cweery yer business, says the pasty sap face.
respond demand contact trader see ee oh commander in thief whatever you call em, Baby Joey says loud from under crumbrela.
respond leave immediately project slaughter, the redsuit says.
Baby Joey sticks is hand in to is diaper n pulls out a palm-sized waterskin. offer donation for you, Baby Joey says. don like this. wall slides sideways to show a openin with a bottle inside. bring it here, Baby Joey says.
I pick up the bottle n take it back under the crumbrela n give it him. the bottle has a tube stickin out a it. Baby Joey connects the waterskin n tube n upends the waterskin n pours in the plastic bottle. I feel my face tingle uneasy. be still, Baby Joey says quiet. Baby Joey removes the waterskin n hands the bottle back to me. give it im Baby Joey says. I go back under the crumbrella, is hard to give it him because my hand doesn want to release the bottle. I return the bottle, the window closes.
project announce visitation Hall of Justice command follow tubeway leave null shield here, the redsuit says.
Baby Joey nods at me so I leave the crumbrela just outside the entrance. we make thru a dense plastic tunnel high above is lettin in a little light outside it are concrete walls with no windows. why a tube whens all concrete anyway? we roll up to center a the City, Anofulees clumps the cart up the stairs n shoves the double doors at the end a the tunnel. this a concrete abstrakshun, Baby Joey says as we enter the hall a justice. concrete with no concrete purpose, Baby Joey says more.
we stand in a big entryway with a sort a stone floor a many colors, as we roll across theres no one in sight just the creakin a the cart, hard to see saps are sticking out of the walls but strange they are same color as the walls. serious dudes here, Baby Joey says.
why are there saps stuck into the walls up there are they spying on us? I say.
base relief no relief from these yes men look at em leerin, Baby Joey says.
we are in a small room with a tan plastic couch n two dirty plastic chairs cross the couch is a tape with words on it read COMMAND NOT SIT HERE. the waitin room a the condammed, Baby Joey says.
we leave the cart in the entry n Baby Joey crawls on a chair, Anofulees lays on the couch is many black legs wagglin in the air, chair too small I sit gainst the wall. a male sap appears in the corner n begins talking fast. emote welcome 2 Clean City explicate run by Freedom Inkopore us while you you you are waiting I I I identify benefits of life in Clean City entry dee teer receive three servings of pure water per period each box comes with free r sim food consistent taste accurate teer determines lux cwoshent box size anduh sexual partner highlight potenshl 2 reproduce emote wow project promotion is freekwuhnt.
the sap changes to another sap. cweery speaking reason, it says.
declare we want to do a show for you a truly spectacular show, Baby Joey says.
respond I cant author eyes that, the sap says.
Baby Joey pulls out another waterskin from is diaper.
command deposit, the sap says, the sap points at a shelf gainst the wall. Baby Joey lays it there I can taste it. the sap disappears n so does the shelf with water on it. Baby Joey scratches tween is webbed toes.
another sap appears. cweery speaking reason, the sap says.
declare we want to do a show, Baby Joey says.
respond I cant author eyes that, the sap says.
Baby Joey pulls out another waterskin from is diaper. command deposit, says the sap. Baby Joey lays the skin on the wall, the water n the sap disappear, Baby Joey scratches in is diaper.
another sap appears, cweery speaking reason, the sap says.
declare we want to do a show, Baby Joey says.
respond why should I author eyes that, the sap says.
Baby Joey pulls out a gobbledeegook from is diaper n places the metal complication on the shelf. the shelf vanishes n so does the gobbledeegook, the sap is holdin the gobbledeegook n looks at it.
cweery goal, says the sap.
Baby Joey crosses is hands n cups is tummy. explicate explored n scavenged teknologee butt loads boyo offer trade for performance opp, Baby Joey says.
The sap pauses and seems thinking for a bit. analysis unoccurance of trade for extended period opens potential, cweery fee, says the sap.
cost three droppers each, Baby Joey says.
the sap squints hard n curls is mouth. cweery surrender essential, the sap says.
analysis analyze the tech rare, Baby Joey says.
cweery disruptiv element reject interakshin, the sap says.
cwalify you you you desire visualize the Outside see the spawn of the lateral gene rendishun offer exex gratis, Baby Joey says.
emote unconvinced analyze sacrifice of control unacceptable, says the sap.
analysis provide simule of choice subvert sublimated rebellion pee r mofo commodify dissatisfaction an sell it back 2 em, Baby Joey says.
emote interest demand a grand eyes meant, says the sap.
offer exex private treatment from our Witch high light private in case yer engineers are shall we say limited, Baby Joey says.
offer approval command dock at tubeway tek dropoff at tubeway project one work cycle begin spectacle project hardstop subsequent cycle, the sap says.
we roll across bumpy black rocks on way to big grey ass cheek nullshield. Baby Joey why do u talk so funny with saps? I say.
you gotta talk the talk all right smegface, Baby Joey says.
