Every time we hit a
speedbump my head whacks the ceiling. Dasa’s hunched
forward in the driver’s seat. Sweat shines on his
bunched muscles, on his cropped fuzz of hair. Still got my
dataglasses on so there’s all these site listings scrolling
before my eyes. Feel nauseous from lack of HappyO.
Nova Probe Five trance apocalypse metal thunders in my
ears. I’m trying very hard not to think about Amanda.
"Yes?
Arnold? Is Arnold there?" Marvin’s stentorian
voice carries over the grinding beat. His avatar’s
sitting there in the top left corner of the ‘glasses display
next to the rest of us, this pooncy little miniature, even more
of a queen than the original. I glance over at him, making
the site listings scroll horizontally. He’s sitting
there with his mobile pressed hard to his ear like its stuck with
KrazyGlue or something. "Yes. I’d like to
speak-"
A drone van zooms up
out of the night at an intersection. Dasa swerves just at
the last moment; bottles of Boost rolling all over the
floor. More scrolling, fast, now I’m dizzy now
as well as sick. "Fuck!" Dasa breathes.
We’re gonna crash one day, I just know it. Just hope
my body doesn’t look too mashed when they broadcast it live
as it’s being cut outa the wreckage. Nice vidding for
the goulish. Fuck I cant handle that TrueRealityLive.
Could never sus why Amanda always had to have it on.
"I want to know
if Arnold’s there. Pardon me, Dasa, could you
turn that down please?"
Feel like I’m choking you know. The air in this
bimbobox always smells of b.o. and fart and dirty laundry, mainly
cos Dasa cuts the air conditioning to get more juice to the
motors. My knees are cramped against the back of his seat.
"Yes, Arnold,
I’d like to…excuse me, DASA, WILL YOU PLEASE TURN THAT
FUCKING MUSIC DOWN?" Nova Probe Five powers down
a few dozen decibels. We hit another speedhump. My
head bumps against the roof again. "I’m sorry,
what was that? He’s not? Well do you
know when he’ll be in? No. Cool, thank
you."
Cool.
God. Marvin’s the only nigel under thirty
I’ve ever known who still says "cool" as a
colloquialism.
"No
luck?" Amber the blonde gasmgurrl with the incredible
legs is squeezed in on the other side of Marvin.
"They’re
just cunts," Marvin tells her. He looks at me, fat
lips and small moist eyes smiling. "If you’ll
pardon the language."
Dasa mutters
"yeah, cunts," Behind the `glasses bright
text and icons street lights and ghostly trees and houses rush
past. Some of the listings look vaguely interesting.
I just cant be fucked keying into them. Dasa makes a hard
right. I’m thrown against Marvin’s soft and eager
bod. "Wooooh!" Marvin grins.
"Spyder, leave
Marvin alone!" Renee the little dark-haired gasmgurrl laughs
the front seat. Amber grins at us. Her av lights up ting!
text appears in the display chat window ***Syder - leave
Marvin alone!
"No, please
molest at your leisure," Marvin suggests.
"In your dreams
Marvin," I mutter. My t-shirt’s soaked with
sweat; it’s all sticky and clammy against my back.
Fuck I need a hit. I need my medicine or I’m gonna go
fucking nuts in here. An image of Amanda floats unbidden
before my eyes and my heart wrenches with the memories. Me and
Amanda on the beach. Sunset. Why is it that even when
someone treats you like shit, just dumps you like that, u still
can’t stop loving them? That all you want to do is be
with them. Why is the human heart so stupid? I lean
as far as I can against the window, rejoicing in its hard
surface. The listings scrolling before my eyes are a
mindless blur, a never-ending river of data.
"I’ll try
JoyousBoi," Marvin suggests. "JoyousBoi’s
always got gear."
"Yeah, sick
Marvin," I mutter. A little icon for this JoyousBoi
pops up next to Marvin’s. Anything to take away the
pain…
connecting………..
JoyousBoi. God
what a nick. What’d I do to deserve this? Ting!
