Pulse - Chapter Three
The lights burned Reed's eyes. They flashed and scanned; spun and strobed. It always took his eyes a minute to adjust to the aggressive flashes of light and laser that always met him at the door. The club was alive tonight, much more than the night before. Reed couldn't make out the dance floor from the mass of swaying and writhing people on it. The floor itself was lit, pulsing hard along with the beat of whatever fresh piece of techno the DJ was spinning and lighting up the legs of the throng as they moved and stomped over the Plexiglas surface. Reed couldn't help but nod his head along with the music. The beat was infectious and he was feeling it tonight. He took his time weaving his way through the crowd, taking in the sights and smells. The smells were the worst of it, though. His change had caused his sense of smell to become far more acute than it had been before and he could smell the sweat from the dancers, the cheap cologne from the swarthy-skinned Euros who always seemed to have a presence in the club and the stink of sex on a few here and there. He hated that one the most.
When he finally made it over to the bar, he saw Art standing behind it, his hair in the process of turning from yellow to red. He noticed Reed and waved as the wolf got closer. When Reed got to the counter, Art leaned forward and greeted him.
"I was thinking you wouldn't show." The bartender said, grabbing a shot glass from under the counter. "What're you having?"
"Vodka," Reed answered automatically. He leaned in a bit closer. "And some information." Art smiled knowingly and motioned toward the end of the counter.
"Straight to business, eh?" Art said, laughing. "Fair enough. Finish your shot and then come to the end of the counter. We'll talk there." Reed opened his canine mouth and poured the shot quickly into his mouth, feeling the tingling burn of the alcohol as it coated his tongue and then feeling it warm him inside as he swallowed it.
"Ah yeah. I needed that." Reed said and then moved down the length of the neon-lit counter, meeting Art down in the little secure corner that the bartender saved for other kinds of sales. Reed leaned in close, getting a good vibe based on what he'd seen on the net the night before when he watched the almost imperceptible blip sneak effortlessly through Toshiba's security. The barman's cocky attitude reassured him as well.
"So, did you get what I asked you for?"
"How much is it worth to you?" Art asked, raising an eyebrow. His hair had turned bright white.
"You want this job or not?" Reed asked impatiently, shooting Art an annoyed glance from his lupine eye.
"Awright, awright. I was just fuckin' with you." Art said and then wondered. "Though really, what's it pay?"
"Well, your share of whatever we make, of course. I've got a buddy I might need to help out of a jam, and if I do, he'll be working with us. He's got connections who know where and when the good merch is coming in. He can also work pretty well with different tech. Knows his way around a processor." He explained. "So he'd be in on it too. I'd be setting up the deals and you'd be making them. So I figure an even three-way split would be reasonable."
"Add danger pay if deals go south and you've got yourself a deal."
"That depends on whether or not you got the info."
"You can trust me on that one, Reed. You know me. I deliver."
"I don't know you that well, so you're going to need to back up that talk."
"Fine, fine." Art said and handed Reed a small data stick. "You rigged with a port?" Reed touched a spot behind his ear and tugged a bit, removing a small, hidden cap, revealing a small data port. Quick Access Neurological Software -or QANSoft- ports were a common modification and most standard clinics installed them. Reed had gotten his with his new body. He took the stick and plugged it in to the port.
Reed's vision flickered in one eye and was hijacked by the QANSoft stick. His right eye began displaying images and information. Every piece of information that Toshiba had on its CEO, including bank accounts, home addresses, foreign accounts and personal data were being displayed quickly, scrolling up Reed's vision. He stopped it at several points, impressed with the wealth of data the Implant bartender had managed to secure.
"I've got everything; even his mistress' phone number." Art said without an ounce of humility. "For a company that produces neuro-rigs, I'm really surprised at how weak their walls were. I was in their network in seconds and it was almost a half-hour before they figured out I was there." Reed was impressed. Art may have been cocky, but he had the skill to back it up.
"I saw you, I think. I was monitoring Toshiba's network last night and I saw what looked like someone slipping in. It was like a quick blip of something going clear through their walls." Reed said, unplugging the stick and feeling the momentary sense of disorientation as his vision returned to normal. "I'll admit; you surprised me. I thought you were full of shit."
