Archive for the ‘Fiction’ Category

She’s a shadow, sleeping

Saturday, August 14th, 2010

She’s naked of course and there’s a pink and gold serpent skin print running down her body, shimmering in the hot, bright stage lights. On every side, thousands of screaming fangirls aping her makeup and hairstyles from the last album, the one they downloaded from the net. In the heat and the tumult of crashing bodies, sweat dripping down their faces, they look a mess. But not like her. She’s perfect. Millions of dollars of perfection. Her Scute™ is synced to the sound and light show going on around her and at a pre-programmed moment, the stage is blasted with white-hot incandescence and her skin, hair and nails turn jet black. She’s a living shadow, dancing in the hot sweet rhythms of the #1 song in the nation and her fans are freaking the fuck out.

After the show, she collapses. Her manager throws her into a tub of ice water and her body temp re-regulates. That’s the problem with this model: heat waste. She’s almost a gynoid at this point. Fake skin, fake nails, fake eyes, fake hair. Fake fake fake but more real than anything else is the money she’s pulling in for these shows. A great investment, thinks the manager. Well worth the expenditure. Well worth the cost. She’ll be asleep for a few hours and then they’ll slap on some stimulant snaps to wake her up so she can do the next show. Everything is prepared for her arrival. Everything is running smooth and on time. Just let her sleep.

Car Service

Sunday, July 18th, 2010

Dozens converge on them, waves breaking over a single black rock. Bodies pressed against warm steel, fingers splayed against black glass that can stop small-caliber gunfire. Inside the car, neon-pink cocktails are mixed, poured, flavored, shared, sipped and savored. The One with the Hair unzips her blouse and struggles out of a clingy, stretchy top the color of the moon over Los Angeles. She’s a wispy, jittery thing made of cotton candy and flower petals.

“You got snaps?”

The other passenger flashes a plastic film about the size of credit card. “Scute™-compatible.” she says. The One with the Hair plucks it from her friend’s hand. She holds it against her skin until her snaps’ receptors grab hold of the film and bond it with her skin. “Ugh, this one is Japanese.” she says, her nose crinkling. “It’s all breast augs.”

Her friend motions “give it here” and says, “Let me have it then. I left my mobsofts are back at the hotel.” The One with the Hair ejects the film and peels it from her skin.

“I like the ‘Fun Shapes’ better.” she says as her friend slaps the snapware onto the back of her neck. A few seconds later and her Scute reconfigures to the new proportions, complete with a shift in coloration. “Too tight?” she asks and the One with the Hair shakes her head, “No, just right.”

The driver pulls away onto the street and the car accelerates to city-travel speeds somewhere between “maniac cab driver” and “subway.”  The girls inside load Scute-talk into their carrie-alls and link the portable devices to receptors in their hips.

The One with the Hair holds her friend’s hand and places it on her heart. So where we headed?

Uptown.

She watches the feed on her wrist. Video plays across her flawless white skin. She flips through the channels until she sees the car. Overhead, a helicopter churns the air as it races over the rooftops, its cameras trained on the limo.

They’re covering us.

Her friend glances down at the wrist video. “Oh, yeah.” Check the ratings?

Middling. A sigh.

Should we roll down the windows? Sunroof? Make out?

Pandering. Just let it be… I’m tired anyway and the car’s paid for. She leans forward and rests her head in her friend’s lap. Her turquoise eyes flutter closed. Pale pink eyelids and butterfly lashes.

Sword, suit, tie

Monday, May 3rd, 2010

The fish tank is a tall, hexagonal prism filled with salt water, swaying vegetation and fleshy globes of color floating in zero gravity. A filter spits out up fat bubbles of air. It’s supposed to add ambiance to his office and instill his racing mind with gentle thoughts.

But he’s not looking at it. His eyes are focused on the space beyond. Through the wall, burning two holes in the wall and through the forehead of the man at the desk in the next room. A samurai sword leans against the wall, a striped necktie wrapped around the hilt. He wants that office and that sword.

The tie? He could take it or leave it.

Minutes before he was pacing back and forth, moving with such intensity that if he kept walking straight he’d walk right through the wall into the next office. The corner office.

He’s on the phone now. Chattering away about nothing with nobodies. He sees a heaving bosom in his peripheral vision and glances up. His secretary, Christine, wearing a red dress and some kind of starburst brooch on which he is now trying to focus.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” he says.

“I knocked,” she says.

She sits on the edge of the desk, knees pressed together, ankles crossed. One high heeled shoe slips off her foot and falls to the floor.

