Monster Stalker

by Elizabeth Watasin

  Nico wandered closer to the broken fence and glanced back to where the diner’s giant, bomb-shaped meat smoker puffed smoke in back. The scullery door stood open, emitting the loud sounds of the kitchen. No staff on breaks stood outside at present. If Grun somehow figured out she’d tampered with his Id and returned to confront her, she could discreetly toss him below; a scary fall, but survivable. Engines roared within the channel in question and Nico looked down, curious. At the very bottom of the dry water channel, two chopped hotrods drag-raced, flames roaring behind them and leaving trails of fire.

  “Cool,” she said, and returned her attention to her Id, finding her translation tag easily deciphered the Cru’K language. A ship’s manifest for thirty-eight frozen units of food caught her eye. Nico didn’t think those units were frozen turkeys.

  Dorothy, I need to unload this data and store it in a discreet place, like a bus locker, Nico typed. Before she could describe something like a floppy disk, Dorothy answered.

  You may open a free bus locker account at the following. She gave Nico a page to look at.

  This is amazing, Nico thought, looking at a virtual bus locker. She quickly opened an account and dumped the Cru’K’s data into her virtual locker, deleted everything of his from her Id except for a photo of Shayla and a message meant for that night: 02:00 standard. Pick up.

  But where. And why was she even wondering? She should send the information to the proper authorities. Nico bit her lip, realising a grave error on her part. If she did that, Grun might blame the waitresses at Lucy’s for informing on him. He did “drop” his Id at the diner.

  I blew it. She should have thought through stealing his Id’s information—followed him instead, then picked his pocket elsewhere. She hadn’t indulged in covert behaviour in years, not since killing her maker. She was out of practice, and her blunder could almost be forgiven.

  Nicky, her maker admonished. What’d I telt ye.

  “I’ll figure it out,” she assured the holo photo of Shayla that Grun had taken. The Shayla in the photo did not smile towards Grun’s Id, but stared, cool and focused.

  A delivery vehicle pulled up to the back of Lucy’s. The side hatch popped open, revealing a refrigerated interior. The driver disembarked and unloaded a raw rack of giant ribs. An elderly cook exited to view the unloading, gnarled fists resting on her wide hips.

  “Those are Flintstone-sized ribs,” Nico exclaimed to Bear. She pointed her Id in its direction to take a picture, wondering if they were from a small dinosaur.

  Motorcycles roared. The boys astride them howled as they barrelled by the deliveryman. One of the boys snatched the huge rack away. The cook shook her fists in the air as the bikes headed for Nico and the fence’s hole.

  “I know your mama, Leroy!” the cook yelled.

  For a fleeting second, Nico considered rescuing the ribs, but she caught sight of Leroy’s joyous, hairy face and his fanged grin, and something primal and equally joyful responded within her. The cycle riders whooped and sped through the fence’s hole, sending their bikes sailing through the air. They landed hard in the bottom of the channel and rode on.

  “Damn wolf gangs!” the cook shouted.

  “‘And he’s bad, bad, Leroy Brown’,” Nico quoted. “Well, someone got his mama supper.” Merope descended, gracing the darkened clouds with streaks of red and purple. Perhaps in the hidden celestial sky city above, the world remained golden. But below, night was falling: the hunting time.

  Nico broke into a trot for the spaceport terminal.

  ***

  With Shayla’s directions to the YOBA safely stored, Nico gave in to exploration’s temptation. She liked to wander in every city she ended up in, and one full of off-worlders and Others piqued her curiosity. The spaceport faced the ocean, where a stretch of shore outside Again NewYork proper held a row of luxury hotels. Nico thought of a good excuse to see them; the Five train that would take her into the city would be crowded with departing spaceport passengers by the time it reached her. If she backtracked to the hotels instead, she could board an empty Five.

  Nico found moving walkways that ran within elevated tubes from the spaceport for the hotels beyond. As the sun set, revealing two moons, Nico rode her walkway and read her Id.

  Eight million, four hundred thousand people lived in Again NewYork. Humans made up 33 percent, extra-humans were 23 percent, Other-beings were 28 percent, and off-worlders made up 16 percent. Twenty-five thousand and two hundred officers served the city. Sixteen hundred and eighty Makepeaces watched the Other-beings. Two Makepeaces were available per ten thousand citizens.