"I can be." Art said. "But not about sapping. It's one of the few things I'm dead serious about. I left the Teks because of it." That caught Reed's attention. Having a former Tek helping him could be dangerous. If they were keeping tabs on him, that could hurt business; but if they weren't, Art could provide insight into the Cult and their practises, which could keep him alive and out of any serious trouble.
"You were a Tek?" Reed asked.
"Yeah. Most of us implants were, you know." He says. "We decide to become a little too 'one' with technology and the priests get pissy. It was alright though. Their religion is a complete crock of shit, anyway."
"You were a Tek though," Reed countered. "Didn't you believe?"
"Nah, I was young and wanted something to belong to. My folks were poor, ya know? I needed an out and they were it. Got sick of it though. I wanted to jack into the net so bad and they controlled the use of their consoles. They think that getting implants is a 'perversion of technology', so I quit the Cult, started working, and finally, just this year, I could afford to get top-of-the-line shit rigged into me."
"They after you or something?"
"Nah. They leave me alone. As far as they know, I don't have any sensitive information." His hair turned a deep green colour.
"As far as they know?" Reed asked, cocking his head.
"Well, I DID get into their network a couple of times. Learned a few things that only the priests know about. That kind of stuff."
"Ever think of selling the info?"
"Who'd buy it? They control the power this city runs on. They've got us by the balls." Reed knew that Art was right. There was nothing they could do to the Cult of Technology, and that was just fine by him. He was in no rush to take a bite out of a benevolent organization. Well, almost benevolent. That reminded Reed of the Cult cars and the sleepy, frightened people being dragged out of their homes.
"Hey, speaking of the Cult, they're out in force tonight, aren't they?" Reed said.
"They are? That's odd."
"Yeah. It's a bit spooky. I mean, they don't usually drag people out of their homes and toss them in the back of cars, do they?"
"They're doing what? That's fucked up, man. Maybe it's how they deal with people who steal power or something . . ."
"All in one night?"
"Maybe it's some kinda blitz." Art suggested. "But either way, if they're not after you, then all the better, right? Fuckin' cultists." Art said.
"Yeah." Reed said. "How about a drink?
"Make it two." Said a voice from behind him. Reed turned around to see Anne, the mouse girl standing behind him.
"Do you mind?" Reed said, looking over his shoulder. "I'm having a conversation." Art showed up with a shot of vodka, Reed's usual.
"Hey! You're that mouse chick I saw last night." Art said.
"And you're Artie, the bartender." Anne replied, leaning down to rest on the bar. Her tail wrapped itself slowly and purposefully around Reed's leg. She turned her head, and winked at him.
"Do I know you?" Art asked. "I don't think I've ever told you my name."
"I heard it from some of the kids I party with." She said. "I'll have whatever he's having." She added. Art walked over to where the bottles lined the wall and poured her a shot of vodka. "So puppy, whatcha doin' tonight?" Reed cringed.
"Trying to get shit done, if you don't mind." Reed snarled, hating being called puppy and even more pissed at the girl's insistent attitude. He shook his leg to try and get the tail off from around it. "And stop calling me puppy." He said, considering adding 'I killed the last person to call me that', but realizing it would just give her more ammunition.
"Lighten up, Fido." Anne said, smiling. "It's a party! Enjoy yourself!"
"She's right, Reed." Art said, coming back with a shot identical to Reed's.
"Don't you start, too." Reed said, annoyed. He'd had a shitty day and was in no mood to party.
"C'mon, man. Our biz is done. I'll take the job, if you're still offering. Why don't you have a drink on me and hit the floor?" Art said, trying to be helpful. His hair had turned fluorescent pink. He leaned in close. "Or maybe you're lookin' for something a bit more . . . interesting?" he said, grinning wickedly. Anne's ears perked up.
"What'cha got?" She asked, her voice almost purring. Something Reed found inwardly funny, since she looked very much like a mouse.
"I've got something new." Art said, smiling. "My guy just got me about 50 hits of this stuff. It's a kind of stim. It has three effects. First, it give you a rush, like most stims do; then a sort-of euphoria kicks in, you start having a good time; last, it's great for clubs because it makes you ultra-sensitive to things like music. You can see and feel the music in here. It's off the fucking wall." Reed was sceptical.
"You sure your buddy wasn't fucking with you? Sounds like too much of a good thing."
"Nah man. I test everything I get. I tried some last night about an hour before we started closing up. It was crazy. Lasted hours. It made the Net pretty intense." He said.
