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I’m beating the shit out of an asshole who owes me money. He’s come up short on his tab three times in a row, and I’m not a loan officer for junkies. I’m making my name in this Colony, and part of making my name involves putting down anybody who tries to fuck me out of my money. I also very much enjoy punching people, and this gives me a reason to beat some ass.
I’m in one of the Colony developments. It contains the youth of the Colony, the people who buy drugs, and the ones who will go on to make their fortunes as worker drones alike. They don’t know it, poor bastards, but these are their last days of real freedom. Once they become workers, they won’t live in old style buildings like these. They’ll be assigned cells and work locations and zip back and forth between the two for the rest of their lives.
“Uhm, excuse me, sir?”
Someone taps on my shoulder, or more like my lower back. Someone short is trying to get my attention.
I turn, fist clenched and bloodied, ready to punch the fool who dared interrupt me. But it’s not a guy. It’s a girl, about 5’3 with the biggest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. She’s curvy and wearing an oversized sweater. She does not look like a threat. She looks like a nerd. A little worker drone to be. She’s still in school.
“What!?” I bark the question at her.
“Uhm, if you wouldn’t mind. It’s just, when you punch his face like that, the blood spatters onto the carpets and I’m liable for paying for that because the bond is in my name. Maybe you could take him out back? Or. Uh. Maybe not. Because actually, I think Talbot in the other apartment has called the authorities, and I think they might be coming for you? So. Maybe now’s not the best time to be”—she circles her finger around her bloodied floor — “here.”
She said literally the only thing that could get me to stop beating the shit out of this asshole. I’m wanted right now. Very wanted. Part of coming up in the underworld and building notoriety means coming to the attention of authorities. I used to think I could stay under the radar. Now I know better. That doesn’t mean I am about to be caught.
“Alright, Dreamy, where’s your nearest exit that’s not a door that leads to the street?”
“Dreamy?” She’s confused at my choice of nickname.
It’s what she looks like, a round-faced little dream, a sweet and innocent little accomplice. We don’t use real names in my world.
“Yeah. Quick.” I swat her ass hard enough to shake her out of her frozen state. “Think!”
Her eyes dart back and forth for a second. “Uhm. The roof. These houses are conjoined, and then there’s internal steps that go down to the deli at the end of the street. And then, there's one of those, manholes, and I guess that goes down to the wastewater system.”
“Good eye,” I tell her. “Thank you.”
Her friend is curled up on the floor, sobbing to himself.
“Tell your friend to pay his debts next time.”
“I will,” she says. “Thank you, Shah.”
“You know my name?”
“I know your reputation. I should probably come with you. I know the patrols. And if they scan my number, then they’ll be satisfied they’ve detected someone legit. Did you know they can’t actually tell people apart? It’s all based on algorithm and codes.”
I did know that. I’m surprised she does. She seems too bright for someone about to become a worker.
“Are you coded?”
“Tomorrow, I start as a worker,” she says proudly. “I’m going for training in the morning. But today, I’m still free to help. I guess this is my last rebellion.”
I almost ask her to consider that it doesn’t have to be her last rebellion, but time is not on my side.
“I think the authorities are coming, Mr Shah,” she says. “Come with me. We can make it if we hurry.”
Back in the club…
Funny how some people leave an impression in a second, while others don’t make any kind of an impression in a lifetime. She gave me enough warning to get away before the cops showed up — and they came in force. She couldn’t have known, but I had enough warrants to bury me. That heads up saved me a long stretch.
Whatever’s going on with her, she’s not likely to survive it. I can see three slavers, two traffickers, and a meat merchant sizing her up. Before she goes on her way, I pat the top of her head. She smiles, mistaking it for affection. It’s not. I just marked her as one of mine. Nobody will touch her now, not without risking their lives.
There are beautiful women thronging this club, dressed up and made up to perfection. They know me, and I know many of them too. They come with bright smiles and ample breasts, bringing offerings of alcohol and drugs.
I can’t pay attention to them. I’m not here for women. I’m here for business. But I can’t pay attention to either of those things because Dreamy is here, sticking out like a sore thumb.
She’s taken my advice and gotten a drink. She’s up at the bar now, sipping a cocktail. I doubt she knows how strong that drink is, or what it has in it. Alcohol is the least of the active ingredients in a drink like that. I should go over and make sure she knows…
