Slabscape: Dammit

by S. Spencer Baker

  ‘What shall I call you then?’

  He looked at Dielle as though he was going to spit. ‘Sir,’ he said. ‘Now go and find the hinny who came with us through the merkland and ask her to show you, politely mind, where you might lay your head tonight.

  Dielle didn’t need telling twice.

  fourteen

  Kiki couldn’t have planned it better and was only slightly put-out that she hadn't planned it at all. ‘Where is Blood Dielle?’ was the hottest trending topic SlabWide. All the top five gossumes were carrying hourly updates on the investigation intercut with vox pops of where people thought he’d gone. GBH were offering short odds that he’d chickened out at the last moment, gone into full privacy and was hiding somewhere in ToNight High. Many had fingered Fingerz as the main facilitator (and benefactor) of Dielle’s hide-away, but he was strenuously denying he knew anything about it. That is, as strenuously as a heavily self-medicated muso could deny anything. News media were running highlights from the previous ten days of reality sumes, the Farts’ only recording was number one and Pundechan Media had a continuous feed of re-runs of the most-liked scenes on tenCent. Nearly 90% of these scenes involved sex and most of those featured Kiki. Not only was her media company wiping the board, her personal ratings were through the interface.

  She’d had part of her writing team developing another of her sume concepts in parallel to The Reset Show and decided it was time to act. She pinged her old farm-buddy Faith-Sincere to arrange a meeting over cocktails and tune-ups.

  ‘The stat nerds are telling me I have a maximum three-day window to get a pilot episode into the sumes while Dielle’s still missing and everyone’s hanging on the next plot development,’ said Kiki to Faith who was enjoying a vigorous internal workout with her personal BodiCon trainer. ‘After that they’re projecting a daily 20% dropout. If we haven’t got him back by the 14th we could be in spiral decline.’

  ‘Where is the gap? Wasn’t he supposed to be heading my way by now?’

  ‘He was. I’ve not let him touch me for days and I’ve been misting the bed with your personal pheries all that time. I can’t understand why he hasn’t already. The writers are getting jittery because we can’t start the betrayal narrative until he makes his move.’

  ‘Well I can assure you there’s nothing wrong from my side, I’ve got the best pheromone engineer onSlab. Don’t you know where he’s gone?’

  ‘Not exactly. At first we assumed he was in hiding and off his head in a deadzone hangout which is what most of the sumers suspect, but unless the hackers are letting us down, and Dice knows I’m paying them enough, they say he’s not onGrid anywhere.’

  ‘So if he’s beyond the hackers,’ said Faith, her voice wobbling slightly, ‘he must be…’

  ‘With the Unkos, though Dice knows why. I’ve had two directs with the Unko who insined his sub-legal and he’s denying all knowledge. That doesn’t mean lookadat though, those Unkos won’t tell each other the time of day.’

  ‘So it’s down to you finding out which of the tribes have nabbed him and then sending in a team?’ said Faith. Her trainer unlatched the internal organ rejuvenator and rubbed oil into her tightened midriff.

  ‘I’ve got scouts out now at floor level, Seacombe UpSide and SideUp. That’s a lot of ground to cover without any intelligent tech. I’ve also got some legals looking into leveraging a break clause,’ said Kiki. ‘But once I know which lot have him, we’ll need some heavy ordnance if we’re going to extract him clean and hit the top ten on sumes.’

  ‘Massive is offloading some surplus tech for cash. He was in a couple of days ago for a boost and dropped the hint. He has some hyper-trained crew for hire as well. I’ll hook you two up.’

  ‘So you did get into the Admiral. Why didn’t you tell me, you sly fish?’

  ‘Yeah, well, he’s nothing to touch your toes over. Behind that lantern jaw he’s almost as vacant as your boy is and nowhere near as limber. So what’s this pilot you’re planning?’

  ‘I’ve had it in dev for a while, it’s a topical SatComRomScam, lots of raunch and hyper-now. You’d be perfect to play the foil, darling. The writers are just patching the script to tie in with the latest developments on The Reset Show and we’ll be ready to go. We’ve got some great insert sketches about those heavenly body signs too. It’s a hoot!’

