by Jae Vogel
"You definitely stared me straight in the eyes and made me promise that I would do that for you before you went back to sleep. I was super hesitant right off the bat, but when you are so insistent about something, you can be kind of stubborn."
All in all, it wasn't too big of a deal. I'm sure I have made worse decisions while in a total and complete blackout. I'd like to believe that I had some sage-like understanding of why I chose to wake up out of a black out and demand that Ravik make me a part of the walking dead, but I literally had nothing in mind.
"Well, I guess it will be a bit easier to talk with Luna now."
He shook his head.
"That's not how those things work. I mean, I'm not sure. I guess she might be there, if she was there while you were in your thing at work."
He never used the words “while getting raped by a maniac”, but the subtext was loud and clear.
"The way that it works is it streams data that you're working within to a third party server. Typically a game channel, though if you don't register it with anything, you will just send your signal out to whatever network is around. Some public forum, more likely than not."
"I don't see how that relates to VR."
"Well, it's just one component, you would need to have the elements of a VR system attached to your body if you wanted it to actually pick up anything. "
He did his best walking dead impersonation, and I couldn't help but laugh, even though I was more than a bit betrayed by my own subconscious desire for another chip in my body.
"God, I was feeling pretty good, getting those things out."
"Well, I can remove it for you pretty easily, if you need me to take it out. I don't want you to have something that you didn't want."
"It's easy to remove?"
"Yep, wouldn't take ten minutes. Of course, you'd have to be bandaged up, but that's not actually that big of a deal. We could take care of that."
I paused for a moment.
"You said that it's just sitting in there, and won't actually be turned on unless I activate it?"
He nodded.
"The process is digital, but the implant is passive, meaning it will receive information but won't send anything out by its own merit. Acts more like a conduit."
I waved my hand at him, not really interested in the details of how the thing worked.
"As long as you're not fucking with me, I'll stick it out."
"Not fucking with you in the slightest."
"All right then. Besides, I'm getting a bit antsy in this place. Don't really want to spend any more time in that chair of yours. No offense."
"None taken."
The conversation fell into a brief lull, and my attention returned to the gun in my hand.
"You want to trade?"
"Trade what?"
"The gun. I know a guy who is into that kind of shit. He can probably just grind off the serial numbers, and fit a new magazine. He'd owe me a favor, and that's never a bad thing. Police issue weapons are generally worth quite a bit of cash."
He sniffed, and slid a smaller handgun across the surface of the table.
"I've been holding onto this one for too long, and I've never really had a use for it. Sounds like you might be in a position where a bit of protection might work out well for you."
He dumped some new clothes on the table, which presumably belonged to his partner.
"The pants might be a bit loose, but you're both pretty small people, I think they should work out fine."
I picked up the weapon and looked at it.
It was a small, pocket revolver, like the kind that some femme fatale might carry in her purse in a 1930's noir romance. It was basic. There were no engravings immediately apparent, though when I looked at the underside of the handle I noticed that one of the previous owners had engraved the image of a catholic sacred heart - the kind with the physical organ surrounded by a crown of thorns and fire coming out of the top. The juxtaposition of sacred imagery on the metallic surface of a gun gave me pause, but I figured it was probably better than a lot of other images that could have been in its place.
"It's a revolver, which means you have six shots."
He set a small box of ammo down on the table, which he pulled out from his jacket pocket.
"I doubt you'll be able to take down Solis Ent with something like this, but it might do you some good if you get in a tough spot."
"Thanks, Ravik."
"Don't mention it. Just do me a favor and don't come back here until you've taken care of whatever it is you're doing. I care about you, but I don't need to pick up on whatever heat you're drawing toward yourself."
I nodded, this time a bit sad.
"I'm grateful."
"Grab some food for yourself on the way out, do what you need to do, but I think it would be best for both of us if you were gone by dawn."
He leaned over and kissed me on the top of the head, and I felt the warmth of his hands on my shoulder. Out of respect for his lover, I didn't reach out to touch him. I would leave the two of them to live their lives without whatever drama I was wrapped up within. I had already been given much more than I deserved.
Chapter 12
Leaving Ravik's house was a sobering experience, but I felt distinctly more equipped for whatever waited for me in the outside world. My consciousness held a bit more room for processing information. I also felt the strong sense of liberation in the knowledge that whatever technological parasites had been implanted within me were now gone, thanks to Ravik's efforts.
The sun was rising once more, and I was once more relatively anonymous within the populace of the city. There were areas that I knew I had to be cautious about entering.
The Red Light District, and surrounding areas were obviously not someplace I could enter lightly. I was certain that more information could have probably been gained from doing a raid on the Solis Ent. I also knew that if times got tough, I could probably count on an ally or two from Quarantine. Other than those two possible benefits from exploring that area, the risks of incidental contact were too high. Not to mention that ever since the events at Gratis, the police force would have likely spread wanted posters throughout the entire district. A fine tactical move, if I do say so myself. Nothing quite like cutting off your enemy from their primary social network.
