The Scorpion Game

by Daniel Jeffries

  “Or maybe he just forces them to give the keys up? Tortures them?”

  “When did he have time? At the party? Doubt it.”

  “I don’t know. Stay on it. Set alerts. Blink me if the stories pick up a head of steam or if we get a real confirm. I’m fried. I can’t see anymore. Heading home.”

  When he got back to his apartment, he found Sakura sitting outside his door.

  “Nice of you to turn up,” he said.

  “Hello, Detective. I didn’t know where else to go.”

  She stood up.

  “Well come on. I assume you got something to tell me.”

  The door slid open and he gestured her inside. She walked in and settled down on the red sofa by the window that overlooked the city. She dropped her tiny bag and crossed her legs.

  “Mind if I smoke?” she said.

  He shrugged.

  She pulled out a pack and tugged a long, slender cigarette loose. She lit it, inhaled and blew out a long stream of red smoke, while looking right at him. He noticed her body language, shoulders thrown back and relaxed.

  She took another drag. “They say I’m bad for people.”

  “That right?” said Hoskin,

  “Yeah. I don’t mean to be, I just can’t help myself.”

  She looked like an Asian doll, her eyes shiny and big with a subtle epicanthic fold, her face soft and rounded, her ears pixie-like and just peeking through her strawberry blonde hair, her bioluminescent skin shimmering softly. When she smiled the skin around her eyes crinkled.

  “You look different,” said Hoskin.

  “A woman has to keep her look fresh.”

  “How did you find my apartment?”

  “Not hard. You can find anything on the nets.”

  He put down his bag in the corner where he always did.

  “You lied to me,” he said. His eyes never left her. She looked wounded immediately, her mouth hung open slightly.

  “What do you—”

  “I mean you’re not telling me everything you know. You’re not telling me the whole story.” He took off his jacket and laid it on a chair that was left over from his last marriage.

  “I am. What are you talking about?” she said.

  It struck him that her voice was too hoarse for her delicate features, gravelly from too many cigarettes and too much drinking.

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  She stabbed out her cigarette and stood up.

  He looked at her closely, his backbrain slowing down her expressions, reading her microexpressions for signs of deception. He needed to be careful. Prostitutes were master manipulators, becoming whatever they needed to be, whether they knew it consciously or not. The ones who knew it consciously were the most dangerous: vipers posing as rabbits.

  “I don’t. I need your help.”

  “You’re lying to me,” he said, moving towards her now, invading her space, throwing her off deliberately. He towered over her.

  “I don’t…I’m sorry…I thought you said you could help. I didn’t know where else to go.”

  Her eyes started to fill.

  “You’re lying. You knew the people who came after us.”

  She looked afraid now, her lips turned down, her brow tight. His eyes cored into her.

  “I don’t know. They were from the club, I think.”

  Her head shook subtly when she said it. He caught it.

  “There. You just lied to me.”

  “No I didn’t. I don’t know who they were. I don’t.”

  “See right there. Repetition means you’re lying, trying to convince me. What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I’m telling you everything.”

  He looked closely at her face, watching her. She couldn’t meet his glare, but that was normal. He watched her shifting, getting more and more uncomfortable. She’d make a mistake now, if there was one to make.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say,” she said, her eyes still teary. The best liars could turn on the tears easily though.

  “How did you get holostealth?”

  Her face registered surprise, but recovered quickly.

  “I…I stole it.”

  “From who?”

  “From one of the guys who run the club.”

  “You stole a holostealth cloak from a gangster and he didn’t notice?”

  “It was an… there were… lots of girls. He likes lots of girls at once. I took it. We all took beatings for a week, because he didn’t know which one of us took it, but he never found it. I kept it in the locker of a girl who was in the hospital for a few weeks and they never looked. I thought one day it would help me escape.”

  He was very close to her now, his face tilted, looking at her intensely, reading her. Either she wasn’t lying about that or she was the best liar he’d ever seen. He relented and stepped back.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s all right.”

  She still looked scared. Her body language said she might run or attack him.

  “No really, it’s all right. I’m sorry. Sit. Go ahead. I’ll make you something to eat.”

  She lit up another cigarette, her hand shaking.

  “I don’t think so, Detective.”

  She sprayed red smoke and glared at him.

  “Come on,” he said, “it’s all right.”

  “You’ll have to do a lot better than that. You don’t trust me, so I don’t trust you,” she said, and wheeled around. She snatched up her small bag from the sofa and headed for the door, blazing smoke.

  “Wait,” said Hoskin.

  “Don’t follow me,” she said and walked out, leaving the front door open.

  The Doll Garden

  2400 Orthodox Western Calendar

  5098 Universal Chinese Calendar, Year of the Horse

  Edgelands Ghettos, Snowstorm Clan Roving Starship Settlement

  “But momma says I ain’t supposed—” said a nine-year-old Venadrik.

  “Mamma says, mamma says. God. Do you always do what your stupid mom tells you?” said Gorman Cutwall.

