Peter Liu - Bald New World

“I can try. It’s been a while. I’ll need some practice.”

Dan huddled with his guards and I heard them whispering to one another.

He came back after a few minutes and inquired, “How would you like to make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?”

Dan took out a capsule from his jacket. “A lucrative one.”

I heard a chirp and recognized a cricket. I hated crickets — not as much as roaches, but they were still a visually disgusting lot. Which is probably the reason I fought so well as one.

II.

“What the hell happened to you?” Dan asked.

He’d taken me up to his place, a hotel room with a king-sized bed and a single bathroom. The room smelled of tar and nicotine. There were tons of hooker cards scattered next to the bed stands as well as empty beer bottles. Eleven different knives hung on the wall.

I was about to answer, but he stopped me. “It doesn’t matter. All I care about is the fights. The favorite this season is a brutish little bastard we all call Zhou because of his short master. The pilot is a kid who calls himself Tolstoy.”

“Does he like Tolstoy’s books?”

Dan ignored my question and explained, “His little bugger has gone undefeated in fifty fights so far, favored to win every match a hundred to one odds. He’s just a kid and he’s beating everyone. But he ain’t ever fought a soldier before.”

Kid fighters worried me. They had less mental clutter, more focus that allowed them a purity in their connection that adults struggled with. Still, he was right. I represented the army in cricket battles. With practice, I could fight against the best.

I had to be honest with him. “I’m not in the best condition right now. I—”

“I called a nurse for you. I see those scars. Don’t know where you’ve been, but we’ll get you patched up. I have the night shift anyways so I gotta get back. Get some sleep and we’ll start tomorrow.”

“I need a few days of practice.” More like a few months.

“We set up a match for you against the kid. Not a real one, just a warm up. He’ll probably kick your ass, but it’s a feint.”

“A feint?”

“Throw everyone off their guard and dismiss you when you lose.”

And then when I came back for a rematch a few days later, naturally, everyone would bet against me. It was one of the oldest cons around.

“Heidi will be here in a few minutes,” Dan said.

“The nurse?”

He grinned. “She’ll treat you.”

I wanted to understand the terms that we were arranging. “What’s the deal?” I asked outright.

“You beat him, we make a boatload of money. You take 5 % and go wherever you want.”

“If I fail?”

His eyes tightened. “Don’t,” he answered, and left. I followed behind him and tried to open the door. It was locked to prevent both entry and exit. All I needed was a phone call, and now, I couldn’t get out of the room.

As a natural habit, I checked the mattress. There were blood stains everywhere and legions of moving critters. Bed bugs. An infestation of them. I was tired and I knew they would have welcomed my presence. Try some fresh meat, suck on new blood. There was an armchair next to the bed that appeared safer on inspection. I was about to take a seat when I heard a knock.

“Who is it?”

“Heidi.”

A redhead in a tight nurse’s outfit awaited. She had enormous breasts that were accentuated by the revealing low cut of her uniform. She had puffy lips and fake brows. Makeup was all over her face, but not enough to cover the wrinkles on her neck. Even with the powder, or maybe because of it and the dark purple lipstick, she reminded me of a clown. It always depressed me when I saw someone try so hard to look beautiful and fail. “Heard you need some healing,” she said lasciviously.

Was this Dan’s idea of R&R?

“Do you have salve?” I asked her.

“What do you mean?”

I took off my shirt and turned around. I think the sight of my whip-lash scars shocked her.

“Do I want to know who did this to you?” she asked. “Because Dan didn’t pay for this kind of thing.”

“It doesn’t matter who did it.”

“I can make another part of you feel better,” she said, forcing herself to act professional.

I stopped her and said, “Not right now. Could you give me a few minutes to nap? I’m really tired.”

“Sure,” she answered. “Do you mind if I watch TV?” Before I could answer, she plopped herself down and turned on Jesus the General . “I love this show. Don’t wanna miss any episodes. Last week, Jesus went back in time and caused a temporal anomaly so he could beat the Mongolians before they invaded Europe. You like the show?”

“Haven’t seen much of it.”

“Are you serious? You need to. Jesus is my hero.”

She watched raptly for a few minutes. My back was aching and I tried to sleep but she started crying.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her.

“Sorry. I get really emotional when I watch the show,” she answered.

“Can I use your phone to call a hospital?” I asked her.

“Dan said no phones.”

I knew she’d have one on her. The only question was, how to get it from her? I approached and she had enough instincts to sense what I wanted.

“I can watch Jesus later,” she said. “I think we’ll call it a day, sugar.” She stood up. I grabbed her, lunging for her bag. She karate-chopped me in the shoulder, forcing me to stumble back. “Don’t touch me!” she warned. “I’ve been trained to deal with assholes like you!”

“I just need a doctor.”

“That’s not my problem,” she said, then rushed out the door.

I felt stupid and craven. She was most certainly going to report this to Dan. For now, the best I could do was rest. I sat down in the armed chair and dozed off.

III.

Dan didn’t mention Heidi. He brought me my first cricket to test. The cricket was in a glass cage with a removable top. The interface was a small square chip I placed on my right temple. It translated my thoughts into electrical impulses the cricket could understand and gave feedback of his own senses into my brain. Dan fired the chip gun with its needle point near what little brain the cricket had. I always gave them nicknames and this one I called Crick for lack of imagination. In my first plunge (interlink was the official word), I had a hard time remembering how to move his six legs and felt gross being inside the body of a cricket. The world seemed alien through his eyes and I could barely make sense of my surroundings. I had to vomit, and brain fatigue hit within two minutes. I jumped out, ran to the toilet, and barfed.

Dan laughed.

“How long’s it been?”

“Almost a decade,” I answered, having forgotten how much mental discipline it required.

“Your first fight is tonight.”

“What? I’m not ready.”

“Then get ready.”

Crickets had to spend their lives finding a home to attract a mate. Once their territory was claimed, they sang every minute using their wings. I wondered what it would be like if people to had to sing for their lives. Just as each human had a unique voice, so did the crickets. Some had talent, others didn’t. It was like one of those reality shows. Only, your survival and the next generation depended on it. The worst part was they only had a short time to fulfill their genetic destiny and the females were really picky.

Would a female cricket who wanted a male with the best house and voice be considered superficial? I felt Linda deserved better than what we had, living in cheap rental units, moving with every lease expiration as the property agencies jacked up rates 25 %. I couldn’t afford the new prices and constantly worried about being laid off from SolTech. I had quit Larry’s movies after marriage because the hours had been so rigorous and I wanted to spend more time with Linda. But going back to SolTech didn’t help things as the hours were equally long. Maybe cricket songs were lamentations, working all day and night for what? An impossible cycle that, depending on the species, could end up with their being devoured like cannibalized katydids. Was it better to be a dragonfly? Live underwater as a nymph for almost three years to emerge, undergo metamorphosis, and fly for a few weeks before dying. At least they could fly.