Passion Model (13 page)

Without further warning, the screen went back to its screen saver of shifting colors. I looked in the upper right hand corner at my personal settings and forced out another low curse. There were red Xs through nearly all the boxes. Personal communication had been set to a five minute limit, fifteen minutes daily max. Personal access codes had been completely removed, meaning I had to get approval from a superior before even keying anything in for research. The clock icon that showed my time left on the job blinked with no limit.

“Great.” I had no quitting time. I needed superior permission for even that. “I wonder if I have to get a written permission to use the bathroom.”

“Ask me real nice and I might consider it.” Eddie slid into the seat next to mine. “Who’d you piss off, G?”

I sent a silent prayer to my God-of-choice. “Rando named you my immediate superior?”

“Yep.” Eddie tilted back in the chair to stretch his long legs out on the desk. “Which means you have to do what I say. When I say it.”

I gave him a look to show me that I wasn’t amused. “This isn’t funny, Eddie.”

“Hell no, it isn’t.” Eddie shook his head. “All this from one IIP? I told Rando losing the runner wasn’t your fault. She wrote me up for it, G, but she didn’t demote me. What the hell is going on?”

I stared at him for a long time before I could answer. “I can’t talk about it here.”

He ran across his mouth and stared back at me. “You’re in deep, whatever it is.”

I nodded. “Don’t we have some patrolling to do?”

Eddie didn’t insult me by treating me like the Junior Op I’d suddenly become. “We’re assigned District 5 today.”

“That’s my fault too, isn’t it?”

He grinned. “Well, since prior to your little mishap I’d been working the upper class Districts and not the slums, I’d say it doesn’t seem to be coincidence?”

I thought about putting my face in my hands but didn’t. This wasn’t going to break me. “I’m sorry.”

Eddie shrugged. “Hey, it might be fun.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him. District 5 is home to the lowest class bots and the citizens they serviced. This wasn’t about fetish practice, or things outside the normal realm. This was about filth and poverty and crime. As close to real crime as anything in Newcity got. Drug abuse that went way beyond recreational. Illegal weapons. Eddie and I were not in for a fun time.

My stint in Oldcity had taught me poverty there was the rule, not the exception. Citizens didn’t get ranked—there was no point. They didn’t work. The relationships they formed and broke and the children they bore were not part of any recognized marriage or bonding ceremony. Residents of Oldcity survived on the government-issued ration packages containing food, beverage and the drugs that kept them satisfied with their lot in life.

Obviously the drugs often failed at their purpose, because Oldcity rocked with riots and crime.

Yet despite all that, Oldcity has a way of living, a standard if you will. An alien culture, shocking to the average Newcitizen, raised in comfort and cleanliness and peace. Still, there were rules, enforced by habit and tradition in addition to the daunting presence of Ops who here and only here were allowed to carry weapons.

By contrast, District 5 is part of Newcity. Its only boundaries are the regular District boundaries, not the chemical barriers that break Oldcity and Newcity apart like conjoined twins under the surgeon’s knife. District 5 is not forbidden to any Newcitizen—but only those with a purpose for being there ever visit.

Legalizing drugs two hundred and fifty years before had effectively put drug profits in the pockets of the government instead of the dealers. Pharmaceuticals are a more common indulgence than candy, which by comparison doesn’t fulfill the same need as completely. Those who can’t control their addictions overdose and rid society of their undesirable presence without the effort and legality that used to be required, and those for whom drugs don’t ruin their lives can indulge themselves for fewer credits than it costs to buy a viddy newscast.

What goes on District 5, then, is not precisely illegal, but instead foolish and very dangerous. Government regulated recreational pharmaceuticals are clean and cheap. There’s something for almost every taste, and for those who need something else, there’s District 5.

“We’ve done our time there before, G. It’s no big deal.”

There are a lot of reasons why I love Eddie, and this only reinforced them. “Why hasn’t some hot chick snapped you up yet?”

He gave me a leer. “I’m still playing the field, baybee.”

I reached out to touch a thread of silver planted in his blond hair. “Don’t play it too much longer, Eddie. You’ll be going in for your first set of transplants the day after your honeymoon.”