  ‘What would you need from me?’

  ‘Nothing much. We’ll generate you from your current official metrics and slot you in to what we already have, so you only need to give us authorisation to take updates for the voice samples. You’ll probably want to tweak a few lines in post, but that’s all. We could have the first episode ready to overdub by the morning.’

  ‘Got a working title?’

  ‘If you’re definitely in, I want to call it Kiki Sincerely,’

  ‘Like it darling. Halfies?’

  ‘Not quite, darling. I have script, production and distribution costs and I’m lead brand. You can have thirty of nett as long as we don’t split edit control. We have to be super fast on this one and I can’t have you dicing around on cuts and angles. We’re not going to let you come over as anything less than absolutely fabulous anyway.’

  ‘Nett?’

  ‘Would I stiff you on the deal, darling? How long have we known each other?’

  ‘All of our lives darling, and yes of course you would stiff me on the deal.’ She stripped off her body-tight pants and bra. ‘Burst me the latest draft and I’ll sume it while I’m in the shower. You are buying dinner and I’ll choose the place. Nett! My million-dollar, reconfigurable arse!’

  ‘You were robbed, darling,’ said Kiki, patting Faith’s recently refurbished rump.

  fifteen

  By the time Dielle left the schoolhouse the game was over, the dust had settled and the skylight had dimmed. People had gathered around crackling campfires to tell stories, make music, sing and dance. Above all, there was drink, drink and more drink. Dielle was fascinated. He’d never seen real fire before but he had no doubt about what it was, or that it must be treated with respect. It calmed him to realise that here, in this outcast enclave, deep under the suspended cities of permanent light was a memory that could never be reset. He stood, transfixed, watching the dancing flames. The firelight shone in the reveller’s eyes and made prancing shadows of them all. He was momentarily lost until he discovered a soft, delicate hand had slipped into his. He looked down into her smiling face.

  ‘Me brother enjoyed your reading,’ she said. ‘He says you’re an eejit.’

  Although Dielle wished he could query Sis about what she’d just said, he was glad he couldn’t. He was enjoying the silence in his head. It was a pity, he thought, that the internal peace didn’t extend to the outside. These people never stopped talking. They talked at each other without listening to the replies. They interrupted and argued, laughed and feigned offence and seemed to be having a great time. Dielle couldn’t understand a word.

  ‘What’s a brother?’ he said, making sure he didn’t let go of his gift.

  ‘A brother would take your last piece of bread even if you were starving and then give it back to you with spit on it. A brother would stick up for you in a fight no matter what, then throw mud at you and call you names. A brother is the first person to tell on you and the last one to leave you when you’re sick. A brother is family. Sure, do you not have family where you come from?’

  ‘I don’t remember my family,’ said Dielle, ‘Louie said we were an only child.’

  ‘I can see what Finny means.’

  ‘No… it’s just that I don’t have any memories of my childhood, but they are stored in a type of machine that… well, it sort of has its own way of telling… you don’t really want to hear about this, do you? Couldn’t we talk about the future rather than the past?’

  She frowned. ‘How d’you know who you are if you don’t know where you’re from?’

  ‘I think I’m still finding that out,’ said Dielle. He stared back into the flames and fe
lt the warmth of her hand in his. ‘I don’t know much but I do know that I’m thirsty and tired and I’m supposed to ask you where I’m staying.’

  ‘Sure, you’ll be staying at me mother’s brother’s sister-in law’s house. That’s family for you. You’ll be fine and dandy there.’

  ‘Will you be there?’

  ‘Now don’t be ignorant as well as an eejit. Of course I won’t.’

  ‘Is that because you’re, erm. . . I mean you must have a. . . that is, you are probably. . . of course you would be, that’s expected. So I suppose it’s really none of my business. Anyway.’ Dielle tried to make his lips disappear and his eyebrows meet.

  She stood with her hand on her hips and surveyed him from toe to head.

  ‘You’re a sorry lot and no mistake,’ she said. ‘Come on with you and I’ll show you to your bed.’

  Dielle tried to memorise the route to the house but after the fourth near-identical white-walled alley he gave up. It was hard enough keeping up with her. She didn’t walk, she skipped. She made it look like making contact with the ground was purely optional.

