AfroSFv2

by Ivor W Hartmann

  “Damn! I hate that bitch. She always used to make fun of me when we were kids.” I snorted two lines, one into each nostril and leaned back into my chair, feeling that familiar stinging sensation followed by the incredible rush... Fuck that was good. A pure high. The best money could buy. I felt ready to headbutt a bull.

  I looked at my watch again. There was still time to make it.

  “Shit! Okay, send her fat ass up. Tell her I’m late for a meeting and can only spare her five minutes.”

  Lil’ T

  The science fair was incredible. The theme for the year seemed to be free energy. There were all sorts of inventions revolving around energy harvesting, optimisation, conversion, and utilisation. Solar arrays designed in fractal patterns, artificial octopi whose waving limbs harvested wave energy underwater, a plasma field generator, a giant vat of water filled with some sort of blue light, a generator than ran on piss, another which ran on water, an engine that tapped into the planet’s electromagnetic field, and many more.

  “This is the end of all our problems,” a man was saying loudly to a group of listeners. “With free energy finally within our grasp, we will easily tackle all other problems facing society.

  “After all, energy is neither created nor destroyed, simply transformed from one form to another. Thanks to the recent simultaneous breakthroughs, we now have the ability to access far more energy than ever before.

  “Energy that can be harnessed to power fantastical new inventions. Mankind will never want for anything again!” There was a wonderful infectious excitement in the air. The crowd around the speaker grew louder.

  “This couldn’t have come at a better time in hueman history. The very last uranium deposits in the world lie not far from the city and we long ago passed peak. I predict a great change in society, ladies and gentlemen, now that we have crossed this scientific thresh-hold. In fact, I will go so far as to say today heralds the end of war and all forms of crime and violence. What need a man for violence against his fellow if he hath everything his body and soul could desire?

  “The fact that all the inventors have decided to give away the plans for free across the inet further means that there will be no pretence at monetising energy. With the end of war, comes the end of the economy. No more shall he con me, that masked devil known as capitalism. No longer!”

  Groups of people were speaking excitedly, others were using their various devices to broadcast their reactions live onto the inet where news of this unprecedented event was disseminated across the city.

  The flying man soared into the air again making loops near the high roof of the auditorium.

  “We have come, ladies and gentlemen, to the end of an era. Let us call it the Psychopathic Era and have entered a new era. The Empathic Era. It will take a while for us to become accustomed to this new paradigm. At moments like this, it is impossible to predict what great changes huemanity will undergo.

  “What new cultures and sub-cultures, styles of poetry and art, waves of innovation in music and technology await?

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we are in for one heaven of a ride!”

  There was a thunderous round of applause and the people pressed forward to speak to the man. People pushed past me and then a gap cleared in the crowd and I did a double take. Some motherfucker with skin so black it looked blue was standing right there, holding the machine I was looking for in his hands.

  Babylove Brown

  As we rolled to the university area from the north side, the radio started playing ‘The Ballad of Babylove Brown’. The guys began hollering and cheering as usual; they love that tune. I have to admit its pretty good apart from the line about me being the baddest witch in town. I mean it’s true but the way he sings it, stretching out the ‘Brrrrooooooowwwnnn’ always gave me goosebumps like some feline devil was jonesing for a fix of my soul.

  Bullets flying in the noonday heat

  Sirens wailing as the shots ring out

  Babylove Brrrrooooooowwwnnn, hit me!

  The baddest witch in town!

  The cops have got her whole crew on the run

  But no one’s faster than Miss Brown and her gun

  In shootout after shootout, she out-slings em for fun

  Babylove Brrrrooooooowwwnnn, two time!

  The baddest witch in town!

  We listened to the rest of the song and then I said, “He make it sound like we out here just partying with guns or some shit. Outslings ’em for fun? One of these days I’m gonna shoot that motherfucker Johnny Toxic in the face.” As if in response the DJ said, “No doubt about that, ‘The Ballad of Babylove Brown’ holding steady at number two. That was Johnny Toxic and you’re listening to Tribe Vibes, the last refuge for the soul. I’m your host DJ Connect. Caller, you’re on the air. Who are you and what do you have to say to the members of your fellow tribe of man on this beautiful evening in Paradise?”

  “My name is Lo-rize, representing El Cabron. Big up to the Permies, Osayin, and The Seed Savers. Ashe! First up I’d like to give a shout out to my shorty Lulu. Thanks for having my back when no one else gave a damn. Second, I just wanna say to the families of those who died in the riots, be they policeman or civilian, that you are in my prayers. Last but not least, can you play Dom, the Devil and John Brown by Chango?”

  “Sure thing, you have a good evening now.”

  “You too,” said Lo-rize and a moment later and the beat kicked in with the sound of a gunshot accompanied by a wailing blues harp like a train howling into the distance and Chango’s old-timer sing-song rhyme schemes.

  Free Dom - the brother’s innocent;

  he didn’t shoot no deputy – the Law’s out to get him.

  He only sought for peace of mind

  by showing true love and being kind,

  but one moonlit night out by the tracks,

  he crossed paths with the Devil

  and Sheriff John Brown.