  Gorman had dirty blond, curly hair and a thick nose. His eyebrows grew wild and unruly. He was one of the only kids at Community School 23 with an insert, a cheaper version of the backbrain, something still out of reach of poor kids. Rumor said he’d stolen it.

  Whenever Venadrik saw him, he saw small black sixes. He didn’t understand that though because sixes were bad and Gorman was his friend.

  “That’s not true. I don’t always do what she tells me,” said Venadrik.

  “Good,” said Gorman, putting a big hand on his shoulder. “Then you’re coming with us.”

  “Into the city?”

  “Yeah. Everyone’s got to do it. We all did it. I told ya that didn’t I?”

  “Yeah. I just…I don’t know.”

  “Look if you’re afraid, that’s cool, but, you know, maybe you’re just not one of us.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe you’re just a little scaredy cat.”

  “No I’m not.”

  Venadrik’s throat tightened. He didn’t want to lose his only friend. It didn’t matter what his mom said. He needed friends and Gorman was his friend.

  “Sure ya are, just a little baby.”

  “No I’m not, I’m coming. I can do it. I’m not scared.”

  “I don’t know if I want you to now. I mean, you were acting like such a little baby a few seconds ago. I don’t like babies.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  Venadrik had learned the hard way not to beg. When people didn’t invite you, they didn’t want you. Asking just made you look like a stupid, ugly idiot. That’s what Jandice called him when he’d asked if he could come along to her birthday party the year before. She’d laughed at him in front of everyone and told him losers like him weren’t invited for a reason and that he’d never understand anything. She was tall and had pretty
lavender streaked hair and faux glass make-up like the sim stars. Everyone laughed at him and they just kept laughing and they wouldn’t stop.

  “Stupid chicken legs,” she’d called him.

  That name stuck.

  He wanted to cut her and take her laughter away, but he knew not to say that out loud. Sometimes he thought about cutting her all day.

  He wouldn’t beg now. People would like him, even if they didn’t want to. He was learning how people were, but he was slow at it and he hated himself for it.

  “And why do you always talk like that?” said Gorman.

  “Like what? I don’t talk like nothing.”

  “Yeah ya do. Like a little whiner. You’re such a whiner.”

  “I’m not whining. I just want to come along, is all.”

  “I don’t know if I want a whiner along,” said Gorman.

  Gorman stared at him, his eyes bright green. His upper lip flared in a sneer.

  “We’ll see,” said Gorman. “Maybe if you aren’t such a weak ass bitch the rest of the day, I’ll letcha come along.”

  “Ok.”

  Gorman glared at him, then broke into a big smile. “I’m just kidding. You can come. You never get it when I’m kidding. Everybody’s coming. I want you to come.”

  “Great,” said Venadrik, not sure if he should laugh and then laughing after an awkward pause. “Ok. All right.”

  “Just show up right when lunch starts tomorrow. Everyone’s coming.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  ***

  “Aw, why’d you bring him along?” said Wenchell Atkins, pointing his chin at Venadrik.

  Wenchell had dark eyes, little hands and dark skin. Venadrik stared at him.

  “Shut up,” said Gorman. “He’s coming. Everybody’s gotta come.”

  They were hidden in the “clubhouse,” a small opening in the rotting wall of the school yard, where the invisible fence had shorted and left a gap kids could crawl through. Without that gap they weren’t getting out, because the energy fence gave progressive shocks if kids got too close. Later, Venadrik would learn that rich schools had walls to keep people out and poor schools had walls to keep them in.

  It was hot in the clubhouse. He was crammed in there with Gorman, Wenchell and the twins, Jacoby and Jaridison. The twins had a weird odor that reminded him of the basement where his mom sent him for punishment sometimes. They were both heavy. Venadrik always saw big blue eights when he looked at them. Their clothes never fit right. He didn’t know why they were popular. He didn’t understand popularity at all really. It made no sense but he had to understand it.

  “He don’t got to come though,” said Wenchell.

  “Everyone just shut up. He’s coming. We gotta wait for the gate to come down.”

  The bell rang and kids started heading back inside. It wouldn’t take long now. The rich schools had facial recognition and microcamera saturation so no kids went missing. But CS 23 just had tracker bracelets, little arrays studded with q-net tags. Venadrik and the other four had given theirs to some kids who wanted Gorman to like them, even though holding onto another kid’s bracelet could get them in trouble. They’d walk past the door bracelet scanner and easily fool the system.

  Venadrik hoped it wouldn’t work and they’d get caught. He didn’t want to go. The city was far away and it was dangerous, his mother said. Kids went there and never came back.

  I’m going. Not gonna lose my only friend.

  “Here it comes,” said Gorman.

  The pinkish light surrounding the school yard disappeared, and they knew the energy wall was down.

  “Let’s go,” said Gorman.

  They took off running, all out, their feet pounding the cheap, pulpy school grounds. They made it through the biomechanical gate before it closed.

  Venadrik looked around, the fear pinching his skull. They hadn’t gotten caught. Now he’d have to go.

  There were camera drones that buzzed the edges of the school but everybody knew they were broken. Nobody was coming to stop them. Nobody was coming to save him.

