graphic design by Bernd Helfert copyrght © 2000 all rights reserved
Every time we hit a speedbump
my head whacks the ceiling. Dasa’s hunched forward in the driver’s
seat. Sweat shines on his bunched muscles, on his cropped fuzz of
hair. Still got my dataglasses on so there’s all these site listings
scrolling before my eyes. Feel nauseous from lack of HappyO.
Nova Probe Five trance apocalypse metal thunders in my ears. I’m
trying very hard not to think about Amanda.
"Yes? Arnold?
Is Arnold there?" Marvin’s stentorian voice carries over the grinding beat.
His avatar’s sitting there in the top left corner of the ‘glasses display
next to the rest of us, this pooncy little miniature, even more of a queen
than the original. I glance over at him, making the site listings
scroll horizontally. He’s sitting there with his mobile pressed hard
to his ear like its stuck with KrazyGlue or something. "Yes.
I’d like to speak-"
A drone van zooms up out
of the night at an intersection. Dasa swerves just at the last moment;
bottles of Boost rolling all over the floor. More scrolling,
fast, now I’m dizzy now as well as sick. "Fuck!" Dasa breathes.
We’re gonna crash one day, I just know it. Just hope my body doesn’t
look too mashed when they broadcast it live as it’s being cut outa the
wreckage. Nice vidding for the goulish. Fuck I cant handle
that TrueRealityLive. Could never sus why Amanda always had to have
it on.
"I want to know if Arnold’s
there. Pardon me, Dasa, could you turn that down please?"
Feel like I’m choking you know. The air in this bimbobox always
smells of b.o. and fart and dirty laundry, mainly cos Dasa cuts the air
conditioning to get more juice to the motors. My knees are cramped
against the back of his seat.
"Yes, Arnold, I’d like to…excuse
me, DASA, WILL YOU PLEASE TURN THAT FUCKING MUSIC DOWN?" Nova
Probe Five powers down a few dozen decibels. We hit another speedhump.
My head bumps against the roof again. "I’m sorry, what was that?
He’s not? Well do you know when he’ll be in? No.
Cool, thank you."
Cool. God.
Marvin’s the only nigel under thirty I’ve ever known who still says "cool"
as a colloquialism.
"No luck?" Amber
the blonde gasmgurrl with the incredible legs is squeezed in on the other
side of Marvin.
"They’re just cunts," Marvin
tells her. He looks at me, fat lips and small moist eyes smiling.
"If you’ll pardon the language."
Dasa mutters "yeah, cunts,"
Behind the `glasses bright text and icons street lights and ghostly trees
and houses rush past. Some of the listings look vaguely interesting.
I just cant be fucked keying into them. Dasa makes a hard right.
I’m thrown against Marvin’s soft and eager bod. "Wooooh!" Marvin
grins.
"Spyder, leave Marvin alone!"
Renee the little dark-haired gasmgurrl laughs the front seat. Amber
grins at us. Her av lights up ting! text appears in
the display chat window ***Syder - leave Marvin alone!
"No, please molest at your
leisure," Marvin suggests.
"In your dreams Marvin,"
I mutter. My t-shirt’s soaked with sweat; it’s all sticky and clammy
against my back. Fuck I need a hit. I need my medicine or I’m
gonna go fucking nuts in here. An image of Amanda floats unbidden
before my eyes and my heart wrenches with the memories. Me and Amanda on
the beach. Sunset. Why is it that even when someone treats
you like shit, just dumps you like that, u still can’t stop loving them?
That all you want to do is be with them. Why is the human heart so
stupid? I lean as far as I can against the window, rejoicing in its
hard surface. The listings scrolling before my eyes are a mindless
blur, a never-ending river of data.
"I’ll try JoyousBoi," Marvin
suggests. "JoyousBoi’s always got gear."
"Yeah, sick Marvin," I mutter.
A little icon for this JoyousBoi pops up next to Marvin’s. Anything
to take away the pain…
connecting………..
