by Aies Jay
I don’t know what to say. I’ve never been poor a day in my life. All my sacrifices have been out of choice.
-You still shouldn’t scratch it.
-I know.
I get up slowly, vaguely recognizing that we’ve slept in the bed together again. It seems she changed the sheets, though. I rub my face and trot slowly to my Gate, sending a mail to Teeth, telling him simply
“the proof is in the pudding and yours is up next”
He’ll get it, I’m sure. I sit in front of the Gate, staring at it until he replies. I’m slowly getting properly hung over and I don’t want to hook up with a headache. I puked so hard last time I did. A minute or two later I receive a reply from him so he must have been in front of a Gate when he got the mail.
“then we know, my guy is still in deep waters have to wait some, shall we meet up?”
Deep waters. Then he is in the mobster area, just like I thought. I wait and think for a minute before tapping away an
“sure, swing by”
Almost immediately I get back a short
“be there in one hour, at the dojo”
Ugh, meathead body mod. I wonder how it looks like when they set up Gates at a dojo? Like I’ll ever find out.
Two hours later we’ve eaten absurd amounts of Japanese in all shapes and forms that Teeth brought with him and exchanged information. Teeth has listened with a cold, cool facial expression to the whole thing and has said in general very little, only mentioned he’s put an eye on where his old colleague will exit and getting to him when he gets out won’t be a problem anymore. As he puts away the last morsel of food in his mouth he concludes
-I say we start looking for the fuckers right now. Like I said, they probably have an agent here, or somewhere close, observing the process. The same person who planted it, most likely.
-We have to find out who the fuckers are first. That may be tricky enough.
-How long until the doc has Honour’s remains processed?
I check the time.
-Fourteen hours, tops.
We shut up for a while, the last of the rice tea being drunk. Teeth finally breaks the silence.
-Well, like I said, my guy is in deep waters but I’ve gotten indications he won’t be long at least, so it should be no problem to get him in time. He’s as his name implies, a Brute. A perfect meathead, does what he’s paid to and never asking too many questions.
I shut my face about throwing stones in glass houses. Teeth has proven himself to be way more than a meathead, even if I’ll never stop calling him that.
-There’s nothing the two of you can do now, anyway. Lay low.
-How are you going to fish out the whereabouts of the fuckers?
I sigh. Why do we call them fuckers? Because we have no other name for them. No name of any medical company or firm, no doctor’s name, no title or anything that in any way indicates their identity. Only initials, if it indeed is initials. GF could mean anything as far as we know.
-Somehow. I’ll contact you and tell you when the doc is done or if something changes. Go train or something.
It came out more harsh than I intended. Another thought later I add
-The couch is still yours, if you want to.
He looks at me for a while before he nods.
-Right. I’m just tying up a few loose ends first. Stick Honour’s pod back where you found it when the doc’s done with it, would you?
-Sure.
He gets up and offers me a hand slap and for some bloody reason I accept it. It feels just as good as it feels bad.
When the door has slid shut behind him Nicla and I are alone again. I don’t know what to say. She looks at me and says
-Do you want to go to the Water Palace?
I laugh dryly, like a short bark.
-What the hell for?
-We have about twelve hours left to kill and I haven’t gone in forever.
All my defences suddenly smack me in the face. This has gotten too intimate too fast. No questions asked, no strings attached? Her love is really that unconditional? Or is she reeling me in now, just like Teeth just did, making me hand slap him? The other day was as good as a date, if you’d ask anyone. I grit my jaws shut, trying to sort it out and calm the fuck down and that’s the exact moment she puts her hand on my shoulder and it all falls apart. I flinch from her touch.
-Don’t touch me. I don’t want to be touched.
She laughs softly and tries to smooth over my reaction.
-A bit late for that, don’t you think?
I know she meant it like a joke but my fear takes the opportunity like an angry kid snatches offered candy.
