Heading for the town homepage, Rouge City, USA
!!Tonight!!
The 20th Annual Rouge City Danse Macabre
Costume parade, 17.30 down Main Boulevarde
Dancing on Main Plaza, 18.30 to 5.30, October 31st
Be there or be scared!
* * * * * *
Op-ed section, Rouge City Broadsheet
Jack the Ripper 2159
Cecie Martin, guest columnist
I have a shirt that reads, I Survived the Rouge City Chainsaw
Massacree. This
isnt just a cheesy souvenir I keep as a closet tourist of Sin City, USA. I
really survived it, along
with a friend of mine. Some of you may remember the
incident: four years ago, about this time of year, a religious fanatic
who
belonged to a lunatic fringe Bible cult went on a Mechacidal rampage in the
streets of the city, armed with a
chainsaw, mowing down dozens of lover Mechas,
injuring several people and delivering eventually fatal wounds to one man.
The recent spate of Mecha killings has begun to feel like
a slow replay of that
incident. Or is this some high-tech version of the most famous, and still
unsolved, serial killings
of all time, the infamous Jack the Ripper slayings?
Both cases have more similarities than differences:
the victims are members of
the oldest profession, they were all stabbed and brutally torn open with parts
of their
bodies removed and taken, presumably by the killer. Many theories still
float about as to the identity of the killers
in both cases. Too much time has
probably passed to solve the 19th century case, but this case is continuing to
unfold
even as you read this. Who has chosen to repeat history using the 23rd
centurys answer to Victorian Englands scapegoats?
Who is killing these Mechas?
A disgruntled customer? An angered spouse? A rigorist member of the anti-vice
league?
I dont judge the person who is doing this: they might be insane and
unaware of what they are doing. I pass no judgment
on the victims, either; they
know nothing better than what they have been programmed to do. For whatever less
than
innocent uses people make of these beings, some are nevertheless capable of
innocent comradeship. Dont let anyone say
that these killings are Gods way of
ridding the world of a moral pest; someone may have been saying the same thing
about
the victims of Jack the Ripper.
But why hate Mechas? Whoever you are, wherever you are,
I ask you to please stop
these pointless acts of violence. If you are acting in retribution, remember
that retribution
belongs only to whatever Higher Power you acknowledge. Your
actions against your titanium and silicon brethren will profit
you nothing.
Justice will have its due, but please turn yourself over to the proper
authorities before you slay an
Orga by mistake and thus bring a worse term of
prosecution on your head. Is all this violence worth a death sentence?
* * * * *
At 15.30, Cecie went down to the
Lower Deck with her costume neatly folded in
her new satchel. She checked her email and uploaded a few files at Chatters,
but
she didnt stick around for long.
She logged out and headed straight for the Langiers, watching
the shadows
between the pilings. No sign of Vincenzi and his cronies; so maybe they had
worked out their plans for
nipping over to Camden for some handouts. Shed been
across the Delaware during the height of trick or treating and shed
seen the
kinds of things people gave out. Candy was passé these days: most folks gave out
packets of dried fruit or
sugar-free gum or bags of mini rice cakes. And
toothbrushes: a couple years back, in a town called Haddonfield shed seen
one
kid dressed like a pirate rummaging in his treat bag, fishing out toothbrushes
and dropping them down a storm
drain.
Bernie opened the door when she knocked. Have you had supper?
Phila called
from the kitchen as the two girls went in.
No, not yet, and I didnt have much for lunch, Cecie said.
Oh, trying to get that proper goth pallor? Frank teased.
Maybe, Cecie said with a mysterious little smile.
A moment later, the doorbell rang.
Trick or treaters already, and it isnt even Halloween night?
Frank asked.
Nah, we dont do trick or treating here, Kip said, working
at the eye of a
jack o lantern with a kitchen knife. Not many kids in this city, and the few
there are go over to
Camden or down to Philadelphia.
Good idea, the kids would get stuff in their sacks to rival
the razor blades
and rat poison that supposedly turned up in someones Halloween candy, Frank
said.
Yet another urban legend that gets slanted at us, Cecie
groaned, going for the
door.
She opened it to find a treat on the step, Joe leaning
with one hand against the
doorpost.
