Blue killed the purring engine on his FloBi. Booted feet hit oily concrete with a solid thump as the hover bike set down. He sighed and swung a leg off the bike. Swiping a thumb over the underside of the handlebar brushed his OmniLock against the scanner to genetically lock the ignition and stop another rider boosting his property.
Blue strode into Pluto’s with a heavy footfall that only those with real distracting shit to worry about understood.
The spicy tang of cooking dumplings sat heavy in the air, a smell that would be delicious had he been in his right frame of mind. Golden baked dough around bubbling cheese and succulent meat fillings wasn’t the sweet fragrance his nostrils flared to. It wasn’t why his tongue swelled and stuck to the roof of his parched mouth.
He should have replenished before he left for work, but he’d forgotten, a stupid and irresponsible thing to do.
Dangerous.
His stomach clenched in panic, and saliva slicked the walls of his cheeks until he had to swallow repeatedly. He breathed heavily in the confines of the helmet. His leathers seemed to shrink on his body until the fabric sucked at his skin in parody of what he imagined doing to the next available throat.
“You’re late,” Dod noted. “Next time I’ll dock your pay.”
His meaty fists pounded the creamy dough used to make his legendary dumplings, rattling the work surface and the pots underneath.
Pluto’s was unique. It was the only restaurant on ContinentOne that made dumplings from scratch with real cheese instead of the substitute. It took longer, cost more, but customers raved about the taste.
Blue walked straight to the order board to pick up the next delivery. He grabbed the boxes and turned on his heel, grabbing a CredMac to read the receipt for the address.
He needed fresh air to clear his head. That helped when he was breathless and sick.
Nodding jerkily to the people he past, Blue sighed in relief when the door slid open, and he stumbled out into the night.
Minors loitered around his FloBi. They edged closer to the vehicle, drumming up the courage to boost it. They scattered when he strode over with an expression he’d been told was ‘freaky’.
He inhaled deeply and regained his calm.
The delivery was easy, the addresses minutes away. Too soon, he was back at Pluto’s not knowing if he was calm enough to go back inside. Blue pushed through another three orders before he was sweating, and gritting his teeth each time he came within three feet of a warm body. When his shift break came up, he dashed outside and rounded the corner, seeking a place to take the stifling helmet off, too shaken to check nobody was within his immediate vicinity.
He was lightheaded, panting hard as his body fought to drag in enough oxygen to breathe.
He was suffocating.
A minor turned into the alleyway. He paused when he saw Blue leaning up against the dirty wall. There was a rustling of clothes and a tinny click before the minor was moving again. His walk canted to one side, and one hand sunk deep in his trouser pocket. Stopping in front of Blue, the minor hovered a laser knife at his damp neck. “Take out your TalkMe and transfer eight hundred credits to username Jak113,” he hissed. His low voice trembled only once. When Blue didn’t react, he hardened. “Do it now.”
Blue shook his head weakly, dragging in another rasping breath. He made a shooing motion with his hand, giving the boy a chance to flee.
The minor hesitated before stepping closer. The knife burned a strip of Blue’s top. “Are you dumb. I’ll cut you.”
Blue groaned. He moved and in a blur of bodies, the minor was pressed against the wall, the knife falling from lax fingertips. Blue’s hand darted into his pocket and pulled out his emergency syringe. He stabbed the needle into the minor’s jugular vein before pulling the plunger.
Dark red blood filled the vial.
The minor was terrified, thinking his life was about to end. Blue pushed at his mind, urged him to be calm, so he could finish.
Nanoseconds passed as another vial filled, and Blue’s tense shoulders relaxed. He’d get better as soon as he got this into his system.
He once again dipped into the minor’s mind and sent a strong compulsion for him to sleep. Holding the boy erect by pinning him to the wall with his forearm, Blue reached into his pocket to take out a pack of SkinAids. He placed a patch of the translucent skin cells over the needle marks and watched as it adhered to the clammy skin and closed the breaches. The wounds would have taken a few days to heal naturally, but the skin graft would prevent infections and troublesome questions.
Easing the minor down, Blue propped him up, and made it look like he was resting. He put the dropped the laser knife back into his hand and curled his fingers around it, to keep the curious from approaching until he woke.
Blue transferred the credits the minor had wanted as a thank you. He would usually go deep into the OutRim and offer money in exchange for blood anyway. Most desperate people obliged him; after all, it was just blood for an oddball, and the donation was given in a vial he provided.
Blue had been too distracted, forgotten to replenish.
Foolish.
