More Chapter 12 which is either done or mostly done now.
The old man let out a sigh. Slowly and with great care as if he was trying to place it softly on his desk without disrupting his papers. With the air the tension left his body leaving him hanging over his hard chair his arms limply on his desk with his ancient looking fountain pen quivering slightly between his fingers.
"You can come in. And your friend." as he spoke the authority on his face broke leaving him with and expression of loss. "There is hardly anything left that you could break and how is one to disarm a creature such as you." his eyes met Petrova's for a second they were still hard with some kind of outrage but he quickly averted his gaze gesturing us with his right hand to move past him down the stairs, the pen wobbling between his fingers. The dice clattered on the table as the guards resumed their game.
The broad stairway breathed its humid breath into our faces as we descended into the port. It was cut directly into the, very broad and with long steps which would catch anyone stumbling instead of sending them crashing into the depths cracking every bone on the way down. As we were approaching the bottom the ceiling gave way and opened the sight over a strange miniature city. Inside the large floating stone people with far to much time on their hands had cut a tiny city out of the artificial rock. Complete with squat two story buildings lining narrow streets, all decorated with bright shining street lights who did their best to rival the radiance of the sun and neon signs plastering the walls trying their hardest not to be outshone by the artificial daylight. As we moved into the street my gut tingled slightly sending first cautious signs of fear into my consciousness, where it had been informing me that blood loss was a bit shit and that dinner might be a good idea now it was now pointing out that something was quite out of place. My rational mind was dismissive of these warnings. I was walking into an underwater city with only one exit, with most of the underworld of Europa City after me´, my rationality argued that this would of course cause unfounded paranoia. My instincts failed to see how that was supposed to make them feel better. While that discussion was going on I was looking around trying to see what was supposed to be so unsettling about this place after all. All the street lights where shining over the tidy main street and even the neon lights were all in perfect working order. No atmospheric blinking nor the sporadic failure of single letters leading to hilarious misspellings. Compared to the dump of Old City this was the poster child for a entertainment district. So clean, orderly... quiet. The realization made my rational mind concede defeat and my gut wrenched itself with artful grace sending shivers cascading down my spine. The 'town' was devoid of any signs of life. It was perfectly fine to look at. But there were no people. There were no human sounds, no talking, no footsteps but those of me and Petrova, no hollering, no crashing plates, no coughs, nothing but a perfect street. After my fall from grace back in the day I had not gone straight to Europa to become a miserable little loser. I was to rich for that shit so I travelled the Solar System while the war was dying together with my career. In that time I had passed through abandoned cities, bombed ruins and ghost towns. They all had the decency of showing signs of decay. This little settlement though was in a waking coma. With glistening eyes open, fixed on some marvellous point on the wall, mouth slightly open as if wanting to say something in just a second, the chest slowly moving with the tides of breath but with no conscious life left to it.
"What the fuck happened here?" I asked no one in particular.
Petrova snorted, cast a look around. "Law and Order." she said.
I did not ask for details. I could imagine that this was connected to the angry old man upstairs and with Petrova. I followed Petrova around a corner into an almost identical street, pristine, spotless, empty. Sometimes, especially with angry or annoyed people it is best to remains silent, eventually the other will want to vent its displeasure into the silence graciously provided by you. I could not count how many angry divas I had turned from perpetual passive aggression to actually telling me what particular pea was discomfiting the princess or prince that day. Petrova was a more hardy person she was leading me stoically through the streets of the port which still insisted of looking entirely alike. But in the end she did actually vent a bit.
"Not all to long a go this place was full of people. This the only port in these parts and because it swims it is always open for business no matter the water level. All manner of people made this their second home. Mostly smugglers but also crazy hobos and free spirits who don't like borders and of course criminals. Bronislav and his family have controlled the port for generations and things usually went well. Usually. One day a clever bastard with a bag full of Credits appeared, manipulated the local thugs into a fight and while they and the Port's security where at each others throats he started to kill key players, discreetly mopping up the field. When Zolkin's started to notice what was happening...'
"The Zolkin's?" I asked.
"Bornislav's faimly. When they finally realized what was happening it was to late. They had to hide in their own city. They were as good as dead."
"What happened then?"
"I happened."
I tried to imagine Petrova walking right into this place, with guns blazing killing everyone. It was ridiculous. Although it was not hard to imagine. I could even picture her breathing fire. But still...
"You want me to believe you just walked in here shooting everyone left and right" and breathing fire "and thus liberating the port?"
"You read to many silly pulp stories Kane. No I did not walk right in. That would have been suicide. I talked to a pair of incompetent mercenaries guarding the entrance. The idiots told me pretty much everything that had happened. I killed them and then sneaked into the city. The rest was actually rather easy. There was enough chaos down here to hide among the panicked and afraid. I waited for one of the attackers main leaders to relax took him as a hostage. People came to save him. He was wired to a bomb I had improvised. Killing him and his would be rescuers. After that I confronted their leader. I was actually expecting Bronislav to crawl out from under his stone and start a counter attack. In the end I almost got killed because that fucking coward was to scared to protect his own home."
Petrova was now quiet again. Fuming silently.
"And what was all that talk about back at the entrance?"
Petrova stopped. Turned round parting her lips showing me her teeth, I guess it was supposed to be a smile.
"That ungrateful fucker dared to present me with a bill for the damage caused during my attempt to save his arse" teeth still shining she turned around moving forward again.
When I was starting to wonder how big that hollowed out brick could possibly be Petrova extended her arm pointing to a building, looking pretty much like all the others. Flat, two stories, covered in neon signs. It did stand out though. It sat there alone with now other buildings directly adjacent as if the other houses were keeping a respectful distance. It even looked more important, more radiant. I did not notice it directly because of the blanket of coloured lights but someone had gone through the trouble of painting the entire building white. The colour had long since given up its purity and had turned into a more world weary shade of grey but it still maintained some of its former glory. Certainly enough to make the other houses around feel slightly uncomfortable in its presence.
As far as I could tell all the signs said the same thing: 'The Ashes' and in smaller letters below 'Bar and Restaurant'. It was written in dozens of languages many of which I did not recognize. Some using a script so convoluted that I was sure that they were if not breaking at least evading some laws of physics.
"Fancy? A drink? I could certainly use one. Shooting people and passing out tends to make me thirsty." I was getting tired getting dragged around by Petrova. And now that our destination was rather obvious I decided to take the initiative again for a change. I advanced dragging the large box behind me. It felt oddly liberating being taking point. I stepped through a metal double door that was built to swing smoothly inwards or out wards so that it would yield to a drunkard that was thrown out as easily to a thirsty man wanting to get in.
Inside I saw for the first time other humans since we had walked down into the port. When I say I saw them I mean that I stepped in stopped and had a long hard look around trying to find any signs of life apart from two large potted plants who were fake anyway standing guard at the entrance. I spotted and older woman behind the bar, she was leaning over the counter talking to a old man built like bear stuffed into a human skin who sat at a table near her. The old man had younger man as company, also built as if he was intended to break stones with his bare hands but he was of more human proportions. Then there were no signs of life for long stretches of nearly endless bar. Only empty table, uninhabited chairs and long abandoned pool tables. Like the rest of this place it was all very clean and creepy. It was then that I heard a soft muttering coming from a far corner. Turned my head looking past the plant, pushing a few large leaves aside with my free hand and saw that there was another man sitting alone at a corner table with his back towards the room. He was concentrating hard on y bowl of stew with which he seemed to have a rather heated but low key discussion. He was probably the King of a wild hobo tribe, working on a practising an address to his people. Just to make sure that there wasn't anyone else here I also checked behind the other plant. But there was only a forgotten manila envelope tucked behind its pot, probably some long forgotten testament.
"Please tell me that your friend isn't King Hobo over there." I said to Petrova. She only glanced over to him for a second before answering. "No. My friend's over there. I have to talk with him first. In private."
"Paranoid?"
"No. Just careful."
I did not really care. I was tired and felt like shit. If she wanted to talk to her mysterious friend alone, great. As long as I did get a decent beer and something edible I was content.
"What about the box?" I asked.
"You keep an eye on it." We out the large container on the floor and I slumped down in a chair next to it.
Apart from King Hobo who was still trying to convince his stew of something of vital importance the other people in the bar had noticed our arrival. The woman behind the bar looked surprised but in a positive way. The old tower of a man was leaning back on his chair grinning broadly with his massive arms crossed over the bulk of his chest. The younger man was looking confused shifting his his gaze between us and his companions. I rested my elbows on my new conquered table and rested my chin on my hands watching things unfold.
Wednesday, 23 March 2011
Sunday, 6 March 2011
Project Rain 19
Chapter 12 continued
I had expected some half ruined oddity from the early days of the Europa's colonisation. The most popular designs back then were either architectural oddities placed on the surface of the moon after being crafted in orbit favoured by the younger powers or the grandiose baroque buildings that were meant as monuments to human achievement preferred by the old empires. Instead the port was a large square of foamed stone. Not a monument for noble mankind but one for enduring pragmatism. During the early expansion into the outer reaches of the solar system Europa was essential for its water and Io for its mineral deposits and its magma. The liquid stone could easily be turned into a foam which once cold would swim in water and was easily sculpted. So among the first artefacts to be brought to Europa were these strange bricks that were used for all manner of things. Turning them into incredibly boring ports among them. There was only one largish squat building set on top of it. The only other decoration being a giant chain anchoring it to the larger structure of the storm drain so it would not simply drift away. Light was coming out of the windows of the building casting pools of light on the stone floor making a cross shape giving the impression that the structure was just waiting to be set up as part of a wall of a Cyclopean church.
There was only one ship bobbing in the water a large black monster of a boat made from cast iron. Another relic from the early colonisation this was more of what I was hoping for. While it a product of the same mentality that had led to the swimming brick, using Io to mass produce the basic components, it had come from a different school of design. This was a boat young boats were warned about by their mothers and adolescent boats used as role models. Pan-American in design it was all black metal and Mayan decorations all Square serpents, geometric ornaments and angry gods. It was named by corroded copper letters the 'Black Kettle'.
"Is that our ride?", I asked.
"Yes." said Petrova sporting a tiny smile. "You'll enjoy the ride. The Captain is a at least as crazy as you are. Now we only have to find him."
"That might be a problem. Maybe we should start looking for him in that house over there." I pointed at the only structure apart from the ship. That resulted in one of Petrova's 'don't be such an idiot' looks. Somehow that did not surprise me. I sighed.
"It's going to be more complicated than that right?"
"You'll see." she started to move towards the house dragging the chest and me behind her.
As we got nearer I noticed that I could not see inside. The windows had frosted glass panes. As we got closer to the door, a dark grey thing radiating solidity, I began to imagine more what strange sights might be found behind it. My first thought was that we would be inside of one of those seedy bars that had been living in ports for all of history. Dimly lit, full of bearded men and only one tiny shove away from a brawl. But the clear white windows did not fit. Maybe some incredibly clean office space run by a forgotten branch of Europa's bureaucracy that had lost contact to the surface decades ago but was following the ancient protocols for several generations and would continue doing so until some official figure descended from "up stairs" to bring them new orders? Tempting but I could some how not imagine them not being killed. Maybe it was the decadent corrupt descendants of said office? Having, through reverse evolution, returned to the origin of the civil servant, some kind of horrible rodent-people. . .
Petrova opened the door.
Behind it was just one large room. The entrance area was surrounded by thick metal bars so that who ever got in walked into a nice solid looking cell with thick stylishly corroded metal bars and a floor covered with suspicious half faded stains that made it very clear that it meant business. In the middle of the room well beyond the cell the room was dominated by an ornate stone stairway that looked like an exile from an old European castle leading down into the swimming brick. To our right was a large stone table that was covered by paper work but still looked suspiciously like a sacrificial altar behind which sat a gaunt man in his fifties seemingly poring over some papers in front of him. The rest of the room had only little decoration. A several filing cabinets. A couple of shelves. A large looming wardrobe. And a round table around which sat four heavily armed gorillas that grew around important places like the mould in my bathroom.
"Lovely." I said but no one seemed to be very interested in my opinion. The hard men were drinking hard liquor, playing some kind of dice game. The gaunt man was still pretending to read his paper and Petrova was looking at him with folded arms. Her face filled with patience and the promise that she knew the secret of turning patience into fists full of motivation.
Finally the old man looked up. I was not sure but I thought that I could see some rodent in his face. "You have quite the nerve to return here Petrova."
"Really? Last time I was here I got rid of half a dozen pirates who wanted to turn your port into their central of operations, by throwing you and your family into the storm drains with only bullets as company."
"The damage you caused when you so graciously attempted to save us was quite considerable. You almost caused a breach in the outer wall and we are still repairing some of damage caused."