  “Dorothy, can I get general info on the Makepeace?”

  “The Makepeace are incorruptible artificial—”

  “That part I’ve heard. Advance a sentence or two.”

  “The Makepeace may appear of discernible gender but lack genitals. Freed from cultural and gender-influenced thought processes, these bioengineered, enhanced humanoids also have no procreative purpose. A Makepeace is equal in strength, speed, and agility to warrior-level Other-beings and has complex firepower and flight capability.”

  Nico summoned holo evidence of Makepeaces flying.

  That is cool. She watched footage of a Makepeace generating a levitation bubble. Death could come for her from above as well as from street level, and that was good to know.

  “But why are they sexy?” Nico said. “Superhero-sexy. They aren’t simply muscular. Their bodies are gorgeous. Can they take their helms off?”

  “The first Makepeaces were identical androids of non-gendered design,” Dorothy answered. “As impersonal units, they became the subject of ridicule and targeted for attack. Later development of biomechanical humanoids of impressive stature with physically attractive attributes elicited more positive public response and cooperation. The Makepeace’s helm can be removed. Thunder Gunn: Pleasure Lord IV. The Makepeace with the piece to satisfy—”

  “Dorothy, not now,” Nico hastily ordered, cutting the holo projection of Thunder Gunn in action, and looked around in embarrassment at the other walkway riders. If anyone had been offended, they were too absorbed in their Ids or in conversations to show it. She saw her own darkened reflection in the night-blackened glass of the tube and was glad that it didn’t startle her. The Other-Nico didn’t seem as strong a duplicate of herself, and therefore capable of attacking. Humans in conventional evening dress rolled by on an offshoot walkway. One of the men placed a hand on a woman’s back and her dress gradually grew translucent, revealing her body. Nico stared, fascinated.

  The group stepped off the walkway for a brightly lit casino’s exit tube. Nico’s own tunnel ended and she entered open air, permeated with an ocean’s scent: she’d reached the glittering structures of the hotel row.

  She rolled past the bulbous capsules of a hotel complex, elevator pods streaking within. More moving walkways ran below and above, containing travellers and sightseers.

  A small waterfall roared and she looked down in time to see a humanoid jump into a sparkling pool. A female figure swam, her long hair flowing as her piscine tail undulated.

  Nico gaped and tried to take a photo of the mermaid, but her walkway was already moving beyond into the treetops of a lush garden with blue and purple plant life where star-shaped flowers spiralled. A wedding party celebrated below, with two jewelled and silk adorned grooms. Branches rustled near Nico, and something moved, indiscernible from the tree trunk itself. As Nico rolled by, she felt something look at her.

  “Hello,” she said, and had Bear wave at whatever it might be.

  Her walkway entered a hotel and rolled above the check-in desk, located in a massive hall with a large fire burning in a hearth. From the walls hung breech-loading repeater rifles, horse saddles, Viking shields and axes. A mural above the fireplace depicted a lasso-wielding cowgirl astride a giant leaping mountain lion with Native American braves following on horses and blond Viking warriors running alongside. By the hearth, a handsome singing cowboy leaned with hi
s spurred boot resting on a log and serenaded off-world visitors. His grizzled companion played a guitar.

  “Dorothy, identify my location,” Nico said, wide-eyed. “Because I’m looking at the most amazing kitsch.”

  “You are presently located at the Sycamore Sue Lodge, built to honour the Old West warrioress Sycamore Sue, former slave and favoured of the goddess Sky Woman. Sycamore Sue led First American tribes and lost Vikings to Darqueworld.”

  “I think I love this planet,” Nico said.

  She peered down at the desk personnel, who were not in any sort of themed attire, and made a note in Dorothy to apply for a front desk position. Her walkway rolled on into open air and a multi-level boutique and restaurant cluster. Holo boards activated as Nico neared, and one showed a dark-haired model’s beautiful face, her knowing gaze and sharp brows reminding Nico of Heloise Allen. Voluptuous bottles appeared and disappeared in slow succession. The board read:

  MIRCALLA

  Essence of the Everlasting

  “Infused with the power of the vampire,” the ad sensually whispered. “Endless beauty for you.”

  “What do they mean, infused?” Nico said, humoured.

