by Gary Martin
“Sold. Who's ball is it?” I ask. Jacob and Terrell look at each other conspiratorially.
“It's the Skylark ball. At the city hall,” Terrell says.
“That's the one with all the government officials, and everyone’s a way higher class than us, right? How did you manage to get tickets to that?” I ask.
“Very cleverly,” Jacobs says. Terrell looks at Jacob, then at me.
“We're gate-crashing,” he says quietly, then sighs.
“But gate-crashing very cleverly,” Jacob says and puts on a huge childish grin.
“Well, I should have known it wasn't going to be as simple as just having tickets.”
The city hall is only about twenty minutes’ walk from my small flat, so Jacob manages to convince us to save money and take a leisurely stroll instead of calling a taxi. It's never very wise to walk outside at night in this area, but I've never been mugged or raped. But then again, I don't usually stick out like a sore thumb as much as I do now. It's around seven pm on a Saturday night, and the streets are in darkness except for the lights of the buildings from the second or third floor up. Most of the shop fronts are boarded up and covered in graffiti, and most of the street lights are smashed. The whole area is pretty much deserted of cars and people. Only the mag-lanes way above us are busy with taxis and buses humming along taking people to their favourite drink and drug holes.
“How do you live around here, John? I'd be terrified to leave my flat,” Terrell asks.
“You get used to it. I just keep myself to myself and don't make eye contact. That is if I have to go out. I don't really have to leave the building. To get to work, or see you guys, I just take the elevator to the underground parking zone. Bruce is in his own lock-up and that whole section has security,” I reply.
Jacob pulls a face.
“That vehicle of yours is the stupidest thing I've ever seen. Why did you call it Bruce? Of all the idiot names.” I'm about to respond when something smashes a few metres ahead of us, coating the pavement in a bright red liquid that quickly bursts into blue flames. It stops us in our tracks.
We suddenly hear a lot of shouting and screaming and before we can do anything about it, a gang of about twelve men and women are surrounding us. I look around at them in the dark, all just silhouettes, and I can't make out any faces. I hear a click, and one by one their eyes start glowing red. My heart starts speeding up.
“I think we should have got a cab,” Terrell whispers.
One of the red-eyed silhouettes moves forward.
“You've made huge mistake walking through our neighbourhood without bodyguards, you posh pricks,” she says in a thick, but probably made-up accent. The rest of the gang start a slow chant of “posh pricks ... posh pricks ... posh pricks ...,” which I'm guessing is a tactic to scare us. It's working quite well. My heart is now racing, and I’m terrified.
“Now give us all your money and expensive items and we may let you walk away with only minor injuries,” the apparent leader says.
“Fuck that,” Jacob shouts at the girl as he pulls something out of his pocket. “Do you know what this is?” He holds up a small black cylinder with a red button on top of it. The girl doesn't move, and the rest of the gang move in slightly closer. “It's a mini E.M.P. device. It has roughly a ten-metre radius.”
The girl starts laughing.
“Do you really think you can scare us with something that'll turn our phones off?” she says and laughs again, the rest of the gang starting to laugh with her. It seems very forced.
“No, I was thinking more of your ocular implants. If they were done on the cheap, which judging by the area you live in, they were, it'll blow the little cheap fuses in your stupid heads and either blind you, cause you severe brain damage, or, if they were really badly put in, instant death. All options sound good to me at the moment.” The whole group moves back as one.
“You wouldn't dare, you'd be arrested,” The girl says slowly, her accent seems to be disappearing. It’s now Jacob’s turn to laugh.
“Really? You’re going to call the cops? On us? Three wealthy bachelors who have been attacked in a red slum area on their way to the biggest ball of the year, defending themselves from a gang of red-eyed fuckwits? We'd be heroes,” he says and clicks the top of the cylinder. The gang run away in all directions. We head quickly towards the bright city lights before they decide to come back.
“Fucking hell Jacob, good job you had that thing. I thought we were dead,” I say.
