Bottle Born Blues

by Conor H Carton

  The last thing I wanted was to have anyone pay attention to my life and actions. Rosby was correct. I’d surrendered all slivers of privacy to the devotion of the information specialists, who’d investigate me with appalling completeness to understand how best to serve and protect me. What they’d do when they found out went beyond imagination, mostly because I didn’t dare imagine it.

  “They have put you in their pocket now. You should make yourself comfortable. There’ll be no leaving it.” Rosby looked at me thoughtfully. “I’m going to have to be nicer to you as well. I don’t know if they have a sense of humour and I’m in no hurry to find out.” Ignorance was such bliss, I could have shrieked, stabbed her, stabbed myself, cried, laughed, or done something calm or crazy if I’d possessed a spark of energy; instead I was anesthetised.

  The door opened and Aikon entered, followed by four identical information specialists. They stood in an arc around Rosby and me. Akion stepped forward. “I am Akion, information specialist and saved being. Through your intercession, Lanken has seen our situation and cries for us. For this gift of salvation, we thank you with our devotion.”

  Akion stepped back into the arc and another information specialist stepped forward and spoke. “I am Belkirk, information specialist and saved being. As you saw the great wrong that has been done to us and spoke for us so we, too, see you and speak for you to Lanken. Your life will be added to the terrible balance on the final day.”

  Belkirk stepped back into the arc and the fear that had flooded me receded a little. It looked like this might be prayerful rather than inquisitive. I could certainly do with extra prayers. A third information specialist stepped forward and spoke. “I am Chador, information specialist and saved being. It has become my happy task and duty to record your life for the edification of all saved beings, so that we may see you truly and serve you deeply.”

  With that pronouncement of doom, Chador returned to the arc and the final two information specialists stepped forward and spoke in unison. “We are Dalok and Efrin, information specialists and saved beings. We speak for those who cannot be here to speak for themselves. We see you as you have seen us; you have saved us so shall we save you. You have changed our sorrow to peace and we place our lives in your hands.” The pair stepped back into the arc and no one spoke.

  My throat was clamped shut with fear, but I did manage a seated bow. That appeared sufficient. Four of the information specialists left, but Akion remained behind and blinked slowly.

  Rosby moved to the door and said. “That was unexpected. Still, there are unsaved beings to get organized.” With a quick nod, she departed.

  Akion continued to stand and blink while panic steadily lessened. A thought finally managed to make itself heard and I was ready to inflict damage on someone. The address I’d been sent was in a very nice, quiet section of the city, residential properties mixed with unadvertised business premises, set among tree-lined streets. It wasn’t the most expensive part of the city; it was the most assured part of the city. You were very happy with your money if you lived there and you earned it very discreetly if you had an office there.

  I walked up several narrow steps to the door—the steps unusual for street buildings and I assumed there was a security device to delay hostile forces seeking to enter. When I saw the front door, I realized the steps were there for show.

  The front door was beautiful, with Vesper woodwork, the shapes and colours of the wood grain drawing eyes from one point to another. To have this amazing piece of art casually on display explained the wealth and power of the inhabitants more effectively than words. The cover also hid the fact that the door was a blast-grade block; the building would crumble before the door would. I was familiar with them from the drains. They were used extensively across the system to prevent floods or other events. The door cover didn’t include the seals, which were warnings to those who could read them.

  The door opened as I neared a nice smooth movement. The walls of the house were braced to support the door and withstand a direct hit from a mid-range missile. It would take a combination of blows to crack this shell. I stepped inside and was greeted by a small lifeform. He reached my waist, with a slim muscular body emphasized by a snug, dark-yellow one-piece uniform. He was bald, shaved rather than genetic, and smiled widely. He was a Natural; I’d never met one so short before. Genetic variations must occur randomly, as well as being designed.

  “Mr. Mansard, welcome. Mr. Constain does greatly appreciate punctuality. Would you come with me, please? Leave your coat there on the rack.” He pointed to a beautiful piece of crafted sea-stone that came straight from the soul of a StoneBeater and I did as requested.

  I was carrying no weapons or charms. As I followed the lifeform down a long corridor, I could feel the prickle of full-body scans. The building used a similar charm to confuse a sense of direction used in Old City. It was very effective. As I walked, the distance in front shifted constantly. Not enough to make you lose your footing, just enough to confuse or baffle. After what seemed like a long walk, we came to a set of wooden doors with no decoration, save for the beautiful grain. The short lifeform knocked and waited, and upon an unheard signal, pushed open one of the doors and ushered me inside.

  The room was smaller than my entire living space by several centimetres, with a stunning late period Mr.eves hanging on the wall to the left, an abstract of lovely colours and space that demanded attention. The flooring was plank-cut Ragan wood with a delicate grass-green glow from heated volcanic slopes where they grew four systems over. While I didn’t see this right away, they became clear in my memory later, because my attention was focused on a large metal desk at the far end of the room, with two people sitting on either side. Behind it, in a very comfortable looking chair, was the lifeform Lincoln had been speaking to the night of the rally. I had not realized when I had seen him at the rally just how big he was, not very tall but just wide enough to suggest a very compact mass. Bald head, pale skin with no wrinkles, wide topaz eyes set over a straight nose and a smiling mouth. Common Man robes that cost more than my annual salary, worn with assured confidence that rested on the strong exercise of power.