"Gimme two, Artie." Anne said, leaning down and showing off her reasonable cleavage. Covered in fur or not, Reed couldn't help but sneak a look. "C'mon puppy, let's have some fun." She said, running a hand down Reed's arm.
"Look, I don't even know-" Reed began and Anne pulled on his wrist.
"Then why not try to GET to know me?" she said.
"If you're just looking for a place to crash, I'm sure one of those rich-looking idiots out there would have a nicer pad." Reed said, still annoyed with the pushy, albeit strangely attractive girl. "And if you're just looking for a fuck, I'm not really game." He added, though he knew that wasn't entirely true. "And 'sides. I don't have any nice shit to steal."
"Fuck you, then." Anne said, looking kind-of hurt. "You think that's all there is to me?" she asked.
"Well, I did meet you last night when you tried to rob me and then you told me you were going to stick around a party to find a place to crash. All this after I offered you a place to crash. So forgive me if I doubt your motives, princess."
"I was tweaked, man! And you'd just kicked my ass. My pride was a little hurt, you know." She said, shoving him gently.
"Whatever." Reed said, shaking his head.
"For real. Let's do that shit Artie was talking about and party a bit. You look like shit."
"I've had a bad day."
"Then come on!" she said. "If your day's been so piss-poor, then why not have a good time with me?"
"Why do you seem so hell-bent on getting me to hang out with you."
"I'll tell you if you come dance with me for awhile. If you're not having fun, then you can come back here and drink and talk to Artie until you get tired of it and go home." She said, almost warmly.
"She's right man. You look like shit." That was Art. Helpful as always. Reed thought bitterly. Fuck it. The last time I had a day this bad, I woke up looking like a wolf. I may as well enjoy the night. He decided. He was going to take the drugs Art was offering him and he was going to have a good time.
"Fine, I'll take some too, Art." He said, giving in.
"Don't worry about it puppy, I'm buying." Anne said.
"I thought you were broke?" Reed said.
"I'm never totally broke." Anne replied. "I always keep a bit for partying." She added. "It's what I like to do best. Well, almost." She said, trailing off a little and winking at Reed for the second time that night.
Art grinned and reached under the counter and flicked something under the lip. Reed heard a barely audible 'click' and then Art's hand was back, two semi-transparent sheets the size of breath strips in his hand.
"You can put 'em under your tongue or you can mix 'em in your drink. They taste like shit, so I might recommend the second option." Art said, his hair changing from pink to the same blue the Cult used to identify itself. Art pulled out a small personal money transfer pad and Anne slid a credit slip over it. Art looked at the screen on it and laughed. "Hassan Al-Rashid?" He asked and Anne smiled coyly.
"I lost mine a long time ago, so I . . . borrow some, from time to time." She said.
Anne took the shot from in front of her and dropped her hit into it, watching it dissolve, making the drink a little foggy. She lifted it and motioned for Reed to do the same.
"Here's to tonight and grouchy new friends." She said. Reed reluctantly picked up his shot and dropped his hit into it, watching it melt. When it was done he nodded and clinked his shot glass carefully against Anne's. They downed their shots and Reed was amused to see Anne sputter. "Ah fuck! Vodka? You drink straight vodka?" she shook her head hard. "Dammit, Reed!" she said, and Reed noticed it was the first time she used his name. For the first time that day, Reed laughed. "Shuddap." Anne snapped half-seriously.
"How long do these things usually take to kick in?" Reed asked. Art shrugged. "They worked almost right away on me. Your nanites might be fighting it though."
"Never mind." Reed said and suddenly, everything seemed to pulse along to the music. He smiled widely. "There it is."
Anne giggled next to him and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him away from the bar and towards the dance floor where music had gotten much more intense, the beats controlling Reed's world. Art smiled after them and then re-entered the security strip's line of vision, serving some customers who had been patiently waiting further down the bar.
Reed's world had become a mess of colours and lights. His senses tingled with every sweep of the music. His heart thumped to the beat. He was dancing for the first time in years, enjoying the movement and the lights and the crush of gyrating and stomping bodies. He didn't care about the smell for once; he was just enjoying himself for the first time in what felt like years. When he thought about it later, once the fog had lifted from his brain, he realized that it had been years. He'd been so wrapped up in biz for the last long while that he'd never taken time to enjoy himself. Even the V-Stim unit in his apartment had never been used.