JoyousBoi’s icon lights up. Marvin booms out
"Hello? Can I speak to JoyousBoi please?
Marvin. Yes, this is Marvin, he knows me-"
Another furtive glance
at Amber. Why does she have to sit next to Marvin?
How come gays get all the girls? Dasa swings another hard
right. Why are we going round in circles? The great
unsolved mysteries of life.
"Dasa, why are we
going round in circles?" Renee asks. Her av lights up Ting!
text scrolls ***why are we going round in circles?
Dasa grunts.
"Cos." We hit another fucking speedhump.
"WILL SOMEONE
PLEASE TELL ME WHY WE’RE GOING ROUND IN CIRCLES?" Renee
cries. She’s got short spikey black hair and a sexy
face ruined only by a nose like the beak of a predatory
bird. Why do gasmgurrls always have to be so spunky
looking? There’s another mystery for you.
"HUH??!!! DASA???" My dick’s going
hard again; that’s how long I’ve been off the
‘dorth.
Proteus’s av
appears in the dg display. Proteus is a bot. I
think. Or an AI. A hackakid by the nick of
nIgHtStAlKeR once traded him (it? him? her?) for a
kilo of HappyO and 200 grams of DMT. God knows what he did
with all that skag. Put it in his olds’ coffee
perhaps. In those days the Doc was still around and drugs
came easy. Tonight Proteus looks like a man, except that
his body’s all shiny like liquid. Sometimes he looks
like a woman. Sometimes an animal. Sometimes an
alien. His voice is asexual over the ‘box’s
speaker system. Text scrolls on the ‘glasses chat
window. "The reason we’re going round in circles
is because Dasa is feeling emotionally stressed because he’s
not scoring any syndorphin2-6-C and so feels compelled-"
"-yes
I’d like to speak to JoyousBoi please. This is
Marvin. Marvin! You can check my ident-"
Ronni’s Goodtime
HomePage flashes in big letters, pushing the other listings
aside. Vid of a sexy girl masturbating. My cock goes
even harder. Lust and nausea fight for control.
"-driving round
in circles in a manner conducive to endangering life."
Proteus concludes.
"Thank you for
that, Proteus," Renee says. "Now tell me
something I don’t know." She looks round at
me. "AIs!"
"Well, you had to
ask," I manage to say. My stomach doesn’t feel
too good, even though I haven’t eaten all day.
‘Turkey’s a killer.
Dasa pulls another
sharp right. Marvin’s kinda like a pillow my bod falls
against. Apart from the robot drones, the streets are
deserted at this hour. "By the way Dasa," Proteus
observers "you just clocked up another speeding
violation. Ticket number 253b610037t." Ting!
A copy of the ticket protocol summary scrolls down the chat
window.
"Fuck," Dasa
says. He pulls the wheel sharply to the right.
Whoomp! Another speed hump, my head against the ceiling.
"I’m
accessing the PoliceStar databanks now. Accessing speeding
violation ticket. Ticket number 253b610037t
deleted." Ting! ***Deleted…
"Thanks
broh." Dasa’s shoulders hunch even more.
We’re airborn again, whack! my head against the roof.
Fuck I hate speedhumps.
"Marvin! Yes. I’m a friend of
JoyousBoi. Yes, I’ll hold." Marvin presses
his chin over the mouthpeace. Smiles to me
"they’re all just cunts. If you’ll pardon
the expletive."
Whump!
Ouch another speedhump. "Dasa!"
Dasa actually glances
round at me. Apart from the shaved head he looks a lot like
the young Sly Stallone in the vids my olds used to always
watch. "Yeah Spyd?"
"D’ya think
you could find another street to go round in?"
"Hey?"
Whump! I
grit my teeth. "Speedhumps."
"Sorry
broh. Sick. Let’s ex this scene." We
swerve round a roundabout. Tires screech, street lights and
houses and scolling displays blur. Round and round the
roundabout. I’m gonna spew, I know I am.