He discarded the used needle and ripped open a hermetically sealed packet to fit a new one. He injected the blood and the light-headedness receded. The streaks of darkness across his vision eased, and his breath came easy. His body felt revitalized, his muscles able to flex without pain. His lungs could draw their fill of air rather than burn for the lack.
Contemplative, Blue went to pick up the next delivery.
Dod was on a break, reading his TalkMe. He snorted laughter and his huge bulk jiggled with the amused chortle.
The delivery board was empty.
“Nothing outstanding?” Blue asked hesitantly, not wanting to draw too much attention.
“Last order’s cooking. It’ll be ready to go soon. Quiet night.”
Dod flicked him a glance then did a double take. It was rare Blue took off his helmet, and the man was once again taken aback by how Blue looked. He remembered how confused he was by the kid when hiring him for such a menial job when he could be some HiCaste woman’s plaything and earn triple the credits he did. Dod knew Blue was smart, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Whatever the kid’s reason for his lifestyle choice, strange enhancements, and odd aura, Dod never had any problems with him. He was a solid delivery boy, hard to find past Quadrant8.
“Take a seat, might as well enjoy the peace as long as we can.” The older man kicked a crate over and scowled when Blue hesitated. “Pop a squat boy, creeps me out when you hover.”
Lowering himself onto the crate, Blue nodded in thanks. He placed his helmet on his knee, his back stiff, expression stoic.
Dod scrubbed a hand through greying hair. “Had any more enhancements to that face of yours?”
“No,” Blue replied.
He’d never had an enhancement in his life but was thankful for their existence. They gave him a way to seamlessly blend. He thought of the unconscious minor in the alleyway. Well, perhaps not seamlessly, he thought in amusement.
“Not much of a talker?”
Blue shrugged.
Dod lifted his battered TalkMe, a model so old tape held it together. He had no inclination to get a newer model. His worked standard, even if the HoloVids he got through were sometimes in black and white. He had better things to spend his hard earned credit on, like pumping high quality O2 into his domicile to make sure his beloved life partner remained healthy, rounded as she as with their fifth illegal child. Who the hell had the money to buy a birthing license for every kid anyway? “You read the news feed today?”
Blue shook his head.
“It’s been leaked the Alliance issued a Quarantine on Quadrant21. People are going mad.”
Blue cocked his head, his fingers already tugging his TalkMe from his breast pocket. The fact he wasn’t aware of this major incident was a tribute to how messed up he’d been before he’d replenished. His oxygen-deprived brain was functioning at full capacity again. Unease crept up his spine as he considered the reasons the Alliance would have for sanctioning something as drastic as Quarantine when there had been no reports of infectious disease in over a decade.
Keeping half his attention on Dod, Blue flicked through the news feeds, absorbing information. There was inconsistency and lack of conclusive evidence in the reports. “The whole quadrant? With no news of any isolated outbreaks before the Quarantine was put in place. Why?”
As he spoke, Dod caught a flash of the teeth in Blue’s mouth and tensed. The older man shook it off. Blue’s fangs were genetic enhancements, nothing but cosmetic reshaping to satisfy whatever twisted whim the boy had.
Why anybody would want to look like that Dod would never know.
“It doesn’t say. It says–”
“I know what it says,” Blue interjected quietly.
Dod watched as Blue’s eyes deepened in colour and reminded him of blood, glowing faintly.
Sensing something was amiss, Blue’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he looked down. “It’s wrong,” he muttered.
For the second time, shaking off his unease at the boy’s grotesque enhancements, Dod frowned at the bold statement. “Scientist are you? Last I checked you were a delivery boy on five hundred credit an hour.” Dod’s voice wobbled. Now he was in the boy’s presence, he remembered why Blue was such a loner. He felt wrong. When he was around you it was easier to remember, but the nanosecond he left you forgot how he made you feel.
Blue’s eyelid twitched, and he shifted on the crate. Dod was becoming uncomfortable, his slumberous mind more alert. “I’m not a scientist. I just know … what is written is wrong. Illogical.”
“How?”
Blue hesitated, torn between speaking his mind and making the man even more afraid if him.
Dod crossed hairy arms over his chest. He looked sickly, so Blue ended the encounter as smoothly as he could. “New order’s up.” Blue pointed to the fresh dumplings the industrial-sized FeedMe pushed out.
Dod cleared his throat. “You’re a delivery boy,” he said, reaffirming it.
“Yes,” Blue agreed.
In the street, Blue glanced at the address he had to deliver to and was rooted to the spot. His heart pounded in excitement that he tried and failed to control. He knew the name on the order form. Max. He worked at Pluto’s too, and was the best friend to Kali Loklear; the most intriguing female Blue had ever laid eyes on.
