Everyone In Silico | Page 8

Narc's show!"
JK was putting away the container. "I figured you're working with similar themes..."
Nicky gave a one-shoulder shrug. "Sorta." The show invite was a floating, large-bosomed
woman now, who was intoning the time and place. "I met him once, and he struck me..."
She looked at JK. "Do you know Mike?"
JK made the finger gesture for a little.
"I dunno. Maybe I'll go," Nicky said, picking up the coin projector.
"He's a bit arrogant," JK said, putting on his backpack.
"Yes."
They laughed at her vehemence.
"It might be the fact that we're working in similar territory, though," Nicky admitted.

JK shook his head. "It's so different though, in terms of treatment."
Nicky squinched up her mouth, nodded. "I think so."
JK noticed the time. "Holy yikes, I gotta scram." He reached for the door. "Seeya!"
Nicky turned and walked into the living room, grabbed the jar of tea. "Not without this
you're not."
"Shit!" JK said, shouldering off and opening his backpack. "Can't forget that. OK seeya
for real this time," JK opened the door and left.
"Later," Nicky said and shut the door. It wasn't until she was coming back from the living
room with the empty mugs that she noticed the bike, still hanging from the coat hook.
Doug flicked through the numbers again, his long fingers jerking spastically. Nope. No
way to do it. He sighed and leaned his head against the palm of his hand, placing it there
like a crystal ball on a silk pillow.
And although it wasn't giving him any answers, Doug's head was somewhat
crystal-ball-like: the bald top of his head gleamed softly, ringed by a well-kept monk's
fringe. His long face suited his current depressed state: thin-lipped misery accompanied
by a thin moustache.
Doug stood up, stretched, and gazed out his window. Through a tiny square patch - about
one foot by one foot - he could see the mountains. Just the tips, but that was enough. He
had no idea how the patch had peeled off, nor why it remained unfixed. He had
considered telling someone, but it wasn't like his bosses made money off of the billboards
that covered the outside of the buildings. That was the building owner's lookout.
It was a bit creepy, however, that prime ad space would be left to waste. It was the
clearest indication Doug had had that things were really changing, of the emigration, or
whatever the pundits were calling it these days. He really should have known that, of
course, but Doug had felt his concern for such matters diminish steadily over the years, a
leak he felt incapable of fixing.
He looked at his watch. Quarter to 12. Shit. He sat back down in his chair. Tapped the
armrests, looked at his patch of sky. Stared at the finance sheet floating before him in his
cubespace. Oh, fuck it. It's close enough.
He got up, waving off the spreadsheet, and elbowed his way into his black greatcoat. He
headed out the door, checking his watch to see if he had enough for Pilar's. Damn. Not
enough for a decent meal and a tip.
Striding past people in the hallway, he hid his disappointment.
Fuck how I hate the day before payday - "Hi Gloria."

"Early lunches for the execs."
Nosy - "Well. We don't get to chit-chat on the phone all day, so we need a proper break."
"Ha ha."
What am I doing, sparring with the secretary -
"Doug! How goes it ol' chum."
"Maintaining, Mike, you know how I do." No! Don't get on the elevator ah shit- "...So
where you off to?"
"Pilar's. Can't get enough of that kelp piñata stuff. You?"
It's paella, moron. "Oh, McDonald's."
"McDonald's?"
Don't act like you've never heard of it, you fat bastard - "Sure. I force myself once a week
at least. Keeps my ear to the ground."
"Hmm."
"It's all the same food, I mean - Pilar's a McEatery." God, that was desperate.
"True, true. Well, watch those McNuggets, ha ha."
"Ha! Never touch 'em." Can these doors open any slower? "Well, take care."
As the elevator whisked Mike away to the underground mall, Doug fished around in his
pocket for a handkerchief. He pushed through the (barely) revolving doors into a fairly
nice day, but Doug had his polka-dotted hanky firmly pressed to his mouth as he headed
towards the golden arches.
He caught a flash of his mountains between two massive buildings and almost knocked
into an old man carrying a rather wet-looking garbage bag. "Fug you," he said through
swollen lips, and Doug nodded his agreement, getting away from the cloud of stench as
quickly as possible.
The McDonald's sign loomed above, inaccurately stating 99 Billion Served. It had been
frozen there for as