"Don't worry Bronislav. Next time I will not interfere." I could hear her the temperature of her voice dropping. Slowly. But enough to make me wonder if this was going to turn into another disaster. I started to wonder how that woman managed to get through her daily life without causing a war. The four body guards had noticed the change in the air too. The were still busy with their game, but where they had been actively playing a moment ago they were now sitting perfectly still apart from the man holding the dice which he was shaking slowly in his large scarred hand.
I had expected some half ruined oddity from the early days of the Europa's colonisation. The most popular designs back then were either architectural oddities placed on the surface of the moon after being crafted in orbit favoured by the younger powers or the grandiose baroque buildings that were meant as monuments to human achievement preferred by the old empires. Instead the port was a large square of foamed stone. Not a monument for noble mankind but one for enduring pragmatism. During the early expansion into the outer reaches of the solar system Europa was essential for its water and Io for its mineral deposits and its magma. The liquid stone could easily be turned into a foam which once cold would swim in water and was easily sculpted. So among the first artefacts to be brought to Europa were these strange bricks that were used for all manner of things. Turning them into incredibly boring ports among them. There was only one largish squat building set on top of it. The only other decoration being a giant chain anchoring it to the larger structure of the storm drain so it would not simply drift away. Light was coming out of the windows of the building casting pools of light on the stone floor making a cross shape giving the impression that the structure was just waiting to be set up as part of a wall of a Cyclopean church.
There was only one ship bobbing in the water a large black monster of a boat made from cast iron. Another relic from the early colonisation this was more of what I was hoping for. While it a product of the same mentality that had led to the swimming brick, using Io to mass produce the basic components, it had come from a different school of design. This was a boat young boats were warned about by their mothers and adolescent boats used as role models. Pan-American in design it was all black metal and Mayan decorations all Square serpents, geometric ornaments and angry gods. It was named by corroded copper letters the 'Black Kettle'.
"Is that our ride?", I asked.
"Yes." said Petrova sporting a tiny smile. "You'll enjoy the ride. The Captain is a at least as crazy as you are. Now we only have to find him."
"That might be a problem. Maybe we should start looking for him in that house over there." I pointed at the only structure apart from the ship. That resulted in one of Petrova's 'don't be such an idiot' looks. Somehow that did not surprise me. I sighed.
"It's going to be more complicated than that right?"
"You'll see." she started to move towards the house dragging the chest and me behind her.
As we got nearer I noticed that I could not see inside. The windows had frosted glass panes. As we got closer to the door, a dark grey thing radiating solidity, I began to imagine more what strange sights might be found behind it. My first thought was that we would be inside of one of those seedy bars that had been living in ports for all of history. Dimly lit, full of bearded men and only one tiny shove away from a brawl. But the clear white windows did not fit. Maybe some incredibly clean office space run by a forgotten branch of Europa's bureaucracy that had lost contact to the surface decades ago but was following the ancient protocols for several generations and would continue doing so until some official figure descended from "up stairs" to bring them new orders? Tempting but I could some how not imagine them not being killed. Maybe it was the decadent corrupt descendants of said office? Having, through reverse evolution, returned to the origin of the civil servant, some kind of horrible rodent-people. . .
Petrova opened the door.
Behind it was just one large room. The entrance area was surrounded by thick metal bars so that who ever got in walked into a nice solid looking cell with thick stylishly corroded metal bars and a floor covered with suspicious half faded stains that made it very clear that it meant business. In the middle of the room well beyond the cell the room was dominated by an ornate stone stairway that looked like an exile from an old European castle leading down into the swimming brick. To our right was a large stone table that was covered by paper work but still looked suspiciously like a sacrificial altar behind which sat a gaunt man in his fifties seemingly poring over some papers in front of him. The rest of the room had only little decoration. A several filing cabinets. A couple of shelves. A large looming wardrobe. And a round table around which sat four heavily armed gorillas that grew around important places like the mould in my bathroom.
"Lovely." I said but no one seemed to be very interested in my opinion. The hard men were drinking hard liquor, playing some kind of dice game. The gaunt man was still pretending to read his paper and Petrova was looking at him with folded arms. Her face filled with patience and the promise that she knew the secret of turning patience into fists full of motivation.
Finally the old man looked up. I was not sure but I thought that I could see some rodent in his face. "You have quite the nerve to return here Petrova."
"Really? Last time I was here I got rid of half a dozen pirates who wanted to turn your port into their central of operations, by throwing you and your family into the storm drains with only bullets as company."
"The damage you caused when you so graciously attempted to save us was quite considerable. You almost caused a breach in the outer wall and we are still repairing some of damage caused."
"Don't worry Bronislav. Next time I will not interfere." I could hear her the temperature of her voice dropping. Slowly. But enough to make me wonder if this was going to turn into another disaster. I started to wonder how that woman managed to get through her daily life without causing a war. The four body guards had noticed the change in the air too. The were still busy with their game, but where they had been actively playing a moment ago they were now sitting perfectly still apart from the man holding the dice which he was shaking slowly in his large scarred hand.
Tuesday, 15 February 2011
Projekt Rain 18
Chapter 12 continued
When I opened my eyes again I was lying on top of the chest, arms spread out, chest bare like a school play version of a fallen hero. Petrova was standing over me, an unlikely saint, holding in her hand a glinting piece of vicious metal.
"A shard of the knife you killed." her voice was calm. She was inspecting the shard with cold curiosity. It had all kinds of sharp points all decorated by tiny bits of flesh and sharp edges covered in the rusty tones of drying blood. Petrova's nose twitched a corner of her mouth joined voicing their disgust together. "Stupid shit-head. Attacking us with a kitchen knife." she sighed and threw the bit of steel away. It flew away in a wide self-conscious arc and had the decency to sail straight over the edge of the platform into the dark depths below.
"That didn't look like a kitchen knife from where I was standing." I carefully moved my head up to see how much damage I had taken. When I saw that my whole chest was the colour of clotting blood I carefully put my head back down deciding to try a less adventurous approach.
"It looked like a combat knife. But that blade was to hard." While Petrova lectured me about knfieology I tried to wriggled my toes. They wriggled. They also reminded me that my spine was on the other side of my chest.
"Strike anything hard with to much force and it'll break." she continued. I tried my fingers next. Worked fine. "But aren't people mostly soft?"
"People can be soft. But attack a prone target with force, they evade the strike and you hit the floor. With shit like that" she pointed with her thumb in the direction she had thrown the scrap, "it'll break. You'll be terribly embarrassed followed by death."
I moved my arms a bit. They too seemed fine but the motion sent a sharp pain
through my chest. I grimaced. Petrova ignored it, to furious about our inept would-be muggers. "Or imagine some idiot shoots your knife with a mass accelerator round. Then it explodes into dozens of shards and skewers your stupid face."
"You are right, I hope that the next people who attack us are better prepared and use better equipment. I mean if things continue like this they will never kill me and I will get to live forever."
Petrova looked down at me and shook her head smiling. "You are to hard on your self. You did well. You might even have survived without my help this time."
"Thanks?" I returned her half a smile. "Talking about survival. How bad is it?"
She looked down, looked at my wound. She did not look very impressed. "Not bad.
You where lucky. It is just a flesh wound. The shard was stopped by a rib. I will hurt a bit and we will have to sew the wound properly later. But that can wait."
"OK. So we are good too... wait... What do you mean with 'sew the wound properly'?"
She shrugged. "What I said you will need some stitches."
"And it is not important to do it now because...?"
"I closed the wound for now?"
I closed my eyes again. I was sure that I did not want to know. But I asked anyway. "What did you do?"
"I used a pin. I used it to close the hole instead of thread. It'll hold for now."
I opened my eye again a deep sigh escaping my lips. I sat up. It hurt a bit. I was a bit dizzy. Apart from that I felt OK. I looked down again. Knowing what to expect it looked not as bad any more. It was mostly blood covering my skin, there was only a small red zig zag of a wound like a mouth of a grumpy stick-figure held closed by a pin. With a pink head no less.
"Pink?" I asked?
Petrova shrugged "I'm a girl I need no excuses to like pink."
The stairway down towards the harbour was an incredibly wide spiral stair case designed by someone who obviously thought that there was no place more exciting than a storm drain. This stair was ready to take the endless masses of sewer aficionados from all the Solar system. I was quite happy about that the entire staircase was covered by a blanket of moribund slimy algae, it looked like a vegan god had puked all over it.
"Had it to be pink?"
"Do you think I have a secret pin collection with choosing pink only to annoy you?"
We continued down the slippery stairs in silence.
I only got to see the fabled port after we had gone past the final bend of the stairs. I could have probably seen it from a few bends further up but I was to busy not slipping to look at anything but the path right in front of me. The port was a bit of a disappointment. But that was made up by the strangest of ships I had ever seen in my life.
When I opened my eyes again I was lying on top of the chest, arms spread out, chest bare like a school play version of a fallen hero. Petrova was standing over me, an unlikely saint, holding in her hand a glinting piece of vicious metal.
"A shard of the knife you killed." her voice was calm. She was inspecting the shard with cold curiosity. It had all kinds of sharp points all decorated by tiny bits of flesh and sharp edges covered in the rusty tones of drying blood. Petrova's nose twitched a corner of her mouth joined voicing their disgust together. "Stupid shit-head. Attacking us with a kitchen knife." she sighed and threw the bit of steel away. It flew away in a wide self-conscious arc and had the decency to sail straight over the edge of the platform into the dark depths below.
"That didn't look like a kitchen knife from where I was standing." I carefully moved my head up to see how much damage I had taken. When I saw that my whole chest was the colour of clotting blood I carefully put my head back down deciding to try a less adventurous approach.
"It looked like a combat knife. But that blade was to hard." While Petrova lectured me about knfieology I tried to wriggled my toes. They wriggled. They also reminded me that my spine was on the other side of my chest.
"Strike anything hard with to much force and it'll break." she continued. I tried my fingers next. Worked fine. "But aren't people mostly soft?"
"People can be soft. But attack a prone target with force, they evade the strike and you hit the floor. With shit like that" she pointed with her thumb in the direction she had thrown the scrap, "it'll break. You'll be terribly embarrassed followed by death."
I moved my arms a bit. They too seemed fine but the motion sent a sharp pain
through my chest. I grimaced. Petrova ignored it, to furious about our inept would-be muggers. "Or imagine some idiot shoots your knife with a mass accelerator round. Then it explodes into dozens of shards and skewers your stupid face."
"You are right, I hope that the next people who attack us are better prepared and use better equipment. I mean if things continue like this they will never kill me and I will get to live forever."
Petrova looked down at me and shook her head smiling. "You are to hard on your self. You did well. You might even have survived without my help this time."
"Thanks?" I returned her half a smile. "Talking about survival. How bad is it?"
She looked down, looked at my wound. She did not look very impressed. "Not bad.
You where lucky. It is just a flesh wound. The shard was stopped by a rib. I will hurt a bit and we will have to sew the wound properly later. But that can wait."
"OK. So we are good too... wait... What do you mean with 'sew the wound properly'?"
She shrugged. "What I said you will need some stitches."
"And it is not important to do it now because...?"
"I closed the wound for now?"
I closed my eyes again. I was sure that I did not want to know. But I asked anyway. "What did you do?"
"I used a pin. I used it to close the hole instead of thread. It'll hold for now."
I opened my eye again a deep sigh escaping my lips. I sat up. It hurt a bit. I was a bit dizzy. Apart from that I felt OK. I looked down again. Knowing what to expect it looked not as bad any more. It was mostly blood covering my skin, there was only a small red zig zag of a wound like a mouth of a grumpy stick-figure held closed by a pin. With a pink head no less.
"Pink?" I asked?
Petrova shrugged "I'm a girl I need no excuses to like pink."
The stairway down towards the harbour was an incredibly wide spiral stair case designed by someone who obviously thought that there was no place more exciting than a storm drain. This stair was ready to take the endless masses of sewer aficionados from all the Solar system. I was quite happy about that the entire staircase was covered by a blanket of moribund slimy algae, it looked like a vegan god had puked all over it.
"Had it to be pink?"
"Do you think I have a secret pin collection with choosing pink only to annoy you?"
We continued down the slippery stairs in silence.
I only got to see the fabled port after we had gone past the final bend of the stairs. I could have probably seen it from a few bends further up but I was to busy not slipping to look at anything but the path right in front of me. The port was a bit of a disappointment. But that was made up by the strangest of ships I had ever seen in my life.
Saturday, 12 February 2011
Project Rain 17
Chapter 12 continued
It worked. The five robbers not expecting this strange turn of events where at a loss. I had to take advantage as long as their little brains were still working out what was happening.
"I gave you a chance." I said and then remembering the lessons learned from light night TV and whiskey session added "Motherfucker."