  They headed for the Tangle station, five blocks up. Venadrik didn’t want to look scared, so he pressed his lips together tight and held his head up high. I’ll show them. They’ll like me now.

  The station was a few blocks away, beyond some burnt out, disease ravaged buildings whose flesh had peeled away, leaving only the inner bone frames shooting up into the sky. Huge strips of building meat still hung like laundry from the intricate bone latticework, waving in the low wind. There were dirty people sleeping in corners under filthy blankets.

  “I hate these damn bums,” said Jacoby, “they freak me out.”

  “They’re losers is what my dad always says,” said Gorman.

  Venadrik saw a bum’s black feet sticking out from under a big flank of leftover building flesh.

  “Maybe we should burn one of them?” said Venadrik.

  Everyone stopped.

  “What’re you talking about, freak? I told you he was a little freak,” said Wenchell, pointing his tiny finger at him.

  “Why’d you say something like that?” said Gorman.

  “I just…I thought—”

  “You thought wrong. Don’t say anything like that ever again. People will think you’re a sick freak.”

  “He is a sick freak,” said Wenchell. “Let’s leave him here.”

  Venadrik felt a sudden pain behind his eyes and numbers exploded across his vision. His temple pulsed and throbbed. His throat felt dry and tight. He’d screwed it up already. Stupid. Stupid. My only friend and I went and did something dumb already.

  “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s fine. Just shut up about it. I don’t want to ever hear that again. We’re not burning anyone. Why would you even say something like that?”

  “I don’t know,” said Venadrik.

  “That’s sick,” said Gorman.

  “We don’t have to do it,” said Venadrik, looking at the ground.

  “No we don’t. I’m starting to think these guys were right and you’re not one of us.”

  “I am.”

  “Look at him. He’s punk ass,” said Jacoby.

  “Don’t ever say something like that again.”

  “All right.”

  “Let’s go.”

  The descended into mouth of the Tangle station. Mold and rot had run wild on the stairs, making them slimy. Venadrik slipped and almost crashed down the steps, but he caught himself before anyone saw him. The station was almost deserted. An old woman was standing on the platform, walking in circles. The glowglobes flickered and buzzed. Signs pointed to different parts of the city through different doors.

  “Over there,” said Gorman.

  The kids lined up and walked through the scanner. Venadrik hoped their stolen passes wouldn’t work, but the scanner just sprayed them with blue light and let them pass. They stood on the platform now, with a few other derelicts, one of them shouting at the walls. Venadrik looked up. The gateway looked like a monster’s mouth ready to devour them. The ground moved under them and came to a shuttering stop. The kids stepped through the portal, the light surging around them. Their skin crawled for a few moments and then they were standing in another station, much more crowded, people everywhere, shoulder to shoulder.

  “Come on, up here,” said Gorman, “this is the best.”

  There were people all around him. They pressed in on him. Venadrik didn’t like this many people near him at once. He saw little snakes and jumped. He looked again but there was nothing there, just a hallucination.

  “What’s your problem,” said Winchell, pushing him.

  Venadrik glared at him. Winchell was not his friend. One day, Venadrik would show him what happened to people who didn’t like him. He saw Gorman was getting too far ahead and he ran to keep up.

  Holographic ads leapt out at Venadrik with sweets and sensenet games. They scanned hi
s eyes and knew who he was. “Sugary sweet Belly-O’s, Salaris,” said a giant cartoon rabbit with pink and red hair and a fiber optic necklace. People pushed and shoved. It was hard to get through the crowd, everyone seemed so tall, but he finally caught up.

  They went up the stairs and stepped out into the light.

  Venadrik had always seen the starscrapers across the sea, but he never knew just how big they were. Up close, they looked so huge, rising up forever into the artificial sky, baked by the ship’s microsun’s radiation. They seemed to sway and rock against the endless sky. He felt dizzy just following them.

  “Don’t look up,” said Jaridison, the second twin who rarely said anything. He said it quiet, so just Venadrik could hear. “It’ll make ya look like someone who don’t know what they’re doing, and they’ll just make fun of you again.”

  Venadrik looked at him with hard eyes. He didn’t like people telling him what to do.

  “I don’t need your help,” said Venadrik.

  “No worries,” said Jaridison, holding his hands up.

  Venadrik stopped looking and walked with the other kids. People rushed past them, moving so fast that Venadrik felt like he was standing in the middle of the street, cars rushing past him.

  “Come on, it’s up this way. It’s crazy,” said Gorman to Venadrik. “Everyone loves it.”

  They walked a dozen blocks. The fear crept back in, the nagging sense that something wasn’t right and that he just didn’t understand. The buildings pressed in on him. People were everywhere. He could see their faces and they were all laughing at him. They knew he was a friendless freak that everyone hated and who thought bad things all the time. There was so much noise in the city, a sonic blanket, ads screaming, aircars streaking past, wind, shouting. He just wanted it to be quiet. The kids kept walking, getting closer and closer to the city’s edge. Foot traffic leveled out and then there weren’t as many people.