My stomach spasms, but nothing comes up.
"Cochleal fluid
disorientation," Proteus observes "nausea, extended
exposure can lead to long-term physiological effects."
"Thank you
Proteus," I hiss between gritted teeth.
Dasa chuckles,
straightens the wheel. We shoot ahead like a rocket, the
motor a high pitched whine.
Marvin’s voice:
"what do you mean he doesn’t know me?" I
make the mistake of looking at him.
He gives me a look
like aren’t these dealers such a pain. "I called
barely a month ago. Yes. Okay, I’ll
hold." Impatient sigh.
Dasa pulls a hard left
and Marvin scrunches against me. Someone’s just let
off another fart. I want to unwind the window but the
mechanism’s stuck again, happens all the time with these old
‘boxes. We pass a 7eleven. An animation of the
7eleven logo fills my dg’s. A little dittty starts
playing in my earphones, a movie now of happy ppl buying stuff,
superimposed over more homepage listings. Thought I
selected filter all ads under options.
Renee yells "hey,
pull over Dasa!"
"Whah?" he
goes.
"Got the
munchies!"
Dasa swings a
hard-U. Tires squeal. Centrifugal forces drive
me into Marvin’s welcoming flab. The 7eleven tune and
movie come up again. It’s really giving me the
shits. Happy happy happyyyyy.!!!! Proteus is saying
"-another one. Illegal U-turn. Ticket number
083c5036048t" Ticket protocol text scrolls before my
eyes.
"Fuck," Dasa
mumbles. He hits the anchors hard! I’m slammed
against the front seat.
"Dasa fucking
shit!" Renee yells.
"Sorry," he
mutters. I pull my dg’s and earphone off, can’t
handle all the ad jingo shit. We’re double-parked in
front of the 7eleven. My stomach’s a sick tight knot.
"Deleting
now," Proteus says.
"Thanx man,"
Dasa replies to him (it?).
I get out. Cool night
air on my sweaty brow.
The urge to vomit
passes. It feels good. to stretch my legs.
Renee leads the way
inside, jacket, oversized T-shirt, stockinged feet but no
shoes. No panties either I bet. What is it about
gasmgurrls? I put the dg’s in my shirt pocket.
Cameras in armored casings track us. Everything’s clean, the
shelves neat and stocked. Some juves on SmartSkaytZ glide
between the aisles, around and around. They stop to check
out Amber and Renee. Don’t blame them. Gotta get
some syndorph or I’ll start wanking again. At least
when your smashed you don’t hafta worry about sex. The shop
nigel checks us out mega paro from behind his security glass. I
give him the thumbs up, say "yo, peace brother!"
Dunno why I bother though.
"What’s
that," Marvin’s booming. "Yes of course
we’ve got eurobucks, what do you think we are?"
He looks up at me.
"Gimme
that." I take the mobile. "Yeah, yo!"
"Yo", comes
the voice at the other end. He’s disabled the
video 3D display so there’s just the Telstra logo in the
little screen.
"We got euro
man. Good enuff for you?"
"Yah. Euro
or Nuyen or Yuan."
"Yeah we got
euro, sick?" Fucking moron. We never had these
hastles with the Doc.
"Sick."
"Spyder!"
Renee yells.
"Yo."
I hand the mobile back to Marvin and amble over. She and
Amber have picked out chips and tofu-bars and fruit juice and
chokkie mango supremes. My stomach spasms, a tight
knot of bile and hunger.
"Pay the
nigel."
"Pause on
that." I go over to the isles and pick a muslei
bar and a health bar, and get a Nature’s Bounty orange and
mango drink. Gotta get some nutrients into me or I’ll
faint. Back to the counter. Marvin’s got two
chocolate splices, a bag of donuts and a large bag of hot
chips. Dasa’s standing near the door, barrel chest,
baggy shorts, muscles bulging under his singlet. He
keeps glancing out the armored glass at his little red
bimbobox. As if anyone‘d bother cracking it.