  “Mircalla claims its beauty products contain drops of vampire blood,” Dorothy said. “This vital fluid is assumed to bestow long lasting beauty and youth in the human wearer. Mircalla: Possess the Power of the Vampire. The spring collection, now here.”

  “Forever isn’t so great,” Nico said. “But I can see how living with Other-beings might make humans want that.”

  “Want to know what the high rich are eating now?” a bubbly holo personality announced in the next holo board. “If you have five thousand credits to spare, try Fedotov’s Prochnyy Kolbasa.”

  The entertainment news bite switched to the silhouette logo of the walking Russian peasant girl carrying her toy bear, sunrays emanating from her long fork. The ad shone white except for the logo’s golden outline and rays. Gold letters ghosted into words:

  Once eaten, yours forever.

  Prochnyy Kolbasa

  “Is Russian bologna a delicacy now?” Nico said, incredulous.

  “Along with its popular version of the doktorskaya kolbasa, Fedotov offers a luxury kolbasa affordable only to intragalactic royalty and the wealthy,” Dorothy answered. “The Prochnyy, hand-raised, highly cultured rare meats rejuvenated via a secret, ritualistic process and stuffed with precious gold flakes and sacred herbs.”

  “That must be really rare pig’s butt.”

  “Come to life. Prochnyy Kolbasa,” Dorothy answered.

  “Prochnyy: long lasting,” Nico translated, bemused. She saw a holo board of a hunched man burning in the sun.

  Nico’s chest heaved and her stomach seized. The animated man switched to standing, no longer burning, and raised his arms to the sun.

  “Heliophobia,” the board said in soft, sympathetic tones. “Stop the suffering. Hypnotherapy will free your night self to enter the light. For a full, enjoyable life in the sun, ask your doctor about Hypnotika® by One Mind, today.”

  “No thank you,” Nico ejected, and put thoughts of bursting into flames out of her mind. She turned around and looked at the fashion holo ads across the way instead. Quechua women in bowler hats rode a walkway below, chatting and carrying children.

  If they can get the clothing they want, I can too.

  “Dorothy, show me my choices for female, black cardigan, long-sleeved white blouse, black skirt—above the knee—black stockings. Mary Janes, black. Bra size, 34A, US. Wait, do you do European measurements or UK? Never mind. And I’d like pink cotton panties.” She’d belatedly realised that Dorothy had her bio-dats and could apply her measurements to her request. Then she recalled a pamphlet in her bag: New Start, New Life, It’s Your Other-Life on Darqueworld.

  Did a new start include trying a new look? Would that be freeing? Something nagged at her.

  A weight from Old Earth had come over with her, dragging her down, and it kept her pinned to an ocean floor not entirely of her own making. She’d always dressed like the girl she’d been when made dead. She wasn’t ready for change. Dorothy brought up a selection, and Nico saw that clothes could be simulated on Darqueworld as well as human blood.

  These prices are—

  If she recalled the amount on her credit chit correctly—an amount needed to last a month—she wouldn’t be purchasing another outfit any time soon. Thankfully, as a vampire she didn’t sweat or shed; un-death was a state of sustained perfection. She’d like to get a hairbrush, though.

  She found a personal shopping gallery to place Dorothy’s selections for future consideration. A holo sign next to a shop’s platform indicated: Light Rail.

  “Dorothy, how do I get a transit pass?” she asked, after stepping off the walkway. She fished for a coupon she’d seen in her bag. “One discounted for tourists.”

  ***

  Her plan to board an empty train earlier than the spaceport crowd backfired. Nico descended to a train platform filled with hotel workers leaving their day shifts. Nico added more hotel staff ads to her to-do list and allowed one arriving train to fill up and leave while she waited for an emptier one. Mentally creating the commuter’s “personal-space” bubble around herself, she summoned the research page Dorothy had compiled regarding the word trafficking.

  Like any culture, Darqueworld was no exception when it came to people profiting from the bodies of other people, the “sacred commonality” not withstanding. Enforced labour that enslaved Other-beings and humans on off-world sites seemed a current hot news topic, affecting not just Again NewYork but other Darqueworld city-states and planet-side realms. The news did not discuss sexual slavery as much, if at all, but Nico expected that. More than half of the Galactic Network’s cyberporn could have been made using females and children forced into the sex trade.

