Monster Stalker

by Elizabeth Watasin

  A pyramid diagram showed “gods” at the peak, demi-gods and Perfects one-third down, and at the very bottom of the pyramid, lined up in a row, were Other-beings, extra-humans, Artificials, humans, Old Earth mammals, Old Earth plants, and First creatures and other bio-life native to Darqueworld.

  How does this planet even work with all the invasiveness? If there had been an indigenous sentient species before Earth’s gods arrived, they were probably an invisible illustration beneath the feet of the bottom row figures, of buried, scattered bones.

  She wouldn’t mind joining an archaeological dig to excavate those. Unlike on Earth, she could finally use her history degree in the field—once she acquired a new, intragalactic history degree. She read a brief summary explaining the celestial holarchy that resided in unseen sky cities above Darqueworld’s own terrestrial settlements.

  A large ship departed from the airfield; the futuristic ocean liner. All diner activity seemed to pause as the great ship rumbled and rose. It did not launch for the stratosphere but sailed away into the skies, a terrestrial touring ship. Nico leaned over to gaze up at the clouds and the light blue sky with its strange, golden sheen. Somewhere up there, Earth’s ancient gods lived. Nico flipped through the pamphlet more. She read about Perfects, Artificials, and—

  Extra-humans, she read, were humans with enhanced abilities. Those included biomechanical beings, weird matter wielders, and psionics.

  Psionics. Nico had to anticipate encountering more telepaths, then. And possibly Carrie-like telekinetics. Weird matter wielders, as far as she could tell, were witches. The accompanying illustration showed a gesturing woman knocking down a distant wall by what Nico could only describe as the magical chi of Hong Kong action cinema.

  “Weird matter,” Nico mused, reading the brief bubble definition. Quantum physics with its multiverses, dark matter, and strange matter were all too complex for her to contemplate. If the universe she was presently in said weird matter was part of the invisible cosmic stuff that made spaceships go zoom or helped witches knock buildings over, she wasn’t going to question it. Plus, weird was cool. She tipped back her mug for the last blood drops and licked the rim.

  Shayla approached, smiling. Despite the diner’s noise and bustle, she moved in her own sphere of calm, one even, direct, and focused right then on Nico. Nico straightened in her seat.

  “Would you like tae order now?” Shayla asked. She held a tall kettle and refilled Nico’s mug. The blood she poured was bright red, frothy and warm.

  “I, um, have never tried solid food,” Nico said, picking up the menu and fingering it.

  “How ’bout the very soft foods? We’ve blood ice cream, freshly churned,” Shayla said. “And a dessert blood gelatine.”

  “I’ll have the blood gelatine.”

  “And for your bear?” Shayla asked.

  “Mr Bear would like the blood pudding. Not the sausage, I mean the chocolate.”

  “Aye, it’s chocolate pudding.” Shayla smiled, and Nico wondered when she’d last seen someone smile so much. It was easy, warm, and pretty. Perhaps she’d been too long among dour, Russian faces.

  Nico clutched her warm cup and watched Shayla go, admiring the shape of her behind. She put the mug to her mouth and sucked.

  Scrummy. Despite being sated, she couldn’t say no to Shayla’s kett—

  Nico put the coffee cup down. Sated? When did she eat last? She tried to remember.

  Her teeth, in someone...but the memory wiped out, a blank spot in her mind.

  I don’t bite people, she thought, frowning. She hadn’t done it in years; it had been too risky, and left trails of activity. Acting the perverse little girl who liked being with women during their ovulation’s soaking bounty had been easier.

  Shayla came by, and Nico perked up again.

  “Here ye go,” she said, and laid a dark red gelatine before Nico, then leaned over the table to place the chocolate blood pudding glass before Bear, his dessert topped with a Bing cherry. Shayla was warm, pulsing, and glowing with the soft scent of peaches, flowers, and milky—

  “Have ye need for another?” Shayla said, straightening, as she raised her kettle.

  “Cream. I mean, yes please.”

  Shayla grinned as if she knew exactly what Nico meant and refilled her coffee cup.