Hey, Joe, whaddya knowwhat brings you here? she asked,
stepping aside to let
him in.
I saw you come this way, and since my perambulations with
Julien at my heels
led me hither, I came by to see if by chance you still had need of an escort to
the Danse Macabre?
Or, he added, his voice growing colder by several degrees,
have you chosen
another to do the honors?
No, I havent. she took his hands in both of hers. Come
on in.
Hey there, Joe, great costume! Frank cried. Yah look
like a 1930s Hollywood
gigolo.
Joe took this jibe with a bantering smile. "You know I
always dress thusly."
Its like when I was in high school. The only day I was
dressed right was
Halloween, Cecie said. One year when I went through a haunted house, and as I
was standing in line
to go in, this guy behind me asks if I worked there. I had to
disappoint him that I didnt.
I could see that happening, Kip said.
The only safe time of year to be a goth, Frank added.
Its so nice to be a goth at Halloween,
You just blend
right into every spooky scene, Cecie sang, grinning.
Joe watched Kip at work putting the finishing touches on
the jack o lantern.
What, may I be so bold as to ask, is the purpose of hollowing out this
vegetable and
cutting a mask face into the side?
The simple explanation is to scare away the evil spirits
and to light the good
spirits on their journey toward their eternal rest, Cecie said.
But it can serve just as well as a spooky decoration, Kip
said. Speaking of
evil spirits, any more news on the Mecha murders?
Nothing yet, Frank said, stretching his back. I hope we
have a reprieve for a
while or that Burnstead catches the sick son of a gun. These late nights are
killing me, but
Hals thriving on em.
I imagine, Cecie said.
I suppose theres no way of peeking into the future to see
whats coming,
except for peeking into a crystal ball or something, Kip said. And thats
risky to say the least.
Ive got a little Gypsy in me from waaaaayy back, Cecie
said. I dont have a
whole lot in psychic ability, but Ive seen a few things coming a mile off.
Against Peters better
wishes, I learned a couple tricks of divination, though I
only use them for a laugh or to plot a story.
What do you mean? Frank asked.
I really shouldnt fool much with this, since it is a superstition
to say the
least, Cecie said. But I learned how to tell fortunes from a deck of playing
cards.
If thats so, Kip set aside his almost finished jack o lantern
and took a
deck of playing cards out of the dresser. He handed it to Cecie. Lets see how
you do.
If Phila heard us, Cecie demurred.
Oh, Phila can hang by her thumbs, Frank grumbled.
Joe, sitting beside her on the couch, leaned in closer
to Cecie. Show us what
lies in the shadows, he said, in a voice just above a whisper.
Cecie took the pack from Kip, took out the cards and shuffled
them. She cut the
deck, then shuffled one half.
Since Frank egged me on, hes the first to get disappointed,
she said.
The top card was the Queen of Hearts. Theres a woman you
love, she said.
Oh, Ive got her, Frank grinned.
The next cards were the five and eight of diamonds. Youll
have growing success
at your work.
Maybe theyll keep you at the Broadsheet, Kip suggested.
Next came the King of Spades. But theres trouble aheada
man will bring you
suffering. The ace of spades. It gets worse, theres a death in the future.
Maybe this wasnt a good idea, Kip said.
Aw, its just craziness, Frank said.
She reshuffled the whole deck. And since Joe devastated
my resolve, hes next.
She cut the deck and took the left half. First card was
the King of Hearts.
That goes without saying, Joe said, with a graceful
shrug.
The King of diamonds, then the Queen of spades. Someone
is making a deal, and
its not a very beneficial one, either. Joes face became puzzled, but he
shrugged this off.
The Queen of Hearts. Theres a woman who loves you.
There are so very many.
The King of spades. Theres trouble coming through a man,
bad trouble.
The jack of hearts. Theres something about a young man,
or a boy.
The ace of hearts. Youll discover real love.
The ace of spades. She passed that one over, hopefully
before Joe saw it. The
queen of diamonds and the ten of clubs. But a woman with money will step in and
change your
luck.
Bernie came in at that moment. Whats going on in here?
she asked.
Madame Zecie was reading the future as it appears in the
cards, Frank
insinuated.