"Want anything Das?"
"Sick broh, got
some Boost inna car."
"Copy." I swipe my card thru the little
slot. The machine beeps, a green light blinks. My
dwindling savings. We walk out.
Fuck, this is
claustrophobic. Just sitting here. "You sure you
got the right street Marvin?"
"Of course
I’m sure!" Like, how dare you presume?
"Kay, chill"
I mutter.
"Reneeeee!"
Amber squeals from the front seat. They swapped possies
when we got back in the car after the 7eleven.
"Sorry,"
Renee goes.
"Restrain yaself
girl," Amber giggles. "ooooooohhhh!!!"
Renee chuckles.
"Hey like
what?" Dasa turns round, grinning like the smilie man
on the Toots4Life ad.
"None of your
concern Das-boy," Renee says coldly.
Dasa looks
disappointed.
Fuck these
gasmgurrls. How’d Das ever get mixed up with
‘em? At least with Amanda I knew where I stood.
Well, did….
A robot delivery
van goes past. SPEEDEE KOURIERS it says on the side.
The munchies and fruit
juice are churning around in my stomach. Hope I don’t
chuck. On top of everything I’m feeling sorta
feverish. Tell you, HappyO ‘turkey sux big time.
Syndorphin. It’s a cunt of a drug. As old Stan
would say.
"Spyder?"
Renee says.
"Yeah
sister," I make myself say. Last thing I feel like now
is a long rave.
"How much longer
we gonna be sitting here?"
"Ask Marvin,
it’s his bros."
"Yeah well at
least I can rely on my friends." Marvin retorts.
Oh yeah. When
they’re not being cunts parden the expletive. Fuck I
wish Doc Tom hadn’t been busted. We never had hastles
with the Doc. God those were the days.
Dasa breaks open a
bottle of Boost. Gulps it noisily.
"Ahh," he
goes at last. He hands me the dregs.
I shake my head.
He hands it to Marvin.
"Thank
you." Marvin gulps it down. Never known anyone
who could tuck away so much food.
"Hey
maestro," Renee says.
Dasa reaches for
another bottle. "What ya wanna hear sister?"
"Got any
classical?"
"Beethoven?"
Marvin goes.
"No," she
looks at him like he’s mental. "Doors.
Marley. Stones. Dead."
Dasa shakes his
head. "I don’t go in for that old stuff."
"Well see if you
can find some pirate audies to download then."
"I got Sonic
Youth," Dasa suggests. "That’s pretty
old."
"How about
the Brindivan Boyz?" Proteus asks over the speakers.
Every so often he (she? it?) puts in a reccie for some music.
"Not into that
yoga stuff," Dasa mutters. His olds are krishnas, so
he’s always like wanting to get all the sex, drugs and death
thrash apocalypse metal he can.
"I was referring
to the band," the AI replies in its emotionless voice.
"Oh."
He scrounges around for another can. "Nah. Hate
‘em."
"Yeah" Renee
says "I’m not much into that technoambient grunge
fusion shit myself neither."
"Some of their
stuff’s okay," Amber says.
Man when’s the
skag arriving? I can’t take much more of this.
Fuck Marvin and his jack-off contacts. "Renee, you
seen my dg’s?"
"They’re in
your pocket Spyd." She leans across Marvin, face
mildly anxious. "Man you look sick."
"Good," I
tell her. "I feel it." I think I’m
shivering.
Renee pulls back,
glares at Marvin. "Marv? Where’s your
dumbass friends coming with the stash?"
"Never at this
rate," Amber pouts.
I sorta half groan,
half snicker. What a fuckup.
Marvin crosses his
arms, nudges away so I no longer feel his thighs against mine.
Heavy silence all
round.
Marvin sniffs.
I put my dg’s
on. Proteus has changed himself into a sexy gurrl
now. Dunno why he/she/it does that. For that matter,
dunno what I’m doing here at all. Waiting in a cramped
stinking car for drugs that’ll never show. Just wish
this’d all end.