I caught them off guard. Changed my stance and showed them who was actually in control of the situation.
The four goons looked close to starting displacement activities. I was sure that one of them would scratch himself behind the ear any second now. When I focused on Funny Man again he did not seemed as horrified as he should. His eyes had narrowed. He was carefully evaluating me. His stance relaxed a bit and he put his big knife between my gun and himself, the laser points glinting on its polished blade.
"You aren't gonna shoot." he said with care placing every word carefully one after another watching my reaction. He was certainly more cunning than I had given him credit for.
"Really?" I had not even finished saying the word when I knew that I was losing control of the situation fast. The goons were relaxing and now grabbing into their jackets. Even if they weren't packing heat they would become extremely dangerous if they all came at me at once. If that wasn't enough Petrova was very slowly approaching the group from behind with crystalline eyes and murder in her heart. I was getting anxious. I started a cold sweat to cool my nerves. IT just make me feel itchy all over.
"What makes you think I will not shoot an ingrate scumbag like you?" I asked scratching myself behind the ear.
'I've seen killers. And hard nutters. And you aren’t one. Haven't got the eyes."
He was right of course. I was a grand collection of bad habits but murder wasn't among them. This could not work. But it had too. At this point violence would happen. But I could still decide in which direction it would go. I could do this. I had to move things into the right direction.
Rhythm. Rhythm was important. Time to re-establish a beat.
"Fuck you." a stab with my voice accompanied by one with the gun. Funny man paused. "And fuck", I waved the gun "your shit", in time "head" with my words "cronies!" I channelled my frustration, my anger into my adrenalin filled veins.
"Do you want to know why my eyes were calm?" a slow wave with the gun, painting all of them with the lasers. Holding their attention. They had stopped moving and where no concentrating on what I was saying. Good.
"Because you usually don't really think about it when you crush a cockroach." my Checkhov was now aimed directly at Funny Man again.
"Look into my eyes again you stupid little fuck and tell me how your chances are now?" I screamed at him little drops of spittle flying out of my mouth.
He started to turn his head towards his companions.
"Look at me when I am talking to you!" I screamed. And he did.
"And now," I demanded through gritted teeth "answer my question!"
Funny Man looked at me visibly shaken but not yet broken. Petrova had reached the bandit closest to her but she held beck. She had her hands up ready to grab the man in front of her in a blink of an eye but she was looking at me waiting for my signal. Funny Man locked his jaw and pushed his chin out.
"You know what? You're full of shit!" he said. He saw my hesitation and pushed on trying to get control of the situation.
"Your fucking hand is shaking. What kind of killer are you? Eh?" he stab the air in front of me with his knife. "Eh? I'm gonna cut you man. I was goin' to be nice to you", he said taking a step forward. "'cause you had so many Creds and that nice box."
Petrova bared her teeth ready to let go
The Funny Man continued "But now I'm gonna..." his sentence was cut short by the sound of shattering steel and a loud screams. I had fired a shot at his knife. The blade had exploded into a hundred glittering shards. Many of them embedding themselves in Funny Man's out stretched arm and face. He was suddenly covered in blood that was running down his body in thick red rivulets. I became slowly aware that one of the screams was mine. I forced myself to stay in control nudging my cry from hysteria into defiance. I vaulted over the box and punched the bleeding man before me with the gun. As I his his stomach I released some of the guns mass. The blow drove the air out of his lungs. He collapsed on the floor silently flopping in a pool of his own blood.
I felt like vomiting. But that had to wait.
"Is there anyone else that is going to question me?" I screamed the question. To my surprise there was only one man left standing to answer the question. Petrova had not waited for me to dispatch all of the idiots on my own. While I had disabled the leader she had somehow beaten three of his companions.
"You there!" I demanded. "Give me all your money!" both him and Petrova looked at me with wide eyes. Petrova mouthed a 'What?' in my direction. Yeah I had no idea where that had come from either. I decided to make the best of it.
"It's a bit shit getting beaten up, being threatened with weapons and then robbed isn't it? See this as a lesson. Now you give me all your money and weapons while we are at it and you and your friends get to live." I at least hoped they would, Funny Man was in a very bad shape and the other three weren't moving. The last crony complied. Moving quickly but not so fast as to provoke more violence he dropped the baton he was holding and gave us his money. He then proceeded to loot his friends and give us their credits, brass knuckles knifes and a black-jack.
As we moved away the big light box between us I kept looking back. One after another the knocked out bandits regained consciousness. The four stood around their fallen. Like stooped shades standing vigil over a fallen hero. The hero was mostly furious and not really dead. The next time I turned around he was standing, bent in uncomfortable ways, but not broken. With the most light sources behind him he looked a bit like a demon, his spiky hair the horns, sweating tiny rubies.
I flipped him the bird. He shuddered, turned around and hobbled away refusing the help of his friends using what little he had left of his dignity to cover his shame.
Petrova spoke for the first time after the gang had vanished behind one of the stone structures.
"Are you OK."
"Yeah. I am fine. Feel a bit shaky. But that's mostly the nerves."
"If you are feelingly dizzy we can take a break."
"No. Really I'm fine. Thanks."
We kept on walking for a while before she spoke again.
"Thank you."
"What for?" I asked.
"Without your meddling I would have killed them.", she sounded relieved.
"Never mind it seem... wait. What? Meddling? I took control of the situation. And it all went well."
"I respect your point of view." I could hear her smile as she said that.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well the way you stood behind the box and slammed you money on top of it I was already thinking that you were trying to pay them to take it away from you." she said eyes straight ahead.
"Sure. That was my fault. Next time I shall vault over the box and cover it with my coat in one bold movement. And then I will distract them with magic tricks."
"It's OK. You did well." she then added after a dramatic pause "For a civilian."
I laughed and shook my head. "Is that your sense of humour or are you just a sore loser?"
She just smiled. We had now almost reached the stairs leading us down to the water. "You know," she said "that you are bleeding?"
I looked down and saw that the front of my suit was soaked in blood. I had thought that it was the blood of the Funny Man. But now I realized that the blood had soaked through my clothes. I also felt quite woozy all of a sudden. Handle of the box slipped from my hand. The big crate fell slowly to the ground with a soft thud. I sank to my knees turning a bit so that I could use the create to rest my back on it.
The gun that I had still be holding in my other hand slipped of my fingers. I could Petrova moving rapidly to my side. She cast a look around to make sure that we were alone before she had a closer look at me.
"How are you feeling? Do you feel dizzy? Are you cold?" the urgency in her voice didn't really match her usual composure.
I smiled reassuringly.
"Don't worry. I just have to rest for a little while."
It worked. The five robbers not expecting this strange turn of events where at a loss. I had to take advantage as long as their little brains were still working out what was happening.
"I gave you a chance." I said and then remembering the lessons learned from light night TV and whiskey session added "Motherfucker."
I caught them off guard. Changed my stance and showed them who was actually in control of the situation.
The four goons looked close to starting displacement activities. I was sure that one of them would scratch himself behind the ear any second now. When I focused on Funny Man again he did not seemed as horrified as he should. His eyes had narrowed. He was carefully evaluating me. His stance relaxed a bit and he put his big knife between my gun and himself, the laser points glinting on its polished blade.
"You aren't gonna shoot." he said with care placing every word carefully one after another watching my reaction. He was certainly more cunning than I had given him credit for.
"Really?" I had not even finished saying the word when I knew that I was losing control of the situation fast. The goons were relaxing and now grabbing into their jackets. Even if they weren't packing heat they would become extremely dangerous if they all came at me at once. If that wasn't enough Petrova was very slowly approaching the group from behind with crystalline eyes and murder in her heart. I was getting anxious. I started a cold sweat to cool my nerves. IT just make me feel itchy all over.
"What makes you think I will not shoot an ingrate scumbag like you?" I asked scratching myself behind the ear.
'I've seen killers. And hard nutters. And you aren’t one. Haven't got the eyes."
He was right of course. I was a grand collection of bad habits but murder wasn't among them. This could not work. But it had too. At this point violence would happen. But I could still decide in which direction it would go. I could do this. I had to move things into the right direction.
Rhythm. Rhythm was important. Time to re-establish a beat.
"Fuck you." a stab with my voice accompanied by one with the gun. Funny man paused. "And fuck", I waved the gun "your shit", in time "head" with my words "cronies!" I channelled my frustration, my anger into my adrenalin filled veins.
"Do you want to know why my eyes were calm?" a slow wave with the gun, painting all of them with the lasers. Holding their attention. They had stopped moving and where no concentrating on what I was saying. Good.
"Because you usually don't really think about it when you crush a cockroach." my Checkhov was now aimed directly at Funny Man again.
"Look into my eyes again you stupid little fuck and tell me how your chances are now?" I screamed at him little drops of spittle flying out of my mouth.
He started to turn his head towards his companions.
"Look at me when I am talking to you!" I screamed. And he did.
"And now," I demanded through gritted teeth "answer my question!"
Funny Man looked at me visibly shaken but not yet broken. Petrova had reached the bandit closest to her but she held beck. She had her hands up ready to grab the man in front of her in a blink of an eye but she was looking at me waiting for my signal. Funny Man locked his jaw and pushed his chin out.
"You know what? You're full of shit!" he said. He saw my hesitation and pushed on trying to get control of the situation.
"Your fucking hand is shaking. What kind of killer are you? Eh?" he stab the air in front of me with his knife. "Eh? I'm gonna cut you man. I was goin' to be nice to you", he said taking a step forward. "'cause you had so many Creds and that nice box."
Petrova bared her teeth ready to let go
The Funny Man continued "But now I'm gonna..." his sentence was cut short by the sound of shattering steel and a loud screams. I had fired a shot at his knife. The blade had exploded into a hundred glittering shards. Many of them embedding themselves in Funny Man's out stretched arm and face. He was suddenly covered in blood that was running down his body in thick red rivulets. I became slowly aware that one of the screams was mine. I forced myself to stay in control nudging my cry from hysteria into defiance. I vaulted over the box and punched the bleeding man before me with the gun. As I his his stomach I released some of the guns mass. The blow drove the air out of his lungs. He collapsed on the floor silently flopping in a pool of his own blood.
I felt like vomiting. But that had to wait.
"Is there anyone else that is going to question me?" I screamed the question. To my surprise there was only one man left standing to answer the question. Petrova had not waited for me to dispatch all of the idiots on my own. While I had disabled the leader she had somehow beaten three of his companions.
"You there!" I demanded. "Give me all your money!" both him and Petrova looked at me with wide eyes. Petrova mouthed a 'What?' in my direction. Yeah I had no idea where that had come from either. I decided to make the best of it.
"It's a bit shit getting beaten up, being threatened with weapons and then robbed isn't it? See this as a lesson. Now you give me all your money and weapons while we are at it and you and your friends get to live." I at least hoped they would, Funny Man was in a very bad shape and the other three weren't moving. The last crony complied. Moving quickly but not so fast as to provoke more violence he dropped the baton he was holding and gave us his money. He then proceeded to loot his friends and give us their credits, brass knuckles knifes and a black-jack.
As we moved away the big light box between us I kept looking back. One after another the knocked out bandits regained consciousness. The four stood around their fallen. Like stooped shades standing vigil over a fallen hero. The hero was mostly furious and not really dead. The next time I turned around he was standing, bent in uncomfortable ways, but not broken. With the most light sources behind him he looked a bit like a demon, his spiky hair the horns, sweating tiny rubies.
I flipped him the bird. He shuddered, turned around and hobbled away refusing the help of his friends using what little he had left of his dignity to cover his shame.
Petrova spoke for the first time after the gang had vanished behind one of the stone structures.
"Are you OK."
"Yeah. I am fine. Feel a bit shaky. But that's mostly the nerves."
"If you are feelingly dizzy we can take a break."
"No. Really I'm fine. Thanks."
We kept on walking for a while before she spoke again.
"Thank you."
"What for?" I asked.
"Without your meddling I would have killed them.", she sounded relieved.
"Never mind it seem... wait. What? Meddling? I took control of the situation. And it all went well."
"I respect your point of view." I could hear her smile as she said that.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well the way you stood behind the box and slammed you money on top of it I was already thinking that you were trying to pay them to take it away from you." she said eyes straight ahead.
"Sure. That was my fault. Next time I shall vault over the box and cover it with my coat in one bold movement. And then I will distract them with magic tricks."
"It's OK. You did well." she then added after a dramatic pause "For a civilian."
I laughed and shook my head. "Is that your sense of humour or are you just a sore loser?"
She just smiled. We had now almost reached the stairs leading us down to the water. "You know," she said "that you are bleeding?"