Well, someone isnt going to get their supper if they dont
cut it out, Bernie
said.
We were joking around; its like when I used to read the
horoscope for a laugh.
Remember the goofy stuff Id come up with? You will meet your true love in
front of a Louis
XIV mirror, Cecie said in an airy voice.
Mine were always something stupid like, You will meet your
future spouse in a
grove of jasmine and jojoba bushes, Frank added.
Did you? Cecie asked impishly.
No, we met near his grandfathers rhubarb patch, Bernie
said.
Phila and Bernie had made chicken soup and biscuits, not
heavy, but satisfying.
Afterward, the Langiers got ready in their room, and the Sweitzes in theirs,
what had been
Irenes room, while Cecie got ready in the washroom, Joe waiting
for her outside the closed door.
I really wanted us to get decked out as a biker dude and
his chick, Kip said,
coming out. But Phila wouldnt hear of it. Instead, he was wearing a metal
colander on his head
with some coat hanger wire sticking out of it like
antennas. A silver-painted cardboard box covered with knobs and dials
encased
his torso; under that he wore a gray shirt and gray pants tucked into huge, ugly
gray boots.
Phila came out dressed as an angel in a long white gown
with a silver tinsel
halo and wings made of glittery white gauze stretched over wire.
You dont exactly match, Cecie said. What are you supposed
to be, Kip, an air
compressor?
Youre close: Im supposed to be a 1950s robot, Kip said.
Joe looked Kip up and down, walking around him. His lips
gathered in a smugly
amused smirk. Putting his head on one side and looking at Kip from under lowered
lids, he said,
You are a robot? You look more like a metal box than anything
else. You certainly look nothing like me.
Cecie couldnt resist chuckling, which got Joe laughing
as well.
Well, the 1950s couldnt get the cars of the future right,
let alone the robots
of the future, Kip shrugged.
At this point, Bernie came out wearing a violet flapper
dress under a very fake
looking raccoon coat, with a cloche hat on her head. Frank followed her out clad
in his trench
coat over a rumpled gray suit typical of the 1930s, a brown fedora
on his head with a paper press pass stuck in the band,
a pad of paper and a
pencil sticking out of his breast pocket.
Now what are you? Cecie asked.
Im the Heroic Reporter, you know, like the stock character
from the 1930s
movies, Frank said.
Kinda like going as yourself, only different, Cecie noted.
I suggested it: he couldnt come up with a thing, but then
I found this outfit
in a costume shop, so we decided to go as a couple, Bernie said.
Weve even got the 1930s gigolo to add to the landscape,
Frank said. He looked
at Cecie. My goodness, what are you? Morgana le Fay?
Cecie, couldnt you find some other costume? Phila said.
Oh, I found a LOT of other costumes, but they all left
me cold one way or
another, Cecie said.
But its so thin, youll freeze, Phila argued.
Ive got one of those thermal shirts on, you know the ones
they came out with
that they based on the same technology that went into the heating system in
Mecha dermis, Cecie
said. I wore it under my jersey on the way down and I
barely needed my trench coat.
Joe knelt deeply before her. Cast your spell over any man,
but save your most
powerful magic for me. I am already bewitched by the haunting beauty of your
form. But why hide
your face behind a mask? Is it so horrifying that its sight
would turn men to stone, or is its beauty so blinding it would
drive all men
mad?
Rise, young wight who is neither of flesh nor blood nor
bone, or perchance I
may turn you into a man of flesh and blood, Cecie said, lifting Joe to his
feet.
* * * * * *
The parade had just started to
line up as the six of them reached Main Plaza.
Kip walked along stiff-legged, his boots clanking realistically; Joe held
his
head a little higher and added an extra swing to his gait. They got into line,
but the swirling crowd separated
Cecie and Joe from the Langiers and the
Sweitzes.
And the ignorant call my species buckets of bolts by way
of a pejorative,
Joe snipped.
Dont let that get to your processors, Joe, Cecie said,
nudging him.
The crowd swirled about them: witches and wizards, ghosts
and ghouls, skeletons
and devils of both sexes, milkmaids and farmboys, Robin Hoods and Maid Marians;
Cinderellas
and other fairy tale princesses swept by on the arms of their
handsome princes, though she spotted one guy with the mask
of a boar, possibly
meant to be Beauty and the Beast.
