"The police still have some questions – like exactly what your business was this evening with Geezip – but for the time being, you're supposed to focus on your recovery," Jude said, lighting up another cigarette. She took a deep draw and blew a billow of smoke into the air between them. Steve sat motionless in his bed, watching the woman.
I should jump out of the bed and throttle her, he thought. A few hours ago, put in this same position, he'd have done exactly that. He'd come to despise the Stems so much – so many years of hating everything they stood for. If he'd been put alone in a room with a Stem then, he'd have killed without remorse. One less Stem to pollute the world, he'd have reasoned. But now... sitting there with her not a meter away from him, he couldn't raise within himself enough power to even move a finger.
"I hope you will think of me as a friend," Jude was saying. "It's my job to help you re-acclimate to normal society. You've been lost for so long, Nathan, lost to the slavery of your own horrible dependence. It can be terrifying to discover yourself, just like that, free of the bonds that once held you down. It's my job to help you adjust. I'll be here to help you, Nathan, every step of the way. And there will be many steps, Nathan, before you can put your old life behind you."
"Steve," Steve spoke, low and growling. "My name is Steve." That was what he had been called. Steve and Eydie, like the singers. Eydie...
"Yes, alright. If you'd like to be called Steve..." Jude took another drag on her cigarette.
"I'm..." Steve began. "I'm hungry..." He looked down at the cable attached to the power socket in his chest.
"Phantom hunger pangs. It's normal," Jude said. "Soon you'll never be hungry again."
Chapter 3
Elder ate his sandwich hungrily, not letting it sit in his mouth long enough for him to taste. He ate it all before remembering Eydie. She was probably hungry, too. She'd gone out for food and come back empty handed – even without Steve.
Better not to think about Steve. He was gone. That'd be easy enough for Elder, but Eydie wouldn't forget so quick. They'd been together... hell, longer than Elder could remember. They were Steve and Eydie, for Christ's sake! You couldn't have Steve without Eydie, or Eydie without Steve. It was Steve AND Eydie. Never one without the other.
It'd be up to Elder Tull now.
He could remember before, when they'd all been young – before the food had started to get scarce, back in college. Elder and Eydie had dated. Yeah, before she'd met Steve, before she'd been called Eydie. What had her name been? Elder couldn't remember. All he could remember was the sight of Eydie, naked, when her body had still been whole. High, full breasts and a pair of real hips, not the skin and bones she was now. He could remember vividly the sight of her straddling him, smiling as various pleasures played a symphony across her beautiful face.
But now the memory did nothing for him. Nothing. He looked down at his soiled boxer shorts. There were no signs that the memory stirred any sort of physical reaction. With Steve gone, if Eydie looked to Elder... he'd need that sort of memory to stir something.
Elder coughed, then coughed again. Very soon he was consumed by another retching fit that doubled him over as he stood at the kitchenette counter.
If Elder was the man of the house now...
He went to find his pants.
#
The torn blue jeans were under his mattress. Eydie didn't stir as he dressed. Elder counted what little money there was in his pants pockets, and unhooked the chain from the door. Minutes later, he was out of the squalid apartment and amongst the bustle of an early evening on the Ave. The sidewalks were crowded with Stems, fresh from a day of classes at the university. With the university not two blocks away, the Ave was always crowded with them, out for an evening visit to the smoke bars that lined the length of the high street.
They gave Elder a wide berth. His dirty beard and toothless snarl were a sharp contrast to the perfect visages of the Stems. Like a leper on market day, Elder moved without interference from the crowd – all he lacked was a bell, and the rhythmic chant of "unclean." No one would touch him, he knew, as if his dire straits could be caught through physical contact.
Where he was going, Elder Tull didn't know. He had the vague idea that he needed to score some scran. When Eydie emerged from her sorrow, she'd be hungry. Even the loss of Steve couldn't hold that pain back for long. And it was Elder's duty now to provide. Eydie would be depending on him. But it'd been so long since anyone had depended on Elder. It was like an old coat he'd found in the back of a closet. He put it on, only to find it was now two sizes too big, and he couldn't find his hands, and each way he stepped he feared he'd trip over its hem. Where was Elder going to find some food? Where?