  When she left, Nico touched her cheeks, wondering how much blush her pallor had mustered, and glanced over at the Sufi family, hoping none of them were telepathic. The husband and wife seemed to be arguing about how to use their Ids while their girls were already immersed in theirs, the play mats forgotten. Their little fingers moved, and Nico heard video game sounds. One of the girls activated a holo projection function, displaying a children’s learning centre. She used her finger to pull down brightly coloured holographic icons.

  Nico retrieved her own Id, removed its label, and found the activation button.

  “Hello,” her Id greeted in the smooth, sensual voice of the immigration narrator as a holo logo projected. “I am BRAI, your Basic2 Responsive Artificial Intelligence of the Neuth Neural Consciousness Net, and I will be the information guide of your Id.”

  Ten minutes and one fully ingested wiggly gelatine later, Nico had gone through the introductory tutorial, given the device her biometric tag to read, familiarised herself with the speak aloud, recording, and playback functions, renamed the BRAI Dorothy for Dorothy Gale, learned about downloading, sharing, and accessing information, and taken a picture of herself and Bear.

  God, my hair. She tapped on Dorothy to access the Darqueworld’s version of the World Wide Web.

  “Welcome to the Galactic Network,” Dorothy said, as the holographic function projected a network interface above the surface of her Id.

  This is not Compuserve, Nico thought in awe. She touched the holographic interface and pulled down one thing she needed: guide maps of Again NewYork. When she tweaked the holo interface more, it expanded, revealing even more icons. Then an ad popped up. A walking, Russian peasant girl in silhouette and in head kerchief carried a toy stuffed bear and held a long fork. Her fork pierced a large sausage.

  “Enjoy Novyy Doktorskaya Kolbasa by Fedotov,” Dorothy smoothly said. “Once eaten, yours forever.”

  “Ads,” Nico said dismissively. The marketing cues that had accessed her personal bio-dats had overlooked the fact that besides being Russian-American and British, she was a vampire. After a few taps and pokes, Nico successfully made the ad go away and brought back the main holo interface. Her choices of exploration included vast avenues of information, entertainment, and social interaction, but Nico felt she was at the base level of cyberspace experience.

  “What about the noosphere?” Nico wondered out loud. “If you’re a neural net, can I get jacked in and surf like a cyberpunk?”

  “Collective consciousness, or the noosphere, may be experienced through shamanistic, Delphic, and meditative connection with the Darqueworld biosphere, psychosphere, and the celestial holarchy,” Dorothy answered, to Nico’s surprise. “Noospheric connection is also possible in telepathic societies like the Po’s and within techno-cosmic cyber-circles.”

  “They sound kind of exclusive. From high consciousness to cyberporn. Oh well,” Nico joked.

  “Thirty-eight percent of the Galactic Network is devoted to pornography,” Dorothy answered, and a projection of twenty such pages supplanted the main interface, displaying naked humanoids and off-world species in various sexual activity. “Ready to insert and enjoy?” Dorothy said in a breathy voice. “Complimentary exclusive access. For the next two hours, enjoy free—”

  “Dorothy, some privacy,” Nico said, alarmed. A privacy screen erected around the holo projection, but Nico terminated the explicit ads and tried not to check if the Sufi family had noticed her indiscretion.

  “What are you?” Nico then said to Dorothy. “You’re more than a robot. You really understand what I’m saying. You may even understand the word ‘really’.”

  “BRAI is part of the collec
tive artificial consciousness known as Neuth,” Dorothy said. “We are dismissed from your device and returned to Neuth in the event of inactivity, destruction, or off-world abduction. Would you like to view a thirty minute holo explaining our creation, history, and application?”

  “No thank you, not right now. Can you mark that for ‘view later’, please?”

  Amazing. She turned her Id over to look at the back, wondering what powered it, then gazed at the airfield. What fuelled the ships out there? She doubted they all ran on weird matter conversion.

  Nuclear propulsion? she mused, recalling nuclear subs. After the Chernobyl disaster, she had thought about trapping her maker inside a nuclear reactor’s core.

  Nico paused; why did she even think of that?

  All the questioning during immigration. It’s bringing back stuff.

  The nightmares would probably assail her again. But sleep was hours away, and for the moment, there was pudding. Mr Bear had had the dessert sitting before him long enough to appreciate its essence, so she fetched it.