Cecie spotted one couple possibly meant to be Adam and
Eve sporting little more
than some fake greenery and carrying apples, and a few others even less savory.
She caught
herself glancing away into doorways, half hoping to spot Julien.
Music from ancient horror movies played over loudspeakers,
flooding the streets
with eerie melodies and vibrations. Searchlights played on the night sky. Weird
purple and white
holographs flitted overhead, bats and ghosts and ghouls.
But the revelers were not the only ones on the streets. At every
corner there
seemed to be a security guard waiting. Cecie spotted a few men in the uniforms
of the Philadelphia and
the Camden police. She spotted Burnstead walking the
street inconspicuously, as if he were any other sightseer come to
see the
countrys wildest costume party.
Much of the neon lighting had been dimmed for the evening,
ideal for the ghouls
to hide in the shadows to lunge out and startle the unsuspecting, Cecie
thoughtOr for discreet
encountersor for the nemesis to lurk, watching for
another hapless victim.
She hadnt seen Hal yet this evening, to her relief. She
smiled to herself: Hal
looked so bad, someone who didnt know better was likely to say something like
Wow, great mask!
Whered yah get it?
A short guy in a ghoul mask and precious little else except
some strategically
placed duck tape lunged out at Cecie with a roar. She shrank against Joe as if
for protection.
Joe shook one fist at the ghoul.
Be gone with you! he cried. The ghoul snarled at them and
slunk away.
You were not truly frightened, Joe noted.
I just wanted to give you a chance to play the noble cavalier,
Cecie said,
twining her arm through his, stroking the smooth satin of his sleeve. Even
through his clothes, she could
feel his body responding, warming to hers.
The parade wound slowly toward West Square, toward the
landside of town. The
crowd wheeled slowly around the fountain there, heading back toward Main Plaza.
Cecie kept one
eye on the shadows beyond the gothic candelabras that lined the
route.
The path led them back to Main Plaza, where already, a
dance band had set up,
playing a revised version of the famous piece Danse Macabre.
Joe swung Cecie around in a twirl. She smiled into his
eyes as they flashed past
and she caught his other hand in hers.
He drew her to him, into the depths of the crowd, and lead
her through the steps
of a quick waltz.
* * * * *
A murder in a crowded public place
in the middle of a celebration: yes, that
would keep the case hopping. And let Burnstead, that gumshoe, pick out the
killer
in a throng of masked and costumed revelers
* * * * *
The streets lay strangely silent that night. Orange and
purple lights glowed in
windows he passed, the colors of a celebration of terror known as Halloween.
The boss could
not have chosen a better time of year in which to plan these
killings
* * * * *
Cecie leaned her head against Joes neck as they slow-danced
to an old chestnut
called Witchcraft till she realized Joe was actually leaning his head against
her neck as she nestled
in close.
You are an enchantress, he declared, his lips close to
her neck. He caressed
the side of her throat. She parted her lips in a gentle sigh, which ended as a
gasp.
He nipped her neck ever so gently, with a hint that he
could bite harder if she
so desired.
You think youre a vampire, eh? she said, but something
was missing from her
usual bantering tone.
Rather, I am a vampire in reverse. Rather than drain the
life from you, he
replied, I serve to make you feel more alive than ever before. He released her
with one hand and
let her loose form him in a slow twirl. She reached out for
him with her free hand; he took it and drew her back, leaning
over her in a low
dip. She nearly fell over backwards from the wash of pheromones flooding her
nostrils.
Everything went dark. The music stopped. Low cries of query
and consternation
rose around her. If she hadnt heard these, she would have thought shed fainted
in Joes arms.
He drew her upright and led her through the crowd, away
from the plaza, down a
side street, to a doorway.
You still desire me though your tongue protests otherwise,
he said, holding
her hands.
How do you know? How can you tell? she asked.
I read the item of yours in this mornings Broadsheet: only
a lover of Mechas
could have written such passionate words.
I did what I could; I was just hoping to stem the tide
of death. I hope I
appealed to whatever sense of human dignity the killer may have.