I looked down and saw that the front of my suit was soaked in blood. I had thought that it was the blood of the Funny Man. But now I realized that the blood had soaked through my clothes. I also felt quite woozy all of a sudden. Handle of the box slipped from my hand. The big crate fell slowly to the ground with a soft thud. I sank to my knees turning a bit so that I could use the create to rest my back on it.
The gun that I had still be holding in my other hand slipped of my fingers. I could Petrova moving rapidly to my side. She cast a look around to make sure that we were alone before she had a closer look at me.
"How are you feeling? Do you feel dizzy? Are you cold?" the urgency in her voice didn't really match her usual composure.
I smiled reassuringly.
"Don't worry. I just have to rest for a little while."
Tuesday, 8 February 2011
Project Rain 16
Chapter 12
Petrova was still giggling after we had left the strange underground market.
"Is it far?" I asked getting tired of her amusement.
"Not really we just have to go a bit further down to the harbour."
"How comes that they did not build their village down there in the first place?"
"Because the water levels change quite dramatically depending on how much it rains. The terraformers try to keep the climate on the surface more or less constant and as the drains here are not supposed to be inhabited they tend to flood them whenever they need a water reservoir. So people mostly stay up-stairs where they won't get surprised by sudden floods."
"Doesn't this make the harbour down there somekind of death trap?"
"Nah. Glubina harbour floats on the water. It was built to withstand the floods as well as a place to set anchor."
I tried to imagine what that place looked like. I envisioned a lump of concrete spheres glued together, bobbing in the water with ships wedged into it at improbable angles. This thought entertained me while we moved closer to the great artificial river that flowed under all of the City yet well above Europa's surface. This part of the City which was in theory also a part of the human inhabitation zone, knew that it wasn't supposed to ever see any humans apart from depressive engineers demoted so far down the career ladder that they would never see the sky again. The tunnerls did not even try to look safe or even remotely sensible. What started as a smooth featureless corridor lighted by an endless line of those neon tubes, suddenly changed without into metal walkways wobbly stretching into impenetrable darkness. A darkness that was accentuated by tiny lamps barely managing to cough up enough photons to thinly cover the path they were supposed to guard. Then out of nowhere tubes and pipes and ducts of all kinds converged over the path providing anyone walking past them how it must feel to walk through the inside of a schizophrenic rope.
We had been walking through this graveyard of horror film sets for a while always moving a bit lower when we reached what seemed to be a large open platform on which stood several large stone structures. I could not quite decide if these were failed Up-Town art works that had failed to impress and where now doomed to be hidden here in the storm drains or if they fulfilled some vital life sustaining role. Below us I could just make out the glinting of watter and hear it bubble maliciously.
"Almost there." Petrova said. She pointed forward past one of the monuments. "The stairs to Glubin are behind that thing over there."
"It's pretty deserted here for a harbour."
"We aren't there yet. And most people that come here go directly to Glubin, they don't tend to stop and take in the sites. Don't worry you will see your share of scum soon enough."
And indeed we had not gone ten paces when a group of five men emerged from the shadows of the stone thing in front of us.
"I guess these man are not going to try to sell us souvenirs, are they?" I asked
"I don't think so. Just stay back and let me handle the situation." she made a 'stay here' gesture with her hand. I stopped standing behind or transport box determined to watch the show unfold. Petrova had advanced a few paces and stopped. She stood in front of the five alleged criminals feet apart and hands on her hips. For a short moment I thought that she might start a dance off. That hypothesis was quickly shattered when the 'leader' of the gang started negotiations by pulling out a knife that was mostly sharp edge with pointy saw bits on top. The man holding it was sporting a matching pointy hairdo but he did not seem to be able to hold up with his knife when it came to sharpness.
"Gives us your money." he came straight to the point.
"Or what?" as did Petrova who obviously had simply skipped the phase of diplomacy.
"Or we will hurt you and your wife over there." I decided to call him the Funny Man.
"Deal. You get our money, then you piss-off and we can go our way." Petrova was not quite hitting the victim notes correctly and Funny Man was not sure of how to react. He glanced nervously back to his four henchmen who looked as lost as he did. One of them mumbled in a threatening way. This seem to reassure their leader.
"That depends on how much C's you're carrying. Show us!" Petrova grabbed into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a bunch of Credit notes and some coins.
"Take it. It's all yours. Grisha! Give them your money, these guys are dangerous." I asked my self what a 'grisha'was and played along. I chose the pocket where I carried the least amount of money and made a nice nervous show of getting it out and ontop of the box.
"Here take the money but please... don't hurt us." I was not a good actor. I had lived long enough in the part of Old Town were the more discerning rats refused to enter to recognize Funny Man and the gang as the spineless bullies. The kind of scum that formed the very bottom of the criminal compost heap. But in our situation their characteristic mixture of cowardice and stupidity made them rather dangerous. While everything was still under control there was the risk of Funny Man or one of his cronies doing something stupid. Something that would lead to serious violence.
But so far things were going all right. Funny Man was quite happy with what he got from Petrova and was now approaching me and the box. He was even more delighted when he noticed that I had provided a bit over 100 Credits out of my small change to the loot. He waved his friends over leaving them with their back to Petrova. They all were quite pleased with themselves and it looked like they would get to walk away happily ever after leaving Petrova and me only slightly annoyed.
I knew that this would never happen the moment I saw what passed for a brilliant idea in Funny Man's world dawning in his blunt face.
"So..." he set up the stage to amaze the world with his wit "What's in the box?"
"Nothing." answered Petrova "Just books."
Funny Man made a face, half confusion half disgust. "Books? Why the fuck would anyone lug around so many books?"
"It's our trade. We buy and sell books." said Petrova.
I could see how Funny Man was trying very hard to be clever. He was putting together the amount of cash he just got and a treasure trove full of books, which while obviously something that only some egghead tosser would give a fuck about, were obviously worth a lot.
"I think we'll take the books too." this situation was not going to end well. The near miss had just upgraded to a car crash. A car crash eagerly looking for matches to add some fire and possible explosions to the show.
"Come on. You already have our money. That's what we made in the last two months. And the books are heavy," Petrova said, " you have to know who to sell them to and shit. If it was that easy to get rich with books everyone would do it." Petrova's logic seemed to work. The more Funny Man thought about it the less he liked the idea of having to drag around books.
"OK" and I could almost smell the odour of an igniting match when he started to smile, "we will just take the box then. It has some fancy gravity dampeners." he vaguely threatened me with the knife. "Open the box!"
I took a step back holding my hands up trying to think of a way, any way, to get out of this situation with out turning nasty. "Sure. What ever you say." I said.
I looked at Petrova. I saw her turning slowly to ice. The humour was leaving her eyes and her relaxed posture was slowly changing into something tightly wound. Her humanity was being expertly folded together and put away in some safe dark corner of her soul. There wasn't much time left until she had reverted into Petrova the soldier. When that happened five men would die.
I had to do something. I had had enough spontaneous murder for the time being. So I did the only thing that seemed like a sensible idea.
I pulled out out my gun, the targeting lasers blooming on Funny Man's torso.
"Freeze."
Petrova was still giggling after we had left the strange underground market.
"Is it far?" I asked getting tired of her amusement.
"Not really we just have to go a bit further down to the harbour."
"How comes that they did not build their village down there in the first place?"
"Because the water levels change quite dramatically depending on how much it rains. The terraformers try to keep the climate on the surface more or less constant and as the drains here are not supposed to be inhabited they tend to flood them whenever they need a water reservoir. So people mostly stay up-stairs where they won't get surprised by sudden floods."
"Doesn't this make the harbour down there somekind of death trap?"
"Nah. Glubina harbour floats on the water. It was built to withstand the floods as well as a place to set anchor."
I tried to imagine what that place looked like. I envisioned a lump of concrete spheres glued together, bobbing in the water with ships wedged into it at improbable angles. This thought entertained me while we moved closer to the great artificial river that flowed under all of the City yet well above Europa's surface. This part of the City which was in theory also a part of the human inhabitation zone, knew that it wasn't supposed to ever see any humans apart from depressive engineers demoted so far down the career ladder that they would never see the sky again. The tunnerls did not even try to look safe or even remotely sensible. What started as a smooth featureless corridor lighted by an endless line of those neon tubes, suddenly changed without into metal walkways wobbly stretching into impenetrable darkness. A darkness that was accentuated by tiny lamps barely managing to cough up enough photons to thinly cover the path they were supposed to guard. Then out of nowhere tubes and pipes and ducts of all kinds converged over the path providing anyone walking past them how it must feel to walk through the inside of a schizophrenic rope.
We had been walking through this graveyard of horror film sets for a while always moving a bit lower when we reached what seemed to be a large open platform on which stood several large stone structures. I could not quite decide if these were failed Up-Town art works that had failed to impress and where now doomed to be hidden here in the storm drains or if they fulfilled some vital life sustaining role. Below us I could just make out the glinting of watter and hear it bubble maliciously.
"Almost there." Petrova said. She pointed forward past one of the monuments. "The stairs to Glubin are behind that thing over there."
"It's pretty deserted here for a harbour."
"We aren't there yet. And most people that come here go directly to Glubin, they don't tend to stop and take in the sites. Don't worry you will see your share of scum soon enough."
And indeed we had not gone ten paces when a group of five men emerged from the shadows of the stone thing in front of us.
"I guess these man are not going to try to sell us souvenirs, are they?" I asked
"I don't think so. Just stay back and let me handle the situation." she made a 'stay here' gesture with her hand. I stopped standing behind or transport box determined to watch the show unfold. Petrova had advanced a few paces and stopped. She stood in front of the five alleged criminals feet apart and hands on her hips. For a short moment I thought that she might start a dance off. That hypothesis was quickly shattered when the 'leader' of the gang started negotiations by pulling out a knife that was mostly sharp edge with pointy saw bits on top. The man holding it was sporting a matching pointy hairdo but he did not seem to be able to hold up with his knife when it came to sharpness.
"Gives us your money." he came straight to the point.
"Or what?" as did Petrova who obviously had simply skipped the phase of diplomacy.
"Or we will hurt you and your wife over there." I decided to call him the Funny Man.
"Deal. You get our money, then you piss-off and we can go our way." Petrova was not quite hitting the victim notes correctly and Funny Man was not sure of how to react. He glanced nervously back to his four henchmen who looked as lost as he did. One of them mumbled in a threatening way. This seem to reassure their leader.
"That depends on how much C's you're carrying. Show us!" Petrova grabbed into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a bunch of Credit notes and some coins.
"Take it. It's all yours. Grisha! Give them your money, these guys are dangerous." I asked my self what a 'grisha'was and played along. I chose the pocket where I carried the least amount of money and made a nice nervous show of getting it out and ontop of the box.
"Here take the money but please... don't hurt us." I was not a good actor. I had lived long enough in the part of Old Town were the more discerning rats refused to enter to recognize Funny Man and the gang as the spineless bullies. The kind of scum that formed the very bottom of the criminal compost heap. But in our situation their characteristic mixture of cowardice and stupidity made them rather dangerous. While everything was still under control there was the risk of Funny Man or one of his cronies doing something stupid. Something that would lead to serious violence.
But so far things were going all right. Funny Man was quite happy with what he got from Petrova and was now approaching me and the box. He was even more delighted when he noticed that I had provided a bit over 100 Credits out of my small change to the loot. He waved his friends over leaving them with their back to Petrova. They all were quite pleased with themselves and it looked like they would get to walk away happily ever after leaving Petrova and me only slightly annoyed.
I knew that this would never happen the moment I saw what passed for a brilliant idea in Funny Man's world dawning in his blunt face.
"So..." he set up the stage to amaze the world with his wit "What's in the box?"
"Nothing." answered Petrova "Just books."
Funny Man made a face, half confusion half disgust. "Books? Why the fuck would anyone lug around so many books?"
"It's our trade. We buy and sell books." said Petrova.
I could see how Funny Man was trying very hard to be clever. He was putting together the amount of cash he just got and a treasure trove full of books, which while obviously something that only some egghead tosser would give a fuck about, were obviously worth a lot.
"I think we'll take the books too." this situation was not going to end well. The near miss had just upgraded to a car crash. A car crash eagerly looking for matches to add some fire and possible explosions to the show.
"Come on. You already have our money. That's what we made in the last two months. And the books are heavy," Petrova said, " you have to know who to sell them to and shit. If it was that easy to get rich with books everyone would do it." Petrova's logic seemed to work. The more Funny Man thought about it the less he liked the idea of having to drag around books.
"OK" and I could almost smell the odour of an igniting match when he started to smile, "we will just take the box then. It has some fancy gravity dampeners." he vaguely threatened me with the knife. "Open the box!"
I took a step back holding my hands up trying to think of a way, any way, to get out of this situation with out turning nasty. "Sure. What ever you say." I said.