  Now the Sheriff had always hated Dom,

  been jealous of him since they was young;

  and despite now being the big man in town,

  the people still respected Dom more than John Brown.

  So John looked around to make sure they was alone,

  no one to see what was about to go down;

  he smiled a mean ol’ evil frown

  and said “Dom, your time has come!”

  As the Sheriff pulled his gun,

  Dom kicked up gravel and moved like light from the sun;

  Brown got shot and thought he was done;

  and the Devil cried out, “Boy, what have you done!?”

  Well, better kill him off, it might even be fun

  to blast the head off that son of a gun!

  They’ll hang you fo’ sho’ if you let him live

  it’s you or him, one life’s gotta give!”

  Dom ran straight back into town

  And told all the folk the Sheriff was down

  by the tracks and bleeding out;

  “better send a doctor before you need a devout

  priest to read the man his last rites;

  even that dog deserves to face death with a fight.”

  As the deputies arrived, Dom fled the scene;

  they shot at him but couldn’t capture him;

  Four of them chased him into the forest;

  Three came back claiming John killed the fourth.

  Now I don’t know what happened out there;

  When it all went down I was sitting in my chair,

  rocking on da porch, smoking my funny pipe,

  watching the blue moon all full and ripe.

  But if you ask me my opinion,

  I reckon you must be smoking opium;

  Whatever happened to that deputy

  had nothing at all to do with Dom being free.

  See the thing about Dom and I pray me and you

  is we got the light so there’s no need to rue

  doing the right thing - it’s always rewarded

  in this lif
e or the next, it’s all recorded.

  So please take the bounty off our brother’s head,

  Free Dom or you’ll have us to deal with instead.

  As the song finished, Tealson drove us through the campus and parked as close to the auditorium as he could in an unblocked spot advantageous for a quick getaway. He turned off the radio and we both swivelled round to face the others. The family were sat with their hands tied in their laps and their ankles bound.

  “Alright Professor,” Low said. “We’re going to go for a little walk. Your family will stay here in the van so don’t worry about them, okay. They’ll be safe. All we want from you are two things. First and most importantly, we want you to see if you can find the missing section of this machine somehow. My partner,” he nodded towards Tealson, “has picked up a signal within the city but is unable to isolate the exact location due to its strange nature. Secondly, we’d like to know what the machine is. If you think you can handle that, your family has nothing to worry about.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Gruff said.

  We stepped out of the van, Tealson staying behind as usual. Gruff stopped to look at his family for a moment before Low gently nudged him away.

  “I really should pop my head into the science fair,” said Gruff. “If I don’t someone will start looking for me. Tonight is a special night for the university and the city. I don’t know if you are aware but there have been a series of incredible scientific breakthroughs, by different teams simultaneously. The synchronicity of it is astounding.”

  “So?” I said.

  “So there’s a lot of press in there and I’m expected to give a speech. If I don’t show up...”

  “Okay, we get it,” Low said. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

  “I won’t,” Gruff said.

  As we neared the stairs leading up to the auditorium Casey stopped us. “Hold on. Weapons check.”

  It was true, there were several security guards with scanners. We looked at each other and shrugged, then placed our hands together and played a round of rock, paper, scissors. I lost. I sighed as Low and Casey took off their weapons and handed them to me. I unzipped a side pocket and unfurled a large kleptodethrene shoulder bag to carry them in.

  As they went into the building I found myself a good vantage point close to the entrance, hidden in the shadows of a corner. If they needed me, I’d be there in six seconds tops.

  Seventy-three! Do or Die! Our code ever since we were kids running wild on the streets. Meeting each other had been like God herself was saying to me, I know how sad and lonely you’ve been. Here, let me make it up to you. You look like you could use some friends.

  I met Casey first when I was twelve. I hadn’t been underground in a minute but I was surviving. The mutants had taught me well. Casey and I were working the same trick ass marks and mark ass tricks in the same streets so after awhile we figured, why not rob them together.

  It was great or at least round the corner from greatness. We worked our way up to hit the rich neighbourhoods, sniffing out the ones who liked them young, pretending to be lost jailbait. While one of us distracted them, the other would sock them over the head. Then we’d take ’em for all they had.

  Casey had a home but he was always running away. His old man was real violent. Burned him with cigarettes and shit like that. He once tied him up in the basement for three days with no food or water, used his skinny pre-teen body as a punching bag. Casey’s mama died of an overdose when he was real young.

  I had no idea if my folks were dead or not. They probably just didn’t want me. There’s files on me but I never bothered to look them up. Who gives a damn, right? What difference would it make to my life if I was able to trace some blood relatives? After all it’s not like we’re family anymore. Fuck ’em, they don’t want nothing to do with Babylove Brown, that’s for damn sure.

  Tealson and Low were brothers. Tealson was older by a couple of years but he’d lost his legs in a car accident and was in a wheelchair, his promising boxing career amputated before his prime. Low robbed his first bank a few weeks later with his friend Moha and paid for Tealson’s first set of prosthetic legs. By the time Casey and I met them, they were on their third bank job together and looking for more gunslingers. A mutual friend introduced us and the crew was born.

