The Second Sphere

The high died quickly, and for a moment, my throat constricted. I felt the world falling on top of me as the Love fled from my synthetic body. I needed real air, some space to run free. I dosed again, inhaled deeply and felt my worries slide down the base of my spine.

‘Get a little closer, don’t be shy. Get a little closer; just make sure that you’re dry! Mantrix Deodorant let’s you get a little closer.’

The entrance to the Sector 35, Area 12 train station was chaotic, filled with people headed to work. I grabbed the throwaway by the arm, pulled her close to me, and held her hand tightly. Someone could be watching.

To our right, I saw a few bot cops—rather thick, tall, pill-looking things on wheels, lazily patrolling the far end of the station. The chances that they would do anything were small. Most weren’t programmed to detect throwaways. But still, I clenched my teeth. As I stepped in front of the gate, a light flashed across the chip in my neck. The composite-metal gate opened and I pulled her after me. I turned to see if the bots followed. They didn’t.

We waited for a train going up moon. Next to us stood perfectly coiffed men and women. Some were at the Source nodes, which lined the wide columns supporting the station, trying to fit in a bit of rejuvenation before a long day of work. Others got sales pitches or something of the sort, and were too absorbed to notice the throwaway and me, and barely raised their eyes as the train whooshed into the station. We got on the last car and managed to get a seat by the door.

Our fingers entwined and I thought it better to keep them that way. Across from us, a blonde woman wearing a tight black suit and lightning colored pumps noticed us. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the throwaway, trying to figure out if she was legit. When her eyes moved to mine, I blasted her with an icy stare. Mind your own fucking business, I thought.

At Sector 60, Area 19, we got off. Pro Green Revolution graffiti, all rounded, mashed together, angry slogans calling for decentralization filled the walls of the hallway. Bits of non-recyclable trash peppered the ground. The sector smelled of depravity and sickness.

To our left was a group of hard, hungry men. They wore standard issue outfits of leather and denim, their hair painted various colors of the rainbow. Their transfers were old, worn, the skin slipping along the base of the chin and under the eyes. Leaning against the outer wall of an apartment building, hands jammed in the pockets of their pants, this early in the morning, they were probably GR groupies. I didn’t have time for a full interrogation and sure as hell didn’t feel like kicking that hungry dog. They watched us move, trying to find any sign that we might have something they wanted.

We headed to a rickety building across the sector hall from the station. There were no bot cops around or much of a sign of TSG’s presence. I pulled the throwaway through the front door and into the lobby, which smelled like burning plastic. There were large, fake, potted plants. A bot was behind the front desk. As we passed, I realized that it wasn’t on.

When we got to the 87th floor, I led her out into the dimly lit hallway and to the right. There, I knocked on the second door. I looked around for any sign of neighborly concern. Fortunately, it was early.

The door opened, and there before me was Cody Beans, dressed only in a pair of black boxer shorts. He had a strangely pale complexion, long, blond dreadlocks, and had, apparently, been at the Source just moments before.

“Orion?” Cody said, his voice soft. He stood to the side and I went through the door with the throwaway still on my hand. “Didn’t think you’d be here so early man,” Cody mumbled as he dragged himself into the living room rubbing his eyes. The small, dirty, one room apartment was full with throwaways, from wall to wall. A sickly sweet, artificial smell filled the room, which Cody used to cover their presence, as well as the recycling, which probably hadn’t been taken out in a few weeks. To our right was a kitchenette, the counters covered in take-out containers.

“You hear about New Mumbai?” I asked.

“Been Sourcing man. No. What?”

“Bomb.”

“Yeah?” He swallowed a breath and pushed it out between his teeth.

I nodded. “You hear anything?”

Cody shook his head. “Nothing. You did just wake me up out of a session. But damn …”

“What?”

“Things are heavy.” He leaned back against the wall next to the kitchen and crossed his arms.

“You think they weren’t before?” We stood for a moment staring at each other.