Renee’s voice:
"hey, company."
A mean looking merc -
either black or dark blue, hard to see with the poor street
lighting - has pulled up nearby. License plates and model
and big logo of Mercedes Benz Corp comes up over it in the
‘glasses. Operatic music comes on, Paganini I think,
and a little window in the corner of the display, smiling couple
in a merc driving thru countryside, rolling hills and green
fields. Even when you specify no ads they still find
a way around…. Fuck. We should have a Merc.
Probably would have with all the dosh I’ve sunk in junk.
"I’ll
go," Marvin says.
"Fine by
me." I open the door, get out. He follows.
I hand him the two hun Euro. Get back in. Now
I’m sitting next to Renee. Oh yeah, big deal.
Hell’d freeze over before I got nookie off her. Man I
miss Amanda. "Proteus."
"Yes
Spyder?" Ting! ***Yes Spyder?
"Gimme a trace on
the merc’s plates please."
***Accessing Motor
Vehicle Registration Database. accessing PoliceStar
Database….Text scrolls before my eyes. I’m
expecting something sus, but nah, either these nigels are clean
or they simply haven’t been caught yet. More prob the
latter.
Renee says
"whaddaya think Spyd? It’ll be good
shit?" Her av echos her words.
Amber turns round,
elbow against the headrest. Marvin’s leaning over by
the front passenger window of the merc.
I shrug.
"Surprised if its anywhere like the Doc’s gear."
Renee looks at
Amber. "Just typical hey Amb? Bet we’ve
been driving around all night for nothing."
"Nah," Dasa
goes. "Marvin’s contacts’re
sick." Short laugh. "Only reason I hang
round wiffa jerk."
"That’s what
I like about you Das," Renee laughs. "You’ve
got such a noble attitude."
Dasa chuckles.
The merc’s still
sitting there, Marvin chatting away happily. Fuck, wazzat
dork doing? Like, how long does it take to score a fucking
deal already? Ah, he’s coming back now.
"Here he
comes," Renee breathes.
The merc pulls
off. Even from here I can see Marvin’s smug
expression. The tension drains out of me. He’s
scored. Everything’s sick.
"Hey man"
Dasa goes "got the gear?"
Marvin opens the back
door. I nudge over next to Renee. "All ready and
ready to go." Marvin climbs in.
Renee’s going
"gimme gimme gimme"
"How many parcels
you got?" I ask.
"Ten, twenty euro
each."
"Sick."
We usedta get packets
off the doc for five. Like a dream. I never realised
I had it so good. The Doc, Amanda...My contract with
supermall com a-u.
Dasa switches on the
‘box’s inside light. I blink, look over at
him. He’s folded the front seat down and crawled over
next to Marvin. Marvin’s unwrapping a package of alco
foil. We all crowd around. Ten small little foil
packages. Little eggs. My salvation.
Syndorphin2-6-C
Dasa looks at
me. "You wanna cook?"
I nod.
Dasa’s good like that. How he asks. But then
again everyone says I got a talent for cooking.
"I can
cook," Marvin objects.
"No way
man," Dasa laughs. I take the foil off Marvin;
careful…so careful, don’t wanna drop anything, rest it
on my lap. Feeling better already. Reach into my
pocket, pull out a SciLabsUniversal pocket spectrometer, a
pneumatic hypo, a tablespoon, lighter and a tiny bottle of
distilled water, spread them out, all the tools. I come
prepared. You gotta, you can’t afford to rely on
anyone else. The others are all leaning forward, expectant,
hot breathing. I want so much to just slam that baby
home. But we gotta do it properly. That’s why
everyone trusts me. Cos I do this shit properly. You
gotta. Too much risks otherwise. First test to make
sure there’s no strychnine or whatever mixed in. Open
a foil package, insert a tiny speck of white powder into the
SciLabs spectro. Surprised how steady my hands suddenly
are. Click the spectro on. The diagnostics window
opens in my dg display. SciLabs SmartSpectrometer ®
version 1.04. For use with SciLabs series SX-200, 300, and
400 mass spectrometers only. "Analyse."
