and he
luxuriated in it, procrastinating the meeting. His hands shook. Vomit
rose up his throat, but he kept it down.
Outside of the shower after toweling off Syd looked in the mirror and
began to feel worse.
She'll fucking probably cry when she sees me, he thought, when she
sees who she has to go home with.
He dried his hair with the provided white towel and hung it next to the
sink. He smoothed his hair down to the best of his ability with his
hands and went into the hallway. Turning his back on the elevator Syd
walked down the hallway away from the elevator into the man's office.
The man sat with his wingtips on the desk, talking to a large middle
aged woman in a flower dress.
"We spend months re-abilitating," the man said, then he saw Syd and
stopped. Syd could see the annoyance or tension in the man's eyes.
"I don't want to marry anymore," Syd said.
The man dropped his feet to the floor and swiveled in his chair to face
Syd directly.
"You just have some wedding night jitters. Did you read all of the
contract?"
Syd felt his face blush. He tried to maintain a stoic façade otherwise.
"No."
The man broke eye contact and looked at the floor in front of Syd. He
spoke softly.
"The marriage isn't binding for one week. You have one week to
decide."
Syd turned to go back to the elevator.
"And listen chief," the man said to Syd's back, since you didn't read the
contract, I'm going to tell you this. She's not obligated to have sex with
you. Only to care for you as a wife. So if you rape her, you'll still go to
jail. All of our rehabilitated teles have extensive training in dealing
with violent spouses. Understand?"
In a wash of anger Syd dug his fingernails into his palms.
"I'd never rape" he began.
"I didn't ask you that, chief," the man said, "I said if you understood.
Do you?"
The man had the sound of years in a hierarchical institution: the sound
of principles, lawyers, police officers, and judges in his voice. Syd
forced himself to answer the way the man wanted.
"Yes," he said and walked to the elevator.
The elevator man had a face that reminded Syd of stucco walls.
"501C" Syd said to him.
Under the storm of several pints of vodka Jennifer's eyes wobbled in
their sockets. The music had begun to sound good to her so she knew
she was truly drunk. One of her marks had left with a pudgy girl some
time ago. She didn't know how long ago. The stool under her had
begun to feel like its legs were made out of rubber.
It's time, she thought.
The blonde kid looked both closer to her and more drunk than the
brunette so she decided to try him first. She wasn't feeling especially
lucky.
The blonde boy danced in the small dance floor in the center of the bar.
Earlier the ten foot square space had been a crowded orgiastic mix of
sweat, alcohol, and groping dry humping disguised as dancing. Jennifer
had watched from her stool as the people had filtered off from the
dance floor. The boy was by himself now, dancing in a haze of
chemicals or alcohol.
Or both, she thought.
A man of thirty had bought her several drinks before moving on to a
more drunk and mentally impressionable female. Jennifer had drunk
more vodka under his influence and money than she normally did
before hitting a mark.
The club had begun to empty; the young people had either tired or
found someone to stay up with in more private locations.
She scanned the room. Three girls sat in the far corner, giggling and
taking turns tongue kissing each other. Jennifer tried to burn their
location into her mind in case neither of her male marks worked out;
they were obviously so high on MDCA that picking their pockets
would be simple.
But no one has much money in their pockets in a bar this close to
closing, Jennifer thought. Try the marks first. Before they leave.
Under the swinging lights cutting lines in the fog machine haze the
blonde boy danced. He looked eighteen or nineteen to Jennifer. His
motions were spastic. His arms, painted a bright blue color, bobbed and
waved, giving the appearance of a blue iridescent cylinder wrapping
around his upper body.
He stumbled and caught his balance four times in the span of time it
took Jennifer to walk to him.
He stopped moving and looked at her. His pupils were spread across
his eyes
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