Terrell looks at him and squints his eyes. “We live together, Jacob. I'm sure you would have told me if you'd somehow got your hands on a mini E.M.P. You'd be far too excited about it not to.” Jacob puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out the cylinder again and presses the red button.
“You absolute fucking prick,” I say. To get us out of a horrible situation, I'd be happy to have all my electrical items fried, but as a quick demonstration of the device, I'm really annoyed by it. But out of the red button comes a pressurised spray, and I realise it's just his aftershave. He smiles.
“You fucking prick,” I say again.
“A mini E.M.P? I doubt even Tommy could get us one of those. He has, however, after I got Terrell to keep badgering him, got us some fake Skylark identification that should get us into the ball,” he says and pulls out three small white rectangular pieces of plastic and clips them to our jackets’ top pockets. He then pulls out three pairs of glasses and passes them to us.
“When we get there, just walk through doors and past the guards. The glasses should fool the retina scans, and the clips should fool the guards. Once we’re through, try to look either rich or like you work for Skylark.” Terrell and I both nod, and keep up our fast pace.
Within two blocks, the transformation of the city is amazing. From dark, terrifying, desolate graffiti-covered streets, to a bustling bright metropolis full of people and noise. The city hall looms in front of us. It's a grand old building, only slightly spoiled by the multi-coloured spotlights shining on every window and ledge.
“Just follow me, and do what I do,” Jacob says, and we do exactly that. We walk through the massive revolving doors into the giant foyer, and straight past the guards. Lots of red lights flash in our direction, and there are a series of quiet beeps. I think for a few seconds that we’ve been made, and prepare to run, but we’re allowed through and Terrell and I slowly follow Jacob into the ballroom. My heart is in my mouth the whole time. I don't know what to expect when we get in there, but we're given glasses of champagne as we pass the ballroom entrance and on tables either side of the dance floor, any kind of food and drink you can imagine is exquisitely placed and decorated, and every sort of drug you could think of made to look like part of the decorations. Hundreds of impeccably dressed people are slowly dancing or sitting and staring upwards. I look up above the dance floor and there are hundreds of small blue and white balls floating around the ceiling, forming a kind of giant snake that is doing loops of the room in a figure of eight and seems to turn itself inside out with every change in the classical music. I'm a little overwhelmed by it all.
“This is the most ridiculous and vulgar thing I think I've ever seen,” Terrell says. “It's terrifying how much money these people have.” With that, he puts his hand awkwardly through his Afro, walks over to a food table and fills a plate with a bit of everything he can find. I gulp down my champagne and follow him. I realise how cheap our tuxedos look in comparison to everyone else's in here, and hope no one else notices. I turn around to talk to Jacob but he's disappeared. I scan the room, and he's already at the far side of the dance floor holding court with a group of ladies. I tap Terrell's shoulder.
“Look at him go, we've only been in here ten minutes. Lucky fucker,” I say, shaking my head.
“Luck's got nothing to do with it, John, he just oozes charm.” I nod in agreement, and grab a plate and fill it with all the most plain-looking things I can see. I decide to avoid the free drugs on offer as I don't really want to draw
any attention to myself. Terrell and I just lean against the table and eat while watching people do their thing.
“This time, I'm really not sure why Jacob's done it. There's not really anything to gain from being here. If the guards realise that we're not supposed to be here, it's six months in prison, no questions asked,” I say, still feeling bemused and overwhelmed by the situation.
“Don't worry, Jacob always has an angle. This time will be no different. Trust me,” Terrell replies with a smile.
I look at Jacob from across the floor, and he's leading a woman away in the direction of the toilets.
“Yeah, he has an angle alright,” I say and put more food on my plate, stuff a roll in my mouth, and start to head for a recently vacated table. I turn to Terrell and gesture with my head towards it, when with a crash I bump into someone, and everything on my plate ends up over her expensive-looking dress. She just stares at me with her piercing blue eyes. The last thing I wanted was to draw any attention to myself, but I've pretty much ballsed that up now. I want to say I'm sorry, but I'm completely flustered and when I open my mouth to say it, my half-chewed roll falls out and splats on the floor. I want to run really badly, and I'm about to bolt, when she bursts out laughing and gives me her hand.