Anne was there with him the whole time, the same ridiculous smile pasted across her mousy face. She danced well and seemed to know just how to move with the music. After a while, he found that he was doing the same, moving with the sensations that were now rocking his body while the music pulsed and pounded. He felt like Superman . . . or Superman's dog, perhaps. He thought about Anne briefly while watching her dance. Sure she was fucking annoying, but he'd met worse. She knew how to have a good time and she'd forced him to do exactly what he needed to do. She forced Reed to have fun. He watched her a little more closely. He enjoyed the view that the too-short skirt was giving him and he enjoyed watching the bounce of her smallish breasts in her tight blue top. So what if she was covered in fur? So was he and the concept didn't weird him out as much as it used to.
They danced for what felt like hours until an announcement came over the loudspeaker that it was closing time. Reed and Anne felt disappointed. They were still flying. Reed idly wondered how long the stim would last and then decided to ask Art. He wandered over to the bar as the crowd was thinning.
"Art!" he shouted from the end of the bar where the security strip couldn't see. Art, his hair a deep red this time, strolled over nonchalantly. When the bartender got there and leaned in, Reed asked, "So how long do these things last?" Art shrugged.
"They were in me for 6 hours and then some. I think you have to sleep them out. Eventually the boost from the stim wears out and you'll get tired. Though I bet if you stayed awake, all the sensory boosting shit would still work." He answered.
"Jesus. Almost too much of a good thing." Reed said, laughing. "By the way," he continued, "come by this address this evening around 5." He said, writing his address on a napkin and handing it to Art. I have some merch that could use moving." He smiled and turned around, finding Anne standing back and away from him. He walked over to her. "Find a place to crash while I wasn't looking?" he asked.
"Nah. No takers." She answered, joking.
"Well, the offer is still open if you want to crash at my place. The couch is damn soft." He said. "I sleep on it all the time." He added helpfully, the drug making him feel somewhat stupid. Anne looked as though she was seriously considering it and then nodded.
"Sure. Sounds good, puppy." She said and somewhere deep inside Reed's brain, something shuddered. He motioned toward the colourful crowd of assholes and reprobates filing out of the club.
"Then let's get the fuck out of here." He said and the two made for the door, squeezing their way between the press of sobering dancers, all moving out of the club and toward wherever it was that those kinds of people slept. He heard the high-pitched whine of several very fast motorcycles streak by; Freaks on their way to a rally, maybe. The stim was still pounding in Reed's system and every sound the evening made, the voices of the crowd, the hum of the cars and the sounds of the footsteps echoed in his brain, making him completely aware of what was going on around him. If it hadn't been for that, he probably wouldn't have heard the knife getting pulled from someone's boot.
"Reed! Look out!" Anne shouted and then there was a crack and she was sprawled on the pavement, her hand on her face. Reed spun looked for who it could have been. In the midst of the thinning crowd, the Cybers from earlier were facing him, a knife in one of their hands.
"Interesting bitch you got there." The one with the knife said and moved closer. "I think she could be kinda fun." Reed was on the defensive and the stim started messing with his emotions. He got very, very angry. He ducked low and aimed a punch at the knife-wielder's midriff. Something hit him on his shoulder and sent him flying. Great. A bionic arm. Reed thought in pain. He got back on his feet and reworked his strategy. The Cyber with the knife, his pink hair streaking beautifully in Reed's intoxicated vision. Reed barely dodged out of the way but he managed to grab hold of the punk's arm. He dropped an elbow right in the middle of the attacker's arm, breaking it at the elbow. The Cyber dropped the knife but now he was the least of Reed's worries. The one with the metal arm was descending on Reed like a freight train. He took a backhand that rang his bell and sent him flying again. He spat blood and dragged himself to his feet to find the cyber rushing him. Reed dove forward, putting his shoulder into the punk's legs, causing his attacker to trip over him. Reed was back on his feet in a heartbeat and he closed on the attacker but Anne was already there, having picked up the dropped knife. She held it to the Cyber's throat and growled.
"You wanna die, asshole?" She asked, the drug having the same intense effect on her emotions as it was having on Reed's. The cyber rolled over quickly and suddenly he had Anne by the throat, threatening to crush her windpipe. She let out a squeak as her breath was cut-off and Reed rushed him. Before he could get there however, the grip on Anne loosened; she'd planted the knife square in the Cyber's throat. He gurgled pitifully, clawing at his throat until finally, he stopped moving. The Cyber with the busted arm stood up and with a terrified "Sh-SHIT!" ran into the street. Anne sat straddling the dead cyber, a blank expression on her face. She was shaking.