  While scraping the dessert glass clean, a hulking humanoid slowly walked down the aisle and followed the rolling hostess. He was grey and scaly, with acetone scented breath and dirty teeth. Nico did not recognise the hides of his leather clothing, though she didn’t need anatomy knowledge to know that human metacarpals decorated the lapels of his coat. An elaborately carved leather holster strapped to his thigh bore a long, ivory-handled pistol.

  In his large hand, he held an Id-like device, shaped like a delicate shard hewn from translucent selenite, and pointed it at booth occupants. When he directed his Id at Nico, his gaze became both derisive and dismissive, as if reacting to what his Id told him.

  That jerk just scanned me.

  “Dorothy, tell me what that is,” Nico said to her Id, aiming it at the creature while the hostess seated him next to the lavatories.

  “Intragalactic species, the Cru’K: plutocratic society with a cultural and economic emphasis on carnivorous consumption,” Dorothy said. “Cru’K trade in living flesh. They claim a religious obligation for ingesting prey alive. The Cru’K are barred from entry to ten different planets, the body of Nut, the asteroid Ostara, and four solar empires. Interdict of the Cru’K is in deliberation by the Darqueworld under-holarchy. Discover the Merope Nebula with Star Queen’s Stellar Cruise Lines. Adventure belongs to you—”

  Nico turned down Dorothy’s volume and typed in another research request. A busboy bearing a tub of dishes paused in the aisle at the sight of the Cru’K. The young man stood, angry.

  “I thought Grun would get barred from planet-side and his ship impounded this time,” he whispered to a passing waitress. “Why can’t Shay just shoot him?”

  Huh? Nico thought.

  “You know why; he’s an off-worlder. Now get going.” the waitress shooed him, and the busboy moved on, his face frustrated.

  The Sufi family rose and departed. Nico read more about the Cru’K and their penchant for abducting and eating other species without their permission, when she noticed the family outside, admiring the shining spirit house and other altars. Again, the father’s face held excitement and joy. He turned for the airfield, as if to take in all of Darqueworld, then began to pray. The wife joined him, her brow serious, and the children shut their eyes as well.

  Where there are gods, believers follow. Even the monotheists.

  “They should pray for strength. There are lots of monsters here,” Nico said to Bear. Grun raised his Id in the family’s direction, apparently recording them. A waitress arrived at his table, bearing a fish that slapped its tail on the plate. She set it before Grun.

  “Fresh eating,” Grun announced, picking up the wriggling fish. He made a show of using his teeth to tear at it.

  Nico sensed a warm body near, the energy tense and vibrating. Shayla stood by her booth bearing someone’s pie order, her gaze sharp as she stared in Grun’s direction.

  The air seemed to electrify, as if before a lightning strike.

  Uh oh.

  Nico steeled herself.

  But the vibration dissipated as Shayla turned and topped off Nico’s mug with her kettle, her face composed. Nico relaxed.

  “That off-worlder isn’t nice, is he?” Nico said.

  “On his world, human flesh’s a delicacy,” Shayla murmured. “And Grun comes here and says what he likes. Lucy’s had no luck keepin’ him out.”

  “How does he know humans are delicious?” Nico asked, and bleakness briefly appeared on Shayla’s face. Nico realised: he has a ship.

  He’s a smuggler. “You don’t have to answer that,” Nico said, following a sudden train of thought. “He threatened you all, didn’t he? And now someone’s disappeared. A waitress. Just nod.”

  “How did—”

  “Nod?” Nico said.

  “I cannae—she was new,” Shayla said in a low tone. “And the police telt us she was trouble, and had left us of her own accord. We’ve no proof.” Shayla mustered a smile. “You’ve just arrived. Think no more on it.”

  “It’s okay. I know what it’s like—”

  Nicky, her maker said with affection.

  “I know these things,” Nico said.

  ***

  If humans were a delicacy, it would be very lucrative business for those involved. Nico had had to grease enough palms from Moscow to Cairo to know it didn’t take much to have authorities look the other way where illicit activity was concerned. Grun’s sense of immunity was obvious as he leered at the human staff. Nico looked at the cheery Welcome to Again NewYork logo on her bag, then at the little buses speeding along the airfield, taking passengers to planet-side destinations or out to the stars. But the beauty of it—the wonder—had lost a little of its shine, and Nico didn’t mind that. It made her new place easier to understand.