  Lincoln was sitting on equally comfortable looking chair on my side of the desk positioned to the right of Mr. Constain. She didn’t, however, look comfortable, but furious and frustrated. The two lifeforms who stood behind her with nerve-sticks were probably what was keeping her quiet. There was another chair opposite Lincoln, positioned so that Mr. Constain could look at both and have an unobstructed view of the door. I was waved forward to the empty chair before the desk. I sat and smiled at Lincoln, who gave me a look that would have toasted a boulder.

  “Mr. Mansard.” Mr. Constain had a strong, confident voice. Whoever he spoke to would listen fully and carefully. “I don’t wish to delay yourself or Lincoln any longer than necessary, so this is what will happen. You’ll deposit your health card with me and sign all account statements delivered. When I have the card, you and Lincoln may leave unharmed and unencumbered.”

  He leaned back and waited for a reply. A tunneller came through the floor and the nose lifted the desk before it split in two and fell on either side of Mr. Constain. Three IPS, armed with doubled-headed ballet axes, jumped out of the tunneller. One held a long blade against Mr. Constain’s neck. The other two lurched at the guards with the nerve-sticks, who went straight for the invaders. Nerve-sticks were only good against creatures with nerves. An IPS was a revived corpse and nerves weren’t part of the equation. Battle axes, on the other hand, were good against any type of flesh and in a short time, the guards had been chopped into bloody lumps. The IPS trio stood still, waiting for the next instructions.

  I spoke to Mr. Constain. “I don’t wish to delay anyone, so this is what will happen.” I handed him an info cube. “This contains details of all your accounts, including deposits with the Royal Bank of Hinjer and the transfer stream that the Insol crew are using. I’ll give this information to the Financial Intelligence D
epartment if I think you’re casting a shadow in our direction. Lincoln and I have a dinner reservation and need to leave. We can find our own way out.”

  Mr. Constain didn’t speak, but the hand with the cube remained relaxed. I stood, turned to Lincoln and smiled, and motioned the door. Lincoln’s face was blank, impossible to read. I led the way out of the building, with the map of the interior primed in my mind before I’d entered.

  When we stepped outside and descended the steps, Lincoln stopped. “Mud Slayer.” Apparently, there were too many words in her brain and mouth right then to spit forth any more.

  The words cut through my haze. I was timed to be sober after leaving the building, if all went to plan. Lincoln’s rage sped the process and left me reeling. A Mud Slayer was the most dangerous predator on the planet; it rested in unexpected shallows out on the waters that covered most of the surface. In keeping with the name, it resembled a piece of mud. Step on or move near it, and it would attack with fatal results. Sometimes, you could tread on one without any reaction; the unpredictability of the Mud Slayer was what made it so dangerous. The other was that it would attack anything of any size or nature as long as it was alive attack and eat anything. Next to nothing was known about Mud Slayers, because no one had ever caught one to study it. After 15 failed expeditions and no survivors from any, curiosity had been replaced by self-preservation. There was a theory that they were an invasive species, not manufactured, but transported from another system.

  Lincoln was talking again, angry, defiant and defeated. “My mother always told me to watch out for hidden shallows. Mud Slayers resting and waiting, striking when you don’t expect but I would see the Slayer in its home, and know. Instead, you were waiting all the time, hiding beneath my feet and I never knew it. Then, suddenly, you move and everyone sees who they should really fear. How you must enjoy your little game, let the prey think they’re someone don’t disturb their dreams until it suits you.” Punching a fist into her palm with force, she regarded me balefully. “You casually show everyone what force really is, a lesson on how to do it for the blind and foolish.”

  One of drugs in the mixture I’d taken was to heighten perception of other people, to read them more effectively. I saw the humiliation than Lincoln was feeling. I’d stepped on her ground and resolved a situation she couldn’t, and with finality that could be considered insulting. It was time to reveal the truth. I’d thought I could do it over a companionable drink, with a shared laugh, but I was presently in a situation more dangerous and inflammable than when I’d been sitting in front of Mr. Constain.

  I grasped Lincoln’s elbows so that we had a direct connection as I spoke. “I have so many drugs in me right now, I’ve had to book three sick days off. I’ve been assured it’d be the same as if I’d taken a full pack of Sour Jumblys, only worse and longer. You hardly believe that I could have managed that situation in cold blood, do you? I’m not you; I’m a seriously frightened lifeform who responded the only way I knew.”

  Lincoln looked at me and said, “Dinner reservation, somewhere nice I hope.”

  In silence, we strolled to the bar I’d had in mind and took seats in an un-crowded corner.

  After several quiet moments, Lincoln took a long sip from a rainbow-colored alcoholic mixer and regarded me thoughtfully.

  “So, drugs? Still not everything, fill in the blanks, please.” She took another sip and sat back. I could see her relax and this gave me the space to finish what needed saying. But before I could speak, she regarded me sternly and said, “Edit for length, without leaving out anything significant. It’s been a long night.”

