Sequela

by Cleland Smith

  After a few moments lapping it all up, Kester lost his momentum and paced back and forth a couple of times above the booths. This was when he was supposed to go down into the VIP pit. His nerves rushed back in.

  'Fuck it, Alexis, where are you when I need you.'

  He turned on his heel and ran up the catwalk. She was already coming out to push him back in the other direction when he reached the top.

  'What the fuck are you doing?'

  Kester saw the words form on her lips. She had already taken off her makeup in preparation for the after-party. He grabbed her hand and pulled her at a half-run down the catwalk. Once she stopped resisting, he lifted her arm and presented her to the crowd. As they reached the circular platform he let her go. Then he grabbed her collar and, to rapturous cheers, ripped off the chiffon panel to reveal his handiwork all over the front of her body.

  Alexis turned, laughing now. She shimmied her shoulders to draw attention to her golden-haired spine, then put her head down and pinched out her brown contact lenses to reveal her golden eyes. Kester took her hand again and turned her in a circle, then pulled her in and kissed her on the lips. He looked at her, amazed: she was a beautiful alien, he was Captain Kirk. Their chests were heaving. He had felt this before. The Stark Wellbury wall glowed opposite, a hallucinated memory. He squeezed her hand and glanced down at the pit.

  'Go – go!' Alexis said, pulling her hand away.

  She pushed him towards the steps to the left-hand VIP strip. Kester watched as she walked to the top of the stairs opposite, her grin still hanging in front of his eyes like the ghost of a bright light. At the top of the stairs she turned and mouthed something. Kester gave a small jump of triumph and dashed to the stairs.

  Chapter 17

  Kester stared at Farrell across the board room table. Farrell stared at the table, refusing to meet his eyes. She had been avoiding him since the after-party. Something had happened at the show. He had done something.

  'Let me start by saying that the show was an unprecedented success,' said Chen.

  She looked around at all involved and nodded, as if she had done her duty in praising them. This was as much as they could expect from her.

  'So what now?' she asked.

  'It was wonderful, wasn't it?' Gaunt said, with a dreamy, leery look in his eye, avoiding the question. 'Did you see that young model – what's her name again, Kester?'

  'Hera?'

  'Yes, Hera.' Gaunt smiled as if he had a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. 'What a wonderful performer. In every sense.' He jabbed Alexis in the ribs. 'Oh Lord, woman, close your eyes before you hurt someone else – you've cut me quite open.'

  Alexis ignored him.

  Chen gave him his space as usual, and then repeated her question. 'What now?'

  'With all due respect,' Roger Yule said, 'we've put a strategy in place, so we know what's next: following up the show with the campaign and getting these viruses into all the branches of the Pigs.'

  'Yes.' Chen nodded. 'That was the plan, but we have to be flexible, Roger. You know better than anyone that a strategy is a living thing which needs to respond to the circumstances. And the majority of the Pig chains and large independents have already signed up.'

  'Yes.' Roger squeezed his hands together, then placed them on the table either side of his Book. 'You're right. You're quite right. Head's still a bit fuzzy from the event.'

  'Dear boy,' Gaunt said, 'after three days? You need some of my special medicine.'

  'You want to talk through your addictions?' Ingrid Jones said. 'I have a number for that. Now are we not here on business?'

  Roger leaned over to Kester and whispered in his ear, 'She's never had a night's fun in her life. She wouldn't know what the aftermath –'

  'Roger.' Ingrid smiled. 'Even if I couldn't hear everything you're saying your body language would incriminate you.'

  Chen, who had been scrolling through something on her Book, turned her attention back to the room.

  'What did we learn from Saturday, Roger?' Chen asked.

  'Firstly, that we've created pretty substantial demand for another show. Since the event I've had agents calling on behalf of various celebrities trying to secure VIP seats for the next event.'

  'As many as we expected?' Chen asked.

  'More,' Alexis said.