  Just like home. Corruption, organised crime, trafficki—traff—traffic—

  Her thought hit a wall, a white, oily smear where the word slid off. What did she know about traff—traff—?

  She keyed the word into Dorothy, who completed it for her: Trafficking.

  “Dorothy, search three months of news regarding that word,” Nico said.

  Grun rose, and Nico did too, picking up Bear. She headed towards the bathroom and bumped into Grun. He smelled of decimated raw fish.

  “Don’t touch me,” Nico snapped.

  “Again Walker,” he sneered. “Dead flesh tastes like toilet.”

  “How do you know what a toilet tastes like?” Nico said. She pushed past him and entered the ladies room. She shut the door and pulled out her Id, holding it before Grun’s Id, which she’d picked from his pocket.

  “Dorothy, download all items created in the last two days off this alien’s Id,” Nico said.

  “The common phrase is ‘off-worlder’,” Dorothy answered.

  “No, it’s toilet licker.”

  “Code requested to download.”

  “Um.” Nico activated Grun’s Id. She accessed his stored items without trouble. “Dorothy, photograph or record everything I holo display, starting now.”

  Nico activated as many items as she could, projecting them holographically—from written items to a succession of photos taken of humans and the diner staff. Then she noticed her reflection in the bathroom mirror and jumped.

  “I need to get used to mirrors,” Nico said, keeping an eye on the other Nico.

  “Nine out of ten vampires may fear reflections,” Dorothy said. “Hypnotika® by One Mind: hypnotherapy for catoptrophobic sufferers. Defeat the other you. Because there can only be one you.” Nico gave Dorothy a few more seconds, then ended the recording session.

  When she exited the bathroom, she dropped the Id on to Grun’s vacated seat as new customers approached the table. Nico slid into her booth and noticed she smelled of raw fish. After shaking off her cardigan front, she finished her blood and packed her things. The waitress in charge of Grun’s table walked his Id back to the hostess, and Nico fluffed up Bear. Her inner va
mpire chronometer, the one that understood when dusk or dawn was due, recognised the rotation of her present world too. Night was coming. She was securing Bear in his harness when Shayla came by.

  “That’s me, then,” Nico said, reluctant to leave, but her use of a common Scots phrase lit Shayla’s face.

  “Come again, alright?” Shayla said, and accepted the credit chit Nico handed to her. Shayla pulled out a chrome Id, imprinted with the red logo, Lucy’s Diner, from her apron pocket and scanned the chit with it.

  “Yes.” Nico would make certain of it. “Do you accept tips? Because I want you to tip yourself well.”

  Shayla smiled, delighted. “We do, and I’ll only take the fair amount. We thank ye.”

  “You have made my arrival so much better,” Nico said, sincere.

  “If you haven’t firm plans for yer first night here,” Shayla said, handing the chit back. “Ye can stay at the Y in the city. They’re good people and have hostel facilities.”

  “The Y?” Nico repeated. “The YMCA is here?”

  “Ehm, no,” Shayla said. “It’s the YOBA, Young Other-Beings Association. But they accept everyone. I can give ye directions on yer Id.” Nico pulled her Id out from behind Bear and handed it to her.

  “What’s your full name?” Nico asked while Shayla summoned a map on Dorothy. Shayla paused and looked at Nico, a pleasant yet measured regard.

  “You shouldn’t answer that. I’m a vampire,” Nico said. “But you’re really nice and that’s something I want to remember.”

  “Chick. Ye don’t know who ye say this tae.” Shayla smiled. “It’s Shayla O’Fey.”

  “Mine is Nico Alexikova,” Nico said, buoyed by the gesture of trust. She accepted her Id from Shayla’s hands. “Thank you, Ms O’Fey.”

  Once outside the diner, Nico walked around the extended train car, perusing what she’d recorded from Grun’s Id. Lucy’s Diner was a lone edifice that sat at a distance from the terminal buildings and also from a perimeter fence in back, one with a sizeable hole. Beyond the fence and across a dry water channel lay freight warehouses and packaging plants, all servicing the spaceport’s ships and commercial liners. Any one of them might contain stashed human captives readied for transport.