  We’ve done everything from theft to armed robbery, hijacking to kidnapping, and elaborate scams to straight up assassination. We’re good. Real good. We’re even famous, Babylove Brown and her badass crew, even though I’m not really the leader. We don’t have a leader though Low is often on point. Everyone just does their part, you know.

  But that’s just the way the media is; they tunnel vision on the most sensational aspects, in this case, me. It’s not always a bad thing, the publicity. Men look on me with a form of awe. I think it’s because the male psyche knows it has brutalised the female and fears retribution. So it idolises the bad-ass female as a way to appease the gods.

  Most men are a bunch of sissified punk ass bitches with no balls these days anyways. As for my fellow sisters, too many are still waiting on that special man who’s gonna be the hero. They have yet to learn what I knew ever since I was flushed away like a used tampon. There are no heroes in Paradise. Only winners and losers.

  Amerika is a rigged game in an illegal casino and no one understands the rules because there are none. The House makes it up as it goes along and yes, the House always wins. Sure they’ll sell you a song about how you might just be the one lucky or smart enough but it’s different for people like us. We know we’re coming to the table with a bad hand and no money to re-buy-in. That gives us three choices.

  One: play it safe and hope to get lucky after spending our entire lives struggling. Two: bluff but don’t get caught or lose all credibility. Three: cheat and run the risk of being locked up, fucked up and/or killed.

  My soul cries out for a fourth way. But no one hears my song. So I give them gunpowder instead.

  “Help! They’ve got my family!” It was Gruff, I could hear him in my earstud. Damned hostages. Most of the time they’re easy to control but every once in a while shit hits the fan. Nothing to do but roll with the punches. I was already running towards the stairs.

  “I’m on my way,” said Tealson.

  “They kidnapped my family! Those two and others outside in a van! Help me!”

  I leaped up the stairs three at a stride.

  “Wait now, there must be some kind of mistake, what you been smoking Professor?” Casey buying me some more time. I raced past security and burst into the auditorium. The alarms began to ring and the two guards behind me shouted out for me to stop.

  I scanned the room and spotted Low, Casey, and Gruff, standing in a loose crowd of people. I swung the bag round a few times like a ball hammer then released it. It sailed high over the heads of the gathered people, knocked a flying contraption out of the air and landed in front of Low and Casey.

  As this was happening I turned to face the two guards who were approaching, hands hovering above their hip holsters.

  “Freeze! Security! Don’t move!” one shouted.

  “PCPD!” yelled a voice somewhere behind me in the auditorium. A shot rang out and the rent-a-cop in front of me reached for his gun. I drew both pistols from my hips beneath my light trench-coat and blasted the guard in the chest. As he dropped, I put a bullet in the second one’s head. Bullets whizzed past me and I twirled to shoot a cop in the throat then ducked behind some kind of flying saucer.

  I hung onto the side of the floating disc and peeked my head under it. I spotted Low and Casey shooting it out with security and cops, and Guff, dead on the floor, a hole in his head. Dumb motherfucker! We would have let y’all go, you and the family. Now you got me out here deading niggers again.

  I righted myself and my weight moved the disk. I bent my knees slightly and rode my steed into the fray, bullets bouncing off its metallic surface.

  Holding on with my left hand, I reloaded with clips of frac
tal bullets then fired round the right side and blasted a policeman in the legs. They exploded in a red mist and a chunk of gore splattered onto my face.

  As I wiped the blood from my eyes, the disk began to crack from the pressure of gunfire and I jumped clear to roll behind a machine that looked like a cross between a giant hedgehog and a film projector.

  Across from my position, I saw a dark skinned man standing over a dying man that I recognised. The dying man, one of Legs’ strong-arm men, was saying something over and over again that looked from the movements of his lips and mouth like ‘No-one loves you’ and the blue skinned guy was nodding. Then I saw the device in the blue man’s hands. It was the section Moha had died for.

  I was on my feet and running over when one of the walls exploded and our van flew through the hole, knocking over stands and displays and skidding to halt in front of me. I flung open the side doors and dove in, dodging bullets.

  I grabbed the crying little girl and tossed her outside. She landed and rolled, screaming from behind her gag as she tried not to injure her tied limbs when they twisted beneath her body.

  “Cease fire or the family dies!” Tealson’s voice boomed out over the van’s loudspeakers. I grabbed the boy, put a gun to his head and crouched low, using him as a hueman shield. His eyes rolled wildly in his head and I could smell the acrid odour of piss rising from his trousers. His mother jumped to her feet and hopped past us, out of the van and towards where her daughter lay.

  I scanned for Low and Casey, my mind urging them to hurry the fuck up. Then I spotted them, lying dead in pools of blood, perforated and torn apart by numerous bullets, the jagged edges of blasted exoskeletons sticking out of their corpses like the bones of some beast not yet born of Terra.

  “Cease fire!” a few voices shouted repeatedly and the bullets stopped flying. The dark-blue looking guy was right there, a couple of meters away, huddled beneath a display with Moha’s section in his hands.