-This is exactly what I try to avoid. This is why fucking with strangers is a bad idea, this right here. You say you love me but it’s okay if I don’t love you back and now this? Look, I know I instigated the sex fist and I’m damn sorry I did.
She tries to interrupt me but I grab a cred chit from my shelf and thrust it at her.
-This is 20 000 creds. It should be more than enough for your services, including the fucking. I want us to be perfectly clear on where we have each other. I’m a hacker. You’re the ex-nurse I hired to get into the clinic and the prostitute I hired to drown my sorrows in.
For a moment she just stares at me and I’m expecting a fight or a slap. What she does is neither. She coolly and calmly takes the cred chit from my hand and walks to the door saying
-I’ll be back when you’ve simmered down.
When the door shuts behind her and I’m all alone once more the feeling of being an idiot quadruples and I drown it in three pain killers, a Jackhammer drunken down in one go and jacking myself up and going deep into the System. I don my Avatar and shove myself into the sea of information, diving and swimming, following currents and hot springs to find the dropper of the mail, tracking programs, going back to my Domain to make and send out new info bots, no less than four of them, on how to track mail, on how to track a dropper, on scraps of mail containing the initials and the last on diphtheria. An unknown amount of time later the headache peaks, pills or no pills, and I take a break to just get up, stretch my cracking neck, down a Jackhammer and then I go back immediately. I hate the hardware world. IRL? In Rotten Life, if you ask me.
The info bot on diphtheria is already back. I open it and read the info, holding back a growing sense of nausea as I go. It’s the details of it, the med facts that the doc told me plus some history and a couple of stories on the outbreak on the colony Hermes 200 years ago. I open up that file and read it more carefully. Back then 8000 babies, 3000 young children and in addition 500 adults died from the disease before they got it under control. The medical costs were absurd. The vaccine that was manufactured from the formula described in ancient files paired with new technology cost almost two mil to produce and was sold for 300 creds a pop to the surviving population, which amounted to 1800 mil income to the company who made it. That’s a cute profit, to be gentle. The vaccine was sold continuously after that for three more generations and to some odd space travellers going to and from the colony as well to prevent the spread of any surviving bacteria. I don’t even find the profits from that time spectrum but it must have been six mil people on the colony if my math adds up. Six mil, times three generations, that’s 5400 mil right there, plus maybe 5000 space sailors adding 150 0000 creds in petty cash. This amounts a tad bit over a whopping 7199 mil. Profit. From just the vaccine. The medicine was a known penicillin, so no biggie there to the med company, apart from the sweet extra sales on them that hit them up for over an additional some 5000 mil. I just stare at the numbers.
-Shit on a fucking stick.
I continue on after a pause, with my caviar pellet that returned as I read the first one, now reading up on how to track a dropper. The one containing how to track mail had nothing new and I can’t use any of it under the circumstances. I hum a little on a tune I can’t place, muttering as I go, not liking it. Finally I take my new info that’s actually going to work
, and return to Axorpa.
-Man, he’s going to be pissed.
I mutter, shaking my head as I go. I hit the commands to backtrack who’s been dropping mails around that date and get an absurd amount of names. I cringe and bite the bullet. I copy the names to a mailing list and ask if anyone of them remember dropping that email on Axorpa. I also send a copy of the letter to one of the admins with a short explanation that the goal is to track the writer of the letter, not the hacker. They’ll know who I am and so understand that I’m not a copper.
-That was the noobiest thing I’ve done in a while.
I mutter, going on. The info bot with the initial hunt isn’t back yet but I recall it to check on its progress. There’s already over a mil initialled names on it, and a ton of useless crap mail. I curse out loud
-FUCK ME IN THE JACKHOLE!
An urgent mail from Axorpa admin suddenly blinks and the screen view freezes, getting my full attention. I curse again and open the mail.
“your actions are more than clandestine, it’s taboo. You’re not permitted to track a hacker for anything dropped unless it’s his own work and you intend to buy more and even that is through admin only. Your actions have now banned you from Axorpa and your mail has been red flagged to its receptors. The ban will last, due to your Axorpa status, for a period of 48 hours./stfu/admin/SkullR0t”
-No, no, no, no, no ,no, NO!