“I'm Ezmerelda Kowalski, and that is by far the most interesting thing that has happened to me all night.” I stare at her dumbfounded. “And your name is?” she asks.
I slap myself around the face.
“John Farrow. I'm so sorry, I've totally ruined your dress.”
“Don't worry, I can't stand dressing up like this. I'm actually glad in a way, it means I can leave early now. So, John Farrow, I've never seen you before, what department do you work for? Defence? Sciences? Who's your boss?”
I'm a rabbit in headlights. Completely unprepared, I decide to tell mainly the truth, just changing certain details if they come up. Short answers are the key.
“I work at the loading docks. Martin Hooper is my main boss, but I report to Simon Prelude.” I then whisper in her ear, “He's a bit of a prick.” Maybe she'll believe me if I add a bit of colour.
“I haven't heard of either of those guys. It is a stupidly huge company though. Are they here?”
“Um, no. They probably don't do social gatherings. What do you do? Who's your boss?” I ask, not really knowing why.
“I work for the science division, mainly on classified stuff. My boss is Rupert Rawling. He's over there, dancing by himself with a masquerade-ball-style mask on. Keeping a low profile, while not at all keeping a low profile.” She then whispers in my ear, “Recently, he's been at the brunt of some malicious rumours, people are saying he … I don't really know how to put this politely, so I'm just going to say it. Don't judge me,” she smiles. “Apparently, he's been caught masturbating over some of the equipment in the lab.” She then laughs, “I don't know why I'm telling you this, I don't even know you.”
“Did he actually do it? I mean, you know, bang one out?” I ask, and Ezmerelda raises an eyebrow.
“No. He's one of the good guys, in a company full of bad ones.”
“You don't have to worry about me, I don't even work for your company,” I blurt out without thinking. She gives me a stern look, then smiles again.
“To be fair, I had kind of guessed that. Your cheap purple tux gives you away somewhat. How did you get in here? Actually, I don't care. Give me a reason why I shouldn't have you arrested.” She looks at me, half smiling, half frowning, and I can't tell if she's joking or not.
“Because pretty much everything I told you was true, I do work at the loading docks and my boss is Martin Hooper. I just work for Sunspots Waste Disposal Inc. and not Skylark.”
“I've heard of them; do you work on their spaceships?”
“No. I work the forklifts that load all of the horrible nastiness into the containers that then go onto the spaceships. It's not great. Actually, it's pretty awful, but it pays for my life outside of work. Just. In general, I try not to think about it.” I look down, and shrug my shoulders.
“Okay, I won't report you. For now. But only because I’m going home, and because you're going to take me to dinner tomorrow night.” I was not expecting that.
“Why would you want to go to dinner with me? I'm sure you could have your pick of men; look at you, you're one of the most attractive girls I think I've ever seen. In this room alone there must be a hundred more suitable candidates.”
“That's why. You seem to undervalue yourself. And you come across as honest. Even though you clearly lied and cheated to get in here. I'll let that slide for now.” She grabs my hand and writes something on it, then walks towards the exit. I want to follow, but decide to let her go. I don't want to look too desperate. I look down at my hand, and her number is literally glowing at me. That’s going to burn like hell tomorrow, but I really don’t mind. I turn around to talk to Terrell, but he's gone. I have a look around the room and spot him with the group Jacob was with, taking full advantage of his cast-offs. I smile, and decide it's time to go home. This time I am calling a cab.
10
Indian food was a stupid idea. I love it, but without fail I always go for the hottest thing on the menu. I really don’t know why I do it, I can never finish it, and it always gives me stomach troubles. It was, however, the first on my list of about six different international cuisines when I called up Ezmerelda, and she apparently loves Indian food, so the list stopped there. I agreed to meet her at eight that evening at the Bengal Bastard; it’s apparently one of the best Indian restaurants in the city.