  I briefly told her about the BookWorms and my new position, to which she nodded thoughtfully, and I could hear possibilities and calculations flash and crash in her mind. When I started on the details of the events, I got her full attention. “When I got the call about you, I knew I had a choice. I could hand my life over to another person who’d nibble me to death, or I could jump straight to the conclusion, where I was either fully dead or the problem had been fully removed. Managing the problem to a better conclusion wasn’t within mygrasp, so I choose to jump. I’d have one small chance to do it, so it had to be credible. Given that I was dealing with a very rich and ruthless lifeform, no one who could capture you was anything less than fabulously dangerous and utterly competent. I had to go all out.” I scanned her rigid face and she nodded once.

  “Akion got me information about Mr. Constain. His weakness was always going to be money. He likes to spend it, a lot of it, so he’d need easy but hidden access to it. The required information was packaged nicely for me. I’d be directly threatening him without offering him any reason not to kill me right away. I needed to set up the circumstances so that the threat was a way out of the circumstances, rather than simply a full stop. For a lifeform who prizes his security, a comprehensive breaching of it was a route to take. Working in the shit pots gave me tools to use a nice bit of theatrics to over-make the point.

  “All I needed was the ability to do it without becoming unglued or fumbling. As far as I know, I’ve been given ten different doses of mindbenders to allow me look like I was in control the entire time. There was also the scent trace that the tunneller was locked on. No charms, because they’d be screened for. The mix was calculated to react to give a clean first-wipe profile if I was tested. Truthfully, I never expected to convince you. I thought you’d see the plot and react. Your response was probably what convinced Mr. Constain that it was all clear running and to take the deal.”

  Lincoln tried to recover some ground. “I was off my game a bit, and being caught by the fucker upset me and made me doubt myself. I walked into his hook like a Struckle Fish and I was furious with myself. Seeing you walk in so easily and loose should have warned me. I wasn’t ready.” She eyed me curiously. “How did the bodies get away?”

  “They were set up to depart in the tunneller 10 seconds after I left the room; the time calculated that it would take for us to exit the building via the most direct route. The tunneller would have backfilled on the descent, so there wouldn’t be a hole in the floor.” I paused and scanned her face, feeling uncertain. “Are we okay with each other?” It was the only question I really cared about, because I’d realized that I had an unexpected and precious degree of affection and concern for Lincoln. She’d slipped under my skin with me only realizing it when she was in danger.

  Lincoln’s smile was warm and suggested friendship and laughter. “My mother warned me about people like you, Screw-Top … told me I’d meet someone sincere who’d lead me into more trouble than I could possibly imagine because they were trying to make things better. No money, just trouble. Interesting trouble. You’re going somewhere, Screw-Top, and I’m with you for the journey.”

  With that, she slapped me on the shoulder, stood, and left the bar. I stayed a little longer to enjoy the unusual moment: someone who wasn’t trying to actively ruin my life while becoming involved in it.

  7

  I made it home without any trouble and passed out on the bed. I awakened to find myself holding a small baby close to my chest while Asher told me it was a historical necessity and the walls melted away to reveal huge hands reaching for both of us. There was an explosion of fire and I felt the baby wrenched from my arms. I kicked wildly and threw myself out of bed, onto the floor and into wakefulness.

  The dropdown from recent events, as well as the drugs, had finally arrived and it was going much worse than I’d have imagined. The turmoil was shaking loose something that could never be released something that should never breach my conscious mind. I’d embedded charms and schemes to protect myself, but they couldn’t withstand the onslaught they were receiving. I was going to have to do something to lower the tide, move the stress from my brain to my body.

  I slapped on a numb patch, which slowed me down enough to get to a local pharm where I explained I was having a severe reaction to badly cooked Fry Beans. The assistant nodded knowingly and gave me a leech and six litre
s of replacement plasma. He also instructed me to put a mattress on the floor of the bathroom, because I wouldn’t be leaving it for at least two days.

  I made it back just as the numbness started declining. Pulling in the mattress, I threw my clothes out of the bathroom, piered the plasma, and needled myself. At that point, I could feel the cracks in my mind. I slapped on the leech and fell straight onto the mattress. The theory was that one pain would balance the other. Not true. The pain from the leech obliterated room for anything else; it was actually worse than a nerve-stick. Then it came—happy, delightful, desired blackout.

  When I came to, I was covered in blood and exploded bits of leech, as was the mattress and bathroom. The leech had drained all my blood and decaying drugs, and suffered the consequences. I was filled with replacement plasma and would suffer a bit longer. Technically, I was alive, where I’d dropped, and had the prospect of being able to move in the next hour or so. This was the happiest moment of my life.

  I managed to reach the room-clean button and press it hard enough to activate it. The room filled with steam and warm water showered everything. The steam quickly turned red and then slowly turned white as it was spiraled from the room. Everything was clear and the water stopped. The bathroom, mattress and the remains of the leech were blown dry. I lay still for hours after the cycle had finished, not thinking anything, simply conscious of the mattress under my back and the ceiling above. It was peaceful and easy, and if I could have, I’d have stayed there forever.