’s Bistro’ glimmered in holographic gold script in both windows. The inside resembled a cross between a deli counter and a sit-down restaurant, while the deck outside looked like a scene straight out of the French countryside.
“Not many people ’ere, are there?” Anna followed him to an outdoor table.
Aaron coughed. “Some people find it hard to eat while smelling the city.”
An orb bot, about a foot in diameter, glided up to their table. Someone had put a top hat and monocle on it, as well as a ridiculous brown handlebar moustache.
“Good day to you,” it said, its voice dry and crusty like an elderly Brit. “Can I fetch you anything to drink?”
“Tea,” they said simultaneously.
“Espresso actually.” Anna rubbed her eyebrow. “Make it a double, please. Extra cream, no sugar.”
“Very good, miss.” It tilted forward in an orb’s bow and pivoted to face Aaron before repeating the gesture. “Sir. I shall return momentarily.” The floating sphere glided into a purpose-built hatch in the side of the building.
“Guess you ’ave been here a bit. Coffee?” Aaron cringed. “How can you stand it?”
She shrugged. “Never really thought about it. They do have coffee over there too.”
“So, about that Awakened bit.”
Anna looked up from a small menu projected by an emitter in the table. “The simple explanation is we’re more powerful than other psionics. Archon thinks we’re some kind of evolutionary leap ahead. He’s certain the government will try and eliminate or control us.”
Aaron rubbed his face, trying to blink away the fatigue of a few days’ worth of bad sleep. “Given the way the ol’ CSB’s been toward us… he might have a point.”
“Guess your thing is a bad reaction to invasive mental effects,” said Anna.
“My ‘thing’? Wot’s that mean?”
“Most of us have little quirks. My EK runs away when I get emotional. Aurora’s got a rather unusual appearance. Another little girl’s eyes glowed, this one chap lit on fire when he used his abilities. The more overt ones seem like they’re connected with some kind of early childhood trauma.”
“I wasn’t always able to fling cars around. I―”
The orb returned. A spindly retractable claw arm held a tray bearing two steaming cups. It set its cargo on the table and proceeded to reposition each cup by its appropriate person before gathering the empty tray and tucking it behind its nonexistent back.
“Would you like a little more time?”
“I’ll ’ave the eggs, fried, with some corned beef hash and toast,” said Aaron.
Anna switched off the menu. “Spinach and mushroom omelet for me, please.”
“Excellent choices.” The ball wobbled in a gesture possibly intended as a bow, and glided away.
“Perhaps that’s why Aurora didn’t sense you until recently. You weren’t born Awakened.” Anna made thoughtful faces at the smog layer for a moment. “Do you have any idea how it happened?”
Aaron glowered into the table. “I’d rather not dwell on it.”
“S’got somethin’ to do with that little trinket you keep fidgetin’ with, doesn’t it?”
The upwelling of anger made it to the veins in his forehead before he gathered it back. He couldn’t get angry with Anna for not knowing. Rage became regret.
“I’m sorry.” She looked off to the side.
“Hey!” Darwin leapt the fence into the patio area, ignoring the wide-open gate six steps to his right. He dragged a chair from a nearby table, spun it around backward, and draped himself over it. “I need your help, man.”
As if the ambient fragrance of the city didn’t make it difficult enough to eat, Darwin brought a resurgence of pungent ‘back alley garbage’ to the air.
“Did you have any luck finding Shimmer?” He smiled at Darwin. The man had excellent timing.
“Not yet. She’s gone to ground. She’ll turn up when she’s ready. Look, I got a lead on something… Lot of credits to be made.”
“First, go burn that jacket. Second, I’m not terribly interested in helping you commit crime, Darwin. Police officer, remember?”
Anna opened her mouth and closed it.
“No, I didn’t cheat at that, too.” He scowled at Darwin. Anna’s expression drooped with guilt. “I’ve no interest in petty crime.”
“Ex-cop.” Darwin held up a finger.
The orb returned. “Good day, sir.”
“I’ll have what he’s having.” Darwin gestured at Aaron.
“Very good.” The orb spun about and glided away, disappearing into its hatch.
“Thanks for lunch.” Darwin winked. “Look, it’s easy. Security’s light ’cause you’d need heavy equipment to move the goddamned thing. It’
s worth a”―Darwin faked an awful British accent―“bloody fortune, mate.”
“No dice, mate,” said Aaron. “I’m not a thief.”
“It’s an old pre-war engine, like from a car. They used to call them vee-eights. Perfect condition, the bastard thing even runs. I know a guy’ll pay six million for it.”
“So why are you here?” Aaron gestured at the crowd. “Go steal it.”
Darwin leaned forward, engulfing the table in caustic breath flavored in twenty years’ need of dentistry plus fruity Nicohaler vapor. “The damned thing weighs a ton. They’ll never expect two guys to pinch it. I need your… talents.”
“Look, mate. I’m not a petty criminal. Shimmer’s decided to drop off the planet, and at the moment, she’s the best chance I’ve got at findin’ Talis. Unless you can pull that faerie out of your ass somehow, I don’t ’ave time for blaggin’ some old relic.”
Darwin rubbed a hand over his head, matting his spongy hair for an instant. He tapped his fingers as if playing the trumpet. “All we need’s an open-back truck. We don’t even have to get out. Just do your thing. I pull up, you float the engine over, and we take off.”
The waiter returned with a tray of food clamped in its grippy-claw arm. It set the tray on the table and positioned everyone’s meals. “Please let me know if anything is not to your satisfaction, sirs and madame.” The orb folded its arm behind itself with the empty tray.
“Thanks, man,” said Darwin.
Anna smiled. “Smells good.”
“May I get anyone else anything?” The orb shifted side to side as if looking at everyone.
“He’ll ’ave some common sense.” Aaron gestured at Darwin.
“Right away.”
The orb sped off before Aaron recovered from his surprise. Darwin attacked his meal as though he’d not eaten in a week. Anna picked. Aaron settled midway between gluttony and disinterest. All three looked up as the faint thrum of a hover unit neared. The spherical waiter deposited a glass in front of Darwin, eight-inches tall but only one inch around. Deep violet liquid at the bottom progressed in a gradient of various blues to pale cyan near the top.
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