I looked at Petrova. I saw her turning slowly to ice. The humour was leaving her eyes and her relaxed posture was slowly changing into something tightly wound. Her humanity was being expertly folded together and put away in some safe dark corner of her soul. There wasn't much time left until she had reverted into Petrova the soldier. When that happened five men would die.
I had to do something. I had had enough spontaneous murder for the time being. So I did the only thing that seemed like a sensible idea.
I pulled out out my gun, the targeting lasers blooming on Funny Man's torso.
"Freeze."
Saturday, 5 February 2011
Project Rain 15.5
Intermission.
This part was cut from the story. This is what happened to Kane at the fortune teller. I cut it out because I had the feeling that the story was slowing down and adding this would have been bogged it down even more.
But due to 'popular demand' I shall put it here as a kind of deleted scene.
Depending on how things go I will splice this back into the original story.
'Sit down oh seeker and all will be made clear.'
I sat down.
'Tell me then oh wanderer. What do you seek?'
'What the future holds for me?'
She looked at me for a moment obviously struggling with some internal dilemma.
'Which program do you wish for.' she said 'Oh seeker.'
Of course. What was I going to pay? I guessed that Petrova would need a while to locate her friend and talk to him or her, so I could as well enjoy the ride. I took a a couple of one-credit coins out of my pocket and built a nice shiny and as I hopped appropriately spiritual five-credit tower on the table.
'I'll take the full Karma Revelation.'
'The Karmic Evaluation.'
'Of course. That one.'
The woman took the coins. Gave them a thorough mystical evaluation and after she was satisfied that they were destined to be accepted without causing bad karma for all involved she let them vanish into thin air. I leaned back perfectly happy to see what other tricks she would be pulling off.
'First I shall read your aura oh seeker.' she said while making wavy motions with her hands. It looked like she was fondling a wavy piano. She squinted, leaned forwarded, squinted some more while shaking her head very slightly. 'You aura is faded and bleached.' she got up moving around the table. Her hands now outstretched, fingers splayed. Her thumbs and index fingers formed a triangle which she moved up and down obviously scanning my faint puny aura. She mumbled something from the Beginners Handbook to Glossolalia while she circled me.
'Very hard to read.' she diagnosed when she was in front of me again.
'Really?' I said with almost sincere regret. 'Does that mean I can't get my aura read?'
She silenced me with a melodramatic wave of her right hand. 'No. There might still be a way.'
'But' I leaned now forward lowering my voice 'it is very dangerous?'
'No. Seeker. Not dangerous.'
'...' I started to say.
'But it is going to be... expensive.' she said leaning forward with a predatory expression that would have made a praying mantis feel slightly nervous.
'And how expensive would that be?`
'Well seeker. We will have to enhance your weak aura. and cast the light of truth upon your soul.' she turned around and searched through some sort of box or drawer that was out of my sight. She put squat, fat, red candle on the table then some kind of net also red and made of rough fibres and then another red candle. She fixed my eyes. 'The Candles of Truth made with virgins blood and consecrated by three holy men are 1 Credit each. The Soul Seeking Weave woven from the hair of a saint and dyed in holy Tilak sacrament to Argus Panoptes disolved in the tears of innocents' I wondered how many innocent pipes had to cry for that one 'will cost 2 credits. Per use of course.'
I let my face do the talking. My face wasn't impressed nor willing to shell out another 4 credits.
'As part of the Karmic Evaluation it will only cost 3 Credits though.' she let that sink in, her face now telling my face not to be an idiot.
'O.K.' this was hardly going to ruin me. I took a fist full of cash out of one of my small change pockets, well out of sight of Madame Apollonia, took a crumpled up 5 Credit note and put it on the desk. 'Just to make sure that I really get the best treatment money can buy.' I had expected her eyes to go all wide and her trying to devour me and my riches simply by hard staring. But her poker face was immaculate.
'I see that you take your future very seriously. Well have no fear seeker, I shall guide you through the dense thicket of fate.' she smoothed the bill almost lovingly with her hands. Just as the lasts of the larger wrinkles began to fade the bill disappeared. If I had been drunk I would have probably paid her just to make her make my money vanish with her little tricks.
'The magic is strong in you, isn't it.' I asked.
'Don't be silly dear, these are just simple acts of prestidigitation.' she looked at me for the first time cracking smile with a glinting edge. 'But they help set the mood. The mood' she paused 'is very important.'
She got up took the candles and put them in tall thin iron candle sticks. 'Very important. You come in from out side. Bringing all the chaos with you. But here you must relax and open your soul. How else would I be able correctly read you?'
After she was done positioning the candles, she did the triangle fingers again and nodded. She pulled off the table cloth, revealing a large metal table which in a past live had been a lump of steel. But now it was reformed. Polished with a pit in its centre maybe an inch deep ending in a fine metal mesh. The fortune teller put a metal tripod over it and placed a clear long crystal on top of it.
'Now I shall align the light of the holy candles so that they open a path into the embers of your cooling soul.' She moved the candlesticks around until the light of the candles just shown past me hitting the crystal in the middle. Once both were properly placed the crystal started to shine with phosphorescent light.
'Thus the path is opened. Now I shall place the Soul Seeking Weave on you' and indeed she covered me with the silly red net. I felt like an old ladies night stand.
'It is done.' she sat down. In pit a roaring flame came to life quickly turning the metal mesh whit hot its light adding to the crystals luminescence. While I was still trying to blink away the bright dots that had appeared in my sight the old woman had exclaimed some mystical nonsense words and thrown something into the glowing pit. Another flash of light this time followed by a pillar of smoke which filled the room with the smell of frankincense. The woman regarded the scene for a moment and then nodded.
Madame Apollonius formed a triangle with her fingers again, lowered her head slightly and moved her hands slowly towards me. The glow from the table mapping out sinister features on her plain face.
'I can see clearly now.'
'That's nice.'
'Your aura is weak. Not flickering. Just weak. Like a dying ember.'
'Let me retract my last statement.'
She lowered her hands a bit to look me in the eye over the edges of her outstretched hands. 'You do not pay me for being nice.' she resumed her scan mumbling a bit more. She got up. Trying to see if my aura looked as pathetic from the sides as it did from the front. When she had made sure that it did she moved a little footstool near me and sat down on it.
'Give me your hands.' she demanded
I obliged her stretching my hands out palms up. She took booth my hands and started to read them pretty much like a book. With one finger following the lines of my right hand, often pausing to reference my left. While doing so she shook her head several times. Despite my best intentions I did get a bit nervous.
'So. How bad is it?' I asked.
'You are left-handed.' I was not sure if this was supposed to be a question.
'Mostly. I do cut things with my right though.'
'Hmmm. Hmmm.' she said.
'You have a broken life-line. This is a bit unusual. It indicates some rather dramatic changes in your life.'
'Well you can say that about almost everyone now, can't you?' I felt the need to regain a bit of sceptic ground here. I was not going to get judged by a displaced circus sideshow.
'That might be' the woman said and added looking into my eyes again 'but not everyone has fallen as far as you have, have they?' She raised an accusing finger pointing it at my right palm 'And not many have squandered talent like you have!'
'er...'
'Just look at this.' now she was pointing at my right hand again. 'The first break in the line is connected to your intellect which is also broken. It was your fault. And after that nothing. Time passed and your talents faded. You are a man bound to this world simply by habit.'
Again her gaze gripped me like a vice. 'Tell me that it isn't so!'
'Fine. You are right. There have been some unfortunate events in my past but...'
'But what?'
'But nothing.' she was right and I could not think of anything else to say. Even if I tried to lie it would have been a rather feeble lie which would have never been strong enough to grow into proud myth. And while it was not very psychic recognizing me, someone obviously to rich for this sewer theme park, as someone who had fallen from grace been told so to the face did have a certain emotional impact.
'And your present is also a mess. Another cut in your life-line. But this time the cut was forced on you.'
'So how long do I have to live, doc?' sarcasm to the rescue.
'A dangerous question to ask.' sarcasm rolled over presenting its soft belly to the the fortune tellers. She did not even look down to my hands again. She held me with my gaze while her index finger passed over my palm.
'You life line is cut here.' Poke. 'And right after it forks.' Moving a few millimetres. 'And one of the possible paths ends...' Slight poke with the nail. '...in the present.' the nail trailing over my palm and fading sending a cold shiver down my spine. The fortune teller sighs.
'But not all hope is lost.' for the first time since I entered her little room her features soften slightly.
'The other line continues for quite a bit. So you might yet to live for some time. Also despite your negligence you still have your faded skills. You have the potential to resist fate. But don't hesitate. If you do not act now all will be lost.' That made me relax a bit. Not that I still had a chance but the fact that she did not know that I was already moving towards a better tomorrow. She wasn't a psychic after all.
'And do you have any advice for me? Or some magical amulets to ward off the evil eye?'
'There is no such thing as an evil eye, seeker. Now that I know the general form of your fate I can now examine the details of your destiny.' she got up from the little stool. She sat down behind her table again. Added fresh herbs to the glowing pit and while I was again recovering from the sudden flash and smoke she had unseen to me produced a small package. It was a large piece of what appeared to be ancient black silk wound tight around a thick set of cards. 'In the final step of your Karmic Evaluation I shall consult the Tarot cards, they shall shed light on the details of your journey.
She shuffled the cards for a while. Her eyes closed. Frowning with concentration. When she opened her eyes again she placed the deck in front of me. 'Cut the deck.' Feeling clever I simply slid the top most card of the deck. Madame Apollonia not the least bit impressed took the deck, put it on the lone card with an understated thump and pulled it back to her. She then fanned out the cards in front of her.
'First of all I will establish I a link to your past.' her right hand hovered over the cards moving from left to right until she found a card that pleased her. She pulled it out. 'This card represents the largest influence on you in the past.' and turned it around. 'The Emperor, reversed. A man of power. But one who uses his power as an end onto itself. A narrow-minded tyrant.' How did she know my father? I only looked at the card in grim silence, looking at the man sitting on his throne with a face full of disapproval.
'The next card shall reveal to us your past self.' again she hovered over the cards with her hand for a while until she chose a card. 'The Five of Batons. Victories earned through constant conflict. You established yourself against all opposition. But what went wrong?' again her hand ascended into the air. This time there was no hovering. With a quick motion she pulled out a card, turned it around by twirling it in her fingers and slammed it down on the desk producing a deep muffled noise. 'The Tower! You were ruined by things outside your control. Which I must admit comes as a bit of a surprise to me. Regardless in the end it resulted in the end of your life as you knew it. This led you...' her hand over the cards again moving between three distinct spots until she decided for the one in the middle. She turned the card. '...to The Moon. You walk alone through the darkness of the night surrounded by nothing but doubt and fear. And this path led you to...' another card '...the Hanged Man reversed. An inner struggled that ends in defeat. You got lost in the night.'
'This does not look good, does it.' I tried to sound nonchalant but my creaky voice decided to go for a more desperate approach.
'If you leave things as they are seeker, then it will end...' she did not hesitate long this time grabbed a card looked at it before putting it down on the table. She looked sad but not surprised. This was not going to end well. She set the card down without saying a word. It showed a soldier. A dead soldier lying face down on the ground skewered by ten swords. 'Utter defeat.' she finally said.
'What am I supposed to do?'
'Don't worry seeker. Now that you know what fate has in store for you we can find a way to change it for the better. Let us see, there should be some forces that might work in your favour.' Again she moved her hand over the deck. 'We have here The Hermit, a wise man that might help you with his advice. Then we have The Chariot a powerful person who will plow through the opposition and lastly' as she turned around that card I groaned.
'You can't be serious!' I protested. 'Death! Really? Death? How is that supposed to help me?'
'Sit down.' I hadn't even noticed that I had gotten up. 'The card does not mean what you mean it does. It represents a great force that will change things. It will tear down walls and open up new possibilities. Now sit down again.'
I sat down.
'Good. We are almost done. I shall now show you what it is that is standing in your way and then to finish you shall see what kind of future awaits you down this, more favourable path. Your adversary is,' she did not even hesitate she took the last card from the left, the one I had cut 'how appropriate, it is The Devil. In this context I would say that a powerful hidden force is set against you.' she remained silent for a while looking at the cards.
After a while my impatience took over. 'So. How does it end.'
She chose one final card and turned it around.
'The Nine of Swords. Your victory will be won I am afraid at great personal cost.' she put her hands up again, probably to read my aura again. 'In the end if you persevere you will prevail but your hands will be dripping with blood.' she slowly closed her hands and covered her mouth with them before adding quietly 'And it will be your own blood.'
