by Joshua Klein
Cessus smiled.
"I don't do coding like you do, man, but I know the networks. You want to try and get these guys to stop for a bit?"
"Yeah. And maybe get something to eat. You hungry?"
"Always. Doctor says I have a fast metabolism."
Fede pulled his gogs off and yawned, stretched his legs out in front of him. Cessus rapped on the front of the freight container, three times fast, then three times slow. He waited a moment, repeated it. The second time he was interrupted by four even knocks.
"Right on" he muttered, slumping back onto the couch.
"You know, these fingernail sensors are real nice, but your hand can't breathe, you know? Like if you're wearing some cheap-o nail polish and after a while it's like your hands are sweating in a plastic bag or something."
"Wouldn't know" said Fed, staring at the black shells over Cessus's fingernails.
"They got them as implants now, I hear. Anchor them to the nail bed, look like little half-moons. Saw a piece on it recently. Stuff comes out of Israel."
"You told me. Sounds excellent, if you can afford it."
The truck slowed, swayed as it pulled off the highway.
"You pull this off we can get them put in our toes if we want" said Cessus, his hands splayed out in front of him.
Cass pulled open the back door and crawled in.
"Okay, boys. Get out of here and let the nice lady relax" she said.
Fede gathered up his things as she slumped down on the couch where he'd been sitting.
"Mmm, nice and warm" she said, curling up under the blanket he'd had over him.
"You want anything to eat?" asked Cessus. "We're going to make Marcus stop for some grub."
"No thanks. Just finished off the leftovers from breakfast" she said, her eyes closing. Cessus looked at Fed, followed him out the back of the truck. They were in another rest stop, almost identical to the one before, but the landscape was drier. The sound of the highway followed them as they walked on groaning limbs to the cab of the truck, pulled themselves up and in. Cessus crawled into the back and sprawled his legs up between the seats, moaning.
"I'm getting old, Marcus" he called out. "I'm losing my edge."
"Whatever" rumbled the mod fighter.
"Can we get something to eat?" asked Fed. "I'm totally fucking starving."
"No problem. I need to get some supplements anyway" said Marcus. "There's a good-sized town coming up in a few miles. We'll stop there."
He eased the truck back into gear and onto the highway, Cessus and Fede stretching as they went. Before long there was a snick and a flash. The buzzing odor of burning weed filled the cab.
"Jesus, Cessus" said Marcus, his big fingers mashing the button to roll down the window. "Can't you hold off 'til after we eat?"
"This is the best time, my friend" Cessus chortled, his lungs full. "Helps the appetite. What're you going to eat?"
"500 grams of whey protein, if I can get it" said Marcus.
"Sounds delicious" said Fed. Cessus laughed, purple clouds of smoke billowing out of his mouth.
"Sui enique pulchra" he said. "That's 'to each his own is beautiful' for the heathen uneducated among us."
Both Fede and Marcus ignored him.
"Did Cass want anything?" asked Marcus.
"No, sleeping. Said she ate the last of the fries" said Fed.
Marcus swung the truck onto an off ramp and Fede noticed they'd cruised into a town. From the rise they were on he could see the billboards and peaked tops of the shopping centers ahead.
They cruised the main road for a while, rolling past stores until Marcus saw what he was after and eased them into the back of a large parking lot. When he stopped the engine ticked and pinged heat waves shimmering across the chromed top of the grill at the front of the truck. Cessus was slumped in the back, tunelessly singing lyrics in some tongue nobody spoke. Marcus pulled a big piece of blanket from under the seat and flicked out a huge knife.
"Fuck" said Fed, alarmed to see eight inches of steel appear in his friend's massive hand. "What is that?"
"It's my pocket knife" grinned Marcus. "Here, give me a hand."
With Fed's help he sliced up the blanket, a light blue poly-cotton thing with tiny pink bears on it. When he had cut enough of it into strips he separated them into two groups and knotted the ends. Then he began to wrap his fingers together.
"What are you doing?" asked Fed.
"He's going into stealth mode" answered Cessus from behind them. "Big man's a star, don't you know?"
