Loser

by Valerie J. Long

  “Hello, Jo. Your car issue will be fine. Pit pays your price. Can he come along on Monday?”

  “Sure. He should only clearly state that it’s just about the car. Otherwise, I’ll be in trouble with immigrations.”

  “Ha—you don’t have to worry about that. His father is a bigshot.”

  “Well, then.” I didn’t ask, which kind of bigshot. Discretion was a question of honor, even if I was no longer active in my business. “Thank you, Reginald.”

  “Sure. You know you can always call me. From anywhere, Jo.”

  “I know, Reggie, and if you ever come to Germany, call me.”

  “I’ll do that. If nothing else happens, we’ll meet on Tuesday, before your flight?”

  “Gladly.”

  But something else happened.

  Chapter Ninety-Seven

  “We Dragons, all Dragons, put down Earth’s defense. We’re no longer available to you, any of us. I am the last Dragon on this planet, and I will leave you today, too.”

  I knew the woman who voiced this. Zoe Lionheart, the Dragon empress, the woman we owed Dragon technology to, the sponsor for my studies, turned her back on Earth. Her words of goodbye flickered all around the globe and all around the clock across the TV screens, followed by countless aggrandizing speakers’ faces, who added their own interpretation to the speech, why it had come to this step—homesickness, dislike of humanity, thirst for revenge, escape from race hatred, simply the opportunity? But who truly knew this woman? This Dragon?

  The next row of commentators interpreted the presumed results of this exodus. The Dragons had been busy as untouchable mediators, as rescuers in case of natural disasters, as teachers, as ambling history books—the Imperatrix with her Dragons and the United Nations Armored Infantry had been the backbone of defense against the invaders and as such an important power factor. This all broke away now.

  Was that good, or was that bad? The commentators didn’t agree. Finally, mankind could develop without external influence, some said. This caused a dangerous power vacuum, the others said. One speaker, who appeared rather competent and well-informed to me, raised his concern that, most important, those groups which had joined ranks against the Dragons now could take advantage of the situation, as they didn’t have to fear serious resistance.

  For me, this was no big issue—the clock was ticking, the time until expulsion worked against me. Five days left!

  But one aspect had changed.

  I did no longer have to worry whether the signature mentioned on the lab chit would strike any Dragon. So I got in my car while I still owned it and drove to Woomera.

  Of course, one day and one night at the wheel, only interrupted by comfort and coffee stops, was a torture for everybody—except me. I needed my sleep like any other human, but I was used to skipping the occasional night. Study or not, I had never sent a client away once we had started, regardless whether it took all night. The next morning, I had attended my lectures, and the next evening, I had told Rosie off.

  Dandy hadn’t made it as easy for me. Of course, he had gotten his sleep. I had been left fettered to the table, bleeding from countless tiny wounds, sleepless from the whip’s infernal pain—what was a comfy car seat in comparison? To stay awake, I knew a few tricks.

  Chapter Ninety-Eight

  Three days later, I was back. In the evening Pit got his car, and right after that I went to sleep. I wanted to be fit for my last night with Reginald.

  During the day, I did the paperwork—cancel my account, my insurances, my mobile phone, deregistration, all the madness a migration carried along. Thereafter, I had to consider what I could and would take along. My bicycle, clothing, shoes—the large backpack that I had bought for this purpose filled surprisingly fast.

  Finally, only the little black dress and the comfy cotton dress for the flight remained on my bed. Or should I show protest and wear the cotton dress tonight, too? No, I couldn’t do that to my host.

  Reginald arrived on time and insisted on leaving right away.

  “What are you up to?” I asked.

  “I thought we’d celebrate our goodbye where we met, with a dinner on the tram.”

  “Cute idea!”

  “And afterward we’ll live it up and go gambling.”

  While the tram leisurely rumbled southeastward across the tracks to St. Kilda, Reginald studied my face. The Asian tourist couple in the window seats at our table was busy gawking and taking photographs, so we could talk uninterrupted.