“New man in your life?” he asks her, looking down at the curve of her thigh.

“No, just a present for myself. A little retail therapy.” The scabbard is simple yet elegant, a single pale stone in a silver setting. The craftsmanship is old world and beautiful. The curve of the blade follows her shape.

“May I?” he asks and she smiles.

“I thought you’d never ask.” She reaches down and pulls out the blade. It’s a wavy dagger, double-edged.

Kris? Very nice. Oh, I get it…”

She smirks, the corner of her smile turning up. She’s all curves and sharpness today.

“My turn.” He reached under his desk and withdraws a package wrapped in silk and tied with a violet ribbon.

Her eyebrow goes up. “I presume this is for that new girl in Finance you’ve been seeing?”

He pats the package and rubs his palm across it. “I don’t see any conflict of interest, do you? It’s a katar I had shipped here from a Kalari Payattu master in Karnataka. An old friend and business partner.”

“Lady killer.” she says, slipping off the desk and toeing her shoe back onto her foot.

“She needs something better than that pressed steel junk if she wants that promotion.”

“Lady killer and influence peddler?” Christine slips the kris knife back into its sheath and shimmies the dress back over her thigh. “You have that meeting in 15 with Franklin.” Her eyes dart over to the far side of the room, above the fish tank.

“I know. Getting my head in the right place. Breathing exercises. Meditation, you know.”

Christine turns to leave and says, “Good luck. He leads with his left side, FYI.”

“Thanks. And if I manage to take his fucking head off, you’re getting a raise.”

Shuteye

Saturday, February 13th, 2010

Cracks on the leather cover of his notebook. Cream eddying his the cup of coffee. Tinny pop music from somewhere behind closed double doors. He picks out the individual moments but the rest is lost in time.

Time. The one thing you can’t spend more than you have. And you never have enough.

He rattles the spoon around as he empties three Dominos sugars into the cup. His mind races to the huge neon sign overlooking Baltimore’s harbor. It costs a hundred grand a year to power those lights, he thinks. Then he remembers he’s not in the Charm City.

He’s back in Hamilton. It always comes back to Hamilton.

No matter where he’s lived, and he’s lived all over, something pulls him back here. It holds him down, strangles and suffocates him. The city is like quicksand. The more he struggles to free himself, the faster he sinks. Wait long enough and you’ll either discover you’ve freed yourself somewhere along the way or you wake up choking, dying. The Glass City is like some massive constrictor snake. An embrace that turns into a death grip.

On the wall is a calendar. There’s some long-legged bird tiptoeing through marshland. Birds Unlimited poster or something. A heron, perhaps. Why that bird for this month, he wonders. He goes to take a sip and realizes the cup is empty. Where did that time go? The waitress is a woman with a round body and a pleasant Eastern European accent.

“More?” and he puts his hand over the cup.

“No, thank you. I’m heading out.”

She scribbles onto a pad, tears out a sheet and lays it upside-down on the table. “When you’re ready.” is all she says before heading back through the doors into the kitchen. There’s nobody else here.

Fingertips glance over the table, across a scattering of sugar that spilled out from the packets. He flips over the bill and rifles through his billfold for correct change. The number doesn’t come as quickly as it ought to. He rounds up to 20%. Twice the tax, move the decimal point. He leaves a five dollar bill and collects his things: a pen and the notebook. It’s filled with tiny print, precise like a machine typeset the pages. It’s filled with a hundred thousand facts, or pieces of facts. Not that he needs that book; everything he sees or hears is committed to memory. But writing it, being able to see it… well, that just seems to make it easier. Even if it’s just to jar loose a fragment of a thought.

But right now, all he wants to do is sleep.

That’s all he’s ever wanted. So for the first time in many, many years. He lays down his head on the table and shuts his eyes.

Restless Sleep

Wednesday, January 20th, 2010

I hold her close to me, listening to her breathe as she sleeps. Moisture beads up on the window. Condensation from FreeMarket’s micro-weather system. Not every day is bright and sunny. It’s got to rain sometime. Outside, it’s dark but for the soft blue-white and amber glow of street lighting, the gentle hum of the train as it circles the hub, gliding in near-silence on magical rails of polarized electrons. (more…)

First Kill

Friday, December 25th, 2009

The two kingdoms are at peace, but only because they share a king.

The king is chosen through a ritual called the First Kill.

To both kingdoms are born princes. Both princes are raised as nobles and are given the same lessons, the same training.

They are treated as equals, as brothers. They have no other siblings, no friends as close as each other.