A female he had developed an unusual fixation on.
The order was fourteen quadrants in the wrong direction of home, annoying so late in the evening, but if it meant he got to see Kali he’d make the journey willingly.
Blue had shared his body before, when he got his license, to know what it was like. The experience was to record first hand the sensations and emotional side effects not because he had a fondness for the HiCaste woman who’d dragged him into a RecRom. He’d found it curious that because the female was passably attractive, he just closed his eyes, and didn’t have to do much.
The emotional entanglement because of the experiment had been a surprise, but as with everything, Blue dealt with that.
Kali made the concept of rec less daunting to consider revisiting. She made the idea of getting close, of kissing, and touching seem entirely agreeable.
One evening, Blue had done the math, using all possible scenarios to determine whether he and Kali Loklear, near a RecRom, alone, would happen. The chances were poor not only because their lives were polar opposites, but also because Kali avoided RecRoms. That and the moment Blue took off his helmet and she got a look at his face she’d probably run the other way.
Each time he saw her all he could do was silently stand on her stoop and hold out Pluto’s CredMac, waiting for her to sign acceptance of delivery, and transfer order payment.
How many times had he been determined to take off his helmet and introduce himself, only to be frozen on the spot when an opening in her friendly chatter came? His hands got sweaty and his heart rate accelerated. His chest constricted as if he needed to replenish, but that wasn’t it.
He’d been ashamed, but he had spoken to Caesar and Hypatia about his reaction to Kali. They had suggested a hormonal imbalance that she triggered with her specific blend of pheromones.
Blue would have accepted this logical explanation had there not been commonplace things he’d come to like about her.
The scent of fresh soap infused the air around her not the harsh chemical perfume others wore. The radiance of her skin, a vivid golden tone, made her seem unearthly. The brightness of her smile was uncontrived, even if her maxillary lateral incisors were overly smooth and a bit crooked. Even that he found charming. The joyful way she answered her door; her high ponytail bouncing she moved with such animation. The way she would start chattering on about non-consequential things whilst swinging her hands from side to side, her whole body drawn into the act of expressing herself. The way she always wore clothes that accentuated her body but in a subtle, modest way, suggesting she either didn’t understand how attractive she was, or didn’t care.
The thing that ensnared his interest most was the respectful tone she always took with him even though to her the delivery boy at the door was the lowest of the low and no one would bat an eyelid at her being rude and standoffish.
Her presence made him feel as if they were equals.
Max spoke about Kali all the time at Pluto’s. Blue was never invited in on those conversations – he’d gone to great pains to be cordial but never friendly with his co workers – but when conversation did turn to her Blue would burn to know every scrap of information. He never learned much, Max would only refer to what she said or did in passing, but Blue found himself smiling and envisioning her face when she was mentioned.
He’d often fantasized about driving up to her house, ringing on the doorbell and asking her out on a date.
He was too enamoured with the illusion there was a chance she’d say yes to have it shattered by reality.
Blue stalked into the shooting range frowning. He didn’t belong.
It was a popular hang out for young HiCaste who wanted to relax away from the prying eyes of chaperones and from friends of friends of their families. The open floor space was filled with the popular predator feline FetchMe breeds, and a handful of the rare canine and primate breeds. The occasional bunny and ferret disgusted Blue. FetchMes were designed to be personal aids with enhanced intelligence and emotions, companions that should change once during a life cycle. These cute and cuddly FetchMes were produced for no functional purpose other than to look good on the arm of their master and had short life spans.
Blue wondered how the owners would feel if they were locked up, forced to breed and disposed of like chattel when because a being more powerful than them felt like it. Despite his wish to catch a glimpse of Kali, he had no desire to remain in this place for long, near these heartless people for long.
Blue knew he was cold, but at least he had principles.
“Is that order for Max?” A small hand touched his arm to get his attention.
Bolts of heat shot through Blue as he found himself helmet to face with a smiling Kali Loklear.
He nodded.
“Cosmic. I can take that for him. How much do we owe you?”
He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He thrust the screen that displayed the receipt in her face.
She signed it and transferred the credits.
Kali took the orange star shaped box from him with another smile. “He ordered this box? He’s going all out on this date, huh? Thanks for delivering this far inland so late. I added four hundred credits tip to the bill. Make sure you get it. I know Dod can be greedy. Max is always being cheated out of his tips. Oh, it’s my turn to shoot. I’ve got to go. I’m sure I’ll see you next time. Promise you’ll drive safely, okay? I know you have a FloBi,” she shook her head. “So dangerous. Bye then.”
She bounced off, leaving Blue staring after her with a feeling akin to being punched in the gut.