Reed helped Anne to her feet and she fell into him, crying. He held her to his chest as she sobbed. He didn't even know why he comforted her. He barely knew her and, this evening aside, his experience with her had been less than savoury. But here he saw a woman who, in self defence, had killed a man for the first time in her life. She sobbed and trembled and, with the drug pounding in his veins, he shed a tear in empathy before shaking her gently and speaking insistently. "Hey." he said. "Hey, we need to get out of here. C'mon." he shook her again and she looked up at him. He saw her then like he hadn't before. He saw vulnerability in her eyes. He also noticed that they were coloured purple. The fluff on her cheeks was matted down and damp.
"Okay," she whispered, "let's go." Reed guided her away from the club and the seeping corpse of the dead Cyber. Reed knew that this sort of thing happened all the time and, in true Mid-Haven fashion, people just looked away and suddenly it was as if nothing had happened. Reed knew Art would likely talk to the owner of the club and smooth things over. He and Anne weren't likely welcome back at the club anymore. He would just have to find another club to run his business from. The price you pay to play the game.
Reed led the mouse-girl through the streets leading to his neighbourhood. He joked with her and, over time, a combination of the levity and the drug brought her mood right back up again. She joked back.
The streets were dark and wet like they always seemed to be. The minor street he walked on was lit by the big fluorescents attached to the bottom of the street's major section that cast a shine on the puddles that always formed on the lower streets. Water always ended up down on those streets for some reason. Usually it was a combination of rain water which invariably ran off the Major roads and down on to the minor roads below and leaky plumbing from the pipes that fed the fire hydrants above. It smelled a little like garbage and a lot like what Reed referred to as "city": the smell one finds in any city, a cocktail of odours leaking from every crack in the pavement, from every window and from every sewer. His slightly more sensitive sense of smell always picked up on it while others generally got used to it.
Reed and Anne hardly saw another living soul on their way back to his apartment. The Teks all seemed to have gone back to their temples and the streets were relatively quiet for once. He didn't know what the Cultists had been after, but he was just glad that it didn't involve him. Every now and then, he was relieved to not have trouble coming his way. That brought him back to the mouse next to him. Was she trouble? Though the drug was pounding in his veins and his mind was fried, he had enough sense to wonder if bringing her back to his apartment was a good idea. She had already admitted to stealing things from her friend's place so what would keep her from stealing his stuff? He was a stranger, after all. Beside him, Anne started humming a tune that they'd heard that night and, unable to stop himself he joined in, filling the echoing sub-street with a quiet tune. The drug was doing its job and he stopped thinking.
After about half an hour of walking, Reed and Anne were standing in front of his building, waiting for the elevator. They were still humming and, at times, their humming was interrupted by her, giggling. He knew he was off his ass, and could only imagine what the drug was doing to her, without nanites in her body to fight the buzz. A soft chime sounded and the door to the apartment clattered open, inviting them into the warmth of the heated elevator shaft. As the elevator ascended, Anne danced a little while humming and finally, as they neared his floor, she composed herself and looked at Reed seriously.
"Hey," she said, getting his attention, "thanks for letting me stay here tonight. I mean it. I know you don't really trust me and all."
"Nah, it's alright." He answered, almost lying. "Though, I might need you out kind-of early tomorrow."
"Biz?"
"Yeah. Pretty much."
"I get ya." She said, pulling a smoke from her coat and lighting it. "Though, I'm no rat. No pun intended." Reed laughed and then eyed the slender French cigarette she was hauling on.
"I thought you kicked those." He said.
"Yeah, well, you know how it is. You handed me one last night and it just sort-of got me back into them."
"Ah shit. Sorry."
"It's good. I could use them, really; especially after what happened outside the club. Calms the nerves, you know?" Reed nodded his assent and pulled out a smoke of his own, a Marlboro, and lit it. He felt the drug surge in his system as he took a drag.
"How's that shit Art gave us treating you?" he asked.
"It's kinda hit a valley right now." She answered, sounding almost disappointed. "Though I bet some music would fix that, or maybe some V-Stim."
"I've got a V-Stim unit in my place, never used it. Though I hear that you're not supposed to use them when you're on heavy shit like this. Could fry your brain."