As I moved out of the tent back into the haphazard market 25 Minutes and 10 of my Credits had passed away. While I waited for Petrova I decided that the next time I had some time to kill I would do something more cheerful. Maybe I would start a bar brawl. I thinking about alcohol and how much I missed it right now when Petrova returned.
'So how did it go?' she asked?
'Oh brilliant. Utterly fabulous.'
'Really? What did she say?'
'After cold reading me like a cheap romance novel she told me that I would end my tragic journey with my hands dripping blood. My own blood.'
This part was cut from the story. This is what happened to Kane at the fortune teller. I cut it out because I had the feeling that the story was slowing down and adding this would have been bogged it down even more.
But due to 'popular demand' I shall put it here as a kind of deleted scene.
Depending on how things go I will splice this back into the original story.
'Sit down oh seeker and all will be made clear.'
I sat down.
'Tell me then oh wanderer. What do you seek?'
'What the future holds for me?'
She looked at me for a moment obviously struggling with some internal dilemma.
'Which program do you wish for.' she said 'Oh seeker.'
Of course. What was I going to pay? I guessed that Petrova would need a while to locate her friend and talk to him or her, so I could as well enjoy the ride. I took a a couple of one-credit coins out of my pocket and built a nice shiny and as I hopped appropriately spiritual five-credit tower on the table.
'I'll take the full Karma Revelation.'
'The Karmic Evaluation.'
'Of course. That one.'
The woman took the coins. Gave them a thorough mystical evaluation and after she was satisfied that they were destined to be accepted without causing bad karma for all involved she let them vanish into thin air. I leaned back perfectly happy to see what other tricks she would be pulling off.
'First I shall read your aura oh seeker.' she said while making wavy motions with her hands. It looked like she was fondling a wavy piano. She squinted, leaned forwarded, squinted some more while shaking her head very slightly. 'You aura is faded and bleached.' she got up moving around the table. Her hands now outstretched, fingers splayed. Her thumbs and index fingers formed a triangle which she moved up and down obviously scanning my faint puny aura. She mumbled something from the Beginners Handbook to Glossolalia while she circled me.
'Very hard to read.' she diagnosed when she was in front of me again.
'Really?' I said with almost sincere regret. 'Does that mean I can't get my aura read?'
She silenced me with a melodramatic wave of her right hand. 'No. There might still be a way.'
'But' I leaned now forward lowering my voice 'it is very dangerous?'
'No. Seeker. Not dangerous.'
'...' I started to say.
'But it is going to be... expensive.' she said leaning forward with a predatory expression that would have made a praying mantis feel slightly nervous.
'And how expensive would that be?`
'Well seeker. We will have to enhance your weak aura. and cast the light of truth upon your soul.' she turned around and searched through some sort of box or drawer that was out of my sight. She put squat, fat, red candle on the table then some kind of net also red and made of rough fibres and then another red candle. She fixed my eyes. 'The Candles of Truth made with virgins blood and consecrated by three holy men are 1 Credit each. The Soul Seeking Weave woven from the hair of a saint and dyed in holy Tilak sacrament to Argus Panoptes disolved in the tears of innocents' I wondered how many innocent pipes had to cry for that one 'will cost 2 credits. Per use of course.'
I let my face do the talking. My face wasn't impressed nor willing to shell out another 4 credits.
'As part of the Karmic Evaluation it will only cost 3 Credits though.' she let that sink in, her face now telling my face not to be an idiot.
'O.K.' this was hardly going to ruin me. I took a fist full of cash out of one of my small change pockets, well out of sight of Madame Apollonia, took a crumpled up 5 Credit note and put it on the desk. 'Just to make sure that I really get the best treatment money can buy.' I had expected her eyes to go all wide and her trying to devour me and my riches simply by hard staring. But her poker face was immaculate.
'I see that you take your future very seriously. Well have no fear seeker, I shall guide you through the dense thicket of fate.' she smoothed the bill almost lovingly with her hands. Just as the lasts of the larger wrinkles began to fade the bill disappeared. If I had been drunk I would have probably paid her just to make her make my money vanish with her little tricks.
'The magic is strong in you, isn't it.' I asked.
'Don't be silly dear, these are just simple acts of prestidigitation.' she looked at me for the first time cracking smile with a glinting edge. 'But they help set the mood. The mood' she paused 'is very important.'
She got up took the candles and put them in tall thin iron candle sticks. 'Very important. You come in from out side. Bringing all the chaos with you. But here you must relax and open your soul. How else would I be able correctly read you?'
After she was done positioning the candles, she did the triangle fingers again and nodded. She pulled off the table cloth, revealing a large metal table which in a past live had been a lump of steel. But now it was reformed. Polished with a pit in its centre maybe an inch deep ending in a fine metal mesh. The fortune teller put a metal tripod over it and placed a clear long crystal on top of it.
'Now I shall align the light of the holy candles so that they open a path into the embers of your cooling soul.' She moved the candlesticks around until the light of the candles just shown past me hitting the crystal in the middle. Once both were properly placed the crystal started to shine with phosphorescent light.
'Thus the path is opened. Now I shall place the Soul Seeking Weave on you' and indeed she covered me with the silly red net. I felt like an old ladies night stand.
'It is done.' she sat down. In pit a roaring flame came to life quickly turning the metal mesh whit hot its light adding to the crystals luminescence. While I was still trying to blink away the bright dots that had appeared in my sight the old woman had exclaimed some mystical nonsense words and thrown something into the glowing pit. Another flash of light this time followed by a pillar of smoke which filled the room with the smell of frankincense. The woman regarded the scene for a moment and then nodded.
Madame Apollonius formed a triangle with her fingers again, lowered her head slightly and moved her hands slowly towards me. The glow from the table mapping out sinister features on her plain face.
'I can see clearly now.'
'That's nice.'
'Your aura is weak. Not flickering. Just weak. Like a dying ember.'
'Let me retract my last statement.'
She lowered her hands a bit to look me in the eye over the edges of her outstretched hands. 'You do not pay me for being nice.' she resumed her scan mumbling a bit more. She got up. Trying to see if my aura looked as pathetic from the sides as it did from the front. When she had made sure that it did she moved a little footstool near me and sat down on it.
'Give me your hands.' she demanded
I obliged her stretching my hands out palms up. She took booth my hands and started to read them pretty much like a book. With one finger following the lines of my right hand, often pausing to reference my left. While doing so she shook her head several times. Despite my best intentions I did get a bit nervous.
'So. How bad is it?' I asked.
'You are left-handed.' I was not sure if this was supposed to be a question.
'Mostly. I do cut things with my right though.'
'Hmmm. Hmmm.' she said.
'You have a broken life-line. This is a bit unusual. It indicates some rather dramatic changes in your life.'
'Well you can say that about almost everyone now, can't you?' I felt the need to regain a bit of sceptic ground here. I was not going to get judged by a displaced circus sideshow.
'That might be' the woman said and added looking into my eyes again 'but not everyone has fallen as far as you have, have they?' She raised an accusing finger pointing it at my right palm 'And not many have squandered talent like you have!'
'er...'
'Just look at this.' now she was pointing at my right hand again. 'The first break in the line is connected to your intellect which is also broken. It was your fault. And after that nothing. Time passed and your talents faded. You are a man bound to this world simply by habit.'
Again her gaze gripped me like a vice. 'Tell me that it isn't so!'
'Fine. You are right. There have been some unfortunate events in my past but...'
'But what?'
'But nothing.' she was right and I could not think of anything else to say. Even if I tried to lie it would have been a rather feeble lie which would have never been strong enough to grow into proud myth. And while it was not very psychic recognizing me, someone obviously to rich for this sewer theme park, as someone who had fallen from grace been told so to the face did have a certain emotional impact.
'And your present is also a mess. Another cut in your life-line. But this time the cut was forced on you.'
'So how long do I have to live, doc?' sarcasm to the rescue.
'A dangerous question to ask.' sarcasm rolled over presenting its soft belly to the the fortune tellers. She did not even look down to my hands again. She held me with my gaze while her index finger passed over my palm.
'You life line is cut here.' Poke. 'And right after it forks.' Moving a few millimetres. 'And one of the possible paths ends...' Slight poke with the nail. '...in the present.' the nail trailing over my palm and fading sending a cold shiver down my spine. The fortune teller sighs.
'But not all hope is lost.' for the first time since I entered her little room her features soften slightly.
'The other line continues for quite a bit. So you might yet to live for some time. Also despite your negligence you still have your faded skills. You have the potential to resist fate. But don't hesitate. If you do not act now all will be lost.' That made me relax a bit. Not that I still had a chance but the fact that she did not know that I was already moving towards a better tomorrow. She wasn't a psychic after all.
'And do you have any advice for me? Or some magical amulets to ward off the evil eye?'
'There is no such thing as an evil eye, seeker. Now that I know the general form of your fate I can now examine the details of your destiny.' she got up from the little stool. She sat down behind her table again. Added fresh herbs to the glowing pit and while I was again recovering from the sudden flash and smoke she had unseen to me produced a small package. It was a large piece of what appeared to be ancient black silk wound tight around a thick set of cards. 'In the final step of your Karmic Evaluation I shall consult the Tarot cards, they shall shed light on the details of your journey.
She shuffled the cards for a while. Her eyes closed. Frowning with concentration. When she opened her eyes again she placed the deck in front of me. 'Cut the deck.' Feeling clever I simply slid the top most card of the deck. Madame Apollonia not the least bit impressed took the deck, put it on the lone card with an understated thump and pulled it back to her. She then fanned out the cards in front of her.
'First of all I will establish I a link to your past.' her right hand hovered over the cards moving from left to right until she found a card that pleased her. She pulled it out. 'This card represents the largest influence on you in the past.' and turned it around. 'The Emperor, reversed. A man of power. But one who uses his power as an end onto itself. A narrow-minded tyrant.' How did she know my father? I only looked at the card in grim silence, looking at the man sitting on his throne with a face full of disapproval.
'The next card shall reveal to us your past self.' again she hovered over the cards with her hand for a while until she chose a card. 'The Five of Batons. Victories earned through constant conflict. You established yourself against all opposition. But what went wrong?' again her hand ascended into the air. This time there was no hovering. With a quick motion she pulled out a card, turned it around by twirling it in her fingers and slammed it down on the desk producing a deep muffled noise. 'The Tower! You were ruined by things outside your control. Which I must admit comes as a bit of a surprise to me. Regardless in the end it resulted in the end of your life as you knew it. This led you...' her hand over the cards again moving between three distinct spots until she decided for the one in the middle. She turned the card. '...to The Moon. You walk alone through the darkness of the night surrounded by nothing but doubt and fear. And this path led you to...' another card '...the Hanged Man reversed. An inner struggled that ends in defeat. You got lost in the night.'
'This does not look good, does it.' I tried to sound nonchalant but my creaky voice decided to go for a more desperate approach.
'If you leave things as they are seeker, then it will end...' she did not hesitate long this time grabbed a card looked at it before putting it down on the table. She looked sad but not surprised. This was not going to end well. She set the card down without saying a word. It showed a soldier. A dead soldier lying face down on the ground skewered by ten swords. 'Utter defeat.' she finally said.
'What am I supposed to do?'
'Don't worry seeker. Now that you know what fate has in store for you we can find a way to change it for the better. Let us see, there should be some forces that might work in your favour.' Again she moved her hand over the deck. 'We have here The Hermit, a wise man that might help you with his advice. Then we have The Chariot a powerful person who will plow through the opposition and lastly' as she turned around that card I groaned.
'You can't be serious!' I protested. 'Death! Really? Death? How is that supposed to help me?'
'Sit down.' I hadn't even noticed that I had gotten up. 'The card does not mean what you mean it does. It represents a great force that will change things. It will tear down walls and open up new possibilities. Now sit down again.'
I sat down.
'Good. We are almost done. I shall now show you what it is that is standing in your way and then to finish you shall see what kind of future awaits you down this, more favourable path. Your adversary is,' she did not even hesitate she took the last card from the left, the one I had cut 'how appropriate, it is The Devil. In this context I would say that a powerful hidden force is set against you.' she remained silent for a while looking at the cards.
After a while my impatience took over. 'So. How does it end.'
She chose one final card and turned it around.
'The Nine of Swords. Your victory will be won I am afraid at great personal cost.' she put her hands up again, probably to read my aura again. 'In the end if you persevere you will prevail but your hands will be dripping with blood.' she slowly closed her hands and covered her mouth with them before adding quietly 'And it will be your own blood.'
As I moved out of the tent back into the haphazard market 25 Minutes and 10 of my Credits had passed away. While I waited for Petrova I decided that the next time I had some time to kill I would do something more cheerful. Maybe I would start a bar brawl. I thinking about alcohol and how much I missed it right now when Petrova returned.
'So how did it go?' she asked?
'Oh brilliant. Utterly fabulous.'