I have a ache in my head from the funny talk. Baby Joey, I say.
yeah Tender? Baby Joey says.
whats cweery?
Head has a spike through it. Sit up. Ah, not so fast, slow down. My head, my head, uggh—oh, bumped hand against helmet, forgot the helmet. Unscrew it. My reflection. Eyes look blue and riven with tributaries of silver. Where am I? Keratin. Feh. Texture of artichoke. Except the distended red pustule. Glowing. Moving. Light, dark, light, dark.
Where am I? No plant life just hard soil.
My forehead itches badly, want to claw it, tear this thing right off me, tear the irritation off. The swelling balloons, and I flinch.
It bursts like bubblegum.
Shredded keratin dangles around a small moist pewter-colored blob stuck to my forehead—feels like an abscessed tooth. The blob stirs … a tiny head emerges. It looks like a bedraggled kitten’s head. It looks at me. Rather, the reflection of it seems to look at the reflection of me. POP! A release of air; the oily mess on spindly stick-figure legs separates—a filmy sac rips, dripping moisture down my cheek—slides off my head and spirals down trailing a torn parachute. I catch it in my right hand.
Its fragile heart beats intensely against my palm like a throbbing robin’s egg. It gulps some air, squirms—one leg rubbing against the other—turns its head, and mews. Its grey body struggles in a tangle, rolling side to side, until with a ferocious push six-inch wings thrust from its back. At last the creature relaxes, panting with effort.
I drop the helmet from my other hand and run a finger across its belly. Greasy fur, paws the size of my fingertips, little pink pads. Wings like a bat’s. It nips at my finger. I touch my head; the scraps still hang from it. I tear off a loose piece and dangle it above the creature’s face. It sniffs and strains for it. I feed it and tear off another piece.
You’re my Sphinx.
He looks up at me openly, his head resting to the side. Feeling queasy. Drop to my knees, lean on my left hand, slide him off my palm—feel the torrent come up my throat, spew burning mush, sour oatmeal.
I’m done, sit back, turn my head, and spit—lumpy phlegm, dry bittermouth.
Sphinx is on his little feet, his wings against the ground for balance. He sprawls into my puke, splashes face-first, his eyes squinting shut. He lays there for a second, blinks a few times, and begins slurping it down.
I look out: we’re on the edge of a dark desert. Stark and inarticulate. Desert sand disappears into the claustrophobic haze. Is it pollution over the desert? Is it my eyesight? Have I been myopic all alon
g? Will I go blind? The sky is clamped shut, wrinkled like a squinting eye. I look over at little Sphinx; he freezes while licking his paw, his eyes lock with mine. I’m exhausted, put my head down and
[SEE: Metal white, metal tech rack, Rsim sheath, Foodsim sideboard open, Foodpak dangling off shelf, Rsim space.]
[DO: I I I chew, pace around box.]
[SENSE: Floor tilts as I I I walk.]
[EMOTE: I I I fear. Back of my my my throat (constricted).]
[RECALL: Period last, work demerit re: meatplant count.]
[PROJECT: Demote if I I I repeat demerit this period. All my my my germ dehydrated. Germ coveted, down the Tier C fece-pipe. Sexpartner like a vulturebride happy to select an upgrade in lieu.]
[SEE: Rsim AFace.]
[HEAR: Announce: Declare: All clear. You you you in safety: floor free.]
[SENSE: Tendons rigid after manip.]
[RECALL: Sexpartner servicing threshes.]
[PROJECT: C. Foodsim, different taste. Cannot distinguish animals. Tier C, not pleasant. C.]
[EMOTE: Dry, dry, dry.]
[COMMAND: Concentrate.]
[TASTE: Bird still on tongue from foodpak last.]
[EMOTE: Anxiety.]
[SENSE: Rsim gloves, floor tilting under my my my feet.]
[ANALYZE: Things I I I cannot see but are there. Example: Comp-coils underfoot, energy collected and routed to batteries. Example: Future.]
[PROJECT: Foodsim tier A so real. One clock less of work per cycle. Younger, fresher me me me.]
[EMOTE: Envy, anger.]