Panhandling was useless. It'd been years since that ploy had worked. There wasn't a sympathetic face left in the great sea of Stems that moved up and down the Ave. Not for a Puke, at least.
And what good was money to Elder, anyway, without food to buy? No, he'd have to shake the tree: hit up other Pukes for what scran they might have scored themselves. After all, it wasn't for him, but for Eydie... if he pitched around the story about Steve's arrest, maybe there'd be some sympathy. If sympathy scored him a square meal... well, what was wrong with that?
He moved south down the Ave to where 45th crossed the main boulevard. As he approached the intersection, the low beats of muffled music reached Elder's ears. It could mean only one thing: the Brothers. Elder broke into a slow trot and turned west onto 45th. Sure enough, in an empty lot facing onto Brooklyn Ave, a low stage and a pair of fluttering banners had been erected. The Brothers of Bannock! Elder laughed, and choked back a cough. Sons of bitches!
On the low stage, a rock-and-roll quartet was charging through some old classic rock track Elder hazily remembered from the good old days. A preacher stood beside them at a podium, thumping on a Bible and bellowing into a microphone. Perhaps two dozen disheveled Pukes were milling in front of the stage as the preacher delivered his sermon. More were lined up at tables beside the stage, where men and women in blue and green t-shirts were handing out loaves of bread and something white wrapped in clear plastic.
Elder didn't need an invitation. He quickly fell in line at the back of the bread queue.
"Sin, my brothers and sisters!" The preacher's voice echoed off the surrounding buildings, amplified tenfold by a massive pair of free standing speakers. The bread line was uncomfortably close to these and Elder held his filthy hands over his ears. The line shuffled slowly forward as each Puke took his handout in turn. "Sin, I say! 'Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh, for I am the Lord!' These are the words of God! 'Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God!' I ask you, brothers and sisters, who are we to reject the gifts of our Lord? 'Every moving thing that liveth shall be meat for you; even as the green herb have I given you all things!'"
When Elder's turn finally came, he was happy to take the offered loaf of bread and package of unidentifiable white goo, and he slipped quickly out of earshot of the thundering speakers. At the mouth of a nearby alleyway he paused to take a bite out of the bread and examine the small, plastic-wrapped lump. The bread was doughy, undercooked, but edible, and the white stuff was something like cheese, though perhaps nothing more than unprocessed curds. He unwrapped the package and gulped it down in two large bites. It was bland and a bit salty.
The preacher droned on as Elder ate. He'd finished half of the bread before he remembered the reason he'd ventured away from the apartment in the first place. He'd save the rest for Eydie, he told himself, chewing and swallowing a mouthful. Back in the empty lot, the preacher's voice faded from the loudspeakers and the band kicked into high gear, attempting to cover some hair-band oldie. There were more missed notes than hits, but the drummer kept thing moving along, covering up the worst mistakes with a crescendo of cymbals.
The Brothers of Bannock, the crazy motherfuckers... Elder thought, taking an absentminded bite out of the loaf. Out and pr
oud, sticking a finger up the asses of the Stems. Elder didn't care for any of their religious bullshit, but he had to give the Brothers props. They had balls – big, hairy ones – to be out in the early evening feeding Pukes for free, right there for the Stems to see.
They had to know what a disgusting spectacle they made. Anyone else and the cops would come down hard. Creating a Public Disturbance, or some shit like that. But rumor was that the Brothers of Bannock were well protected politically. Elder had heard that none other than Drew Arrow himself financed the religious group. And with money like Drew Arrow's, you could afford to be out in the open.
With money like Drew Arrow's, you could buy off a hell of a lot of cops. With money like Drew Arrow's, you could buy just about any-fucking-thing...
Elder munched on his bread, thinking.
Outwardly, the Brothers were about feeding poor Pukes, easing the suffering of those left unconverted. They objected to the stem for religious reasons, claiming it to be unnatural or ungodly or some shit – Elder Tull didn't care. Secretly, however, it was rumored they were preparing for a complete split from Stem society. Some sort of evangelical, shining city on a hill sort of deal.