  Kester looked over at her. There was something about her eyes, something different. He couldn't figure it out. They hadn't seen each other since the show. By the time Kester's VIP had been done with him he was ready to drop. Even so, the dose that Gaunt's man had given him didn't wear off fully until lunchtime the next day. He had left a message in the morning suggesting she come round and take advantage of the situation – even though he didn't feel like it, he had wanted to see her – but she hadn't replied. She had been busy, he imagined, but now it looked like he had offended her. Was that what that look was? It wasn't a good look, whatever it meant.

  'Yes, more than we expected,' Yule said, 'so a second event is a must.'

  'And this time we should get the plebs involved,' Gaunt said. 'That should give the hype a helping hand and give the high street end of things a boost.'

  'Involved how?' Alexis asked.

  'You know how they love to be a part of things. We allow them to become a part of it. Literally. Run a contest to find the new models for the show.'

  'A competition for people who want to prostitute themselves?' Kester asked.

  'Come off it, Kester,' Gaunt said, pulling one of his best charming smiles, 'you're the biggest whore here. They'll love it. The chance to fuck all those celebrities they've only dreamed of getting close to. Most of the public may not wear day to day, or climb the shag-ladder like we do in the City but believe me, they'll spread their legs quicker than 25-year-old virgins for a film star, a Premiership footballer, any of our clients. The red-top sites prove that.'

  'I like it,' Yule said. 'I think it could really work. We're looking for women and men beautiful enough to do justice to the next release of Kester Lowes.'

  'Inside and outside,' Gaunt said.

  'I'm sorry?' Yule looked confused, along with the rest of the room. Kester, too, assumed he had missed some innuendo.

  'The City,' Gaunt said. 'We run the competition inside and outside the City, outside London even, internationally. More entries.'

  'But winners from outside wouldn't be allowed in here,' Jones said.

  'Come, come. Surely that's a little thing to overcome for the possibility of millions more entries – we'd make money for every submission. Besides, Alexis,' Gaunt turned to Alexis and winked at her, 'you have friends in high places at the City Population Monitor, no? We've already made an exception for one model.'

  'Yes,' Alexis said.

  'That's settled then. Get on to it, the three of you,' Chen said, making eye contact with Gaunt, Alexis and Yule. 'And the Vspa?'

  'The Vspa, absolutely,' Yule said, running a finger around the collar of his shirt and casting a glance a Kester. 'Absolutely, yes. It's going to be a great success. We've secured the top level of the PlayPen and we've got our design and construction teams working on creating the facilities now.'

  'Gaunt,' Chen said, 'do you want to lay out our plans for Doctor Lowe?'

  'Well, Roger's the expert,' Gaunt said, waving a hand about his head, then rubbing his eye.

  Chen stared at Gaunt, and then at Yule. There was a short silence. Kester had an odd feeling. It reminded him of the uncomfortable pause which preceded criticism. He shifted in his seat.

  Looking around and observing the scene, Jones raised her eyebrows.

  'Well,' she said, 'I will lay out the new strategy briefly for Doctor Lowe.'

  Chen nodded at Jones and she continued.

  'The Vspa will continue as planned. We will use the existing models who are working for us. We've also signed up some up-and-coming models who need a bit of publicity.'

  'Up and coming,' Gaunt repeated and smirked, seemingly unaware that he had spoken.

&
nbsp; 'The Vspa will open one week before our second event, which will take place in just under six weeks' time. Kester, we will need two more viruses ready for the event. We can reuse the rest, but there needs to be something extra for the attendees. We need to look like we're growing our portfolio.'

  'No problem,' said Kester, his mind starting to tick through where they were with the different viruses. 'Not a problem. We should have three to choose from, maybe four.'

  'Roger, Felicity and I have a meeting booked to go over the pricing, but we think we've got a pretty good model. We've got our economists running it through the modelling systems trying to break it as we speak. The Vspa facilities are under construction here at V and we will transport everything in and set it up in four weeks' time.'

  'Still tomorrow for our meeting?' Felicity asked.

  Jones nodded.

  'Get to the point!' Alexis said, clattering her coffee cup into its saucer.

  'The next step,' Jones said, 'as we've got the facilities from two weeks prior to the second show, is to set up some appointments for pre-launch promotion. We'll spend the first week doing snagging and getting everything set up and the appointments will start one week before the show.' She turned her pale eyes on Kester.