If it is Jay, he has little left: he has been degraded
far worse than I ever
have. And if it is Halloran McGeever, he has no notion of dignity: it has been
stripped from
him as it has been stripped from my species.
You almost make me feel sorry for Hal, if he is the killer.
Rather, you should feel sorry for your own soul as well.
You have endured a
great deal of pressure from within and without these past few days. He caressed
her neckline, touching
the topmost layer of her skin as lightly as a feather, as
if a ghost of a caress brushed her skin. She trembled under
his touch. Let me
relieve your soul of its exhaustion. Drink deeply of me, but only if you so
desire.
He reached out and tilted her face toward his neck, bringing
her lips into
contact with his synthetic flesh, but not quite touching it. She had the power
to choose.
She hesitated. She wanted to oblige him, and accept his
offer, so innocently
rendered, but she didnt want to waffle on her principles either.
Or, she could pay him back for being such a pest these
two weeks.
She was just reaching out, closing the gap between them,
her lips curled back
from her teeth to nip him, when she heard odd music over the music from the
plaza. She looked
over his shoulder to the street.
A tall lean figure danced by itself in the dark. Weird
carnival music played
from somewhere nearby, awkward and whooshing, the notes eerily all wrong, the
tempo hitting
strange offbeats. Even his dance was graceless, a parody of Joes
elegant glide. She realized the music came from within
the stranger's body.
Cecie pulled Joe deeper into the shadows of the doorway.
What is it, Cecie? he asked. Has a rival come to spirit
me away?
No, dont look: I think its Jay.
A small figure she guessed was Juliens skittered from the
thick of the crowd on
the plaza. He paused, watching the dancer and tried to match steps with him.
Hey, Joe, what do you knowI have never seen you dance so
ill, Julien teased.
What you dont know is that Im not Joe, the other replied.
The scant light
flashed on something metal the stranger drew from an inner pocket. Before Julien
could dart away,
the strangers free hand leapt out, snatching the front of his
shirt.
Cecies cry choked in her throat. She heard dermis tearing
with a noisy
surrussuss. Julien screamed, writhing as the blade tore into his chest so hard
the point came out between
his shoulder blades.
Juliens fists flew out; he hit the stranger in the eye,
kicked him in the
belly. The other let go of him so suddenly Julien fell from his grasp. The small
Mecha hit the pavement
feet first and tried to run.
The knife plunged again, slashing across the back of Juliens
neck.
The lights came up. Julien lay sprawled on the pavement,
alone. Cecie ran up to
him.
Julien! she cried, kneeling. He pulled himself into her
lap and lay still, his
head against her breast. She held him, ignoring the hydraulic and lubricant
fluids draining
from his body.
He had been torn horribly, a Y shaped gash down his torso.
Through the gash
she could see that some of his ribs had separated from the metal breastbone,
uncovering the metallic
viscerae underneath: memory chips, power supply, his
heartbeat simulator, the little valve in his chest still worked,
the mechanism
fluttering wildly.
Mamzelle Martin, he said, his voice synthesizer already
fuzzed with static.
Take shelter in Joes arms.
Joe knelt beside them both, his hand on Cecies shoulder.
Julien, Im sorry, she said. A tear fell from her eye to
Juliens synthetic
flesh, cutting the slick of lubricants. The Mechas lips moved, but his voice
box had shorted out.
She lip-read the words shadowsneondeathlove.
Joe laid a finger on Juliens lips. The little Mecha seemed
to take the hint.
Cecie put Joes hand aside and leaned down to kiss Juliens mouth. The lips
yielded to her touch.
Then she felt them grow cold. The oily taste of lubricant
tainted them. She withdrew, trying not to tremble.
A crowd had begun to gather around them. Cecie heard voices:
Whos down, an
Orga?No, its a Mecha.What sort?Oh, its one of them, its just a
gigolo.
Juliens head didnt move, but his body had grown cold. His
face froze into a
mask, his lower jaw sagged in what looked like a silent cry. His waxy features
made her think of
an antique doll: she swore if she tipped his head back his
eyes would roll shut.