'Really? What did she say?'
'After cold reading me like a cheap romance novel she told me that I would end my tragic journey with my hands dripping blood. My own blood.'
Thursday, 20 January 2011
Project Rain 15
Chapter 11
An hour later I find my self in the middle of a surreal scene. We are again driving around in Petrova's monster of a car that whines its way through the rain splashed streets of the Russian sector. She is driving intricate pretzel routes through her neighbourhood while I sit in the back with the large broken man who is wearing a very stylish little sack over his head. I point my gun vaguely in his direction making sure that he does not do anything clever all of the sudden.
This is wrong. Somehow I find it deeply disturbing that I am the gorilla in this piece and this strange failure of man is our hapless victim.
I takes a while until Petrova is finally convinced that she has driven around enough bends and turns to utterly disorient our guest. It certainly worked on me. I have no idea where we are and I was looking out of the window most of the time.
She drives the car into a little ally. One that looks as if it was just waiting for a lone blond teenage girl to pass through and meet an unpleasant fate. We disappoint the little street as we unload Carter. I pull the sack off of his head and Petrova has a few words for him. I am surprised at how tender she sounds. She tells him that he is OK now and explains him how to get to the next main street. The broken man nods like a childlike nod. He turns and walks slowly away.
'And do some more respect to women in the future Darren.' Petrova calls after him. The man hesitates for a second while a slight tremor shakes his bis whole body for the length of two heart beats. A meek nod and he continues his voyage back to what ever hole he crawled out of.
Two minutes later we are back at Petrova's house.
'What?' she says looking at me with arched eyebrows. 'Did you think I drive that scab to the other end of the sector? It's enough that he doesn't know where I live, right?' I shrug. Now it is just a matter of putting her car back in the garage grab our stuff and get going. When we are all set she hands me a hat that had seen better days and was a thrilled to see me as I was wearing it. I held it between thumb and forefinger, me and the hat looking at Petrova with slight disapproval.
'Is there a problem?' she sighs.
'What's the hat for?' an obvious question.
'Your head...' her obvious answer.
'I don't wear hats.' they ruin my hair.
'Huh?'
'They ruin my hair.'
'Is that noodle salad on your head supposed to be a hair-do?'
'Normally it is yes.'
'Well right now it looks like an otter cemetery. Also you are getting recognized by almost everyone who crosses our path. I think we are going to be pretty save where we are going now. As all your fans so far seem to come from the European sector, but we are not going to take any chance. Are we?' there is an uncomfortable amount of school teacher in her voice.
'No. I guess we shouldn't' I take the hat and put it on my head. 'Do you have by any chance a coat for me? This one is not the most discreet model either.' Suddenly the navy blue with gold highlights, hiding in plain sight does not seem all that bright any more.
'I can't believe it there are actually signs of intelligent life in your head? I think I might have one that will fit you.' she signalled me to follow her. We moved upstairs where she led me to a large closet filled with various types of men's clothing. 'Why did you not buy yourself a new coat when you knew that you were being targeted by assassins?'
'Er... well... I... This is my new coat...'
'What. You mean that is not... I thought that was like what you wore for work or... Where you on drugs?!'
'Yes. But I did not know it at that time!'
'That makes it OK then.' she shook her head. She pulled a long heavy coat out of the closet and held it against me. It smelled of one hundred years of solitude inside a stuffy cupboard. 'Try it on this one should fit.'
The coat was heavy even when worn and apart from its centenarian smell was very comfortable. Like the loving hug of an exceptionally large and maternal sheep. It was a bit to large hanging down almost to my ankles and the sleeves moving a bit to far past my wrists. Bit there was something nice about it.
Petrova seemed to agree. 'Good enough. Now we can go.'
'What's up with that collection anyway?' I asked as we moved back down the stairs.
'Ex-lovers. Some simply vanish without taking their stuff. Others get vanished and are not allowed back in.'
Each of us garbed a backpack filled with a bit of food, spare clothing and some tools which should get us to our destination. The plug-in was now in a more neutral looking transport case. It was far to large for it but that way we got to cover it in books which would serve as basic camouflage against curious glances and superficial controls. Many of the books were either about the terraformers or about their programming so that they might come in handy later when we reached our goal. It was also a convenient cover story which put is as travelling petty merchants travelling along the sector buying and selling cheap shit to make ends meet.
Petrova stalked of into the direction I liked to call 'not towards Kiev Station'.
'Isn't the station in the other direction?' I should have become a detective.
'Yes. But we are not going to that station. We are going to take a black ship.'
'Really?'
'Yep.'
'One of the ships that go through the storm drains?'
'Yes.'
'I always thought they were just rumours.'
'For someone dealing in information you are pretty clueless.'
'Well I was mostly involved with small time criminals. But even they would not go down into the storm drains. If there is anything down there apart from rats it would be bums that would be to broke and burnt out for the Drain. Hell. That's where the drain flows into.'
'Well if you know where to look the storm drains are actually quite busy and they are perfect for our needs. They will get us where we want to go and there will hopefully be hardly anyone that knows about you and the price on your head.'
'Sounds fine to me. You lead the way.'
And so I followed Petrova through her part of the Endless City. I noticed that the Russians had a bit more style than Imperial Europe. While this part of the Europa was also rather low rent. It was built with a certain dignity in mind. The faux brick of the houses made them look more respectable. And where we had just naked stone columns holding up the high rises far above, here they were usually carved out into melodramatic statues. There was somehow not a place where you could not have symbols of the 'oldest democracy in the system', the statues of Presidents, Generals and of course the Hero of Democracy in his and her various guises. The mechanic, the scientist, the doctor every job had its own little monument. All of these idols to modern mankind were invariably looking at the far horizon catching a glimpse of the radiant future or had their gazes turned upwards gazing towards the infinity of space. The constant rain water washing over them just made them even more melodramatic. But despite them being slightly ridiculous in their grandeur I could not help but feel slightly impressed. Just like the Opera these monuments where so well crafted in their ridiculous pathos that they did not fail to impress.
To keep the moon warm the terraformers kept part of Europa's ice molten. The warm water evaporated heating everything above them and as the water cooled down it came back down as rain again. Little paths and channels were everywhere for the water and in the city centres where there was no space left to let the rain simply slip back down to the moon's surface it was collected in channels and led into the storm drains. As far as I knew they were not only used to get all that liquid back down but also to power all kinds of clever processes and machines. No idea what that actually was. I mean who cares as long as it works, right?
The gate to the underworld here was far more impressive than the few I had seen on the Imperial side. I was used to simple holes in the wall with large trellised metal gates. Here the arch of the gate was, of course, engraved looking like a sneak that bit its own tail at the apex. The gate itself too was decorated. Every metal bar of it looking like a dozen meter long spear. Out of it came a sustained deep rumbling roar of a waterfall. And just to make matters perfectly it was illuminated from within the water. That many of the giant submarine floodlights were broken did actually enhance the effect even further. It really did look like a gate to another world.
'Ready Orpheus?' Petrova asked.
'Ready Eurydice.' my answer raised a smile.
The descent which I imagined to be a water soaked disaster and near drowning experience was actually pretty easy. We did not go through the main gate but through a much more humble service door which opened into a cramped stairwell. The only problem we had was getting the damned plug in within its case down the stairs. There was not enough room to manoeuvre. At every bend we had to tip and tilt the odious box. Not to hard with gravity dampers. Yet it was also not very hard to get a bunch of fingers between the box and the wall. After a lot of screaming and pain we finally reached the rusty door at the bottom that some kind souls had tried to protect from corrosion by covering it with graffiti colourful in language and shading.
As I opened the door the sounds and smells of a new world broke over me like a wave. It sounded not unlike the crowded open air markets I knew from the surface backed by the throaty roar of the nearby waterfall. The odours more varied than upstairs. First of all there was the vague smell of soggy human. But also the smell of a dozen food stalls deep frying, grilling and cooking everything that looked edible and had not vanished inside a wall quickly enough. The very base of smell was that of oil slick machines and the complex bouquet of their exhaust fumes. We stepped through into the market and got instantly swallowed by the crowd. I stopped after a couple of paces. Hand on mouth. Mostly so that my chin did not fall to the ground and crawled under a stall or other. I would not have ever found it again. Also I did not want to look even more like an utter stranger. Looking like an outsider is an internationally recognized invitation to get robbed. Petrova took the lead and I was happy to follow her. I was still a bit dazed by the various sights. I was deeply impressed by a little stall that pressed pots out of scrap metal using a machine powered by the waterfall which chewed on the metal that was fed into it for a while seemingly lost in mechanical thought to spit out a pot or a pan. Or a knife sharpener who simply used the rough wall behind him to sharpen his clients knives and scissors back to genius level sharpness. He simply used his skill to make up for a lack of tools.
'Kane?' Petrova had stopped and was facing me.'
'Yeah?'
'I will have to leave you for a moment here OK?'
My good old friend panic kicked me affectingly in the stomach.
'What`? Why?'
'Don't worry. I just need to speak with an old friend of mine. But he is a bit paranoid, OK? I have to talk to him alone first. You just keep your head down and all will be fine. I won't take long.'
If she was not on my side she could have killed me or delivered me to who ever wanted my head a long time ago. I was rather certain that I could trust her for now. After all I had brought her the plug-in and with that she could do something that most people who liked to tamper with terraformers could only dream of.
'OK.' I said. 'Go speak to your friend. I'll just have a look around here and keep an eye on our merchandise.' I patted the cargo box with my hand as I said that. She was about to say something but changed her mind while still drawing breath. I expected a witty remark or some eye rolling. But she looked me in the eye and simply nodded.
'You are right. You should look after our stuff. ' she had a quick glance around.
'Hey look over there,Madame Apollonia. Why don't you join her in her tent and have a look at our future?'
The tent was a a collection of clashing colours that had locked jaws at each others throats, crowned by a large sign which proclaimed that indeed this was the fabled seat of 'Lady Apollonia. ORACLE of the UNDERWORLD!!!' And why not. I would be out of sight and Petrova could go and talk to her friend and know where to find me. I nodded.
'You know where to find me. Go and talk to that friend of yours.'
She vanished into the crowd and I into the oracles tent.
Despite not being that big I found out that it was a little masterpiece of tent architecture. After the first cloth flap I was inside a tiny ante-room with enough space for one person and a metal sign that was bolted into the floor imparting the following mystical knowledge:
Palm reading. 1 Credit
Aural scan. 1 Credit
Consulting the Tarot. 1 Credit
Commune with the dead. 3 Credits (angry spirits cost extra)
Full Karmic Evaluation 5 Credits
No credits? Piss off.
Perfect. I moved past the sourly sign into the next antechamber. This one was much larger with enough space to hold four chairs for people waiting. There were none. The room also had a serious patchouly problem. Its walls were decorated with what I suspected were once innocent bed sheets that had hung out with the bad crowed to often which resulted that after a drunk night they had found themselves in here tattooed all over in mystic cross-stitch. I sat down.
'Stranger I can feel your presence! The spirits of time and space have made your presence known to me!' the woman's voice came from everywhere. I felt slightly ashamed when I noticed that I had jumped to my feet and that I was fingering the grip of my Chekhov.
'Do not be alarmed, stranger! For I have vowed to use my powers only for good.' after a short pause the voice added 'And for self defence. Now. Enter my chambers so that I might peer into your future.'
I entered the third even larger room inside the tent. It was covered from floor to ceiling in with mystic imagery. A very through collection ranging from Russian Icons to European alchemists symbols and to Sanskrit sutras. Obviously this woman had all bases covered. I was obviously in the right place. The woman looked surprisingly plain. Middle ages. Not ugly, not pretty. But she made up for it with her fantastical robes which much like the rest of the room had confused the history of human mysticism with a end of season super sale and had gone into a little shopping frenzy. The only really impressive part was her 'crown'. A circlet of rusted metal with a piece of shining evil looking glass embedded in its middle.
Between us stood a small table covered in dark violet velvet. I was a bit disappointed that there was no crystal ball.
'Sit down oh seeker and all will be clear.'
I sat down.
'Tell me then oh wandered. What do you seek?'
'What the future holds for me?'
She looked at me for a moment obviously struggling with some internal dilemma.
'Which program do you wish for.' she said 'Oh seeker.'
Of course. What was I going to pay. I guessed that Petrova would need a while to locate her friend and talk to him or her, so I could as well enjoy the ride. I took a a couple of one credit coins out of my pocket and gave the woman five of them.
'I'll take the full Karma Revelation.'
'The Karmic Evaluation.'
'Of course. That one.'
Half an hour later Petrova found me standing in front of the the tent.
'So how did it go?' she asked?
'Oh brilliant. Utterly fabulous.'
'Really? What did she say?'
