by Drew Briney
Then, the taste of metal on his lips rushed through his subconscious thoughts, reviving him somewhat. Instinctively, his mouth opened wide, hoping to receive more medicine. Tzun coughed as a few drops of Slice trickled down his throat and into the wrong pipe. Sitting up in panic, he instinctively tried to recover the small splashes of the drug that escaped his mouth. He quickly spotted a trace of Slice on the back of his hand and a bead of Slice on his pant leg. Without thinking, he licked the back of his hand and wetting his finger, wiped every last speck of Slice from his clothing that he could find. Only after he finished cleaning up the spills did he notice that Max was holding the rest of Tzun’s daily dose in front of him. He guzzled it down and sucked hard on the bottle to make sure he got every tiny metallic droplet into his system.
Max eyed him carefully. “Maybe Slice isn’t good for you kid. You’re taking this pretty hard.” Then, after a pregnant pause, he asked a pointed question: “Do you have any other Uzzit in your family?”
“I’m it,” Tzun answered truthfully.
“Really?” Max asked in disbelief, perhaps hoping for more clients or talented siblings.
“My dad was badly crippled when I was little. He can’t do much,” Tzun explained, “and I’m an only child.” He didn’t like questions about his family but his head was too cloudy to think through what he was saying. That was probably more personal information than he’d shared with anyone else for months.
“Uzzit traits are polygenic but it seems to be passed on through the moms,” Max incorrectly explained. “Do you have any step brothers or sisters?”
“No,” Tzun answered again.
“Too bad,” Max interrupted. “It’s always nice to have siblings … At any rate, this stuff is tough on you kid. Slice is unpredictable you know? It’s better for some people than others. Maybe you should just let it go.” With that, Max tipped his hat as he casually turned around and started walking down the alleyway as he had the day before.
“No!” Tzun countered, more aggressively than he had ever spoken before. Anger was welling up inside and he felt like throwing some nasty psionic blast into Max’s pain receptors. He felt like forcing the street warrior to give Tzun more Slice. Foolish, Tzun cast the thought aside after considering what Max might do to him in return. Word on the streets was …
With the speed of thought, the diplomatic side of his personality surfaced and took over. “I’ll be more careful,” the boy promised. Max slowed, his unseen visage showing uncertainty, doubt. “Just give me a lesson and let me try again tomorrow,” he coaxed. Then, after a painfully long pause, he added, “I can do this.”
For the first time, Tzun thought he saw a flicker of doubt pass over Max’s face. Confidence may have fled. He looked uncertain. But, retaining his ever present cover of coolness, Max looked over his shoulder and paused before saying anything: “Tomorrow kid. Take it easy tonight and meet me here tomorrow. We’ll do a lesson after you get some rest.” Then, in an uncharacteristic moment of charity, he spun half around and tossed Tzun a silver round worth more money than the boy had given Max a few moments before.
“Thanks!” Tzun responded in shock. It worked! Brushing Max’s mind was probably a dangerous thing to do but Tzun hadn’t really intended to do it at all. He just thought the thought and reaped the rewards. I could make some serious money this way, he considered, imagining a stream a wealthy women shopping on the far south side of Mariner’s Market Street and emptying their purses as he massaged the sympathetic portions of their minds.
“Sure thing kid,” Max answered as he turned around and began walking away from his newest client. Several moments later, as Max passed a second turn, he connected the dots and seriously considered skipping their next meeting.
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