According to the Prime Administrator (who, admittedly, wasn't a reliable source) Bannock was a real, physical place. Somewhere up in the mountains near Seattle. Drew Arrow and all the end-of-days, keen-for-Jesus types had started construction on their new Jerusalem years before the stem had even been invented. They'd seen its introduction as fulfillment of prophecy – the first sign of the coming Armageddon. Someday soon, when things got really dire, they would round up all the remaining Pukes – however few were left – and set out for this hidden Elysium.
Of course, this was all according to the Prime Administrator, so it was probably bullshit. But Elder had a soft spot for such talk. The idea of a place where Pukes could go and just be... well, Pukes. Where there was food and drink aplenty and no scavenging around for scran... what was not to like?
Yeah, Elder had to give the Brothers props, even with all the religious bullshit. If there really was a place like Bannock where all the Pukes would someday get to go, far away, where the Stems couldn't find them... well, Elder Tull wouldn't say no to that. No sir. Elder Tull was ready and waiting.
Elder pushed the last crumb of his doughy loaf into his mouth and chewed on it as he contemplated Bannock. He'd swallowed before he realized what he'd done. Ah, shit! He threw up his hands, disgusted with himself. Idiot! Motherfucker! He kicked the wall of the alleyway angrily, then doubled over from the pain in his foot.
He was right back to square one. He still needed to score some scran for Eydie. He thought about getting back in line with the Brothers of Bannock. If he fed them Eydie's sob story... but he knew from experience not to try it. He couldn't see them, but he knew there'd be some heavy security near the Bannock tables, ready and waiting for some Puke to get the bright idea of rushing the breadline.
#
Elder Tull followed 45th out towards the freeway, weighing his options and letting the drone of the Bannock Revival fade into the distance behind him. At the off ramp, where the wide artery poured a steady stream of battery-powered cars into the University District, Elder approached Kevin, standing at his usual spot, holding his handwritten, cardboard sign.
Kevin was noble in his stance, even while begging. His untidy nest of curly graying hair merged seamlessly with the pelt of his beard. Underneath, his dark skin was spotted with pink patches of flaking sores. He stood with his eyes closed, muttering under his breath, slightly teetering on the balls of his heels.
As always, Kevin's sign consisted simply of one word: Food. What exactly he meant by this, Elder had never been able to fathom. Was it meant to be 'Food?' with a question mark, as in 'Do you have any food?' That seemed like a ridiculous question to ask an ever flowing stream of Stems passing in their cars. Perhaps it was Kevin's reductivist version of the classic 'Will Work For Food,' shortened to its most critical element. But then the idea of exchanging labor for sustenance was as ridiculous as hoping for a handout.
No, Elder had come to conclude, Kevin meant nothing more by his sign than exactly what it said: Food. His post at the off ramp with his handmade sign was no attempt to panhandle, but his own personal vigil; a survey, conducted one drivers side window at a time; a search for any sign of conscience in the hurriedly averted glances of the passing Stems.
"Kevin!" Elder yelled across the off ramp, waiting for the green man to tell him to walk. "Kevin!"
Kevin stirred from his stupor, turning to see Elder across the road. When the traffic stopped, Elder scurried gingerly across the street. "Kevin, you hear about Steve?"
Kevin blinked once and turned his attention silently back to the traffic.
"Didn't you hear?" Elder said urgently, putting a hand on Kevin's shoulder and giving it a shake. "The cops got Steve. Just a few hours ago. Eydie's a wreck. I left her back at the apartment. You ain't got any scran, do you? She ain't eating now, but when she calms down..."
Kevin lowered his sign and turned back to Elder. "Didn't you try the Brothers?" Kevin tilted his head towards the echoing bass of the Revival.
"Yeah, they came up short," Elder lied.
"Steve, huh?" Kevin said slowly, turning back to the traffic, raising his sign back to eye level.
