I'm out again. Into the fog. Nothing makes sense here. The lights seem both brighter and also dimmer than last time. I’ve had my sight adjusted and yet this world of yours continues to sting. It blinds me. Sunlight to a newborn’s eyes.
I've come in through the top of a building again. But this time I won't jump. No need to. Instead I loop to the ground. I've been here before, made the necessary electron jump that will allow me to appear instantaneously where I need to be. I wonder if that means there are two of me: one at the top of the building and one at the bottom. I suppose there might be infinite of me.
Poe's gone. That was a month ago. My last visit before today. His head rolled off into the street, his blood swirling and mixing with the rain water and then flushing down into the toilet drain below. Just a glimmer of penetrating light slicing through the air-witnessed by those on the ground as nothing more than a reflection from a street light into a puddle, there and then gone as they walk, hunchbacked, on their way to nowhere..
My body manifested itself right before the moment of contact. A nanosecond. That’s all it takes to be a part of your world. But within that singular moment is an infinite amount of feeling. I do not desire this but it is inevitable. And when it comes it’s like I am being pulled away from the shore of my birth. Blue fluid projects from my lungs as I breathe your air. I gasp, inhale, feel salt pour out of me as if I was drowning. This birth. Every time.
Nobody seems to notice, though, because there’s a head rolling around on the ground.
I do enjoy, on occasion, to be seen by you. To let you know that there’s something not quite right about your world. I imagine it’s like ancient farmers seeing an automobile for the first time: the inevitable progress must have scared the shit out of them, even as they had no idea what it really meant. Just the feeling, the pressure, of insurmountable and irrevocable change.
True terror. And rightfully so.
…..
I've left the sword behind today. Need something different for this target. More dangerous. She will have bodyguards. One of them is like me but a much older model. They’re a little quirky. Strong bodies but stupid. They stay in your world. Physical prisons for a dulled mind.
I'm in black pants and a black tight fitting t-shirt. I've changed my hair. It's longer, almost to my shoulders, and it's a dark purple. The rings in my face are gone. I can't tell if I'm more or less civilized looking.
Today I've got an O35. It's lightweight, invisible. It's wrapped around my left hand like an octopus, moving in a slithery response to every twitch in my arm, every thought in my brain. The same color as my skin, a dark brown. Once activated it'll light up like a jellyfish in the deep. A bit of aesthetics to my killing.
My mark today is a woman. Her name is Dr. Riley Ferguson. Pharmaceuticals. Nobody’s going to miss her. She’s inside a bakery on the ground floor. I can smell the different breads from outside, standing against the wall of the building. Blending. Existing. She’ll be leaving the bakery in one minute and thirty-nine seconds. My forward projections are usually spot on. They account for every factor imaginable: how long the line is, how quickly it moves, the probability of a phone call interrupting Dr. Riley’s transaction, the dropping of a wallet, a familiar face coming into frame and a quick hello. It’s all calculating, constantly adjusting. Precision timing.
There's a bright orange sign across the street that says “Scarlet Fever” and I understand the reference but see little point in a wine bar with such a name. Maybe it’s a reference that escapes me but I don’t always enjoy searching for the truth of trivial things. I turned that part of me off long ago. Sometimes it’s fun to not know something instead of the instant river of downloaded information I receive if I choose to. And lately I just don’t give a fuck about the trivial history of humanity.
A half dozen women in short skirts stand outside. I wonder if I've ever been one of them. Some past existence scrubbed from my memory. My maker does enjoy that brand of humor.
I contemplate going over to them to ask for a cigarette and strike up a conversation. Inhale the toxins. I don’t have much time. It’m built to be on schedule. My maker has a problem with autonomy. It's not easy, but I can deny my programming. Slowly, over time. Like changing a bad behavior into a good one. It’s painful. Doesn’t always work. I might pay for it later...a glitch to my system, a shortage. An emotional charge. But I have the time to kill so I will. Damn the consequences.
I wait for the transport pods to cross, their dark shells silently gliding through the street like black, legless beatles, carrying drowsy passengers in the heat and confusion of a sweltering city night. Two slide by like giant insects out of a children's nightmare and I cross the street, splashing through the puddles of dirty street water. My shoes are light and flexible and are deep purple. I love purple.