I get to the restaurant a few minutes early, and the waiter points a scanner at my eye and confirms my table reservation with a slight nod. He leads me through the packed and slightly gaudy-looking dining room to my table. He takes my coat and I order a litre of beer and sit down. I look down at my watch. It’s now bang on eight so she’s not quite late yet. I look down again, and it’s one minute past, so she is late now. My beer arrives and I drink deeply from it. I look at my watch again, it’s now five past, and I start to wonder if I told her the right time. Did I say half past? Did I say nine? Now I’m not sure at all. I figure that if she isn’t here by quarter past, no, let’s say twenty past, then I’ve probably just got it wrong. Or she’s not coming. What if she’s not coming? What do I do then? I guess I give Jacob and Terrell a call and see if they fancy dinner on me. I take another large gulp on my beer, and then try to catch the eye of a waiter or waitress to get another one and spot Ezmerelda being lead through the dining room towards me. She looks stunning, wearing a pair of long, bulky black boots, tight fitting trousers and a long jacket. I smile and wave my hand in the air to let her know where I am, and suddenly realise how stupid that is, the waiter is leading her here anyway. The waiter takes her jacket, she orders a large prosecco and sits down opposite me. She smiles, I smile back, and realise I have no idea what to say. My mind has completely wiped itself of all information.
After a long and slightly awkward silence, Ezmerelda finally speaks. “Are we just going to sit in silence or are you actually going to say something? A pleasantry, or something nice about what I’m wearing? Maybe even something about the weather. But something, anything would be good.”
My brain slowly starts to reboot itself.
“Fair enough. If you really want me to say something about the weather, I will. It’s a bit crappy if I’m honest. But you do look stunning this evening, really stunning. I can’t help but wonder, why are you here? You could easily have blown me off and claimed it was the drink talking. Um, I don’t mean blown me off in that way though.” Oh fuck, why did I say that?
She shakes her head slightly.
“You’re really quite awkward, aren’t you? You seem to have some self-confidence issues. You have it, but it’s at your own expense. It’s like you know the world revolves around you, but you really wish it wouldn’t,” she says with a half-smile.
“I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time. Trying to have fun and
keeping the boredom at bay mainly, I think.” I look down at the table, realising that I’m beginning to sound a little bit depressing. “Enough about me, what about you, Ezmerelda. You’re a … scientist?”
“Call me Ez. Scientist is probably too strong a word for what I do. It’s mainly programming. I never know what I’m working on, just tiny sections of a larger whole. I could have a guess, but it’s better to stay out of the loop with Skylark. I’m sure if I asked Rupert, he’d tell me, but I honestly don’t want to know.”
The waiter comes and asks if we’d like to order. I haven’t looked at the menu yet, but there’s no point. I know what I’m having.
“I’ll have the super-phal please, and a garlic naan.” Ez looks slightly taken aback by my choice.
“Really?” she says. “Good luck with that.”
“It’ll be fine,” I reply, reassuring myself as much as her.
“Just Bombay potatoes and pilau rice please.” The waiter takes our menus and walks away, and Ez looks around the room.
“I love the traditional service you get here, it’s so impersonal most places you go. Just choose what you want from a pad on the table, and a few minutes later it just pops out of the hatch in the middle,” she says.
“It’s fine if you’re a bit awkward around strangers, have self-confidence issues and don’t want to leave a tip. But you’re right, this is better,” I reply, and she pulls a mock-offended face.
“I guess it depends on your mood. Are you making fun of me, John Farrow?”
“I might be. But just a little.”
“Don’t you think it may be a little bit early in our relationship for that? What makes you think I won’t just walk out?” she says, and I’m not sure if she’s now making fun of me.
“Then I think that would be the end of that. I’m not even sure I’d even call you up to apologise. I wouldn’t want to be constantly walking on eggshells around you,” I say, more bluntly than I intend. She stands up, and starts to walk away. I’ve fucked it, why did I say that? I put my face in my hands and then hear her laughing. I lift my head back up and she’s sitting back down.