Safety Maid by William Wire

Author:William Wire
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: girl, america, agent, city, dystopian, mystery suspense, parrallel universe, female action hero, dsytopian
Publisher: William Wire

There’s a rose in my garden on Tuesday, on Thursday I’ll have two, but by the end, of the week my friend, I’ll have no roses for you.

Talky’s girls played that old country song to let Talky know that Nancy was here. It also acted as a warning to all the girls that Nancy the safety maid was around.

The one-eyed girl flopped a card down. “Ok safety maid where’s your dollar? Let’s go.”

Nancy peeked at her card and saw an ace of diamonds. The girl spoke again, “Why not bet? Go ahead if you want to.”

“Social agents don’t gamble.” She took up the card and gave its back a lick, and then stuck the card on the girl’s forehead.

“Oh, you want to play Indian Poker? Sure, we can do that,” said the girl, raising her voice, as Nancy moved past her. The social agent ignored all the one-eyed girl’s pleas to keep playing, and kept walking.

Under hanging tents, in the alleyway behind Julip, assorted merchandise was stacked up on top of other merchandise. Almost all of it, Nancy knew, was illegal in some way. She rarely pushed Talky’s girls hard about that, unless she needed to. Besides today there was no time to bother with it. She had other work to do. As Nancy went past the burly girl, who had a lit cigarette hanging from her lips, she snagged it and slung it down to the cement, and crushed it under her heel. The girl whimpered, “Sorry, safety maid.”

Turning the corner in an alleyway, little girls of different ages were scrambling with crates and cardboard boxes, all running away from Nancy. The most scandalous items of their contraband were being tucked away out of her sight as fast as they could do it. One girl, no older than eight years old, shouted with her hands up, on spotting the social agent. “Wait. You’re supposed to wait.”

“I can’t honey, not today.”

“Talky will be very mad.”

With a pat on the girl’s head, Nancy told the worried girl, “Don’t worry about that. This is an emergency.” She walked past the little girl down to the alley’s end, where a brick stairwell led upward. Pulling up her dress a little higher, so her trim avoided the grime, she took the cement stairs. No girl ever cleaned the stairs, and that was on purpose, to make it look abandoned and unused. The stairs went about half a story high before they took a hard right into a shallow alleyway.

Twenty yards down, Nancy stopped at an old moldy wooden door. A girl’s voice from above called down, “This is a dead-end lady. Are you lost?” Nancy looked up.

A little girl, known as Tila, ten years old if Nancy remembered right, glared down from a balcony. A scar crossed her left cheek, almost into an eye. The girl had tried to cover it up with makeup, but it was still noticeable, unfortunately. A black baseball cap covered her head. In her lap, she held a smoky-black cat, which she stroked on gently.

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