[DO: Move Rsim gloves, clench fingers, turn hand.]
[SEE: Via Rsim space: Threshtank moving through field, scanning left and right. Colors garish.]
[ANALYZE: Meatplants arrogant taunt me me me.]
[PROJECT: Down to D? Some Ds get moles. Infrequent Engineer visits. If used for fertility then no health upgrade. Appointments shorter. Nipples flaccid, breasts sag. Vaginas dry. Facial droop. Infrequent erections.]
[EMOTE: Distrust.]
[PROJECT: Acne, underweight, eyes dull.]
[DO: Direct tank to meatplant orange, large. Move clawhand, snip, toss into cavity.]
[SEE: Rsim AFace.]
[HEAR: Announce: Notify: End of cycle, Gate 1, The Sensational Outsider Zirkus and Phreakshow, traveling performance for Pures, cycle one duration. Suggestion: Go and view life on the outside, titillation, torture, and immorality. Qualification: Fee 3 milliliters.]
[SEE: Purple fill wall entire.]
[EMOTE: Startled.]
[DO: Strike out with arm claw.]
[SEE: Purple disappears. No movement only meatplants.]
[DO: Turn Rsim gloves.]
[SEE: View rotates. Meatplants.]
[DO: Continue turning tank.]
[SEE: Abrupt revolution of colors.]
[EMOTE: Disoriented.]
[PROJECT: Should have triggered razorwire.]
[SEE: Spots orange, small, outlined in purple. Fault line, silver, running through center. View fizzes, vanishes.]
[SENSE: Hands shaking.]
[DO: Pull off Rsim gloves.]
[RECALL: Department of Rankings. Smell of power and desperation (sweet and sour).]
[SENSE: Mind falling apart.]
[RECALL: The Zirkus.]
[ANALYZE: Opportunity sole to avoid demerit. Bring Nullsuit.]
[DO: I I I I I I I move to wall, press button, sleeper murphies down, place myself myself on bed, enter sleepstate.]
I lift my head. Guess I nodded off. Wait, I was dreaming something about whiteness … or … hmmhh. Lost it.
My helmet is at my side; Sphinx: sleeping on my chest, his back puffing up and contracting, his wings like two hands praying. I place my gloved hand over him and lie back. The sky is dull and blank like suburban dreams. I could be lifted up and sucked into the clouds like a leaf in a whirlwind.
Sphinx stirs. He arches his back and paws at my chest with his claws. He looks at me with emerald eyes; his pink tongue juts out between his sharp canines. He shoots a look left, right, back to me. I try to pick him up, but he makes a sickly, strangled snarl.
“Sorry, sorry,” I say, holding out the back of my hand. He sniffs my glove, scrutinizes my face. “Good boy.” He rubs his furry cheek against my hand, runs up my arm, and sits on my shoulder. I hold as still as I can. Don’t claw my earhole, don’t claw my earhole, please don’t claw my earhole. I look over: he’s licking between his toes.
I grab my helmet and get up, balancing on my cabriole of legs like the feet of two umbrella stands. What do I do with him? Might fit in the helmet. I scoop him into it and place it over my head, holding my breath and closing my eyes. His body against my cheek. I open my eyes. He careens from my face to the glass and back, crosses his front paws, sits down, and wraps his furry body around the front of my neck.
I seal the helmet with a click, and we step out into the desert, leaving behind the trails of a herd of snakes. Up an incline—a dune that becomes a moderately sloped bluff held firm by a dense network, a thin, ropey plant. Release some pee, which dribbles down my leg but is absorbed by the suit. I step down—
up to my waist in sand— QUICKSAND! —claw, grab—
a strand—
holding—
just holding.
Holding.
Not going deeper, not sinking; wrench my body forward and pull myself out. It’s okay. I’m okay.
Could have died. Maybe wouldn’t be so bad. Rest here a minute. Holy fucking fuck. I did just nearly die. What, again? Do I really care? What’s happened to me? Fucking insanity. Sphinx is quiet, snug like a scarf. Sphinx is … that’s what he is. Or she. Did I not check? I guess it doesn’t matter. Should keep moving.
I crouch on my chest, move sidewinder-style to distribute my weight evenly. The granules are so lightly packed that even a mild draft blows them in waves over the crest. I sit in the shade at the base beneath the lee, pick at the plant, and pull a length out of the sand. Unscrew my helmet and sit it like a bowl on my lap; Sphinx slides around like an ungainly skateboarder in a halfpipe. I hold out a strand to him, and he sniffs it. I bite off a piece. Tastes like a twig. Sphinx takes the twig between his teeth and gnaws it down. I break off several fibers and feed them to him.