Marcus didn't say anything, just grumbled deep in his throat.
"He doesn't want anyone to recognize him and give away our trail, so he came up with this." Cessus continued, sliding into his best faux-salesman pitch. "You may be asking yourself, 'what could complete this ingenious disguise'?
"Perhaps clever facial injections? Muscle manipulation? Makeup? Heavens no! This is professional quality work! Only the best will do!" Marcus snapped his muscle-wrapped head towards the smaller man, started to say something but stopped himself. He reached up to the shade in front of him and Cessus began a drum roll. The big man paused and sighed audibly before taking down a pair of large aviator sunglasses. They were yellow, the kind you'd expect a hunter to wear under his cowboy hat. A hunter with a mustache, maybe, drinking a beer.
"Ta da!" announced Cessus. "What's a better disguise for the mod fighter with no ears or nose, than - sunglasses!"
"Listen, it's all I could find in here" said Marcus, gesturing at the truck cab.
"No no no" countered Cessus, twitching one long finger. "I suggested the hat, but you wouldn't have it."
Marcus leaned back in his seat, frowned. He looked down at the steering wheel and folded his arms.
"It's not appropriate" he said quietly.
"What hat?" asked Fed.
"Never mind" said Marcus, but Cessus had already disappeared into the back of the cab. He returned a moment later, a large orange mesh back baseball hat held reverently in both hands. He bowed slightly as he displayed the front to Fed. It said, "Real dogs eat pussy" and had a cheap cartoon of a cat sporting enormous breasts under a bikini top.
"It even fits" he whispered to Fed, big bloodshot eyes rolling towards Marcus.
One huge, blanket-wrapped hand slowly reached over and picked up the hat. Marcus mashed it onto his huge head, the plastic strips at the back hanging loosely apart.
"You happy?" he said, shoving the aviator glasses onto his face. Despite all of the elementary laws of physics the glasses remained perched where he left them, their arms making deep creases into the skin on both sides of his head.
"More than you can imagine" said Cessus. He suddenly fell backwards into the rear of the cab, peals of laughter cascading out of him.
"Go get some food" growled Marcus, opening his door. "Feed, you come with me."
Fede jumped out of the truck and stretched his arms in the sun. The light felt warm and his hands tingled with the stretch. He broke into a hobbling jog, catching up with Marcus shortly before they reached a big sports store.
They walked in together, Fede staring up at his friend's bizarre new appearance. About halfway through they came across a set of shelves containing nothing but big plastic tubs of protein powder. They had names like Uber-Mass, Big Size, 123% Gain.
Marcus strode down one aisle, scanning the tubs. He took them around the end and into another aisle. The tubs were bigger here, some as big as Fed's torso. Most of them had large yellow tags reading 'Sale!', 'Deep Discount price!', and 'Check Out the Discount' in faux-hand written font.
Marcus found a set of yellow tubs almost as tall as Fed's leg and started pulled them out onto the floor. Almost immediately a skinny kid appeared, his pimply face pink and moist underneath his blue cap.
"Can I help you?" he asked, wiping his hands on his matching blue apron. He was chipper, almost mechanically so.
"Sure" said Marcus. He stood, glanced around him. "Take five of these to the counter and ri
ng me up."
He strode swiftly towards the boy who jumped out of his way, wide-eyed. He stared at Fede as he followed. There was a thud as one of the tubs slowly rolled into the opposite set of shelves.
"Asshole" said Marcus, under his breath.
There was nobody else at the front of the store, so Marcus made Fede go get a cart and load it up with a couple flats of water and two crates of neutricutical bars. They didn't taste like much, said Marcus, but they were better than those damn Army/Navy MRUs and had all the same shit. He tossed a couple big containers of vitamin supplements onto the top of the cart and waited.
Their clerk appeared, two carts wired together and tied to the back of a Segway. The platform's big wheels slipped as he tried to take the turn, its internal gyroscope jerking and wobbling to compensate for the uneven pull of the carts behind it. He clutched at the handlebars as he slowly cruised in behind them, the carts just barely catching on the racks of gum and magazines next to the checkout counter. A handful of merchandise clattered onto the floor as he jumped off the Segway and stepped behind the checkout counter.