I scream at my Gate but I’ve already been kicked out. I try to log in again, three times but I only get the damn green poisonous skull laughing at me, telling me that admin SkullR0t had banned me and the little spinning hourglass below it, counting down my ban. I unhook in a fury, drink down two glasses of water to quiet my stomach, shit a brick and go to sleep on my couch. If Teeth shows up, he’ll just have to shove me off it or sleep in the damn bed. Fuck if I care.
bad news and the dead
I wake up feeling like crap. More than usual, I might add. As yesterday returns to me the feeling of “fuck me” just intensifies. I hurt Nicla on purpose and I got banned from Axorpa. I’ve also slept in an awkward position and my neck is killing me. My morning breath smells like burning acid and as I trot up to the fridge to steal one of Teeth’s power yoghurts I notice in the back of my head I got mail from Seizer. That woke me the fuck up. There’s only one word to it.
“done”
I curse with some enthusiasm and run out the door, grabbing the last Jackhammer. This is not a yoghurt morning anyway.
I’m not the physical type and I never have been. My joints and muscles wonders what the hell I’m up to and right down stops me dead a few times as I try to run all the way to the clinic. The stairs were a real nightmare and I ask myself how anyone can exercise on purpose, without a gun to the back of their heads. As I reach the door, I pant a little while, my heart beating like mad in my chest and greasy sweat pushing out of my pores. I run my fingers through my hair and calm down a second and then open the door. The doc is just entering the front room and flinches a bit at my sudden entrance.
-I have to get that door fixed. You got my mail, I see.
I nod, still out of breath, handing him a cred chit with a ridiculous amount of money on it, same figure as last time.
-Just tell me, skip the niceties and the revolving lights.
His mouth tightens a bit but he humours me as he pockets the chit after checking it.
-Very well, then. It’s the same. The child in the second pod died from diphtheria, too. Same strand of it.
I nod. The shock of the first impact has been so deeply absorbed in me I hardly even react. It’s more like adding one final ice cube in an already chilled glass, making a drop of the drink spill over just a little. Seizer looks at me.
-What the hell is going on?
I look back at him.
-Do you really want to know?
He casts his eyes down.
-Yes. And no. I can sort of figure it out, from what I’ve seen and what you said last you were here. Somebody planted extinct bacteria, or is planning to. Why could only be for a few reasons. No matter the reason, the ethical aspect is… I don’t even have words for it. This would be murder on a scale big enough to call it a holocaust. Not to mention it’s neigh impossible to control. Millions will die.
I swallow.
-I know. I read about the Hermes colony.
We just stand for a moment, taking it in. For me, it’s just a conformation of what I already know. For him, it’s a first. As I’ve almost caught my breath I swallow again and ask
-Can we have all the notes you made of it, all the analysis results and shit?
-Of course. You paid for them, after all. I’ll have the nurse get the samples, unless you want them destroyed.
The thought of having the last of Lychee and possibly evidence “destroyed” almost gives me an anxiety attack and I know Teeth’s sentiment already.
-I’ll need all of the samples back, thank you.
He walks into the back room and returns less than a minute later, with a wad of papers and an info chit in his hands. He must have had them on his desk back there or something. I accept them and look at them in their neat folders. Even if I’m no trained medical professional I can tell they’re meticulously made. There are clear charts of every test and analysis made, method and absolute numbers and no acronyms, everything is spelled out to be clear. He’s earned his money, that’s for damn sure. His logo are on the printouts, incriminating him.
-I can remove your name from them before…
-Before what?
I shake my head.
-I’m not even sure yet.
He shrugs.
-You mean before or if you publish it? Whatever, it makes no difference to me. My name is so soiled already I’m not sure it will carry any weight at all anymore. They might as well call it fabricated if you publish it. But you probably have more to gain to take my name off the charts.