JoyousBoi. God what
a nick. What’d I do to deserve this? Ting! JoyousBoi’s
icon lights up. Marvin booms out "Hello? Can I speak to JoyousBoi
please? Marvin. Yes, this is Marvin, he knows me-"
Another furtive glance at
Amber. Why does she have to sit next to Marvin? How come gays
get all the girls? Dasa swings another hard right. Why are
we going round in circles? The great unsolved mysteries of
life.
"Dasa, why are we going
round in circles?" Renee asks. Her av lights up Ting! text
scrolls ***why are we going round in circles?
Dasa grunts. "Cos."
We hit another fucking speedhump.
"WILL SOMEONE PLEASE TELL
ME WHY WE’RE GOING ROUND IN CIRCLES?" Renee cries. She’s got short
spikey black hair and a sexy face ruined only by a nose like the beak of
a predatory bird. Why do gasmgurrls always have to be so spunky looking?
There’s another mystery for you. "HUH??!!! DASA???" My
dick’s going hard again; that’s how long I’ve been off the ‘dorth.
Proteus’s av appears in
the dg display. Proteus is a bot. I think. Or an
AI. A hackakid by the nick of nIgHtStAlKeR once traded him (it?
him? her?) for a kilo of HappyO and 200 grams of DMT. God knows
what he did with all that skag. Put it in his olds’ coffee perhaps.
In those days the Doc was still around and drugs came easy. Tonight
Proteus looks like a man, except that his body’s all shiny like liquid.
Sometimes he looks like a woman. Sometimes an animal. Sometimes an
alien. His voice is asexual over the ‘box’s speaker system.
Text scrolls on the ‘glasses chat window. "The reason we’re going
round in circles is because Dasa is feeling emotionally stressed because
he’s not scoring any syndorphin2-6-C and so feels compelled-"
"-yes I’d like to
speak to JoyousBoi please. This is Marvin. Marvin! You
can check my ident-"
Ronni’s Goodtime HomePage
flashes in big letters, pushing the other listings aside. Vid of
a sexy girl masturbating. My cock goes even harder. Lust and
nausea fight for control.
"-driving round in circles
in a manner conducive to endangering life." Proteus concludes.
"Thank you for that, Proteus,"
Renee says. "Now tell me something I don’t know." She looks
round at me. "AIs!"
"Well, you had to ask,"
I manage to say. My stomach doesn’t feel too good, even though I
haven’t eaten all day. ‘Turkey’s a killer.
Dasa pulls another sharp
right. Marvin’s kinda like a pillow my bod falls against. Apart
from the robot drones, the streets are deserted at this hour. "By
the way Dasa," Proteus observers "you just clocked up another speeding
violation. Ticket number 253b610037t." Ting! A
copy of the ticket protocol summary scrolls down the chat window.
"Fuck," Dasa says.
He pulls the wheel sharply to the right. Whoomp! Another speed
hump, my head against the ceiling.
"I’m accessing the PoliceStar
databanks now. Accessing speeding violation ticket. Ticket
number 253b610037t deleted." Ting! ***Deleted…
"Thanks broh." Dasa’s
shoulders hunch even more. We’re airborn again, whack! my head against
the roof. Fuck I hate speedhumps.
"Marvin! Yes.
I’m a friend of JoyousBoi. Yes, I’ll hold." Marvin presses
his chin over the mouthpeace. Smiles to me "they’re all just cunts.
If you’ll pardon the expletive."
Whump! Ouch
another speedhump. "Dasa!"
Dasa actually glances round
at me. Apart from the shaved head he looks a lot like the young Sly
Stallone in the vids my olds used to always watch. "Yeah Spyd?"
"D’ya think you could find
another street to go round in?"
"Hey?"
Whump! I grit
my teeth. "Speedhumps."
"Sorry broh. Sick.
Let’s ex this scene." We swerve round a roundabout. Tires screech,
street lights and houses and scolling displays blur. Round and round
the roundabout. I’m gonna spew, I know I am. My stomach
spasms, but nothing comes up.