  His accommodation was spartan. The room had a single bed with a lumpy mattress that smelled faintly of something old and organic, a rickety chair and a waist-high stand with a jug of water, a shallow porcelain bowl and a coarse towel. There was no sign of the other occupants of the house, so after she’d wished him a pleasant night and told him she’d be back to collect him in the morning, he collapsed onto the creaking bed and fell asleep fully clothed. A tolling bell semi-roused him in the middle of the night. Realising he was cold, he got under the sheets but as he slipped back into unconsciousness he had a vague feeling of disquiet. He had never felt cold before. Even when he was in the middle of a blizzard halfway up a Graphite mountain, Sis had kept him warm. Warm and safe.

  The room had no window but it didn’t need one for ventilation, as he discovered a few hours later when the family started crashing pans and plates around in the kitchen next to his room. The dividing wall stopped well short of the ceiling, so morning light, loud conversation and the smell of something delicious filled his bedroom while he was still a long way from being done sleeping. He had no option but to get up and show his face.

  He felt like an alien. A young boy and girl looked up from their breakfasts with identical expressions of cautious curiosity, while a middle-aged, thickset woman stopped pouring their hot drinks from a large pot to gesture at a chair at the far end of the battered wooden table.

  ‘It wakes does it? We thought ye’d passed over in the night,’ she said. ‘Set down and I’ll pour yer tea.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Dielle. His mouth was barely working. ‘You don’t have any coffee do you?’

  ‘No we don’t,’ said the woman, reaching round to a dresser stacked high with colourful crockery. ‘What do you want with your toast?’ She poured him a mug of steaming tea and added milk from a cracked earthenware jug.

  ‘What are the options?’

  ‘Butter.’

  Dielle waited a fraction too long for comfort. ‘Butter is fine,’ he said.

  The large woman moved around the cramped kitchen with ease. In a moment he was enjoying the simple pleasure of hot, buttered toast on an empty stomach. He didn’t usually like tea, but it was warm and wet and he was thirsty and turning it down felt churlish.

  The woman gestured at his stack of thick-cut bread with her knife. ‘That’s real bread that is. And the butter is made from real milk from real living cows.’

  Dielle wanted to say something in response but couldn’t think what. He had no idea what unreal bread would be like.

  ‘I’m Mary.’ She waved her butter knife at the kids, who were still staring at Dielle ‘This is Sile and that’s Jer.’

  The young boy grinned and stuck out a greasy, toast-crumb-coated hand. ‘Oim nine!’ he said.

  ‘And she’s nine too,’ said Mary. ‘Only she doesn’t talk much at the moment. But that’s alright because Jer makes up for all of us, don’t ya?’

  ‘Your shirt’s all creased up,’ said Jer. ‘Did ya sleep in it?’

  ‘I did,’ said Dielle. ‘I was very tired.’

  ‘Mam won’t let us sleep in our proper clothes,’ he said. ‘We have to get washed and put on stupid piejarmers.’

  ‘Now enough of that, Jer. Ask yer man his name.’

  Jer wide-eyed Dielle. Dielle grinned and told them where his name came from.

  The breakfast continued as a question and answer session. Mary told Jer what to ask and Jer, refusing to act as go-between, would stare at Dielle expectantly and then interrupted the answers with declarations of his own. Jer knew all about where Dielle was from, at least as far as the Slabscape above them was concerned. He’d seen it from underneath when he’d gone out on trips with his class. Jer was sure he wouldn’t like it up dere. Jer was sure that whoever lived up dere were total eejits. Jer was sure about a lot of things.

  She arrived while Dielle was sipping his second cup of tea. She hugged and kissed the twins, then hugged and kissed Mary and avoided the possibility of hugging and kissing Dielle by turning around, telling him he was wanted by the Matriarch and leaving. Dielle stood up too fast, spilled the rest of his tea on his trousers, thanked the family for their hospitality and hurried after her.