"Yeah, Steve... can you believe it?" Elder let out a snicker and was suddenly unable to decide what to do with his hands. He settled on sinking them into the pockets of his jeans, where he found the discarded plastic wrapper from the salty cheese curds.
"Jail?"
"Yeah, someone popped a cap into some Puke down by the canal. Cops fitted Steve for it, I guess. Say, about that scran..."
"I ain't holdin'," Kevin replied solemnly. Elder deflated. He kicked a rock, which skipped off the side of a passing car, and he started off again to cross the bridge back over the freeway. He'd only taken two steps when Kevin's voice brought him to a halt. "Did you hear about the Potluck?" Kevin said.
"Potluck?" Elder almost shouted, spinning around.
"Yes, tomorrow night. No?"
"Shit, no!" Elder said excitedly.
"Apparently Prime had a bountiful trip out to the foothills. He's returned with quite a feast."
"And he's throwing a Potluck?"
"Yes, all in. Tomorrow night. Like old times," Kevin said with a slight wistfulness. "At Madame Damnable's, of course."
"Of course!" Elder exclaimed. A Potluck? At a bar, no less? Shit, this was big, Elder thought, the biggest thing to happen in a long, long time. Wait until Eydie hears about... Elder's heart sank. Once again, he remembered why he'd stepped out into the evening air. "Say, about Eydie... without Steve... I don't know if she'll make it 'til tomorrow–"
"Try Sweet Beat," Kevin interrupted with a sigh. "If you must. Tell her I sent you."
Elder smiled. Good old Kevin! Always good for a little scran when a fellow Puke was down on his luck. Elder turned on his heels and trotted off across the freeway bridge.
Kevin returned to his silent vigil, doggedly displaying his cardboard profanity to each and every Stem that passed.
Chapter 4
Jude stroked Steve's cable gently.
"No, no!" Steve called out, reaching up and stopping Jude's hand. She giggled and Steve choked back a grin. "I... I..."
"It doesn't hurt. It won't switch you off or anything," Jude teased. She took a firm grip on the cable protruding from Steve's stem and tugged it, almost pulling Steve clean off the edge of the hospital bed.
"It's just..." Steve hedged. Strangely, after waking up in such terror at the sight of the cable, he was now reluctant to see it removed. "Do I have a full charge? Or whatever you call it?"
Jude laughed. Steve was sitting up, half-naked, with her standing close, the cable in her hands between them. He was close enough to smell her perfume, something flowery. She twisted the cable a quarter turn, and the socket clicked. Steve held his breath. The cable was free, but noth
ing seemed to change. He let go of the breath and sucked in a new lungful of air. Jude watched him slyly, biting at her bottom lip.
"All right?" She leaned forward, trying to catch Steve's gaze. He looked away timidly. "Okay?" Steve nodded, grinned, and let out an embarrassed laugh. They made eye contact and Jude chuckled. He was like a child, she thought, taking his first steps. It was going to be a big day for Nathan Pope, she knew. She was glad she was there to stop him from falling flat on his face.
Jude turned away and retrieved her still-lit cigarette from the ashtray where she'd left it. She took a drag and collected her thoughts.
It was, of course, ethically problematic for a midwife to have a physical relationship with one of her cases. It could cost her her license, if not more. But just that day, only an hour before arriving at the hospital, Jude had learned that occupations such as Stem Shock Therapist would soon be a thing of that past – that after Nathan Pope, there'd be very little demand for her special services. So whatever happened between her and Nathan Pope would be nothing more than an issue between Jude and her conscience. And Jude's conscience had never been something that overly bothered her.
"Feel like getting up and walking about?" Jude asked, turning back to Steve. She picked up a folded pair of jeans and a white shirt off the table beside her ashtray and tossed them on the bed beside Steve.
"Up? About?" Steve raised an eyebrow. "Is that a good idea?" Steve straightened up his posture and poked tentatively at his implant.
"Who's the therapist, huh?" Jude replied over her cigarette. "You're physically fine. And as for mentally..." She held up the small remote control in her hand.
Zombpunk: STEM Page 2