She reached down and touched his eyelids. The silicon skin
felt rubbery, like a
ghoulish Halloween mask; she pulled down his eyelids as far as they would go,
trying to close
them.
She wanted to make some noble speech to Joe about how she
wouldnt let Juliens
death go unavenged, how they, she and he together, would stand up to the killer
on Juliens behalf.
But her writers knack failed her; she looked up at Joe,
choking on a lump of mucus in her throat.
Joe put his arm about her shoulders, angling her head against
his chest; with
his other hand, he touched the top of Juliens head. Cecies shoulders trembled
and she burrowed her
face into his shoulder. A tear rolled down her cheek, onto
the slick satin of Joes lapel, and rolled down it to fall,
like a drop of rain,
onto Juliens hair.
Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord! she prayed. May he
rest in peace there had
to be an Elysium for these creatures, these wronged creations. Something like
Julien, so full
of pluck and nerves, or like Joe, so charming and so strangely
innocent, had to survive; they couldnt just die and be
forgotten by the One Who
made the ones who made them.
Cecie, we lost you in the crowd; I hope you werent coupling
with that Mecha,
Phila said, trying to push through the crowd. A small, dark Mecha in a flimsy
gypsy costume stepped
aside for her.
Cecie! Whats all over your dress? Phila stared down at
her dress, then at
Juliens still form. What happened?
He died in my arms, Cecie said, simply, despite the tears
choking her.
Bernie stepped through in Philas footsteps. She jumped
back when she saw
Juliens torn body.
Oh no! she cried and darted back into the thick of the
crowd.
Hal approached next, armed with his camera, flicking his
media pass before the
eyes of the security guards that had pushed back the bystanders. Frank was at
his heels, taking
his pocket scriber and his own media pass from inside his
costume.
Cecie eyed Hal, trying not to wrinkle her nostrils or glare
at him.
What have you got to stare at? Y know I look like this
all the time, Hal
grinned at her. He snapped a picture of the body, but Cecie noticed something
lacksidasical about
the angle at which he held the camera.
Come away from all this, Cecie, Joe said, tugging her arm
slightly.
Other people pulled at her arms. She looked up
Burnstead, several guards and a couple techs surrounded
her.
Miss Martin, did you see anything? Burnstead asked her.
She nodded, too choked to voice her reply. Joe helped her
up and supported her,
or else she would have slid to the ground.
We both saw who killed Julien: it was a Mecha who looks
like me, Joe said,
speaking for her.
Did he have a badly sealed gash across his left cheek?
Burnstead asked.
Cecie nodded, yes. He had this very mark, Joe confirmed.
Take her home, Joe, take care of her, Burnstead said.
Cecie limply let Joe take her by the arm and lead her along
the crowded street,
one arm around her back, his hand under her arm. The throng parted before them
as they moved along.
She clung to him with both hands. Her tears started to fall
then, flowing from both corners of her eyes, streaming from
her nose, the way
they had almost ten years before when the Amherst police had come to the door of
her familys house.
Mrs. Martin, were very sorry to tell you this, but your
husband Declan
The way they had fallen when the hospice nurse had to peel
her from her mothers
bedside
A third death that wasnt really a death at all. But perhaps
it wouldnt be that
way. Perhaps Natterson could patch up Julien. But no, the damage was probably
too extensive.
Shed seen his heartbeat simulator working valiantly, struggling,
failing. She
staggered, her mouth souring with bile. Joe righted her; she would not be sick,
she insisted with herself.
She let him lead her into the Graceley, up the stairs
to her room.
She dropped her smart key trying to unlock the door; Joe
picked it up and
unlocked the door, opening it and guiding her into the room.
Joe closed the door behind
them. He started to lead her to the sofa, but she
shrugged his hand from her arm.
She went into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.
She took off her gown
and tossed it into the bathtub, then she shucked her shirt underneath and took
down her bathrobe,
hanging on the back of the door.
As she pulled it on and tied the sash at her waist, her
stomach lurched inside
her. She ran to the toilet and knelt, retching until her mouth went sour and
sore.
She hadnt closed the door all the way. It opened softly.
Joe entered and knelt beside her. He closed the lid of
the toilet and sat her
down on it. With one hand he pressed the flush switch, with the other he reached
for a towel
hanging on a bar in the wall. He offered it to her and helped her
wash her face.