"Fuck it. Music then."
"Yeah. Sure." Reed answered. Anne started humming again and that filled the few seconds left before the door to the elevator opened to Reed's apartment. Reed thumbed the control panel and the lights came on dimly. Another few presses and the window slid open a fraction, letting some of the cool night air into the now-stuffy apartment. Reed peeled off his shirt without thinking and tossed it onto the back of the sofa, which got a whistle from Anne. "Ah shit. I forgot you were there." He said. "Does it bug you?" Anne only laughed and gave him a 'who, me?' expression.
Reed flopped down on the couch and leaned forward, tapping his coffee table. The glass surface came to life, displaying a list of pictures. He hit one that looked like a musical note and then looked up at Anne. She'd taken her top off and had tossed it on the couch. He got a good look at her. Her body was thin and not particularly toned. He couldn't see her ribs though he imagined if it wasn't for her fur, he probably could. Anne didn't look like a girl who ate too often. She was wearing a bright pink bra which covered smallish breasts. She wasn't a stunner physically, but she sure as hell was confident.
"Warm?" Reed asked. The mouse-girl laughed a bit louder than she normally would on account of the drug and shrugged.
"I was feeling left out." She said flopping down on the other side of the couch. "Does it bug ya?"
"Nah. Whatever's good. You're the guest, anyway." Reed said, shrugging. "So, what're we listening to?"
"Got anything like what was playing in the club?"
"Maybe. Let me check." He said and his hand moved over the table, flicking across it and scrolling through a substantial amount of music. "Let's see. I have some dance mixes from last year. The only other thing I can find is a Robopop station."
"Fuck Robopop. Music written by computers freaks me out." Anne said and nodded. "Throw those mixes on, then."
Reed's hand flicked once and he tapped the table top just before a low synth started to fill the room. The table dimmed and Reed relaxed, looking over at Anne and nodding. "This work?" He asked, hearing - and feeling - the beat kick in. The drug was mellower now, but he could still feel the music washing through the room. He stood up and grabbed his shirt. He tossed it over his shoulder and walked for his room, his walking matching the song's constant and pounding 4/4 beat. He opened the door and tossed his shirt in before moving toward the bathroom. "I'll be back." He said simply and walked in.
In the can, Reed shook his head and stood in front of the toilet, managing to take a leak without making a mess. The last while had given him a chance to get pissing with his new plumbing down to a science. His foot tapped with the beat that was filtering through the shut door through the whole experience. He flushed, rinsed off his hands and walked back out again to find Anne reclining on the couch, her hand resting on the soft, white fur of her stomach.
"So, this where I'm sleeping?" she asked. "Because if it is, I'm not complaining. This is one soft couch." She said.
"Yeah. It was the first thing I bought for this place when I started making money." The wolf answered, moving first to his kitchen where he pulled a small wooden box from his counter and then headed toward the couch with it. Anne bent her legs and gave him somewhere to sit. When he sat down, and every time he ever sat down on that couch, he remembered why he bought it. The sofa hugged him as he sat down, the memory foam cushions conforming to his body. The music pulsed and Reed's vision throbbed with it. He would have to thank Art for sure; this was a fascinating drug. He'd have to ask what it was called. "So, what's your story?" he asked Anne over the music.
"What?" She called and he dialled down the volume.
"I was asking what your story was." He said. "How did you get to the point where you're sleeping on people's sofas and one-night-standing your way across town?"
"You really wanna know that, puppy?"
"I told you. Don't fucking call me pu-"
"Humour me, will you?" Anne said, cutting him off.
"Whatever. But yeah, you're here, we're up, it seems like something to do." He said, opening the box, filling the room with the strong scent of a much milder drug. He pulled a plastic bag, a grinder, an ashtray and some rolling papers out of the box. "You smoke this shit?" he asked her and she nodded. Of course she does. What was I thinking? "So, the story while I'm rolling this thing?"
"Alright." She said, looking surprised. I guess no one ever asks her. Reed thought. "Well, I'm from Westmount, in North Haven." She said off-hand, obviously trying to downplay that part.
"Swanky end of town." Reed said with a bit of humour in his voice. He ground some of the pot and knocked it out onto the table.