"Mega Sport Member's card?" he asked cheerily.
"No" said Marcus.
"Oh" he said, sounding disappointed. "Care to make one? You get 15% off on all"
"No" interrupted Marcus.
"Oh" he said, again. "Okay. Address?"
"No" said Marcus.
"We don't send you any spam or anything" he said, defensively.
"No" said Marcus, his eyebrows wrinkling behind his sunglasses. They sank alarmingly and he had to push them back up with one big cotton-wrapped hand.
"Your hands okay? We've got a sale on training gloves" said the clerk.
Marcus didn't say anything.
"Right. Could you had me one of those tubs?"
The big tub sailed slowly down the conveyor belt, briefly obscuring the clerk. There was a faint chirp and it resumed its path, gliding to the end of the counter.
"Very good, sir. Cash or credit?"
A few minutes later they were each pushing a cart out of the store.
"Do you have to put up with that every time?" he asked.
"Nope. Sometimes they recognize me. Then it's worse" said Marcus.
"Hardcore, man. You are so hardcore" said Fed, laughing.
They got to the truck and pulled open the back, shoving the crates and tubs in and lining them up against the wall.
"Help yourself" called Fede towards Cass. An arm raised in response, flashing him the finger.
"Bitch" he grumbled to himself, hopping out and into the parking lot.
Cessus was just coming up pushing a shopping cart full to bursting with chips and sodas and cookies.
"Excellent" said Fed, his eyes growing wide.
"You get any real food in there?" asked Marcus.
"Brain food, my man. Come on, let's put this stuff in front. Cass will have to wake up if she wants to get the good stuff."
They stowed Cessus's treats in the back of the cab and slowly rumbled out of the lot and back onto the highway.
"Did you get anything Cass might actually like?" asked Marcus, once they were up to speed.
"Yeah, yeah" said Cessus. "I got some of those fizzy drinks she always has, and some veggie dogs and stuff. Don't worry."
"What do you care? Let her eat chips" said Fed.
"Girl eats like a bird" said Marcus. "It's good to get her something she'll like."
"So what? She's probably just PMS'ing" said Fed, enjoying the camaraderie.
"What would you know?" asked Cessus.
"Just that she's, like, in permanent bitch mode. Ever since I met her she's been riding my ass. Acts like she's fucking better than everyone."
Cessus had taken out his pipe along with a bag of cookies, and now took another hit. Marcus coughed gently, glanced over at Fed.
"Go gentle on her, man. She's got her own history" he said.
Cessus coughed, wheezed, and exhaled a long plume of smoke.
"Girl's history's long as my arm" he snorted.
"Shut it, Cessus" said Marcus mildly.
"No, what's the deal with her? You guys are under contract, but I don't know anything about her. She's my brother's girlfriend" said Fed. "What's her deal?"
The two men were silent a moment.
"Go ahead" said Cessus. "The man here asked a question, he deserves an answer. We're all riding to imminent doom together, might as well be in the clear about each other."
Marcus looked out the window, rubbing his shiny head. One big finger slowly explored the dent. He sighed.
"Cass came to the States from Switzerland. Came in the summers a lot as a kid, part of the program. That's where she learned Chinese."
He checked his GPS, tilting the screen slightly and frowning.
"Her folks were from Zurich. They were part of an R&D firm specializing in predictive genetics and developmental hormone therapies."
"Translation?" asked Fed.
"They bought a bunch of Cantonese girls off a freighter" he said.
"They processed dozens of them during a standoff on the coast of Portugal, all gene-tested and statistically analyzed. Her folks administered the DNA tests. They bought her from the military as part of a group of five and sent the rest back to the boat. The Portuguese government eventually rejected them and towed the thing out to sea; no idea what happened to it. Cass and four others were flown back to Switzerland and were raised as sisters."
Fed's eyebrows bunched and he glanced back at Cessus. He was leaning back on a bed of dreadlocks, his eyes closed, his face smooth.