"Cochleal fluid disorientation,"
Proteus observes "nausea, extended exposure can lead to long-term physiological
effects."
"Thank you Proteus," I hiss
between gritted teeth.
Dasa chuckles, straightens
the wheel. We shoot ahead like a rocket, the motor a high pitched
whine.
Marvin’s voice: "what do
you mean he doesn’t know me?" I make the mistake of looking at him.
He gives me a look like
aren’t these dealers such a pain. "I called barely a month ago.
Yes. Okay, I’ll hold." Impatient sigh.
Dasa pulls a hard left and
Marvin scrunches against me. Someone’s just let off another fart.
I want to unwind the window but the mechanism’s stuck again, happens all
the time with these old ‘boxes. We pass a 7eleven. An animation
of the 7eleven logo fills my dg’s. A little dittty starts playing
in my earphones, a movie now of happy ppl buying stuff, superimposed over
more homepage listings. Thought I selected filter all ads under options.
Renee yells "hey, pull over
Dasa!"
"Whah?" he goes.
"Got the munchies!"
Dasa swings a hard-U.
Tires squeal. Centrifugal forces drive me into Marvin’s welcoming
flab. The 7eleven tune and movie come up again. It’s really
giving me the shits. Happy happy happyyyyy.!!!! Proteus is
saying "-another one. Illegal U-turn. Ticket number 083c5036048t"
Ticket protocol text scrolls before my eyes.
"Fuck," Dasa mumbles.
He hits the anchors hard! I’m slammed against the front seat.
"Dasa fucking shit!" Renee
yells.
"Sorry," he mutters.
I pull my dg’s and earphone off, can’t handle all the ad jingo shit.
We’re double-parked in front of the 7eleven. My stomach’s a sick
tight knot.
"Deleting now," Proteus
says.
"Thanx man," Dasa replies
to him (it?).
I get out. Cool night air
on my sweaty brow.
The urge to vomit passes.
It feels good. to stretch my legs.
Renee leads the way inside,
jacket, oversized T-shirt, stockinged feet but no shoes. No panties
either I bet. What is it about gasmgurrls? I put the dg’s in
my shirt pocket. Cameras in armored casings track us. Everything’s
clean, the shelves neat and stocked. Some juves on SmartSkaytZ glide
between the aisles, around and around. They stop to check out Amber
and Renee. Don’t blame them. Gotta get some syndorph or I’ll
start wanking again. At least when your smashed you don’t hafta worry
about sex. The shop nigel checks us out mega paro from behind his security
glass. I give him the thumbs up, say "yo, peace brother!" Dunno why
I bother though.
"What’s that," Marvin’s
booming. "Yes of course we’ve got eurobucks, what do you think we
are?" He looks up at me.
"Gimme that." I take
the mobile. "Yeah, yo!"
"Yo", comes the voice at
the other end. He’s disabled the video 3D display so there’s
just the Telstra logo in the little screen.
"We got euro man.
Good enuff for you?"
"Yah. Euro or Nuyen
or Yuan."
"Yeah we got euro, sick?"
Fucking moron. We never had these hastles with the Doc.
"Sick."
"Spyder!" Renee yells.
"Yo." I hand the mobile
back to Marvin and amble over. She and Amber have picked out chips
and tofu-bars and fruit juice and chokkie mango supremes. My
stomach spasms, a tight knot of bile and hunger.
"Pay the nigel."
"Pause on that."
I go over to the isles and pick a muslei bar and a health bar, and get
a Nature’s Bounty orange and mango drink. Gotta get some nutrients
into me or I’ll faint. Back to the counter. Marvin’s got two
chocolate splices, a bag of donuts and a large bag of hot chips.
Dasa’s standing near the door, barrel chest, baggy shorts, muscles bulging
under his singlet. He keeps glancing out the armored glass
at his little red bimbobox. As if anyone‘d bother cracking it.
"Want anything Das?"
"Sick broh, got some Boost
inna car."