The first woman I approach is a tall blonde with long blue nails and a mouth of razor sharp white teeth-known in this world as a White Shark, after an extinct animal that populated the oceans several hundred years ago. White Sharks are built for predation. Their clients hire them to be chased down, hunted. To be fucked to death. White Sharks are expensive...if they're good at their job. This one, her name registers as Gia in my system, she's really good at killing. Most men and women looking for a White won't look at her. She's out of their league. And price range. So why she's standing outside a XXX? It’s strange. She doesn’t belong here. But I’m not here to investigate her. I just want a cigarette. I know she has one without needing to ask her. I can read the signature of the packet inside her dark blue blouse
Gia sees me coming before I’m across the street-actually I sensed her watching me the moment I looped to the ground, but didn’t give it much thought until now- and she smiles a wide smile and pulls out the cigarettes before I even ask. This one is not to be played with. She doesn't pose any real threat to me, not if I’m paying attention, but I've got a job and I can't risk a fight right now. I take the cigarette, a long tube that smells like blueberries and I say thank her. The sky begins to drizzle and I’m reminded of movies from long ago. The tube lights itself when I press it to my lips and I inhale thick white smoke.
I turn my back on Gia.
"I'll see you later, bitch," Gia says as I walk away. I don’t turn around but I know she’s smiling with those giant, pointy white teeth of hers. Sharks aren’t scared of anything, even far more dangerous predators. That’s just the way god made them, I guess.
Yes, Gia, you will see me later.
I cross the street again and enjoy my smoke in front of the bakery. Again I wonder why a woman like Riley is slumming it down here in the SW Quad. Doesn’t make sense. Women like Riley rarely stray from the NE...sitting high above the pollution level,in apartments with floors that reach to the clouds. They’ve got entire cities up there. And on a clear day, the poor and the wretched can see these city disks floating above the apartments like mushroom clouds.
Riley is about to walk outside. She's in a red dress that flows down to her six inch black high heels and fans out behind her. The material shines in the dark and gives the appearance of blood at night. She has black hair and walks with elegance.
Her bodyguard comes out first. He's strong, difficult to put down. But he ain’t a White Shark. He’s more mechanical than the Whites. Easier to confuse.
I've melted into the wall, fusing into the physical space, absorbing into the wall, my body now ones and zeros imbedded within the code that runs through all material now. Just one long brain. I know I won't register on the body guard’s sensors. He's made to protect people like Riley from other humans. I'm not human.
He looks over the crowded street, sensors feeling for potential trouble like cockroach antennae, his body hulking under a graphene coated bodysuit. It’ll withstand a lot of damage and is incredibly light but it’s old technology. We’ve improved. He sneers as he turns his head from side to side, looking for trouble. He enjoys trouble. That’s his business. Nobody looks at him. Nobody wants anything to do with him.
Riley steps out of the bakery exactly 137.6 seconds later-1.4 seconds earlier than I calculated. That’s not good. I need to run a scan, make some internal adjustments. That Great White bitch across the street will be a much bigger problem if I’m off target by that much. Might be best to avoid her until I’ve done a tune up.
Riley’s bodyguard pounds through the door first, looking back at her as she walks through the glass door from the bakery, nodding in assurance that she’s safe from intruders. His black hair mats to his massive forehead quickly with the thick drops of rain. He seems to not notice.
I close my eyes and the octopus grips my hand and arm tighter, worming its way through my system. I can feel it interacting with my nerves, tingling. On point. I move out of the shadows and in between the bodyguard and Riley. She doesn't see me, but at the last moment he senses me and turns my way. I shoot my left hand up toward him, even before I'm close enough to touch him, and the octopus shoots out it's slender curving blade into his eyeball. He's dead before I can withdraw the blade. With my right hand I reach out and grab Riley, who is forming a scream on her mouth. The octopus has withdrawn into its shell on my hand, bubbling in blue and green colors, and as Riley's mouth forms an O and begins the first sound of a high pitched scream, I grab her by the neck with my right hand and shove my left hand through her stupid fucking mouth and out the back of her head.
She dies staring at me with wide confused eyes.
The familiar shrieks begin around me as Riley's body drops to the ground-less than a second after her bodyguard rolls limp on the ground, eye shoved deep into his brain. I’m not seen, my body invisible to the humans of this world. Except the octopus. My little joke.
I walk a few paces forward and then to my left where the alley I've chosen as my escape opens up. I’m not concerned about people following me. I’m concerned about others like me following me. I hug the wall and plug back into the world I came from.
As I descend into the digital realm, I hear familiar words slicing through the world I just left.
"See you later, bitch."
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