He filled the molded plastic tumbler on the sink from the
faucet, and knelt to
offer it to her. She took the cup from him, rinsed out her mouth, then drank the
rest and set
the cup on the sink as she stood up.
How often have you had to help a nauseous woman? she asked.
On an average two times per week.
Thats a lot.
It is not so much, given the volume of customers I have.
He led her to the front room. She let him lead her to the
couch and help her to
lie down, on her side.
Before she could object, he lay down beside her, facing
her, just inches away,
his eyes looking into hers, calm, untroubled, and yet concerned.
She smiled faintly, yet the smile trembled. She squeezed
her eyes shut, trying
to force back the tears, yet they streamed out of their own accord.
He drew himself closer to her, guiding her head to his
chest, his elbow under
her head to support it, her brow close to his heartbeat (she trembled at the
memory of Juliens
split chest).
Joe ran a practiced but tender hand over her hair. Yes,
weep for Julien; few
shall weep for him save his customers, in secret, he whispered close to her
ear, her head under
his. Did you learn to like him? Does that explain you
coldness toward me? Had you begun to prefer his company to mine?
No, I didnt prefer him over you. He was less to me than
you are: he wasnt
even a friend yet, though he made me laugh a little.
Only a little?
Not like you. Youre my only beloved one.
She let her tears loose even more torrentially after that
admission, till her
tears soaked the lapel of his jacket. He took no notice of the dampness: hed
probably had dozens
of women weep in his arms before. He didnt shush her or try
to get her to pull herself together. He stroked her hair gently,
letting her
grieve. She found herself wondering if Joe had the capacity to genuinely care
for another, would he grieve
if they were parted? What had Juliens death done
to him, if anything? Perhaps, unbeknown to them both, changes were starting
in
him, deep inside him, in places his awareness could not access. He had it in him
to care for another, she knew
he did, even if he didnt know or couldnt
articulate it. When he could show it remained to be seen.
A simulation was better than nothing: Hals coldly smug
indifference, Bernies
hysterics, Philas reproachesonly Burnstead and Joe had really showed her much
concern.
She sensed a low murmur deep within Joes chest, above the
soundless hum of his
components, a melody slow and sustained, sweetly melancholy, which she
recognized as the Humming
Chorus from Madame Butterfly. She nestled against
him, closing her eyes. Her chest jerked once in a while, but that soon
ceased,
soothed by the humming in her ear and Joes heartbeat against her shoulder.
* * * * * * *
She didnt remember dozing off, but she awoke deep in
the night to find she lay
in her bed, the sheets and covers tucked up to her chin, her robe untouched.
The smart lamp on the night table beside the bed glowed
on its lowest setting.
Beside it lay a single folded piece of paper. She sat up, picked it up, unfolded
it and read
it.
Even on this night of tragedy, a customer has called for
me by name and so I
must leave your side. Would that I could linger with you to comfort your soul!
From ghouls and ghosts and long-legged beasts
And things
that go bump! in the night
May your God protect you.
Your only beloved one,
Joe
She held the note a long time, then slipped it under her
pillow. A love note
from Joe
* * * * * *
One more out of the way. Hed have
a ready supply now, perhaps even a new
housing untainted by damaged circuitry
To be continued
Literary Easter Eggs:
ToothbrushesIve
heard about people giving these out, especially at these large
Safe Trick or Treating parties in large cities; I imagine
some people in some
areas have latched onto the idea, but there is a logical outcome to this (and
yes, the kid in
the pirate costume jettisoning the extra toothbrushes is Martin
in a brief cameo)
Great costume!This was inspired by a Halloween card I gave
someone a few
years ago, with two penguins on the front, one saying to the other, What do you
mean Great costume!?
Were penguins, you dork! Also, art imitated life: the
story Cecie tells about being mistaken for a haunted house volunteer
actually
happened to me at the Livingston Street Terror, when I showed up dressed
entirely in black with a black scarf
around my head
Kips costumeI was going to dress like this for this Halloween,
but I figured
Joe wouldnt speak to me for a month afterward. Maybe next year.