I also couldn't go anywhere near the advertisement scanners without having some sort of retinal protection. Hep was always raving about how the entire population should adopt these high-end scanner filtration glasses as a form of social rebellion. Of course, he never bought a pair himself. I believe he felt disempowered enough to where that money was rationalized away into the next high. In those moments, I couldn't have agreed with him more. I think we all thought the freedom of dope was more substantial than anything we could have done to buck against the system. Now that I was on the other side of that whole equation, I only see stupidity and missed opportunities.
A self-righteous bitterness was building inside of me. The anger was more of a smoldering push toward something different, though there wasn't a clear direction for it to flow.
How could a single individual take on an entity as powerful as Solis?
Besides, to simplify things so intensely was little more than a convenient lie. The truth of the matter was that each company and social organization that bought into the currently existing system was at the same time reinforcing the status quo, and striving for their own existence. The whole cycle was ouroboric in nature… a serpent devouring itself, and yet never seeming to die.
The ad agencies who utilized retina scanning technology were simply taking advantage of currently existing social psychology tools. Those same tools were created by privatized tech companies, who were just looking for a bit of cash to continue further development. The police were simply put in place as a means of protecting those who had means, against the uncouth behavior of those who did not have means. If they happened to access the retinal scanners made widely available by the ad companies,
then that wasn't really their fault. They were only making use of the materials at hand to do the best job possible, under the circumstances.
Each link in the chain contained within it a security blanket of plausible deniability. The fact that none of them could be pinned for the overall circumstance of our city's current crypto-police state wasn't the fault of any one entity. Plausible deniability kept conspiracy theorists discredited enough to where the average citizen would simply pass them by, not caring to listen to the ravings of a junkie.
I shook my head, trying to physically dislodge the thoughts that came to my mind without my consent. Memories of times now past weren't going to be of any use. The point was that I was now in a place where I had more clarity than I had previously. If there was anything for me to hold onto at this point, it had to be my own awareness.
The morning was nice. I had gone on more morning walks in the last few days than in the previous years combined. In spite of everything else, there was at least that to be grateful about.
My walk pushed me through the outskirts of the Red Light District, only a couple of blocks away from the main drag. Out of habit, I walked near an old liquor store, one of the ones I used to frequent to buy tobacco. I didn't have any cash, and though a smoke sounded nice, I forced myself to walk on by. Then I saw something on the telephone pole outside of the shop that made me give pause.
It was my own face, run off on a cheap photocopy scanner.
WANTED:
Assault With a Deadly Weapon.
First Degree Murder.
Flagrant Drug Abuse.
Violent Sex Crimes.
Goddamnit.
I tore the paper off of the telephone pole instinctively, and crumpled it up into a ball. The words didn't leave my head though, and the image of me walking past the entrance of Gratis Hospital was still engrained in my mind.
If they had gone to the trouble of putting up paper warnings, I knew I was done for. The first, and most obvious means of warning the populace of a potential threat was through digital media. News Networks. Online Streams. Probably even ad-space if they were desperate enough.
Physical media meant that my image was throughout the entirety of the slums, just so they wouldn't have to worry about a lack of accessibility to digital content.
I'm fucked…
Possibilities for how to move forward tried to break their way through the immediate overwhelming panic I felt. My suspicions had been confirmed, which is to say I imagined that they would have taken this course of action. The shock came for me nonetheless. I suppose seeing your face on a wanted poster is more of a sobering reality than simply imagining that to be the case.
Every human that walked the street was now a potential enemy, which was also a terrible feeling to experience. On some level, I was still lucid enough to be able to understand that there wasn't anything these people had actually done which marked them as enemies. They would be acting as concerned citizens, who were simply afraid because their government had informed them that fear was an appropriate response.
Then again, ‘First Degree Murder, Drug Abuse and Violent Sex Crimes,' is a tall order for the benefit of the doubt. Ravik was friendlier than I gave him credit for.
I held my head low, and walked purposefully toward my old neighborhood. Of course, it was a terrible idea, but it didn't seem like there were many other places for me to go. I had to hope that there was some kind of squat building available. I could have gone elsewhere, but there was some sliver of hope that the folks of the old neighborhood knew enough about me to be reasonably suspicious about the charges. If nothing else, I hoped that they would be more afraid of the police than the portrait depicted by the wanted posters.
I hadn't gone far when I noticed some commotion up ahead.
“Seven thirty in the morning is too early for this shit,” I muttered, shaking my head, deciding whether or not to cross the fucking street.
The brawl had spilled out onto the road I was walking down. If they had come out of the alleyway any sooner, I might have just pulled a quick right on the last street. As it was, I was already a hundred feet into the block, and I didn't feel like having three guys beating the shit out of another guy on my conscience.