"Copy." I swipe my
card thru the little slot. The machine beeps, a green light blinks.
My dwindling savings. We walk out.
Fuck, this is claustrophobic.
Just sitting here. "You sure you got the right street Marvin?"
"Of course I’m sure!"
Like, how dare you presume?
"Kay, chill" I mutter.
"Reneeeee!" Amber squeals
from the front seat. They swapped possies when we got back in the
car after the 7eleven.
"Sorry," Renee goes.
"Restrain yaself girl,"
Amber giggles. "ooooooohhhh!!!"
Renee chuckles.
"Hey like what?" Dasa
turns round, grinning like the smilie man on the Toots4Life ad.
"None of your concern Das-boy,"
Renee says coldly.
Dasa looks disappointed.
Fuck these gasmgurrls.
How’d Das ever get mixed up with ‘em? At least with Amanda I knew
where I stood. Well, did….
A robot delivery van
goes past. SPEEDEE KOURIERS it says on the side.
The munchies and fruit juice
are churning around in my stomach. Hope I don’t chuck. On top
of everything I’m feeling sorta feverish. Tell you, HappyO ‘turkey sux
big time. Syndorphin. It’s a cunt of a drug. As old Stan
would say.
"Spyder?" Renee says.
"Yeah sister," I make myself
say. Last thing I feel like now is a long rave.
"How much longer we gonna
be sitting here?"
"Ask Marvin, it’s his bros."
"Yeah well at least I can
rely on my friends." Marvin retorts.
Oh yeah. When they’re
not being cunts parden the expletive. Fuck I wish Doc Tom hadn’t
been busted. We never had hastles with the Doc. God those were
the days.
Dasa breaks open a bottle
of Boost. Gulps it noisily.
"Ahh," he goes at last.
He hands me the dregs.
I shake my head. He
hands it to Marvin.
"Thank you." Marvin
gulps it down. Never known anyone who could tuck away so much food.
"Hey maestro," Renee says.
Dasa reaches for another
bottle. "What ya wanna hear sister?"
"Got any classical?"
"Beethoven?" Marvin goes.
"No," she looks at him like
he’s mental. "Doors. Marley. Stones. Dead."
Dasa shakes his head.
"I don’t go in for that old stuff."
"Well see if you can find
some pirate audies to download then."
"I got Sonic Youth," Dasa
suggests. "That’s pretty old."
"How about the Brindivan
Boyz?" Proteus asks over the speakers. Every so often he (she? it?)
puts in a reccie for some music.
"Not into that yoga stuff,"
Dasa mutters. His olds are krishnas, so he’s always like wanting
to get all the sex, drugs and death thrash apocalypse metal he can.
"I was referring to the
band," the AI replies in its emotionless voice.
"Oh." He scrounges
around for another can. "Nah. Hate ‘em."
"Yeah" Renee says "I’m not
much into that technoambient grunge fusion shit myself neither."
"Some of their stuff’s okay,"
Amber says.
Man when’s the skag arriving?
I can’t take much more of this. Fuck Marvin and his jack-off contacts.
"Renee, you seen my dg’s?"
"They’re in your pocket
Spyd." She leans across Marvin, face mildly anxious. "Man you
look sick."
"Good," I tell her.
"I feel it." I think I’m shivering.
Renee pulls back, glares
at Marvin. "Marv? Where’s your dumbass friends coming with
the stash?"
"Never at this rate," Amber
pouts.
I sorta half groan, half
snicker. What a fuckup.
Marvin crosses his arms,
nudges away so I no longer feel his thighs against mine.
Heavy silence all round.
Marvin sniffs.
I put my dg’s on.
Proteus has changed himself into a sexy gurrl now. Dunno why he/she/it
does that. For that matter, dunno what I’m doing here at all.
Waiting in a cramped stinking car for drugs that’ll never show. Just
wish this’d all end.
Renee’s voice: "hey, company."
