K Jeter - Noir

“Except in your case, things went way bad.” The barfly had read his thoughts as though they had gone scrolling down the blank mask of his face. “People-or at least other asp-heads-they died. Right here in the Wedge. And not very prettily, either.” She casually examined the deep scarlet nails of her hand. “They were the ones who paid the price. Not you.”

“I didn’t know,” said McNihil. “That there was going to be one.”

“Then you’re even stupider than you look. Even with your original face.” The barfly’s voice hardened, contemptuous. “You should’ve known, but you were too much of a smart-ass for that. What did you think you were connecting around with down here? A bunch of losers and perverts, all just banging away at each other all night long? Just so we could provide lots of sensory raw material for the prowlers to come down and pick up, so they could take it home to their owners? Real nice for them , I suppose, if that’d been the way it was; all the fun and none of the risks. But then, that’s how the guy you’re working for, that’s how he pitches the arrangement, isn’t it?”

“Pretty much.” A slow nod. “That’s how somebody else got roped in. Name of Travelt.”

“You don’t have to tell me about him,” said the barfly. “I know all about that story. More than you do.”

“That’s why I came here. To find out what I don’t know.”

“How flattering.” With a wry grimace, the barfly shook her head. “Really, pal-you don’t have to come right out and tell a girl that you’ve got some other reason for putting the moves on her. Like I didn’t know, or something. Like I’m as dumb as you are. You couldn’t let me keep a few illusions?”

“Why should I?” McNihil let the mask of his face show a thin smile. “Why should you get to keep them, when nobody else does?”

“You seem to still have a few of yours. That’s either a tribute to your stubbornness… or your stupidity. Even that Travelt guy learned his lesson after a while.”

“And what was that? What did he learn?”

“He learned,” said the barfly, “that there wasn’t anything he could do here. Not in this world. His bosses over on the other side-the same ones you’re working for-they may have let him think he was a big deal, a take-charge kind of guy, somebody who got things done. But he was way out of his league here. Out of his league, and off his turf. The Wedge, and what’s beyond it-that doesn’t belong to the DynaZauber corporation, or to the Collection Agency, or anything from that other world you came from.” The scorn in the woman’s voice became more withering with each syllable she spoke, like acid going through a reverse titration process. “You’re in our territory now, pal. The Wedge-everything over here-it belongs to itself.”

“What about the other one I saw? What about… Verrity?”

“Who?” A wicked malice showed in the barfly’s smile. “I thought she didn’t exist. I thought you made her up.”

“That’s what I thought, too.” McNihil spread his hands apart, a small gesture of surrender. “But I’ve changed my mind.”

“Good. That shows you’re learning. There’s hope for you yet. Maybe that’s why the Wedge is being so nice to you, letting you off the hook. Maybe…” With a tilt of her head to one side, the barfly gave him a newly appraising look. “Maybe you’ll be as lucky as the other one. Maybe she’ll do something… nice … for you. Like she did for that Travelt guy.”

“What’d she do for him?” McNihil asked, though he already knew what the answer was going to be.

“Come on,” chided the barfly. “I know you know. Your head’s not too hard to get into… at least, not for somebody like me. I can walk around inside your skull like it’s the hotel lobby. Easier, in fact, considering the present state of things around here. All this stage-setting, the heavy symbolism and shit-it really gets in the way, sometimes.”

“How was it when Travelt came here?”

A dismissive shake of the head. “I don’t even remember. It’s hard to keep track of these things, when everybody’s walking around with the same face, that prowler mask.” She gestured with one hand toward McNihil. “Except it wasn’t a mask for that Travelt guy, the way it is for you; the Adder clome told me about the services he did for you.”

“That’s true.” McNihil had expected that the barfly would be up-to-speed on that matter. “Travelt was actually inside his prowler. The transference had taken place. Enough of him had passed from one to the other. That corpse I was shown-there really wasn’t anything left of him in there.”

“Lucky for him. In a lot of ways.” The barfly gave a slow nod. “He got a second chance. To become real . How many people even get one chance at something like that?” Her gaze weighed and judged McNihil. “That must be why you came here. Because you knew it was your big opportunity.”

“You might be surprised,” said McNihil. “I already had my chance.” And I took it , he said to himself. There were some things that the barfly didn’t know, despite this being her turf. Even when she’d kissed him, she hadn’t been able to tell. The spark had passed from her mouth to his, this memory into his head; that was all that mattered. They think there’s only one mask possible -they didn’t know what he’d done to prepare himself for this journey. The ultimate mask, which concealed a difference greater than that between the human and the fake; no one had found him out so far. He might pull it off yet.

“Maybe you did… and maybe you didn’t.” The barfly drew her head back, studying McNihil as if seeing him for the first time. “I don’t know; I’m not the one to decide. But if you’re hiding something-if there’s something you think you can keep from being found out-then you’re playing a dangerous game, pal.”

“Who am I playing against?”

“What?” The barfly raised an eyebrow. “Verrity isn’t enough of a name for you?”

“No…” McNihil shook his head. “Not if it isn’t the real one.”

“Real, schmeal-that sort of thing just doesn’t apply here. Not as far as names go, at least. There’s a thousand different names for her, just like there are for the Wedge. It just depends on where you’re coming from.” The barfly’s gesture pointed beyond McNihil. “Take another look out the window. A good look, this time.”

The light had shifted outside; looking up as he stood at the window, McNihil saw the dark streaks of clouds cutting beneath the sun. Around the buildings, the shadows had diminished and grown less distinct, a slow fade into the graying daylight.

“Tell me what you see.”

He didn’t answer the barfly. McNihil leaned his hands against the charred windowsill, bringing his face past the shards of glass still embedded in the frame. The remains of the buildings’ shadows had drawn his gaze downward. Now he saw what lay in the streets.

“I told you.” The barfly’s voice was a soft whisper from behind him. “I warned you. This isn’t anywhere you want to be playing games. She plays for keeps.”

When he’d been at the End Zone Hotel before, in that other world he’d left behind, he’d looked down from the rooftop. The building had been in flames then, real ones that consumed both architecture and flesh. But past the fire and billowing smoke, McNihil had been able to see the mass overlapping and interconnecting copulation that had been taking place down at ground level, the bodies writhing and seeking each other’s heat in the wet, sticky bounds of the fire-dousing foam. All that motion had ceased, along with any warmth, either fiery or body temperature.