“You want to go to the bathroom or not?”

The thought of where we were assigned that day made me nod. “Hell, yeah. I’m not putting my butt down in any District 5 loo.”

“You have to learn to pee standing up.”

“I already know how to do that,” I retorted. “But I don’t even want to stand in a District 5 lav.”

“Let’s hope we don’t have to,” Eddie said. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Phew.” Kaelyn wrinkled her nose. “My Gemma smells bad.”

Her words were an understatement of grandiose proportions. I reeked. My day in District 5 hadn’t gone well. Eddie’d flushed out a gaggle of illegally outfitted Pleasurebots, and they’d run us into an ambush. We’d been stink bombed.

We hadn’t been searching for the gang of bots and their leader, who made his profit from smuggling his illegal poisons inside their useful and active sex cavities, but that didn’t matter. We found them, they fought back, we ended up choking and gagging on a dose of specialty stink.

“I’m going to take a long, hot shower,” I told her. “And then I’m going to bed.”

She wrung her small hands, and her wings fluttered in agitation. I could see she needed to tell me something but didn’t want to, and I saved her the anxiety by asking her outright to tell me what she wanted.

“My Gemma must go to the market,” Kaelyn whispered, shamefaced. “I could not order food today.”

“Shit.” I’d forgotten my demotion meant the daily deliveries had been canceled. Kaelyn couldn’t go to the market herself. I had to do it.

“I’ll go when I’ve cleaned up,” I promised. “We can’t have you starving.”

She gave me a wan smile. “My Gemma would never let that happen.”

So, even though the thought of heading back out to the street made me almost want to cry, I satisfied myself with a chemical spritz to rid myself of the stench inside of the luxurious hot shower I wanted.

I pulled on a casual outfit of tight-fitting pants and shirt, both black. I slicked my violet-streaked hair back beneath a dark cap, and didn’t bother with refreshing my cosmetics.

I slipped the straps of my carrybag over my shoulders. This was only the second time I’d ever used it, but I was glad now I’d paid for the deluxe version. Filled with groceries and sundries, this bag would be heavy, and the padded straps and waist belt would help soften the load. “Make me a list,” I told Kaelyn.

The list was simple and small. It pained me to see it. She didn’t ask for treats or luxuries, only the most basic of staples. Bread, protein substitute, vitamin supplements.

“Nothing sweet? No chocobars?”

She looked solemn. “I thought my Gemma might have more trouble. I didn’t want to bother her.”

“Chocobars are still on our approved list, Kaelyn.” I hoped I was right. I wouldn’t find out until I got to the distribution center. And if they weren’t…I’d make sure to find some for her.

I hopped a pedtread and went the several blocks to my District’s distribution center. I hadn’t expected a line, and was unpleasantly surprised to find myself waiting in one. Apparently my District had a lot of folks who didn’t rate high enough for auto-delivery, or else there were very few but the powers-that-be made life ten times more difficult for them…just for fun.

Howard Adar’s ears must’ve been ringing fiercely, because I cursed his name with every foul word I knew, in every language I could speak. I’ve downloaded the intergalactic translator software. I can speak a lot of languages.

Nobody made eye contact. It was a more shameful thing to be here than I’d realized. I kept my eyes down too, as my cheeks burned with self-righteous indignation and I sent evil wishes Howard Adar’s way.

When it was finally my turn I used the terminal touch pad to check off the things I wanted. Three out of five items buzzed obstinately when I tried to order them.

“Unavailable.” System’s cool voice informed me over and over. That I’d had them yesterday and the day before didn’t seem to matter.

I left with my carrybag half empty. I’d been able to get the chocobars, but only by trading for them with a similarly belabored Newcitizen who was willing to part with the sweets to get some soap.

“What did you do?” He asked me curiously, with a sideways glance over his shoulder like he was afraid of being overheard. “I didn’t pass my last competency exam.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I told him curtly.

He nodded. “Sure.”

I took the chocolate, gave him the soap and ended the conversation.