A mean looking merc - either
black or dark blue, hard to see with the poor street lighting - has pulled
up nearby. License plates and model and big logo of Mercedes Benz
Corp comes up over it in the ‘glasses. Operatic music comes on, Paganini
I think, and a little window in the corner of the display, smiling couple
in a merc driving thru countryside, rolling hills and green fields.
Even when you specify no ads they still find a way around…. Fuck.
We should have a Merc. Probably would have with all the dosh I’ve
sunk in junk.
"I’ll go," Marvin says.
"Fine by me." I open
the door, get out. He follows. I hand him the two hun Euro.
Get back in. Now I’m sitting next to Renee. Oh yeah, big deal.
Hell’d freeze over before I got nookie off her. Man I miss Amanda.
"Proteus."
"Yes Spyder?" Ting!
***Yes Spyder?
"Gimme a trace on the merc’s
plates please."
***Accessing Motor Vehicle
Registration Database. accessing PoliceStar Database….Text scrolls
before my eyes. I’m expecting something sus, but nah, either these
nigels are clean or they simply haven’t been caught yet. More prob
the latter.
Renee says "whaddaya think
Spyd? It’ll be good shit?" Her av echos her words.
Amber turns round, elbow
against the headrest. Marvin’s leaning over by the front passenger
window of the merc.
I shrug. "Surprised
if its anywhere like the Doc’s gear."
Renee looks at Amber.
"Just typical hey Amb? Bet we’ve been driving around all night for
nothing."
"Nah," Dasa goes.
"Marvin’s contacts’re sick." Short laugh. "Only reason I hang
round wiffa jerk."
"That’s what I like about
you Das," Renee laughs. "You’ve got such a noble attitude."
Dasa chuckles.
The merc’s still sitting
there, Marvin chatting away happily. Fuck, wazzat dork doing?
Like, how long does it take to score a fucking deal already? Ah,
he’s coming back now.
"Here he comes," Renee breathes.
The merc pulls off.
Even from here I can see Marvin’s smug expression. The tension drains
out of me. He’s scored. Everything’s sick.
"Hey man" Dasa goes "got
the gear?"
Marvin opens the back door.
I nudge over next to Renee. "All ready and ready to go." Marvin
climbs in.
Renee’s going "gimme gimme
gimme"
"How many parcels you got?"
I ask.
"Ten, twenty euro each."
"Sick."
We usedta get packets off
the doc for five. Like a dream. I never realised I had it so
good. The Doc, Amanda...My contract with supermall com a-u.
Dasa switches on the ‘box’s
inside light. I blink, look over at him. He’s folded the front
seat down and crawled over next to Marvin. Marvin’s unwrapping a
package of alco foil. We all crowd around. Ten small little
foil packages. Little eggs. My salvation.
Syndorphin2-6-C
Dasa looks at me.
"You wanna cook?"
I nod. Dasa’s good
like that. How he asks. But then again everyone says I got
a talent for cooking.
"I can cook," Marvin objects.
"No way man," Dasa laughs.
I take the foil off Marvin; careful…so careful, don’t wanna drop anything,
rest it on my lap. Feeling better already. Reach into my pocket,
pull out a SciLabsUniversal pocket spectrometer, a pneumatic hypo, a tablespoon,
lighter and a tiny bottle of distilled water, spread them out, all the
tools. I come prepared. You gotta, you can’t afford to rely
on anyone else. The others are all leaning forward, expectant, hot
breathing. I want so much to just slam that baby home. But
we gotta do it properly. That’s why everyone trusts me. Cos
I do this shit properly. You gotta. Too much risks otherwise.
First test to make sure there’s no strychnine or whatever mixed in.
Open a foil package, insert a tiny speck of white powder into the SciLabs
spectro. Surprised how steady my hands suddenly are. Click
the spectro on. The diagnostics window opens in my dg display.
SciLabs SmartSpectrometer ® version 1.04. For use with
SciLabs series SX-200, 300, and 400 mass spectrometers only. "Analyse."