  'Sounds great,' Kester said. He felt he had to say something because she was looking at him.

  'We'd like you to participate,' she said.

  'You mean…' Kester stopped and thought about what he was about to say.

  'She means they want to pimp you out, dear boy,' Gaunt said, winking at him. 'Alexis has come good. She said she'd fix you to the firmament and she has. You're the hottest new toy on the market – everybody wants to play with you.'

  'I…' Kester laughed and then turned to Alexis. 'You said it was a one-off, just at the show – two shows at the most. Is that what you meant when you said I was "going to be busy"?'

  'It was,' Alexis said, taking up his stare, sending a shudder through him. 'You didn't complain about putting out on our little World Tour. What's the problem now?'

  'That was – what are you talking about?' Something was tightening in Kester's chest. 'That was for fun – that was sleeping with who I want to, something that normal people do, if any of you remember what it's like to be normal.'

  'The first show was a one-off freebie,' Chen said. 'From now on, people will be paying handsomely for the pleasure.'

  Kester opened his mouth to answer but found he could only shake his head. Paying for it. She thought that was a good thing? That was supposed to make it OK?

  'That's why you're here today,' Chen said. 'We thought it would be only polite to let you hear the business plan, since you're such a large part of it.'

  Kester was suddenly very aware of his penis, still tender from overuse at the show.

  'So I'm supposed to sleep with anyone who's willing to pay for it?' he asked. His voice caught in his throat.

  'Believe me, Kester,' Jones said, unblinking, 'if it made good business sense to keep you to ourselves, I'm sure we would.'

  Jones held Kester's gaze. Alexis shifted in her chair.

  'You're loving this aren't you?' Kester said.

  'I'm Director of Strategy,' Jones said. 'Of course I love it. I wouldn't have gone for this job if I didn't. New opportunities like this don't just fall out of the sky.'

  'So you're going to pimp me out?' Kester got up out of his chair and walked to the window.

  'Byron's words,' Chen said. 'Not a good choice.'

  'If they wanted to pimp me out, dear boy,' Gaunt said with a louche smile, 'I'd be more than happy to oblige, but for some reason the clients don't want my emanations the way they want yours. I have no idea why. Being paid to copulate is rather my dream career, though these days I might need strong pharmaceutical assistance in the matter.'

  'You want to prostitute me to our clients.' Kester stared out of the window without blinking until the scoop of the city began to wobble before his eyes. It was sunny, but patches of cloud cast parts of the city into shadow, dark seams in a quarry of bright metal. He thought of his mother, proudly hanging signed "Kester Lowe" knickers in the absently clean window of her boutique.

  'Don't think of it like that, Kester,' Yule said. 'We're just providing them with a service.'

  'You employed me as a scientist, not a semen dispenser!' Kester couldn't look at him. 'You already had a building full of those.'

  'That's right, Doctor Lowe,' Chen said. 'We did employ you. For a moment I suspected that you had forgotten. Give us the room please, everyone.'

  Kester clenched his jaw repeatedly as the Board filed out, mumbling to one another. He listened for Alexis' voice but couldn't hear it.

  'OK, Kester.' Chen joined him at the window. 'Let me make it easier for you. Alexis doesn't like the idea any more than you do, but she knows what her job's worth. You two teenagers need to snap out of it. I don't know what happened on that tour, but you need to remember how things work around here. I've told Alexis not to interfere, so if you don't want her to end up explaining herself to me, don't goad her. And don't goad me. Make no mistake about it, Doctor Lowe, I keep your reputation right next to the shredder and I can bring you down faster than she took you on. I can make sure you never work again, here or anywhere. I can destroy you – I can do worse than destroy you: I can make you disappear.'

  Kester felt Chen's hand hovering behind his neck, only just touching the downy fluff at his hairline. Then she placed it firmly onto his skin, gripping his neck as if she might pick him up by the scruff like a kitten. She had always stopped short of touching him before.

