Wrote this while playing texas hold 'em on Facebook and being spectacularily bored. Second episode will come soon.
I'd say it's 50-100 years in the future, give or take. I don't often work in first person, but it's an interesting excercise. Apologize the inconsitencies in tense, I haven't gone through and picked out the bugs yet.
Enjoy, let me know what you think, vomit profusely etc.
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Dark. I love dark. Makes everything seem like a bad, cliché movie. The whole damn bar was dark. Like they’d never heard of a light switch, let alone a light drone. Light drones can be annoying buggers, but it’s better than fumbling around for your damn drink. Absolutely ridiculous.
Can’t say I disliked the place, though. Had a nice quality to it. Only about a stabbing a week, so that’s not too bad. Kids stay away, so that’s always a plus. Pretty low tech, human bartender, no questions asked and no listening ears. Really, all in all, it’s my kind of place.
So, there I was, half blitzed on a mixture of pot, beer and heroin when One-eye comes rushin’ in. Now, when I say rushin’, we’re talking a slightly faster than normal waddle. Though I suppose that’s how he chose to disappear. Get fat and become one of the crowd. Not like me.
Anyways, he comes over t’ my table, where I always am, his face full of metal junk and drops a disposable data-spread in front of me. Makes me long for the days of pen and paper t’ tell you the truth. Technology is the blight. I give it a sideways glance and then give One-eye a sideways glance.
“Is there a reason you’re throwin’ your garbage at me now?” I asked him, or at least I think I asked him. Having a rational discussion on heroin is a bit of a trick.
“Read it, you drunk bastard,” he said as he slid into the seat next to me. I didn’t remember inviting him to, but hell, like that was goin’ t’ stop him. Truth be told, I didn’t actually mind One-eye that much. He’s smarter than most people give ‘im credit for, myself included. The whole ‘fat and looks like your Granddad really was a brilliant way to disappear, after everything went t’ Hell.
His words really spoke t’ me, and I decided t’ give a quick look over, y’know, so I could give him my expert opinion. I read the text, but it didn’t really register. I was in a good place, that glorious place between sober and blitzed out of your face, where everything really doesn’t matter t’ you anymore.
“I’ve read it,” I announced quickly, like I was somekind of critic, praising a piece of art and I mean actual art, not just digitalized composities of older pieces. Which, now that I think about it, actually still technically art. Huh. Never got that til right now. But I should really be focused here, “and I’ve decided that I shall pay it no heed.”
“You’re stoned,” snaps One-eye, as he snatches the pad from my hand. I looked at my hand in shock, suddenly wondering where the lovely device I had been reading had gone. One-eye was giving me a look that made me feel like I was shit. In retrospect, I was very happy I’d passed up on the mushrooms earlier that evening, “It’s a hit, for the four of us. But it’s what we looked like back before things…well…back before.” He was nervous about mentioning what drove us all apart. It’d take a strong person to be able to mention what had happened. Stronger than me, at least.
“…I’m going t’ need you t’ explain that all again, but slower,” I said, as my vision began t’ slow down. I think I may have been more blitzed that I had imagined. One-eye put his hand on his forehead and pulled it back slowly until the lines in his skin were gone. I was both mystified and amazed by the process, which made me miss One-eye’s obvious annoyance with my less-than sober state.
“You need to be sober, yesterday,” he sighs, as he steps away from the table for a moment and I’m left with my thoughts. That was a terrible idea. My mind raced as thing suddenly fell into place. Someone wanted t’ kill me. But someone who knew what drove me and the other three away. That’s not good. That’s really not good. I was shivering in a cold sweat when One-eye returned with a steaming mug and placed it in front of me, “Drink this.” It was an order, not a request. I carefully took the mug, as I gave One-eye a fearful glance. He wouldn’t kill me. I’ve known one-eye for the better part of twenty years. I drank the warm liquid, which tasted very good, and let it pour down my throat. Man, I was blitzed. By the put down the mug, however, everything was stable. I was horribly sober and I smacked my lips in annoyance.
“You could’ve told me you were going t’ feed me stabilizers,” I growled quickly, as I peered around, “Man, it’s really dark in here.” I scratched at my thick beard when my ears perked up and I heard the dull tones of a cliché country melody and I smirked t’ myself. A cliché had walked off the page and I was sitting in it. I was very happy t’ be alive at that moment, albeit terrifyingly sober.
“I need you coherent,” says One-eye, as he forces the text pad back at me. Being sober made me even less tolerant of technology, especially shoddy technology like this. Had t’ press my thumb against the scroll key so hard I thought I was goin’ t’ break the damn thing, “What are we going to do, man?” asks One-eye, as he glances over his shoulder, “I’m pretty damn content being alive.”