Lights and graphs come on in the diagnostics window. A
single green light flicks on the spectro itself. Ting!
***Analysis Complete. "Display."
Readouts scroll down. I don’t understand a tenth of
it, its all advanced chemistry. But the spectro’s
expert system can tell if there’s anything toxic. Ting!
No impurities found. Check another sample?
"Yes."
"Sick gimme gimme
gimme" Renee laughs. Ting! ***gimme
gimme gimme
"Not yet," I
breath. I can feel sweat rolling down my sides, under my
t-shirt. Hate that. We’re gonna do this
right. Test another sample.
Ting! All
clear.
"See I told you
it was good gear," Marvin booms.
Ting!
Renee’s av goes, text scrolling ***gimme gimme gimme
Ting!
***gimme gimme gimme
Ting! ***gimme
gimme gimme
What did I do to
deserve this lot?
Bit
of distilled water in the spoon, then add the contents of one of
the little packages, white powder. Heat it carefully,
syndorph is delicate, its not like your crap opiates.
Sweat’s running into my eyes. Pull off the
‘glasses and earphone. Four pairs of eyes on me.
And fuck knows how many in any of these houses. Good news
copy. RealCam newsbyte: junkies in the hood.
Stupid. But you get beyond caring. The water clouds
to just the right consistency.
"Can I have that
one Spyd?" Renee asks, voice suddenly ultra gentle and
friendly. Oh yeah.
"Sure," I
tell her. "After me and Dasa."
Renee crosses her arms
and leans back against the other door.
Stick the tip of the
hypo in the bowl. It sucks the water up; it’s nice and
thirsty. Hold my arm out, fist clenched. I’m
pretty lucky cos my boys are close to the surface, easy to find a
good spot. Flick the trigger. Sharp prick of pain,
little hole drilled in the surface of my arm. The hypo
beeps, jackpot, caught the vein. Three. Two.
One.
The
most
exquisite
wave
of
pleasure
imaginable
washes
over
me
it’s
like
a
hundred
orgasms
rolled into one
a hundred christian
heavens
buddhist heavens
hare heavens
n
i
r
v
a
n
a
only
there’s a funny
little voice somewhere
far
far
away
what’s it saying?
far
far
away
silly little voice
come on man
look I’ll do it
no spyd cooks it best
he’s the man
Dasa’s big dumb
face near to mine
i feel such an
indescribable feeling of love for this dude. i feel so much
love, it’s like my heart’s bursting.
So much love…
tears trickling down
my cheeks.
"Come on broh
quit fucking around already!"
With an effort i look
down at the gear laid out on my lap.
The gear.
Yeah.
i’m the whizz,
i’m the one who cooks the gear.
i look around at the
faces of my friends. i love them all; they’re each so
special, so infinitely precious
"Good shit
Spyd?" Renee asks.
Somehow i find my
voice. "Oh yeah." My heart’s just
overflowing with love. So much love…..
"Well, cook me up
some then."
"Hey I thought I
was next?" Dasa snaps. Even when he’s being
selfish i love the dude.
Who’s next?
Everyone’s next.
My hand picks up the
bottle of water, of that most precious sacred water, tips
just the right amount into the little bow, unwraps the foil
package….
i watch with
awe. My body seems to work with a will of it’s
own. Life is such a miracle. i’m just so
glad to be alive. What a buzz. What an incredible
buzz.
Amber makes a
tourniquet out of a hankie and a piece of stick or something to
bring up Renee’s veins. i just feel so overjoyed
watching. What beautiful girls these two are.
So beautiful
Two angels
The hypo rams its
goodies home.
Renee
gasps. Her face lights up like the sun. She looks at
me with such love in her eyes. Tears run down her
cheeks. I blink. My cheeks are wet too.
There’s an indescribable bond between us. We
understand each other perfectly.
Perfectly.
Perfectly.
Perfectly.