Drowning in a deep blue sea.
The shade, cooling my body; catch the scent of chalk and papaya on my tongue.
A shush-shush of sand approaches followed by a creature over and down the dune into the feeble light. Spiny like a porcupine and about the same size—salamander limbs? Frog? Salamander. An oversized squirrel head. Squirrelpine sidles up in the penumbra of my orbit. Reforming, squishing like molding clay—grows a foot taller and thicker, rears back onto two legs—chimp-like limbs now. I touch my chest and arms and head—seem unchanged.
“Ha yu ound anyting tuh et?” the newly expanded Squirrelpine asks me. Eat. Found.
I pull up the strands from the sand. It crouches down, tugs, and breaks off a piece. Sniffs it, chews it. Breaks off another piece, chews it.
“Tuts ittuh guy?” he gestures to Sphinx with a tiny chimp hand, his voice like chopping sushi. I turn and look at Sphinx, who tilts his head up at me.
“Not sure. I think he came out of my temple.”
“Heltee tull uh tissn. Can’t getituhh.” Help. What, pull? I pull up more of the buried net.
“Tie tuh glat tall?”
Tall, glat … glass? Ball.
“I don’t know. Protection I think.”
“Tie i’tand tark an tinky?”
Tand … tand … sand. Dark and stinky?
“Is it stinky? I didn’t notice. And dark … uh …”
“I tell ittinky rot. It it tee?”
“Uh …”
“Tut it atove t’clahs?”
Clahs. Clouds. What … is above …
“I wish I could tell you. I’ve never been there. I don’t know if anything’s up there.”
The Squirrelpine waddles closer and turns his back to me, on his
side, quills flattened, his spine against my thighs (where my thighs would be if I didn’t have snake legs). I replace the helmet over Sphinx and myself. We sleep. I’m awake without a dream. The three of us eat the root-like plants and when the roots run out along one dune, we move to the next. Crap out what feels like concrete. The loose dark brown sand mantles Squirrelpine as his fur traps it, causing him to appear darker and darker the more we move until he’s completely black. We spoon to sleep in the minimal shelter of a dune.
I’m awake, and he’s gone. I set out again across the desert, and soon we’re traveling up a mild slope, wading through unfruited brambles, tall yellowing grasses, and tangled weeds. The sky is carved out of sandstone pitted with rust. Sphinx has found a comfortable position sitting on the top of my head, his legs dangling down the back and his nose like a ship’s prow jutting forward and above me. He kneads his claws into my scales. Rather like a massage.
We come through brush over a rise; a stubby building about the size of a gazebo sits on a small plateau while beyond it stand tall black spears of beheaded flowers. I approach hesitantly. About twice my height to the top, the cubic building appears to be made of frosted lucite wrapped with a chain-link fence. The fence bends over the roof. No one seems to be around. Circle the building. Attune to movement. What’s that? A piece of garbage … leather? What is it? A bag, a water bag. Pick it up. Empty—son of a bitch, of course it’s empty. Opposite side: the fence extends out from the building a couple feet—like the entryway to an igloo but taller. A cage? Looks like a door into the building within the cage. The cage floor is metal, a sheet that comes up a foot on either side like a baseboard.
Look around once more, listen, and sniff … nothing moves. Stick my hand in the chain mesh and begin climbing. My snake legs—not much support. I pull myself up hand over hand … this is too easy. How strong am I? At the top, rest my elbows on the lucite roof, less frosted up here, and look into the building. Inside are globes, colorful globes, some wobbling. No! They’re heads, the tops of human heads … people crammed upright, against each other, with no room to move … hair from black to white and every hue in between. Maybe fifty people? Naked? One looks up, a male shorter than the others, a boy maybe, can’t tell, with cherry-red hair, a jaw that juts out like the point of blunted triangle. Our eyes meet, and I feel electricity bolt from his eyes to mine—his arm shoots up pointing at me, he’s shouting. All the faces turn and look up at me. Dull round faces, gaunt rectangular faces, walnut-brown faces with dark eyes and dainty cheekbones, square-jawed albino faces with weary eyes, faces with spots, weathered faces, skull faces. The boy, he’s still talking emphatically, but I can’t hear him. All their mouths are moving; I can hear a distant, dulled clamor from within. A few more raise their arms to point at the wall, the direction of the cage—all of them are pointing. The door.
A Greater Monster Page 11