  “Do you regret having to leave Australia?” he began with the probably least pleasant topic.

  “Yes and No. Yes, because I’ve spent the happiest time of my life so far here, because it’s an interesting country with majorly very kind and, above all, open-minded people. No, because I’ve found hell on Earth in this country, even if it was the deed of a single person. Because I hope to find more distance from this event in the geographical separation. Because I hope one day I’ll have found enough distance to return here.”

  “You don’t hold the letter against the Australians?”

  “No—yes. A little. After what Dandy had done to me, what he was able to do under their nose, this country still owes me. In my eyes, a life-long toleration instead of a one-year recovery visa would have been appropriate.”

  “I could have done something.”

  “Yes, but that’s not what I mean. I don’t want a forced toleration from some hidden pressure. If it doesn’t happen out of a sense of decency, it’s worthless.”

  He wrinkled his forehead. “I understand. I only feel so useless. I’d like to help you, but I don’t know how. You’ve done so much for us.”

  “I?”

  “You. Our class wouldn’t have passed the study without you, I think. We’d have quarreled with each other hopelessly, and then they’d have sent us home. You’ve glued us together.”

  I remembered Tim’s conclusion, I’d be the Joker. He had been right with his assessment. “Someone else could have done that, too.”

  “Maybe. But none of us did. You did it. First, you were the common target of our—my—hostility. That way, you brought us together. Then, you showed us our infamousness. The way you accepted your fate, you set an example for decency and honor. Finally, you showed us how to apologize and how to forgive. We always remembered that when we quarreled later.”

  “I believe I should blush now.”

  “No. I know you don’t hold yourself in high esteem. That was another lesson we’ve learned. Humility and modesty. But you might grant yourself a little more pride now and then.”

  “But I do that.”

  “Yes. You’re proud of your achievements in your profession and in your sport. Rightfully so, as you’re surely among the world leaders in both cases. But you’re not proud of yourself, and you should be. You should be proud of simply being yourself.”

  For a while, I found nothing to say.

  “You’re always saying so nice things to me.”

  “You’re a nice girl.”

  “I’m not. I’m a—”

  “Shhh,” he stopped me. “Not in this voice. If you have to, say it proudly.”

  “Okay.” So then, with attitude. “I’m a whore. I’m the best on this side of the Pacific Ocean.” Moreover I’m a thief, and a damn good one. Should I be proud of that, too? Well then.

  An idea came up. “You could do something for me.”

  “Yes?” Reginald beamed. “What is it?”

  “I think I should now accept the intellectual creatorship for grav-fields with multiple guiding impulses, after neither of our professors was willing to be credited for it. It won’t buy me a thing, as Dragon technology is principally licensed free of charge, but it would be just the appropriate goodbye message.”

  “Why?”

  “Well—imagine the first reporters asking, where’s this Ms. Meier, whom we owe this invention to. Then someone has to admit, oh, we just expelled her the day before yesterday.”

  Reginald’s s
mile grew wider and wider. Soon it would no longer fit the narrow tram car, I feared.

  “See,” I said. “I’m not a nice girl. Ah—there comes dinner.”

  Chapter Ninety-Nine

  “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” Reginald asked not long after we had entered the casino.

  “Yes. I can’t deny it.” Not after several employees had welcomed me with a friendly nod.

  “For business?”

  “You could say so.” I knew, from him it wasn’t meant to be insinuating. With him, I could openly talk about my profession.

  “More on your own behalf, or did you accompany clients?”

  “On my own behalf, and sometimes for acquisition, if the occasion arose.”

  “The croupiers know you. Were you successful?”

  “Not very. I can’t beat the laws of probability. In gambling, only the bank wins.”

  “Must be so. So you’ve turned to the gamblers?”

  “No, to the cards. Poker.”

