Skinner Luce by Patricia Ward

Author:Patricia Ward
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Talos
Published: 2015-12-07T16:00:00+00:00

SHE WALKS IN AN aimless daze, unable to conceive of going back to the apartment so early in the day, just sitting there for hours, doing nothing. She comes to a crosswalk, waits for the green signal. People shoulder past since there’s no traffic, and she joins them, skidding through the narrow, slushy passages formed in the heaped snow on either side of the street. She edges close to a wall, pauses over her phone to check if Nafikh are anywhere in the neighborhood. Her nose is running from the cold, and she sniffles, wiping the snot on her mitten. The first Tweets she reads provoke anxiety: there are two Nafikh heading east from Beacon. She turns in place, scanning the streets. No scoops yet, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t coming. Trying to make Park or Downtown Crossing at this point is a big risk, which means heading all the way back to the Aquarium stop.

For a moment, she stays put, huddled against the icy wind blasts. She could just give in, wait here till it happens. Scooped, carried along on the wave, mindless robot getting told what to do with no decisions to make. It would be so easy, too, to just trip at the right moment, bumble into one of Them. End it all.

She comes back to reality as she scans another feed, this one spitting out a new message every few seconds. There’s a first-timer in town, nicknamed Rambo because He looks like Stallone. First-timers rarely stay out long, but Serving Them is the worst, They can’t control Themselves for shit. Lucy’s only been on a few of those Services, and they were hell. This one’s already racked up three dead servs and scores others injured: any scoop would be sending her that way for sure, no chance of getting assigned to the more seasoned Nafikh having a stroll through town.

Lucy desperately casts about for a safe haven. No malls or department stores—the Nafikh love escalators. No small shops, either, nowhere to hide. No jumping on a bus, as They might want to go for a ride, and it would be just her luck.

There’s only one place to go, painful as it may be, and Lucy makes for it at a jog. It’s on a winding narrow side street paved with brick, of which there are so many downtown that she finds herself on the wrong one, has to stop to get her bearings. At last, she catches sight of the small bronze plaque nailed into the brick wall, the Nafikh symbols engraved above the house number, fanciful scrollwork to the unknowing observer.

She climbs the three stairs and rings the buzzer, staring boldly up at the camera bolted to the overhang. After a moment, the door clicks open, and she ducks inside, at once enveloped in the soft, acrid odor of Faithful incense. It’s dark and cold, the hallway narrow, more like a tunnel. Someone steps into the doorway at the end, his tall form outlined in the light beyond.

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