The door behind him opens and the H model nurse comes out carrying the pods, smiling plastically at me as she hands them over to me, not even on his command. Maybe he told her earlier. The cryo pod with Honour’s remains seems so small. The one with Lychee’s looks even smaller. They both weigh a ton each. His voice turns strict and coolly professional.
-This is where it gets hard, whatever you choose to do. If you’re right in your assumptions, these are not nice people. They are psychopaths, or sociopaths at the very least. Mass murderers. You realize that, right?
he asks me. I just cringe.
-I do.
He’s still looking at me as I leave the clinic, shaking his head.
looking
I deposited Honour and Lychee’s cryo pods at the same place as before, at Doctor Sleep’s cryo hotel, paid a month in advance and dropped a mail to Teeth as I got back home since he was nowhere to be found, at the dojo or gym or wherever he goes when he’s not misusing my couch. Which he hasn’t even done so far, I might add. Considering how I treat my guests as of late, that might be just as well. A while later he responded, thanked me and repeated he’s on standby for whenever I need him and he knew the results all along in his gut. I refrained from asking what his gut told him what to do now because I have no fucking idea. I just spent almost an hour just staring into thin air since I’m still banned from Axorpa as my door suddenly open and Nicla steps in. She looks somewhere between terrible and awesome. She’s had her operation it seems, the tourniquets on her face looks professionally made and she’s not wearing any make up. The led in my stomach at seeing her and the awkward “hi” from her hits me full on and I realize I’m ashamed. As she takes her coat off I get up.
-Look, I’m sorry. I had no right saying that to you. I’m a mess. It’s no excuse, just an explanation. I never finished grieving and at this point I’m not sure I ever will. This whole thing is just so fucked up. And I …
She walks up to me, meeting me halfway, gently shaking her head.
-I told you. I’m not making any demands. It feels good to be a part of something this im
portant to me. Like my life just might have a purpose, just this one time. I’ve been through a couple of crashes, too. I’m not about to bawl about that now, but don’t worry about hurting me. I get it. And if you don’t want me to stay on anymore, I’ll be out of your hair right now. I’ve done my part, you’ve paid me duly. But if you’ll let me, I’d rather stay. Creds involved or not.
We stand a foot apart and I look into her grey eyes, again asking myself who the hell she is. I also take the opportunity to ask myself why I can’t fall in love with her the way she did me. It would make things not only easier but maybe even endurable. I’m not hoping for happiness anymore but she offered forgetfulness even before professing her love for me and just maybe I could make myself accept that, should I succeed to fall in love with her, even if only a little. But I just can’t. There is one thing I can do, though, and I’m doing that right now, shaky, gritty voice and all.
-Stay.
She nods.
-Okay.
Two somewhat awkward seconds later she puts her hand on my cheek.
-When did you last eat?
The Yin Yang is one of the lesser Japanese restaurants on S2 but I like it still. It was probably awesome when it was new, with the screens on the walls displaying aquariums of brightly coloured fish and the glass tables pristine. Now it looks worn and sad but man, their food is still awesome. It’s off the main roads of the large Atrium and a few odd floors up on a level that just has rather quaint shops, like a few Buy and Trades specializing on H models, a sex shop and another that’s more or less an absurd combination of a really cheap coffin hotel and an old brothel. In short, tourists don’t come here and if they do, it’s not for The Yin Yang. Locals do sometimes but almost no one stays here to eat. Nicla and I are the only patrons sitting down and there’s no music on to mask the empty echo between the walls, just the vague sound of a TV in the kitchen. I’ve spited the sushi ambience and gone for one of the freshly made giant omelettes, spiced with ginger and veggies my stomach doesn’t even recognize. Nicla has ordered an assortment of nigiri and is eating slowly and quietly, waiting for me to start up the conversation. When the entire wonderful omelette is snug in my stomach and I’ve chased it down with rice tea, I finally take up courage to vent and talk to her again.