  She was waiting by the entrance to a white-washed down-alley. ‘You’re a wreck sure enough,’ she said. Dielle thought she looked like she’d been re-born. ‘You’ll have to tidy yourself first. I’ll go and borrow you some fresh clothes while you smarten yourself up. In there,’ she said, shoving him through a small door set into the alley wall. ‘I’ll send someone in with your clothes. Hurry up.’

  Four naked men sitting on low wooden stools turned their heads. They studied him silently, as if sizing up a horse for auction, then they returned to their ablutions and ignored him. Hot water streamed from a row of taps on a tiled wall. Steam filled the air, bowls overflowed, wash-cloths were rinsed and thwacked against bare backs and thighs. Dielle felt acutely uncomfortable. The prospect of getting undressed in the presence of other men filled him with anxiety. He didn’t know why. He had no problem being naked with Kiki. In fact, he thought, he probably preferred being naked with Kiki than being clothed. That is he used to prefer it, but for some obscure reason that he hadn’t been able to figure out, he hadn’t been able to enjoy being naked with Kiki for days now. Every time he tried to enjoy himself, and her, Kiki had had something more important to do. He wondered if he would ever see her again and found he was strangely ambivalent. It seemed the further away from her he got in time and space, the more she seemed to become monochromatic in his memory. Perhaps, he thought, that’s what happens when you are separated from people and places: they morph in your mind from 3D to 2D, from full colour to black and white and then become cartoon-like, then brush-strokes, then smoke. He thought back. There wasn’t a lot of back to think about. What was it like in re-fam? Kiki’s nurse’s helmet against the white walls. That first view of Seacombe from the platform? Floating buildings as far as he could see with a city above him pointing down. Yes, he thought, everything was turning into a cartoon.

  The cartoon he projected in his imagination of him trying to wash himself without taking off his clothes looked ridiculous so he submitted to his ignominy and put his clothes into an empty basket on a shelf by the door. Below the shelf was a stack of thick towels.

  He’d already noticed that the taps were manually operated so he managed to spare himself the embarrassment of sitting naked in front of a spout expecting water to appear on eye command. The man nearest him handed him a foaming block and pointed to a washing line of rough cloths hanging up to dry. Dielle imitated his way through the ablutions and tried not to make eye contact. He felt like his every movement was being scrutinised. Before he’d finished rinsing his hair, Jer turned up with a pile of clothes.

  ‘Oim to give you a message,’ he said. ‘But I can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’ said Dielle.

  �
��Because me mam says I mustn’t swear and the message has swear words in it.’

  ‘Why don’t you tell me without the swear word then?’

  ‘Because yer might not get the proper meaning, like.’

  ‘OK then. You tell me everything that was said to you and I won’t tell anyone you had to swear to tell me properly.’

  Jer looked at Dielle and tried to decide if he could be trusted. He’d never met anyone from outside Up Haven before and he was pretty sure that anyone from outside Up Haven wasn’t to be trusted, pretty much by definition, but Dielle looked different to what he imagined when he thought about the SlabCitizens who lived in their floating buildings with their machines that breathed for them and fed them poisons and turned them all into eejits. Dielle looked just like him, only wetter.

  ‘She said to tell the feckin’ eejit to get a feckin’ move on ‘cos yer going to be feckin’ late.’ Jer grinned proudly.

  ‘OK. I got it. Well done,’ said Dielle. ‘Tell her I’ll be out as quick as I can but it takes me a long time to wash everything properly and then I have to dry everything properly and that takes a long time too.’

  ‘She’s going to get angry,’ said Jer.

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Dielle. ‘I bet she looks even more beautiful when she’s angry.’

  Jer screwed up his face trying to figure out what Dielle was talking about. ‘Feckin’ eejit,’ he said under his breath.

  She was waiting on the corner talking to an elderly couple when he found her. She inspected his clothes and shook her head. There was nothing wrong with the clothes as such. They were well made, the cloth was coarser than what he’d become used to, but it was comfortable and he quite liked the inconsistencies in the fabric. It was just that they’d obviously been made for a man of considerable girth. He looked like a furled umbrella.

  ‘You’ll have to find a seamstress when you’ve made some money,’ she said. She looked down. ‘And you’ll need some proper shoes. That fabricated shite is coming apart already.’