  'You can make us a fortune. You can make yourself a fortune. Alexis has made you into a star almost overnight and you have the top celebrities in the UK, in Europe, in the world lining up to take you to bed.' Chen's accent was getting more and more Glaswegian the more forcefully she talked. It clicked into place with the husk in her voice. 'Rock stars, sports stars, politicians, royalty – everybody you ever wanted. They aren't paying to use you; they are paying you to use them. They aren't paying for you the way they would pay for a prostitute; they're paying for your personal services the way they might pay for La Fey's personal services in fitting the dress he has made for them. In this world, everyone's serving someone. It's all a matter of what you get for it.'

  'It's sex slavery.'

  'It's only slavery if you don't get paid for it.'

  'And what do I get for it?' Kester's own voice sounded distant to him.

  Chen slid her hand down to his shoulder and turned him towards her. She leaned in until her lips were almost touching his ear. He could feel her warm breath on his skin.

  'You get to play fuck bingo with the global A-list.'

  -o-

  It was Thursday, which was reason enough in itself for Kester's malaise. Alexis had continued to avoid him after their meeting on Monday. He knew for a fact that Chen had set her the task of lining up his appointments. They were running a private auction for the first spot. The auction would take place in four weeks' time on the Thursday and the appointment the next day, one week before the second show. Kester suspected that she was involved with setting this up too. He sat slouched at his desk, his Book in front of him, doodling, watching his swirls appear on the wall beside him.

  The new viruses he had promised Yule were tested and ready to go, everything was under control, but despite the building full of people, there was no-one to share his success with. Kester's mind wandered back to his own private test torsos, sitting in the back isolation suite, being bombarded with viruses. Something would be going wrong right now. He daren't look at the data. And anyway, who would put their health in the hands of a prostitute, even a high-class one.

  'I have Roger Yule here for you, sir.'

  Gerald's voice gave Kester a start. He flicked off his design board and turned to the door. Yule had only visited him in his office once before. He preferred that people come to him.

  'OK. Send him in please, Gerald.'

  'Kester.' Yule st
arted talking before the door had even slid fully open. 'I need to…'

  'Welcome…Roger Yule.'

  Yule flapped a hand at the door and huffed.

  'Roger, take a seat.' Kester drew out the chair on the door side of his desk for Yule to sit. 'What's wrong?'

  'Welcome…Roger Yule.' Yule's slow movement confused the door sensors.

  They both stopped talking while Yule made his way across the room. Kester made a show of tidying some files that were on his display to take up some time, then sat down.

  'Kester, I've got a problem with my screen. I wanted one of your guys to take a look at it.'

  'A problem how?'

  Yule sneezed and cursed. He hunched as though a bird had dive-bombed him. Holding one hand up to cover his nose, he rummaged in his pocket and took out a handkerchief.

  'Guh! I can't see them coming!' he said, cleaning up his face.

  'I see your problem. They haven't put out an upload yet?'

  Kester glanced at his inbox. It wasn't normal for something as simple as a flu virus or cold infection to present – normally new mutations would be identified and uploads issued before the person even had a tickly throat. They would feel woozy at worst and then it would be over. This must be something different.

  'No, no!' Yule was still panting a little from his journey across the room. 'It's my screen. It's stopped working. I've got the flu, for god's sake. Bog standard bastarding flu.'

  'Your screen? Have the technicians at Stark Wellbury been in touch?'

  'I had to contact them. They had no idea. Christ. Never felt so bloody in my whole life. Must have caught it from that damned Franklin or whatever her name was, came in on a day pass to do some marketing consultancy for us.'

  'That's…irregular.'

  'She comes in all the time.'

  'I mean the screen.'

  Kester stood up and walked to the window.

  'What is it?' Yule asked.

  Kester thought for a moment. This was bad. If the screen had stopped working Stark Wellbury would know all about it, which they didn't. If it hadn't stopped working then it was being blocked somehow and there was only one way Kester was aware of that this could be done. He watched the workers below, moving with insectile purpose across the face of the square, never crashing into one another, diverting from their courses only for physical objects, factoring the central fountain into their routes as if it wasn't there, working around its familiarity.