“Can’t say I’m ready t’ kick the bucket either,” I said, with a grimace. The hit info was lengthy. Lotsa information in there. But it seemed…old. Out of date. Weird. I put down the pad and slid it back over t’ One-eye as I put the face I thought I’d gotten rid of long ago on, “Let’s find the girls.” I dropped a few dollars on the table and stood up, my knees complaining as I did, but I did all the same. One-eye looked at me liked I’d just kicked dirt on Christ’s sandals and I looked back at him like an impatient parent.
“But…the girls?” asks One-eye, as he peers around, his red-cybernetic eye flashing around quickly, “We can’t…I mean…they…” I rolled my eyes as I looked away. We hadn’t spoken t’ the girls in years but we at least had t’ warn them. For old times sake.
“Stop your whinin’,” I said quickly, seeing the glistening eyes of the bartender watching me, not with any sort of emotion, just watching, “and let’s go. If we’re quick, we’ll catch the Transit at 10.” One-eye looked around for some invisible reprieve, sighed and got up, not without some difficulty. We stalked across the bar, well, I stalked. One-eye sort of waddled. It’d hard to look cool when you’re partner is the size of a goddamn bench.
We walked out into the streets and it was like daytime again. I looked up with a smile, oh how I loved Amsterdam. Even with the energy-conservation laws, and the night-time light output laws, the sheer volume of electronic signs and lamps and light drones made it seem like noon. One-eye hated it here, electromagnetic signals messed with his fake eye, but I loved it. Anyone over thrity walking the streets at this time of night was a dangerous customer, and anyone under thirty was blitzed out of their faces on who knows what, begging t’ be robbed.
I pushed through the throngs of people, desperately fightin’ the urge t’ do some good old fashioned muggin’, as we headed towards the public transit depot. As we passed passed through the crowd, my eyes caught sight of a young man, dirty soul patch on his chin, pointing me and One-eye out. I set my jaw and pressed forward. Guess I looked a little too much like my old pictures.
We made it onto the platform just in time t’ catch the transit and a quick glance behind me told me that the kid with the soul patch had too. Wonderful. I sat on a glossy cold seat and One-eye sat across from me, his face beat red and his mouth wide open t’ let in precious oxygen. I forget how fast I move sometimes. The train lurched and we were off, as I kept a careful eye on the back of the car, while the train sped forward.
The transit is about the only piece of technology I can accept as being useful, albeit very, very hesistantly. The idea was really stolen from the Japanese, but they all died when North Korea used the whole damn island as a biological bomb t’ take out half the American army, so who’s going t’ complain?
But anyways, the transit. Super speed trains that run on the hour loops. Free public transport, run on a combination of solar and hydro-electric power. Cheap, free and easily maintained. You get on, you get off. Almost every major city in the world has them. Best way t’ get around after oil became more valuable than the blood of Christ.
I rode quietly. One-eye seemed annoyed, but I ignored him. My eyes were on the back of the cab, where I couldn’t see. My mouth was dry, my knuckles aching and my leg clicking against the metal floor. I blinked and fell forward, as the bench I sat on vaporized and I rolled to see the kid with the soul patch and two ape like friends barreling down towards me, a flashy pistol in the kid’s hand. I smirked. Not enough muscle, not for me, at least.
I sprang forward with a leap and a laugh, as the kid blinked in terror and flashed his shiny weapon at me. I could feel the heat from the blast on my ear, but I ignored it, as my palm crushed his nose.
The first ape took a swipe, and drifted around it like a ghost. A swipe t’ the throat and he was on his knees, coughin’ up blood. Second ape was a bit smarter, wrapped him big monkey mitts around me and squeezed. This was definitely a problem, as I kicked and thrashed and I could hear his hoarse laughter coming from behind my head. I look over and blink and throw all my weight to one side, causing the big ape t’ loose balance, as a blast from the pistol cut into his back and he screeched and gurgled as I pried the mammoth arms off my chest and stood up. I turned to see the kid, holding what was left of his nose with one hand and holding the gun with the other. He looked what was left of his friend in horror, as I strolled towards him and casually snapped his wrist. He screamed and I pushed him t’ the floor. He bounced a little. It took all my willpower not t’ laugh when it happened. I took the gun and went back t’ my seat and sat down and look across the aisle at One-eye.
“Some help would be just great next time,” I grumbled and One-eye shrugged.
“You had things under control,” he said back with a bit of a fat man’s shrug and I couldn’t disagree. The ride went smoothly from there and we got off in the suburbs and disappeared into the crowds.
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