'After cold reading me like a cheap romance novel she told me that I would end my tragic journey with my hands dripping blood. My own blood.'
An hour later I find my self in the middle of a surreal scene. We are again driving around in Petrova's monster of a car that whines its way through the rain splashed streets of the Russian sector. She is driving intricate pretzel routes through her neighbourhood while I sit in the back with the large broken man who is wearing a very stylish little sack over his head. I point my gun vaguely in his direction making sure that he does not do anything clever all of the sudden.
This is wrong. Somehow I find it deeply disturbing that I am the gorilla in this piece and this strange failure of man is our hapless victim.
I takes a while until Petrova is finally convinced that she has driven around enough bends and turns to utterly disorient our guest. It certainly worked on me. I have no idea where we are and I was looking out of the window most of the time.
She drives the car into a little ally. One that looks as if it was just waiting for a lone blond teenage girl to pass through and meet an unpleasant fate. We disappoint the little street as we unload Carter. I pull the sack off of his head and Petrova has a few words for him. I am surprised at how tender she sounds. She tells him that he is OK now and explains him how to get to the next main street. The broken man nods like a childlike nod. He turns and walks slowly away.
'And do some more respect to women in the future Darren.' Petrova calls after him. The man hesitates for a second while a slight tremor shakes his bis whole body for the length of two heart beats. A meek nod and he continues his voyage back to what ever hole he crawled out of.
Two minutes later we are back at Petrova's house.
'What?' she says looking at me with arched eyebrows. 'Did you think I drive that scab to the other end of the sector? It's enough that he doesn't know where I live, right?' I shrug. Now it is just a matter of putting her car back in the garage grab our stuff and get going. When we are all set she hands me a hat that had seen better days and was a thrilled to see me as I was wearing it. I held it between thumb and forefinger, me and the hat looking at Petrova with slight disapproval.
'Is there a problem?' she sighs.
'What's the hat for?' an obvious question.
'Your head...' her obvious answer.
'I don't wear hats.' they ruin my hair.
'Huh?'
'They ruin my hair.'
'Is that noodle salad on your head supposed to be a hair-do?'
'Normally it is yes.'
'Well right now it looks like an otter cemetery. Also you are getting recognized by almost everyone who crosses our path. I think we are going to be pretty save where we are going now. As all your fans so far seem to come from the European sector, but we are not going to take any chance. Are we?' there is an uncomfortable amount of school teacher in her voice.
'No. I guess we shouldn't' I take the hat and put it on my head. 'Do you have by any chance a coat for me? This one is not the most discreet model either.' Suddenly the navy blue with gold highlights, hiding in plain sight does not seem all that bright any more.
'I can't believe it there are actually signs of intelligent life in your head? I think I might have one that will fit you.' she signalled me to follow her. We moved upstairs where she led me to a large closet filled with various types of men's clothing. 'Why did you not buy yourself a new coat when you knew that you were being targeted by assassins?'
'Er... well... I... This is my new coat...'
'What. You mean that is not... I thought that was like what you wore for work or... Where you on drugs?!'
'Yes. But I did not know it at that time!'
'That makes it OK then.' she shook her head. She pulled a long heavy coat out of the closet and held it against me. It smelled of one hundred years of solitude inside a stuffy cupboard. 'Try it on this one should fit.'
The coat was heavy even when worn and apart from its centenarian smell was very comfortable. Like the loving hug of an exceptionally large and maternal sheep. It was a bit to large hanging down almost to my ankles and the sleeves moving a bit to far past my wrists. Bit there was something nice about it.
Petrova seemed to agree. 'Good enough. Now we can go.'
'What's up with that collection anyway?' I asked as we moved back down the stairs.
'Ex-lovers. Some simply vanish without taking their stuff. Others get vanished and are not allowed back in.'
Each of us garbed a backpack filled with a bit of food, spare clothing and some tools which should get us to our destination. The plug-in was now in a more neutral looking transport case. It was far to large for it but that way we got to cover it in books which would serve as basic camouflage against curious glances and superficial controls. Many of the books were either about the terraformers or about their programming so that they might come in handy later when we reached our goal. It was also a convenient cover story which put is as travelling petty merchants travelling along the sector buying and selling cheap shit to make ends meet.
Petrova stalked of into the direction I liked to call 'not towards Kiev Station'.
'Isn't the station in the other direction?' I should have become a detective.
'Yes. But we are not going to that station. We are going to take a black ship.'
'Really?'
'Yep.'
'One of the ships that go through the storm drains?'
'Yes.'
'I always thought they were just rumours.'
'For someone dealing in information you are pretty clueless.'
'Well I was mostly involved with small time criminals. But even they would not go down into the storm drains. If there is anything down there apart from rats it would be bums that would be to broke and burnt out for the Drain. Hell. That's where the drain flows into.'
'Well if you know where to look the storm drains are actually quite busy and they are perfect for our needs. They will get us where we want to go and there will hopefully be hardly anyone that knows about you and the price on your head.'
'Sounds fine to me. You lead the way.'
And so I followed Petrova through her part of the Endless City. I noticed that the Russians had a bit more style than Imperial Europe. While this part of the Europa was also rather low rent. It was built with a certain dignity in mind. The faux brick of the houses made them look more respectable. And where we had just naked stone columns holding up the high rises far above, here they were usually carved out into melodramatic statues. There was somehow not a place where you could not have symbols of the 'oldest democracy in the system', the statues of Presidents, Generals and of course the Hero of Democracy in his and her various guises. The mechanic, the scientist, the doctor every job had its own little monument. All of these idols to modern mankind were invariably looking at the far horizon catching a glimpse of the radiant future or had their gazes turned upwards gazing towards the infinity of space. The constant rain water washing over them just made them even more melodramatic. But despite them being slightly ridiculous in their grandeur I could not help but feel slightly impressed. Just like the Opera these monuments where so well crafted in their ridiculous pathos that they did not fail to impress.
To keep the moon warm the terraformers kept part of Europa's ice molten. The warm water evaporated heating everything above them and as the water cooled down it came back down as rain again. Little paths and channels were everywhere for the water and in the city centres where there was no space left to let the rain simply slip back down to the moon's surface it was collected in channels and led into the storm drains. As far as I knew they were not only used to get all that liquid back down but also to power all kinds of clever processes and machines. No idea what that actually was. I mean who cares as long as it works, right?
The gate to the underworld here was far more impressive than the few I had seen on the Imperial side. I was used to simple holes in the wall with large trellised metal gates. Here the arch of the gate was, of course, engraved looking like a sneak that bit its own tail at the apex. The gate itself too was decorated. Every metal bar of it looking like a dozen meter long spear. Out of it came a sustained deep rumbling roar of a waterfall. And just to make matters perfectly it was illuminated from within the water. That many of the giant submarine floodlights were broken did actually enhance the effect even further. It really did look like a gate to another world.
'Ready Orpheus?' Petrova asked.
'Ready Eurydice.' my answer raised a smile.
The descent which I imagined to be a water soaked disaster and near drowning experience was actually pretty easy. We did not go through the main gate but through a much more humble service door which opened into a cramped stairwell. The only problem we had was getting the damned plug in within its case down the stairs. There was not enough room to manoeuvre. At every bend we had to tip and tilt the odious box. Not to hard with gravity dampers. Yet it was also not very hard to get a bunch of fingers between the box and the wall. After a lot of screaming and pain we finally reached the rusty door at the bottom that some kind souls had tried to protect from corrosion by covering it with graffiti colourful in language and shading.
As I opened the door the sounds and smells of a new world broke over me like a wave. It sounded not unlike the crowded open air markets I knew from the surface backed by the throaty roar of the nearby waterfall. The odours more varied than upstairs. First of all there was the vague smell of soggy human. But also the smell of a dozen food stalls deep frying, grilling and cooking everything that looked edible and had not vanished inside a wall quickly enough. The very base of smell was that of oil slick machines and the complex bouquet of their exhaust fumes. We stepped through into the market and got instantly swallowed by the crowd. I stopped after a couple of paces. Hand on mouth. Mostly so that my chin did not fall to the ground and crawled under a stall or other. I would not have ever found it again. Also I did not want to look even more like an utter stranger. Looking like an outsider is an internationally recognized invitation to get robbed. Petrova took the lead and I was happy to follow her. I was still a bit dazed by the various sights. I was deeply impressed by a little stall that pressed pots out of scrap metal using a machine powered by the waterfall which chewed on the metal that was fed into it for a while seemingly lost in mechanical thought to spit out a pot or a pan. Or a knife sharpener who simply used the rough wall behind him to sharpen his clients knives and scissors back to genius level sharpness. He simply used his skill to make up for a lack of tools.
'Kane?' Petrova had stopped and was facing me.'
'Yeah?'
'I will have to leave you for a moment here OK?'
My good old friend panic kicked me affectingly in the stomach.
'What`? Why?'
'Don't worry. I just need to speak with an old friend of mine. But he is a bit paranoid, OK? I have to talk to him alone first. You just keep your head down and all will be fine. I won't take long.'
If she was not on my side she could have killed me or delivered me to who ever wanted my head a long time ago. I was rather certain that I could trust her for now. After all I had brought her the plug-in and with that she could do something that most people who liked to tamper with terraformers could only dream of.
'OK.' I said. 'Go speak to your friend. I'll just have a look around here and keep an eye on our merchandise.' I patted the cargo box with my hand as I said that. She was about to say something but changed her mind while still drawing breath. I expected a witty remark or some eye rolling. But she looked me in the eye and simply nodded.
'You are right. You should look after our stuff. ' she had a quick glance around.
'Hey look over there,Madame Apollonia. Why don't you join her in her tent and have a look at our future?'
The tent was a a collection of clashing colours that had locked jaws at each others throats, crowned by a large sign which proclaimed that indeed this was the fabled seat of 'Lady Apollonia. ORACLE of the UNDERWORLD!!!' And why not. I would be out of sight and Petrova could go and talk to her friend and know where to find me. I nodded.
'You know where to find me. Go and talk to that friend of yours.'
She vanished into the crowd and I into the oracles tent.
Despite not being that big I found out that it was a little masterpiece of tent architecture. After the first cloth flap I was inside a tiny ante-room with enough space for one person and a metal sign that was bolted into the floor imparting the following mystical knowledge:
Palm reading. 1 Credit
Aural scan. 1 Credit
Consulting the Tarot. 1 Credit
Commune with the dead. 3 Credits (angry spirits cost extra)
Full Karmic Evaluation 5 Credits
No credits? Piss off.
Perfect. I moved past the sourly sign into the next antechamber. This one was much larger with enough space to hold four chairs for people waiting. There were none. The room also had a serious patchouly problem. Its walls were decorated with what I suspected were once innocent bed sheets that had hung out with the bad crowed to often which resulted that after a drunk night they had found themselves in here tattooed all over in mystic cross-stitch. I sat down.
'Stranger I can feel your presence! The spirits of time and space have made your presence known to me!' the woman's voice came from everywhere. I felt slightly ashamed when I noticed that I had jumped to my feet and that I was fingering the grip of my Chekhov.
'Do not be alarmed, stranger! For I have vowed to use my powers only for good.' after a short pause the voice added 'And for self defence. Now. Enter my chambers so that I might peer into your future.'
I entered the third even larger room inside the tent. It was covered from floor to ceiling in with mystic imagery. A very through collection ranging from Russian Icons to European alchemists symbols and to Sanskrit sutras. Obviously this woman had all bases covered. I was obviously in the right place. The woman looked surprisingly plain. Middle ages. Not ugly, not pretty. But she made up for it with her fantastical robes which much like the rest of the room had confused the history of human mysticism with a end of season super sale and had gone into a little shopping frenzy. The only really impressive part was her 'crown'. A circlet of rusted metal with a piece of shining evil looking glass embedded in its middle.
Between us stood a small table covered in dark violet velvet. I was a bit disappointed that there was no crystal ball.
'Sit down oh seeker and all will be clear.'
I sat down.
'Tell me then oh wandered. What do you seek?'
'What the future holds for me?'
She looked at me for a moment obviously struggling with some internal dilemma.
'Which program do you wish for.' she said 'Oh seeker.'
Of course. What was I going to pay. I guessed that Petrova would need a while to locate her friend and talk to him or her, so I could as well enjoy the ride. I took a a couple of one credit coins out of my pocket and gave the woman five of them.
'I'll take the full Karma Revelation.'
'The Karmic Evaluation.'
'Of course. That one.'
Half an hour later Petrova found me standing in front of the the tent.
'So how did it go?' she asked?
'Oh brilliant. Utterly fabulous.'
'Really? What did she say?'
'After cold reading me like a cheap romance novel she told me that I would end my tragic journey with my hands dripping blood. My own blood.'
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