I felt in my pocket, and wrapped my hand around the pistol that Ravik had gifted me. I didn't intend on actually using it, but I was pretty sure that unless they were armed, I might be able to scare the shit out of them and get them to back off.
I slowed down as I approached, and watched the violence unfold.
"Faggot cocksucker!"
They kicked the man, and I watched as blood exploded out of his nose. The kick had been squarely to the face, while he had been down. One of the men was bleeding from a savage cut to the ear.
"Sure as hell won't be seeing any more faggots in our neighborhood again after this."
The knife flashed in the air, and I watched in terror as the man was about to strike. On impulse, my hand flew out of my sweater, gun at the ready. I targeted the man, and with the weapon I yelled.
“Fuck off, or die!”
My words, totally.
Nothing foreign about this experience. Just a terrified woman with a pistol, and three confused beta males involved in some territorial pissing.
The man with the knife turned toward me, while the other two backed off from the man on the ground. I saw the bravery check he was performing in his head as clear as day. To help him out, I walked toward him in the same way as I had seen the SWAT team close the corridors on the stairwell. The change in his eyes was delightful, though I didn't dare share my amusement.
"I'm going to give you 3 seconds before I shoot."
"C'mon, Jerry, let's get out of here!"
"Yea, come on, he's not worth it."
"Nah, wait,” the brave one said. “I’ve seen that face before..."
"One."
He smiled and grabbed the man on the floor with one hand, while holding the knife in the air with the other hand.
"You're the girl from the poster."
"Two."
"Let's see how good your aim is with that thing..."
"Fuck this Jerry, I'm out!”
"Me too!"
He pushed the knife blade toward the man on the street, and that’s when I fired.
The brave one stumbled backward, over the man on the ground; the other two guys ran away.
While Ravik certainly had not been fucking around about the gun working, he hadn't bothered to mention that it was loud as hell. If the cops weren't on their way here immediately, it was a complete certainty that they would be within minutes.
“Fucking hell! You crazy bitch!”
Truth was, I was actually aiming for his chest, but I had fucked up at the last second; shooting him squarely in the foot. He was holding the wounded foot with both hands, while the man on the ground got up from beneath him.
"Daux!"
I was stunned, caught staring in between the man I had shot in cold blood, and the serendipity of the reappearance of Rae - Hep's boy toy from the evening before.
Rae sprinted toward me, grabbed my hand and pulling me back toward the alleyway.
"C'mon, we have to get the fuck out of here."
The alley was the closest exit point between here and anywhere else. Sirens were already wailing in the distance, and the man on the ground wouldn't stop moaning. He was cursing me, and staring at me intently. If his prayers had been of any consequence, I'm certain that God would have a special place for me in hell. Fortunately, I don't believe that fag-bashing homophobes rank very high on the wish fulfilment list for God's Righteous Vengeance. Of course, the fundamentalists would disagree with me, and knowing my luck, they were probably right.
I watched the man's eyes follow me while Rae pulled me into the alleyway as quickly as he could move. Something shifted in my mind, and I realized that if we didn't get the fuck out of here fast, we were going to have more problems than the righteous indignation of an angry god. I was pretty sure you di
dn't have to deal with the bulk of that shit until after you were already dead.
I ran because I realized I finally wanted to live.
Chapter 13
As absurd as it seemed, we didn't need to run far before finding a bit of clearing. The anxiety and adrenaline of shooting a man in cold blood didn't dissipate, but we were able to find a hose somewhere down the labyrinth of alleyways, which lead away from downtown. The pit stop was about twelve twisted blocks away from the scene of the crime, in a section of alley that spread between two residential slum neighborhoods.
I took the opportunity to pull Rae to the side, and take a closer look at his face.
"Take your shirt off," I commanded, holding an even tone, in spite of the emotional fluctuation occurring just beneath the surface. He obliged, though his hands were exceedingly careful when removing the shirt from over the injury. The nose barely resembled its former stature and form. I felt sympathy and pain, not understanding how another person could callously attack someone just for being different.
"What happened?" I asked, balling the shirt up and then running a nude faucet into the gutter beneath our feet. The shirt was soaked, and the faucet was turned off once more. Carefully, I lifted the shirt up to the wound and began to clean the dried blood from his face.
"Hep's gone."
I stopped in my tracks. Stunned, confused, and obviously worried.
"I know. It's unreal. He started hanging out with me a couple of weeks ago, and we've actually been going pretty steady since then. That night that we all hung out a couple of nights ago, that may have been a casual thing for you, but I think I'm really in love with the guy."
I forced myself to push forward and take care of the matter at hand, in spite of my shock.
"Hold still, this is going to hurt."
Rae nodded.
"I went to the police, and they didn't do anything. Just gave me some bullshit about how he was a drug addict and a sex worker… so he was probably overdosed, or busy giving his ass up to some dealer on the West Side. Can you believe that?"