  Now how did I know that? Her thought skidded on her mind’s blank space, and she dismissed the thought.

  She switched her Id to text captioning and watched some old news coverage.

  PETH, the People for Ethical Treatment of Humans, liberated forty-five human captives, twelve of whom were small children and infants, the largest trafficking ring to be exposed in Again NewYork yet, the on-the-scene reporter announced. She was an athletically built woman with a mane of wavy chestnut hair, flawless complexion, and a gaze set with serious purpose. Police vehicles behind her flashed lights before a warehouse facility. The byline beneath the reporter said: Investigative Reporter, Chasca Vasquez.

  The news cut to an impassioned man speaking to Chasca. This is a clear message we’re sending to the Cru’k and everyone who works for them, he said. His eyes changed, indicating a were-cat nature. Kidnapping and selling humans for consumption will never be tolerated. If the under-holarchy won’t act, we will.

  Interesting how the under-holarchy has yet to put that Cru’k ban into effect, Nico thought. She cut the news to peruse factual data on the trafficking of humans as live food. She didn’t have a comparative value for the price edible, living humans were currently selling for, but it looked higher than a sausage stuffed with gold flakes.

  She noticed Chasca’s name in more of the listed news links.

  Dorothy, get me a direct contact for Chasca Vasquez, investigative reporter for News Alpha, Again NewYork. She looked up PETH and saw that they were an activist group—the last trafficking bust they’d orchestrated had put many of their members in jail.

  Justice has a knack for not looking the other way when it comes to rescuers, Nico mused.

  A train’s horn echoed down the tunnel, announcing its approach, and Nico moved to a strategic spot within the crowd.

  “Mind the gap,” the British male voice-over announced in calm tones. Nico briefly became disorientated, watching a Tokyo-style bullet train arrive at what was not a London Underground platform.

  “Mind the gap,” the male voice-over repeated.

  The train doors hissed open. Nico found herself—despite having preternatura
l strength and a vampire’s swiftness—out-manuoveured from entering the car. Lizard people were exceptionally quick and slipped right in front. When Nico reached the doors, occupants already packed the interior. A white-whiskered Asian man in the very front beckoned to her.

  “There’s room. Let thon on. C’mon.” He motioned for Nico to board. His wrist bore white cotton string bracelets.

  Sai sin. Blessed bracelets.

  “Thanks,” she said and squeezed in. The doors closed before Bear’s nose and the train departed.

  “See? Plenty of room for thon,” the old man said to those surrounding them, and he gripped the rail firmly.

  Thon? Was her translation tag malfunctioning already? Nico typed in her Id.

  Dorothy, what does thon mean?

  Thon is a gender-neutral pronoun from the contraction of ‘that one’, and has been in use as early as Old Earth’s nineteenth century period.

  Great, Nico thought. Now I pass for a longhaired boy wearing a skirt. She typed: How would I use the word?

  Examples for use may be: Thon spoke. She married thon. Thons hand moved. That book is thons. Thon likes thonself. Revealing the true you. Reborn® by Avatar, can give you the You, you desire—

  Nico watched the ad, amazed at the possibilities of gender—or non-gender—identity. She looked discreetly around the car and saw everyone ignoring each other by reading, dozing, or working on various styles of Ids, with privacy screens or otherwise. The majority present appeared to be humans with less than half being Others—though perhaps the blueish fish-like person was not an Other-being but an off-worlder, and one of indeterminable gender.

  Thon has pretty scales, Nico thought, and she was pleased with her first neutral pronoun application.

  ***

  The train sped by the spaceport terminals without stopping, and Nico realised her second error—she was aboard the Seven, an express train headed for the city’s massive resident blocks. But Dorothy assured her the train’s route would swing back into the city proper and the YOBA hostel’s location. They glided to a stop within an immense, arched habitat hall, high enough to accommodate a standing giant with another stretched out sleeping. Nico briefly wondered if giants existed too. Passengers exited while more boarded. Nico remained by the door and saw food carts, shops, and rows of living quarters, curving above with the arch. Laundry hung from balconies, some boxes thick with flowers and vegetation, and people, cats, monkeys, and an eagle’s family lounged. The doors shut with her and Bear nearly mashed against the glass again.