"Yeah, I guess." Anne answered with a shrug. "My folks were rich. A doctor and a lawyer. So you can imagine that yeah, we had some cash. But it was bullshit. No-one should ever go through life having everything given to them. My friends from other ends of town thought I was a fucking fraud; thought that mommy and daddy just handed me that shit. So when I turned 16, I left home. That was 6 years ago.
"For a while, I lived with some friends in a warehouse near the Old Port. It was cold in the winter and it was always dark but over time, we managed to swipe some cool lights, some sound and V-Stim gear and we made some chairs out of some old grain stores and burlap bags we found around there. We figured that if we could steal stuff like lights and electronics, we could probably steal other shit and fence it. We did that and then ended up buying a fridge, a stove, food and pills. Then it was a party every night. Those were the best days of my life."
"How long were you there?" Reed asked, dropping the ground weed into a paper and rolling it with his thumbs and middle fingers.
"Ah fuck. Like . . . a year maybe? Anyway, one day one of my buddies got pinched trying to swipe a TV from a truck parked in behind a store. Through him, the cops found our hideout and raided it. I bailed and took off as fast as I could. I jacked someone's cred slip, jumped in the first pod I could get and headed down to Mid Haven. I started clubbing and making friends. I slept with guys for a place to stay and jacked their creds when I left in the morning. It was almost too easy, you know? I met a girl around here and we partied for a while. I fell for her after a while."
"Really? Girls too, eh?" Reed said, raising an eyebrow and chuckling a bit. He baptized the joint and lit it with a lighter he took out of his pants pocket.
"Piss off, puppy. You got a problem with that?"
"Nah, I just didn't expect you went that way too."
"Only that time." She said accepting the joint as Reed handed it to her and taking a deep, long drag on it. "But anyway, she dug me too and so we lived together for about 6 months. It was a great time. I always had food, I got a job working at a swanky restaurant, I had someplace warm to live, I had someone to care for me and I got laid almost every day. It was awesome." She passed the joint back to Reed.
"So what happened?" He said after taking a couple of quick tokes.
"Well, I told her one day about how I survived before meeting her and she got pretty put-off and after awhile, she told me to fuck off, so I did. After that, I dunno. I wanted a new start so I took the money I'd saved since I moved down to mid-haven 5 years ago and, not long ago, I got on a plane to Seoul and became this mousey girl you see in front of you. Then, broke again, I just went back to what I was doing before and it's been working pretty well since."
Reed nodded and handed the joint back to the mouse-girl on the couch. "Jesus. This stuff works well with whatever Art gave us." He said, floored. Anne giggled on the couch next to him and took another haul on it.
"Fuckin' magic." Anne agreed and chuckled. They sat like that for a while, the joint passing between the two of them before Reed took a hit and made a face.
"Fuck. That's cardboard." He said, tossing the smouldering roach into the ashtray. Anne was high as hell, he could tell. Her eyes were deep pink and she was laughing at everything. He had to remember this combination of drugs again. Art was right. Off the fucking wall.
Finally Anne looked over at Reed. "Wanna dance, puppy?" she asked. Reed didn't say anything about the 'puppy' thing. It looked like it was something she'd never stop saying. He shrugged.
"I'm all danced out, I think." He said.
"Wanna fuck?" she asked afterwards. Reed looked at her seriously, or rather, as seriously as he could, given the circumstances.
"You don't need to fuck me to stay here, girl." He said and put his hands behind his head. It wasn't that he didn't want to, he just had no intention of waking up in the morning broke and alone.
"I'm not trying to repay you, Fido." She said. "I just want to roll around with you."
"And in the morning, all my shit'll be gone, yeah?" he asked sharply.
"Fuck you, Reed. I'm not going to steal your shit. I said that partying was almost my favourite thing to do. Foolin' around is the one thing I like more. Just thought it'd be something we could do. You're not bad looking, for a dog-lookin' guy, you know." Reed didn't know why, but he believed her. She looked hurt.
"I've never used this body for that kind of thing before." Reed said, starting to give in.
"I have." She said simply and Reed didn't doubt her.
Within a minute or so, she was in his bed and under him. It was not graceful, it wasn't passionate and it was far from 'lovemaking'. The two of them, fuelled by drugs and the moment just needed to get some tension out. It had been a long, rough day for Reed and his tension and aggression were reflected in the act. Anne didn't complain. It was over fast, but it seemed to be enough. The rough, animalistic fuck took it out of them and when it was all over, the two of them lay on his bed and, without much difficulty, fell asleep.