  “Poker? You?” He grinned. “Yes. That matches. And—did you take the shop apart?”

  “No. I’ve kept myself under control.” I grinned, too. “You don’t show a truly good hand.”

  Thereupon, he remained silent. Only the amused twitch of his mouth showed how he struggled to keep his control. “You know, Jo,” he finally stated. “You’re a sly dog. Initially, I thought that Europe didn’t deserve you, but by and by I have to pity them. Who’s that?”

  He referred to the man who was approaching us. “The boss,” I quickly replied, then the general manager had reached us. “Good evening, Colin.”

  “Good evening, Johanna.” He didn’t reach out his hand, but took me right into his arm, the way I had taught him. “How nice that you give us a visit again. Did you already find a table?”

  Reginald smirked, but quickly put up a stern face, when the casino manager turned to him. “I’m Colin. You’re a friend of Johanna? Good evening, and welcome.”

  “Reginald. Good evening. I’m Johanna’s friend and co-graduate.”

  “Co-graduate.” Colin gave me a side glance. “You didn’t tell me that you’re studying. Economics perhaps?”

  “We’ve both made the Master of Dragon Technology together,” Reginald corrected dryly, and clearly reveled in Colin’s amazement. The manager looked several times back and forth between us, and then he chose me. Yes, he knew my profession. I had openly told him that I was working as prostitute and escort. I had also reassured him to be discreet during my visits and not cause embarrassing situations for him and his guests. Here, I came for gambling.

  Now he was facing two of perhaps two-hundred people worldwide who knew about Dragon technology, and the wheels in his head clicked. CEOs he welcomed each week by the score.

  “Madame, I feel honored. Be my guests tonight. Will!”

  One of the waiters quickly came to us.

  “Will, you’ll exclusively tend to the needs of this lady and this gentleman, on the house.” Colin made a sign that he considered inconspicuous, but which naturally didn’t escape me. Will, in any case, briefly looked surprised before regaining his composure.

  “If you’d excuse me now,” Colin asked. “I assume you’d like to spend your time here together. Enjoy your stay!”

  “Thanks,” we both replied.

  Will harrumphed. “Espresso and champagne for the lady? And for the gentleman?”

  I only nodded.

  “The same please,” Reginald confirmed, and Will hurried off. “They know you well here—but not well enough.”

  He waited another moment, until Will was out of earshot.

  “You know, Jo, I’ve worried if you can make ends meet. But you’ve made precautions, haven’t you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Sure. Jo leaves nothing to chance.”

  “If that were true, I wouldn’t board the plane tomorrow.”

  Chapter One-Hundred

  Pensively, I let the small injection ampoule wander around my fingers. I had no idea what nano essence should be, but it was obviously meant to be inserted into a human body.

  Once again I recapped the few specifications that I had.

  Nano fever risk—reduced below 1:10^8.

  Analogy—extended guidance—to test.

  Functional restrictions—activated—to test.

  Signature—automatic activation upon injection—yet to test.

  Whatever nano fever should be, with a risk of one by a hundred millions I could live. But what the heck was an Analogy? And what, in turn, was a Signature?

  If there was one thing that I wasn’t, I was no coward. Just the opposite, I was a gambler.

  It wasn’t as if I had many options. Either I left the stuff behind, or I had to apply it.

  It was Dragon technology, damned Dragon poo! If that stuff was meant to be injected into a human, it couldn’t be a bad thing.

  Okay, Jo.

  I pulled the tourniquet around my left upper arm tight, disinfected the crook of my elbow with a swab, felt my vein and stabbed the ampoule inside. There was a pinch, and then it felt like taking a blood sample. Probably, I had hit right.

  Slowly, don’t jerk, I told myself, and pressed until the ampoule was empty. Then I listened inside myself. Nothing.

