Hoshi and the Red City Circuit by Raymaker Dora M

Author:Raymaker, Dora M. [Raymaker, Dora M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Autonomous Press
Published: 2018-07-03T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

Softness.

Warmness.

The smell of garlic and onions sautéing, and the yeasty smell of baking bread.

“Hoshi, you hungry? When was the last time you ate?”

Kelvin’s voice. What—

Oh.

Right.

My head throbbed like a hangover and I checked time in a panic, calming only when I saw a mere five hours had passed since overloading. Everything hurt in the aftermath of unacceptable levels of stress on top of bruises aggravated by exertion.

“Hoshi, you hungry? When was the last time you ate?” Kelvin asked again.

“Un. Nuh. Known.” I answered, eyes closed. My voice came out in halting, grinding syllables.

What was known, by the feel of it against my body, was that I was lying on the old velveteen couch in Kel’s living room beneath that natty afghan of his. I mucked with my programming, hoping to make something more like communication happen.

“Night,” came out of me. Yeah. Not quite what I was after. I tried again, and got a longer string of words. “Night. Last. Ate. Bouillabaisse? Last night.” I paused, memories coming as slowly as everything else. “But. Plugged into berth. Last night, this morning. Maybe then. Nu-nu-nutrients. Maybe?”

A long-suffering sigh from Kelvin.

“Don’t. you. start,” I grumbled, but my heart wasn’t in it and my tone fell flat.

I struggled toward a sit, whimpered, and lay back down again.

Kel’s sounds entered the room and I cracked my eyes. Sensory was running again, and his homely pale face and washed-out straw-colored hair read more beautiful to me than an angel. He held a plate of scramble and toast in one hand and a bottle of Pain-Ez in the other. I couldn’t believe how badly I wanted that food now that I saw it.

Kelvin didn’t ask me what was going on. He didn’t remark on my condition or on the implications of finding me in a crumpled mess on his doorstep. He let me eat and recover and get the rest of my programming back online.

But the moment I dropped my fork on my empty plate, he exploded with, “Hoshi-Moshi! What is going on! You’re all over the feeds, and the story isn’t good.”

I wasn’t happy to hear that. But I wasn’t surprised.

Kelvin thumbed a button under the coffee table and the 3Vplate on its surface lit with more holicons than I could process without getting dizzy. He flicked his eyes over them quickly, fewer displaying each time, until he hit the one he wanted—a cartoony image of a spaceship in a circle—and expanded it with a blink. It wasn’t a city-wide main, but it was a respectable local from Landing District.

“It’s criminal how the feeds use you.” Kelvin’s voice held the quiet fierceness he reserved for someone he was about to punch in the mouth. “It’s like watching them pull apart Marly Jones during the Marsten debates all over again, and being able to do just as little about it.” His eyes hovered on the feed’s spaceship-in-circle sigil, and the holicon dissolved to copy.

“...ion Law took another turn for the worse today when news leaked of Hoshi Archer’s participation in gang-related crimes.

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