Everyone In Silico | Page 9

empty table surrounded by other empty tables, as far away from the cluster of youngsters as he could get. A younger Doug Patterson would have tried to get a little closer and eavesdrop on the conversation and make mental notes of the slang, but Doug Patterson at 37 unwrapped his burger and watched them with dull indifference fortified with caution.
"But the two lanes were merging, right. So-so-so, I was like," the kid took a toke, "Let's go, shitarse. You wanted to race, so let's race." He had huge gaps between his teeth and the full attention of his crew. "Onetwenty-oneforty-onesixty… the motherfucker didn't stop, I'll give him that. Should have though. Ended up as the window display at Macy's. Totalled." He toked and blew a smoke stream at his gun finger, listened to his crew make impressed noises. "My Camaro had not a scratch."
One of the kids, a girl of about nine, screamed. Then, stopping entirely, pulling her knees up to her chest: "Oh see, so-so-so, that's my bullshite alar-um."
"Verify. Fuck you little - go! Just go verify. Last night. Granville and 7th." The kid crossed his arms, made cartoonishly big by his white puffy jacket, and jerked his chin. "Fuckin' - go! Look stupid."
The little girl exaggeratedly spoke into her watch. "List fatalities -"
"Did I say he died?! No, I didn't…"
"Cancel. Did a car accident occur yesterday at Granville and 7th?"
The kid and the girl locked stares as they waited, eliciting hushed giggles from the others. Finally the watch verified an accident. The kid spread his hands out, a gap-toothed smile on his face. "An that's -"
"Cars involved with this crash?" the little girl continued, her face a curl-framed study in innocent curiosity.
"Two cars, a Camaro Extremis and a Lightfoot, were towed from the site."
One kid covered his face in his hands, moaning, and the sounds of misery-induced hilarity beat down the gap-toothed braggart.
"Stung," pronounced the little girl, a small hint of a smile on her lips.
"Who cares, I picked up that Camaro for like, a hundred fifty -" he started.
Singsong: "Stung."
"Ah, I'm makin' money all the time," the gap-toothed kid said, shoving himself upright, moving towards the counter.
"How much of the tow charges have been paid off?" the little girl asked her watch as he moved away.
"Zero dollars." Hilarity. "Accruing 13% interest per annum."
One of the kids stood up and called, "Yo, Zero! Get me a burger motherfucker!" Then he seemed to notice Doug. "So-so-so, chicken hawk. You like this?" He motioned to the six-pack of abs on his prepubescent body, visible through a sheer t-shirt.
Doug shook his head and looked away, finishing off his burger and starting on his fries. He emptied the packet on the tray and doused them liberally with ketchup, focusing on the motions, willing their attention away from him as an escaping convict wills away a searchlight on the yard.
Doug lifted large handfuls of fries to his mouth in an effort to inconspicuously eat more quickly. He could only swallow the potato derivative so fast, however, and he looked up to see the gap-toothed kid veering towards him on his way back from the counter.
"So-so-so," the kid said, getting out a pack of tokes and sliding in beside him. He sparked up and gave Doug the once-over, pausing at his expansive bald pate. Doug realized that what he'd thought were gaps were teeth tattooed black. "How you doin', guy?"
"I'm fine." Doug raised his eyes to the kid's, but the kid was already glancing over at his friends, who were talking amongst themselves. Only the little girl was really paying attention. Doug steadily mowed down his pile of fries.
"You know, guy," the kid said. "These Marlboros are really smooth. It's a perfectly balanced mix between tobacco and marijuana that packs a punch while staying really flavourful."
"Really," said Doug, happy that the kid was just pitching at him rather than something else. "Marlboros, you say," he said in an interested voice, mopping up the last of the ketchup with the last of his fries.
"Yes! Why not try one?"
Doug took one of the tokes from the green and white pack and set it on his tray, "Thanks."
"Yes, Marlboros. Marlboros are..." the kid was checking his watch.
Hopeless, Doug thought, out of pitch ten seconds into it and checking his account in front of the mark. "Tasty?" he prompted. "With a high that lasts all day long?"
"So-so-so, with-a-high-that-lasts-all-day-long," the kid said, more to his watch than to Doug. A second later, "Fuck. Why didn't I get anything for that?"
Doug got up. "I said it first. You should have also offered me a light."
The kid went for his pocket.
"I don't smoke. But you get a few extra bucks for offering a light," he dumped his tray into the garbage, the mat sticking for a second before obeying gravity.
"Whattaya throwing