Lights and graphs come on in the diagnostics window. A single green
light flicks on the spectro itself. Ting! ***Analysis
Complete. "Display." Readouts scroll down. I don’t
understand a tenth of it, its all advanced chemistry. But the spectro’s
expert system can tell if there’s anything toxic. Ting!
No impurities found. Check another sample? "Yes."
"Sick gimme gimme gimme"
Renee laughs. Ting! ***gimme gimme gimme
"Not yet," I breath.
I can feel sweat rolling down my sides, under my t-shirt. Hate that.
We’re gonna do this right. Test another sample.
Ting! All clear.
"See I told you it was good
gear," Marvin booms.
Ting! Renee’s av
goes, text scrolling ***gimme gimme gimme
Ting! ***gimme
gimme gimme
Ting! ***gimme
gimme gimme
What did I do to deserve
this lot?
Bit of distilled water in
the spoon, then add the contents of one of the little packages, white powder.
Heat it carefully, syndorph is delicate, its not like your crap opiates.
Sweat’s running into my eyes. Pull off the ‘glasses and earphone.
Four pairs of eyes on me. And fuck knows how many in any of these
houses. Good news copy. RealCam newsbyte: junkies in the hood.
Stupid. But you get beyond caring. The water clouds to just
the right consistency.
"Can I have that one Spyd?"
Renee asks, voice suddenly ultra gentle and friendly. Oh yeah.
"Sure," I tell her.
"After me and Dasa."
Renee crosses her arms and
leans back against the other door.
Stick the tip of the hypo
in the bowl. It sucks the water up; it’s nice and thirsty.
Hold my arm out, fist clenched. I’m pretty lucky cos my boys are
close to the surface, easy to find a good spot. Flick the trigger.
Sharp prick of pain, little hole drilled in the surface of my arm.
The hypo beeps, jackpot, caught the vein. Three. Two.
One.
The
most
exquisite
wave
of
pleasure
imaginable
washes
over
me
it’s
like
a
hundred
orgasms
rolled into one
a hundred christian heavens
buddhist heavens
hare heavens
n
i
r
v
a
n
a
only
there’s a funny little voice
somewhere
far
far
away
what’s it saying?
far
far
away
silly little voice
come on man
look I’ll do it
no spyd cooks it best he’s
the man
Dasa’s big dumb face near
to mine
i feel such an indescribable
feeling of love for this dude. i feel so much love, it’s like my
heart’s bursting.
So much love…
tears trickling down my
cheeks.
"Come on broh quit fucking
around already!"
With an effort i look down
at the gear laid out on my lap.
The gear.
Yeah.
i’m the whizz, i’m the one
who cooks the gear.
i look around at the faces
of my friends. i love them all; they’re each so special, so infinitely
precious
"Good shit Spyd?" Renee
asks.
Somehow i find my voice.
"Oh yeah." My heart’s just overflowing with love. So much love…..
"Well, cook me up some then."
"Hey I thought I was next?"
Dasa snaps. Even when he’s being selfish i love the dude.
Who’s next?
Everyone’s next.
My hand picks up the bottle
of water, of that most precious sacred water, tips just the right
amount into the little bow, unwraps the foil package….
i watch with awe.
My body seems to work with a will of it’s own. Life is such
a miracle. i’m just so glad to be alive. What a buzz.
What an incredible buzz.
Amber makes a tourniquet
out of a hankie and a piece of stick or something to bring up Renee’s veins.
i just feel so overjoyed watching. What beautiful girls these two
are.
So beautiful
Two angels
The hypo rams its goodies
home.
Renee gasps.
Her face lights up like the sun. She looks at me with such love in
her eyes. Tears run down her cheeks. I blink. My cheeks
are wet too. There’s an indescribable bond between us.
We understand each other perfectly.
Perfectly.
Perfectly.
Perfectly.
story copyright © M.Alan Kazlev,
1999, 2000
this story is mirrored
here
at Project Jericho and here at the Duke of Hell's Cyberpunk
"Syndorphin" graphics copyright © Bernd Helfert 2000
all rights reserved
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