  It didn’t hurt, burn, prickle or itch—not like the poison shot that Dandy’s killer had meant for me. So it’s okay, I told myself, and took the second ampoule. This will either be an overdose, or I’ll feel really great, I tried to encourage myself. This way or that, today is the last day of your old life, and either it’s the first day of a new life or it isn’t.

  When I later remembered what I had done, I sometimes felt a shiver. But since my tour through the laboratory, I had been curious about what had been researched in this single room. Since I had stolen the stuff, I had been curious what it would be good for. For me, there was no other way to satisfy my curiosity. To inject it to an innocent third was no option. I hadn’t managed to leave it behind. I had to have it. Keep it. It could only work this way.

  And now? The second portion was inside. I loosened the tourniquet, pulled the syringe out and pressed the pinching point. Five minutes waiting, so that there wouldn’t be a hematoma, then I could remove the tourniquet and apply a patch.

  Done.

  Whatever happened to me now, it couldn’t be helped. The experts who knew about the substance were millions of kilometers away from Earth on a journey from which they wouldn’t return during my lifetime, I just realized. No, on this entire fucking planet there was truly nobody who could help me!

  Now I really felt fear of my own courage, but too late.

  I fought down the upcoming panic. This will be pulled through, Johanna, I told myself. Like on a job, calmly, without hectic or nervousness, all cool, until you’re out with the loot. You’ve already survived five minutes without anything happening to you. Grab your stuff and take the taxi to the airport.

  “Security check. Please place your luggage on the belt. Please remove jackets, coats, belts and shoes. Please put all jewelry, watches, glasses into the provided containers. Please only pass the portal on request.”

  The security officer gave me a long, scrutinizing glance after I had passed the portal. Could the injected substance be detected?

  “Shall I remove the dress, too?” I asked concernedly. Before he could agree, I added, “I don’t wear undies. It doesn’t matter to me, but if you don’t want nudes here, think about it.”

  “Oh. No, it’s okay. Please move on.”

  Was that now the result of a professional judgment, or had I successfully distracted him with my disclosure?

  Chapter One-Hundred-And-One

  “Are you okay?” the stewardess asked, concerned. “Do you need anything?”

  “I’m okay, only somewhat lost in thoughts. A glass of water perhaps?”

  “I’ll get you one.”

  She hurried away. The investment in a business-class flight pays, I thought. It was more cozy than in
the cattle class behind. During the last minutes, I had noticed a slight feeling of pressure in my head. It was gone now. Instead, I felt a bit dizzy. Perhaps due to the cabin pressure?

  My water came.

  “Thanks.”

  I emptied the cup. There was something like a plucking in my head. Not unpleasant, but irritating. I closed my eyes and concentrated on it.

  “Do you want something to eat?”

  Startled, I looked up into the stewardess’s friendly face. “Oh—yes, please. Gladly.” To my surprise, I noticed that I was very hungry. The food distracted me, and I didn’t watch my situation.

  Only after dessert and coffee the plucking began anew. It took me by surprise, so that I involuntarily asked, “Yes please?”

  —Integration completed. Review self-diagnosis protocol?—

  What the fuck? How did that voice enter my head? Who was speaking there, darn it?

  —Analogy help component activated. Is an introduction demanded?—

  Analogy? That told me something. Anyway—what was going on with me? What integration?

  —Nano essence charge 11-217-01 and 11-217-02 were integrated into your body. The Analogy was linked to your brain. Further explanations are available. The self-diagnosis protocol is available and contains decision items.—

  Crap. Okay, ghost in my head, keep your feet still, I need to think, I mused.

  “Can I do something for you?”

  The stewardess.

  “I need something strong now, and then some rest.”

  “Something strong?”

  “A double espresso, if possible. Or simply a large mug of coffee.”

  “We don’t have mugs, but I can bring you a coffee.”

  “Two, then, please. Thank you very much.”

  The nano essence was a thinking machine then? Wow, cool. I only had to think of it, and it would run off? But how should I control that I addressed her? Should I simply think Hello, I?