“How was she?” Cody asked, nodding at the throwaway. “You wear her out? Or you get too much of that Love in you, just pass out?” Cody liked to mess with me, as though we were friends. But we weren’t. He gave me information, free throwaways, and a discount on Love credits; I kept his ass out of jail. I ignored his taunt and moved around the living room, eyeing the stock.

“Just browsing,” I said.

“What’d I tell you about this one? Whoever programmed this throwaway, he’s a fucking genius. Pussy’s tight, too,” he said.

“How much do I owe you for the Love credits?” I asked.

“You paid the whole thing last night, Orion.” He smiled. “Damn, you were fucked up! Thought I might have to get you a bot escort with the way you were swaying.” He chuckled. “You coming by tonight? You want Cristina again? I can hold on to her. Or you just need the credits?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve stayed away, hasn’t it?” I asked rhetorically. The apartment started to smell dense. Or maybe I’d spent too much time there.

Cody rummaged through a pile of clothes on the floor. When he stood, my eyes moved from his face to the black tee shirt that he’d just put on, which was stenciled with the supposed symbol of the Green Revolution, an oddly shaped earth with the word Mother above it. I decided that it was time to leave.

“You’ll work on getting me something about New Mumbai?” I asked. “My boss will definitely want a bone.”

“If I hear something, you’ll be the first to know,” Cody said.

“Okay. I’ll see you.” I edged my way toward the door.

“You know where I’ll be,” Cody said before I left.

Out in the hallway, I stopped by the elevators to catch my breath. The walls closed in on me. The drive was in my hand, then it was against my chip and a couple credits worth of Love hit me.

Even out. Just even out.

I caught the train back down moon feeling pretty good. When I got off, the silvery Laslow Building stood before me. The structure rose into the sky, towering over the surrounding edifices. Thousands of people crisscrossed the halls that intersected at that point, heading to work. For a moment I thought about not going inside, just blowing off the whole damned day. But responsibility gave me a shin kick.

A couple held hands as they walked along a light-filled path. The camera swung around and there was Mickey Mouse, a big, plastic, black head and a smile. ‘Make memories the old fashioned way. The new luxury suites at the Lunar MariottDisney.’

In the sterile lobby, I got in line to go through security. We were getting one hundred threats a week so I didn’t mind the slow movement and invasive image technology. Inch by inch, I moved closer to the scanner, watching it to see whether anyone going through ahead of me would set it off.

Karl Lower, head of building security during morning hours, stood on the other side of the scanner and watched me go through. He nodded at me once I’d been certified.

“You here early working on that game seven? TSBA?” he asked. Though I had no proof, I imagined that Karl had once been a man of generous proportions. But since I’d known him, he used a nice selleck.

I grunted. There was no need to confirm or deny why I was at work.

“I knew they shouldn’t have held the championship in New Mumbai. I told my neighbor, I said, that’s a dangerous place. See what happens when you get a lot of people there? You think you’re going to show the GR who’s boss by having the biggest sporting event in the Three Spheres at a threatened target? Course they’re going to bomb it.”

“Yeah,” I said. Karl’s small talk was about as endearing as a cold sore.

“Yeah, bunch of pricks, ruining my game. I was up late for that, ya know?” He paused and scratched the back of his head. “I don’t ask for much. All I want is to take an enhancement and watch the Wolves win the championship. Is that too much? Now I wait who knows how long until they can find time to reschedule it. Bunch of assholes,” Karl muttered.

“I hear you,” I said.

“Promise me you’ll get those pricks, Mr. Cox,” he said. He pointed at me with an accusatory finger.

If only ‘getting those pricks’ was a matter of determination. I put my head down and trod slowly away from him without saying another word, knowing that I could never promise anything of the kind, that the Three Spheres were too complicated for one side of this seemingly never ending war to win outright. By the elevators, I waited with a small crowd to go up into the sky. Being out of advertising range was the only thing I had to be happy about.

Thanks to the Green Revolution, my day would be miserable.