The rite of the First Kill is to determine which of the two princess will inherit the throne. This is done through a duel with swords.

The winner of the fight is pre-determined. Whichever kingdom ruled in the last generation must lose the duel.

One prince is destined to be the victor. The other is destined to be a victim.

There is no shame in being the First Kill, just as there is no glory in murdering that young man. Power always comes with a price.

Time passes. The royal families gather to watch the rite unfold yet again.

The two boys are too young for this, but they must fight this duel to keep the peace.

The boys bow to one another, then draw their swords. Already, mourners wail for their lost prince.

They put on a perfect display of martial prowess. Cuts, thrusts, parries. All delivered with masterful precision and grace. Then, a bell chimes: Time for the ritual to end.

The prince looks at his opponent. He knows what he must do. The First Kill.

But these princes are brothers first. As the fatal blow is to be delivered, the prince stays his hand. He will not continue this tradition. They will both rule, as brothers.

He lowers his sword and extends his hand. The crowd gasps, the mourners are silent. The chime sounds again but the prince pays it no mind.

His brother grasps the hand of the prince and smiles, but his eyes fill with tears.

The bells chime. One prince is destined to be the victor. The other is destined to be a victim.

Power always comes with a price.

Loom

Friday, December 25th, 2009

Chiodo wants to see me, so I feel obliged to go. Not because I owe him or his MRCZ anything, but because it’s good to keep up relationships. His MRCZ has premium flow and lots of pull with the gene tinkers and the wetmen. The Blobbies ooze with flow. They’re a clan of deal brokers and fixers, perfectly secure within the bubble they called home. The bodyguard ushers me in and fixes me with a blank stare of polished chromium. His body is covered in a sleek black sealsuit, a personal gift from my MRCZ to the Blobbies. A show of friendship and good faith. (more…)

Simple Machines

Friday, December 25th, 2009

They held hands at the table, one of two in a micro-eatery high above the glittering lights of Freemarket Station. The room was dark enough to let in the stars and small enough that only the thin screen of a sound buffer prevented the whispers of their conversation from floating to the other, anonymous pair.

Far below, a sea of black, chrome and blue. The flow.

Her fingers were skeletal in the dim-light. He watched their shimmering, delicate machinery. Her eyes were as clear as polished diamonds and he could see the circuitry working behind the mask of her skin.  The lovers, the pair.

The server approached, quiet like a ghost. “Sir, will there be anything else?”

The man set his napkin down to the right side of his plate. Across the table, his companion smiled. She was a vision in gauzy print-silk. Her place setting was bare, the glass of wine remained half-full.

“Desert? Coffee? Tea? Chemzymes?”

The lovers, fingers intertwined. smiled at one another.

“Thank you, that will be all.”

They left the dining MRCZ and took the lift down ten floors to a waiting shuttle. From there, perhaps some dancing and nightlife. Perhaps more.

She was a Quiet-Girl, the newest version of a long and storied line of artificial companions. Lenore. She never spoke, never needed to say a word. He paid for her silence.

Lenore took information like a rose drinks water, always seeking more, blooming, then withering and fading away. Soon, she would return to her makers. They’d bleed her for data, acquire some user feedback, mine her logs and thin slice her stack traces for bugs. Then she would die, to be reborn, reprogrammed, recycled. This time as a Katherine, or an Isabel, or a Reiko, or an Anita. But this moment just a triptych of data on someone’s key.

A history of an affair but out of context, just a line of 0′s and 1′s.

The romance is over. The passion is gone.

Memory of Life

Thursday, December 10th, 2009

Talos Tower is nine stories of foamcrete, quartz glass and titanium. Viewed from the side, it resembles a giant screw twisted into Venus Gardens Plaza. Viewed from above, it’s a tapered spike that splits the Gardens in two. A lift travels along rails outside the structure, moving not just up and down but also along the gentle curves that wraps around the building. The Architexters built the tower. A man called Carnivale designed it after a fever dream kept him awake, sweating and freezing in his bed. Within a month and a half, it was real. (more…)

Flow Hit

Wednesday, December 2nd, 2009

I live alone as a stranger, keeping to myself and preferring the solace of this high place. The air is cool up here and the gravity doesn’t tug down on me the way it does a few hundred meters below. There’s a gray and white bundle of feathers in my hands. A dove, bioengineered and grown from a bona-fide egg. I have a few coveys up here on the roof. I keep the doves and they keep me company. They keep me sane.

It wasn’t always like this. I wasn’t always like this. Alone, I mean. (more…)