"They got weekly injections, mostly estrogen. Girls that get a lot of it when they're young develop smaller noses and ears, bigger eyes. Other things. Their diet was controlled down to the microgram. They had daily exercise routines, classes in etiquette, walking, anthrometrics. Whole days spent learning visual cues on eye movement based on cultural background and archetypes."
Fed's throat tightened, uncertain.
"Why?" he asked.
"Professional modeling was the 'official' goal of the program, but that was just a sideline. Most likely it was for government espionage. Those that didn't make the cut got other jobs. Bad jobs. Bad jobs with bad people doing bad things."
Fede stared out the window.
"That's why she's so hot" he said.
"She can't help it, Feed. You think she likes it?"
Fede didn't say anything.
"Anyway, doesn't matter. She bailed. Dug the tracker out of her own ass and hit the street. Learned a lot real fast. Cass has been through some crazy shit, but it's her life now. She earned it."
Marcus looked over at Fed, back at the road. "She deserves respect for that, Feed."
Chapter 33
They crossed the border sometime in late evening, the dry air turning chilly as they went. Tonx had never been to Mexico, never had a reason to. But somehow the thrill of driving past the big wooden board declaring the country line was absent. Ever since the WTO agreements to sell the trade rights to the American Agricultural Association the border control had been dissolved. Without proper ID illegal immigrants were easy prey for company work camp "recruitment raids" that roamed the border towns. Those that could get immigrant labor cards usually bartered them off, their final holders collecting lots of them and shipping their own employees to picking sites via private bus. There wasn't even a real drug trade anymore, not now that synthesizing common stuff was so easy.
So they just drove down the road, the stars bright overhead in the pitch-black sky. The streetlights were infrequent and the night was quiet.
About an hour after they'd crossed the border Baby roused himself and spoke.
"We're being followed" he said.
Poulpe had been messing with the mix kit for the last several hours, the cheap LCD panel mounted on the inside of the plastic case illuminating his face in off-white grayscale.
"Who are they?" Tonx asked.
"No idea. Big white Cadillac. Looks old, m
aybe unconverted. Tinted windows, but they'd got a night HUD. They're driving without lights."
"How far off?" asked Tonx.
"About a mile behind us."
Esco got the pistol out, started checking it.
"Wait" said Poulpe. "I know a better way."
He began keying in a sequence on the bumpy plastic of the kit's keyboard. A moment later the screen flashed and the kit began to hum.
Twenty minutes later they rolled past a spot in the road that looked good and Tonx slammed on the brakes. Poulpe opened the door and walked briskly back up the road the way they had come. When he had taken a dozen long steps he tore open a thin plastic package and began scattering it around the road. When he finished he dusted off his hands and looked at the street under his feet. He could see no evidence of his work. Poulpe's lips gently pulled up in a grin. Carefully, he unwrapped another candy and put it in his mouth, savoring the cherry flavor. Then he folded his hands together and waited.
He didn't wait long. A few minutes later the long white Cadillac appeared and slowed. Its ancient engine growled and sputtered, the harsh smell of burnt oil drifting out in front of it as it gently came to a stop a half a dozen feet in front of Poulpe. The warm glow of the moon made the brilliant expanse of its hood shine like the hull of a boat. Its engine stopped. In the desert beyond crickets began to chirp. Poulpe smiled.
"Are you alone?" came a voice, thick and crackling through a speaker mounted on the bottom of the car. Poulpe continued to smile. His face was frozen in a pleasant rictus, eyes twinkling merrily. He'd had years of practice at this, of not hearing his listeners, of not noticing those who watched him.
"Answer me or I'll shoot" said the voice again. Poulpe did nothing. The crickets surged behind him, the warmth of the day fueling their search for mates.
Inside the car behind him Tonx swore softly, his head ducked down, eyeing the keys hanging in front of his face.
The universe was singing to him, thought Poulpe, admiring with fond pleasure the brightness of the stars. He waited.
A squeal twisted out from the underbelly of the car as the speaker shut off. Then the door behind the driver clicked, opened. An air-conditioned breeze twisted out and against the ground, the laws of causality replacing it with the warm fecund air above the tarmac.