Instead of taking the pedtread, I decided to walk. I needed to work out my anger and frustration, and the exercise would be good. Even with the carrybag’s weight on my back, I was still hyped up enough to set off at a slow jog along the District’s little used sidewalks. Careful not to stub my heavy boots on a buckled slab of pavement, I avoided the other citizen traffic as best I could.

Without planning my route, I ended up outside the gates of my District park. The one I’d met Declan that night not so long ago. Without thinking too hard about my reasons, I let the door retscan me, and when it opened, I went inside.

As usual, it was close to empty. The only inhabitants were an elderly man reading an old-fashioned paper newspaper, a collector’s edition probably. He shuffled the sheets at me as I went past him, back toward the gazebo and the fountain, and took a seat on one of the benches.

In times past, the old guy might have brought corn or seed to feed birds and squirrels. Now he simply sat and looked at his paper. When he’d finished, he folded it carefully and tucked it under his arm. With the dignity of someone who’s not quite certain if his body will allow him to stand without falling, the man nodded stiffly at me and left the park. The silence he left behind was welcome.

I took off the carrybag and set it at my feet, then leaned back for a few moments. In this park, Declan and I had made love. It seemed as though I could still taste him on my tongue, still feel the whisper of his breath on my skin. All of it had been for nothing, and I didn’t want to think about it.

Very quickly, I realized I had no choice. The ping of the door to the garden caught my attention, and I opened my eyes. In came Declan.

“What are you doing here?” My voice was cold, and it didn’t shake. I was glad for that. I stiffened on the bench, then got to my feet when he began to come closer.

“I need to talk to you.”

His tawny skin was pale, the lines around his mouth deep. He clenched his fists as he moved toward me, and my own went up in response.

Like unenhanced humans, I don’t have much control over my body’s instinctive reactions. Unlike them, however, I do have exaggerated responses. My body’s flight or fight mechanism had been triggered by his aggressive stance, and unless he seriously backed off, I would do whatever I must to protect myself. I’d killed men who came at me with less animosity on their features.

I’ve said before that men aren’t always swift on the uptake. Declan apparently didn’t notice my stance or my expression. He kept coming at me with his hands outstretched, and eyes and mouth grim.

I didn’t want to believe he meant to hurt me, and I didn’t want to hurt him, but my muscles tensed and I reacted. Just before he reached me, my leg lifted out from my hip and twisted. My foot missed his face by an inch—and it had taken an extreme effort to miss him.

My heart pounded, but I managed to spit out, “Don’t come any closer.”

He frowned, which actually made his mouth look softer instead of angrier. “Gemma, I don’t blame you for being pissed…”

But he hadn’t dropped his hands, and I was still in hyperdrive. He took one more step and this time, my foot didn’t miss. It connected squarely with his jaw. Declan dropped like a stone.

With my foe felled, my body relaxed a bit. Instantly, I went to my knees beside him. The sight of blood on his mouth, blood I had put there, made me bite my own lip in response. I smoothed his hair back from his forehead, and the feeling of it under my fingers made my already clattering heart skip a beat.

He opened his eyes, and in the next moment, his hands were around my throat. The adrenaline rush that hadn’t had time to fade returned in double strength. Inside, I knew I should have been more careful. Declan was a mecho too. His body would react as mine did, to protect itself. He didn’t have my Op training and background, but he did have enhancements.

My mind knew this, but couldn’t override my body, which now began fighting to protect itself. My hands grasped his wrists and tried to tear them from my throat, but Declan was a man, and mecho, and he had the advantage of superior muscle strength. My lungs expanded to better process the minimal air I was now bringing in. I straightened my legs and used the force of my weight to bring us both to our feet. With a swift, sweeping arm motion that had nothing to do with being mecho and everything to do with martial arts training, I disengaged from Declan by knocking his arms away from my throat.

At the sudden release of his hands from my throat, Declan stumbled back with an appalled cry. He held up his hands as if they were alien things.

“Gemma, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“I know.” I regarded him warily. “Back off for a few minutes. Let us both calm down.”

He turned his back on me and paced. He ran his hands through his hair. With the threat gone, my breathing slowed and my muscles no longer trembled with tension. I sat back on my bench and propped up my carrybag while I waited for him to talk to me again.