Descending Road - ON GRAND BEND STREET by Dana W. Paxson

ON GRAND BEND STREET

1560 4D

The big solid bluecop stuck a shock stick across my path. I backed off to keep the stick away from my breasts. He pulled it back, not like some of them, poke and smirk.

“You can’t go that way, jio,” he said. “Investigation in progress.” Flexarmor ribs showed through his dark-blue suit. Warm oily water leaked from the street ceiling down onto my shoulder.

“But I just came down,” I said. Maybe he’d bend and let me through. You don’t say ‘jio' to a girl on the street unless she’s your own kid. “I had to get my father’s meds. He’s got the mine heaves. We live up on Brownhollow Score. He might have another seizure while I’m out.” I looked too young, chewing my bit of cinnaroot. I wanted to spit it out.

“Doesn’t matter. You can’t go through. Take the Slope, but don’t slow down.” He turned and walked away along Barrow Arc. His heavy ballistic in its hanger whacked against his leg. The City slogo on his uniform flashed, DEPEND ON US. Sure.

I was zagged. It was past halflight in the stone-ceilinged City understreets, and Teshill Slope was the worst place for a girl alone. Even a street poet like me.

This was Grand Bend Street, and it curved, making its big circle around the center of the City. If it hadn’t been blocked off, I could have been at Brownhollow Score easily, up through the best stairs about ten minutes’ walk away. Not now.

Try a fade move, I thought, get past him. I knew the closets and the utility tunnels here. Back into this side street, try the narrow steel door, try the next one, yes. Inside and read the codes. Two shafts with rungs led upward, lit only by tiny optical fiber sparks every few feet. I took the left one, squeezing between layers of electrical and optical conduits.

The shafts were dirty, but they’d been my hiding place more than once. I reached up, and a weight hit me from above and knocked me to the stone floor. Pale skin: an andro woman, her breath chuffing.

She leaped over me, shoved open the closet door, and sprinted off down the street. I got up and peeked out, but a second weight slammed into me from behind, and an arm grabbed me.

I tried to turn, but he gripped so tight I couldn’t breathe. The arm holding me was white, its muscles deeply corded with effort. Another andro. Sweet acrid hot breath burned at me.

Andros couldn’t do this. They couldn’t touch humans without consent and encouragement. It was bred into them in the vats, where the big corps made them from human genes into supercreatures. But they were still slaves and servants, and sterile too. Or they were supposed to be.

Explosions from down the street, and a blaze from a beam gun flicked past us. I stamped blindly behind me, trying to hit a foot. Something crunched like breaking stone, and then we fell forward out of the closet. The arm around me relaxed as its owner landed on top of me, squashing the wind from my body.

I fought free, and scrambled away and up to my feet. The smell of shit and blood hit me, and I stared down at a dead man, a white andro, the back of his head beaten in, thick muscled arms gone soft. A tall, thin, broad-faced bluecop stood over him, panting, clutching a bangbilly with dark andro blood on its end. The bluecop who had stopped me earlier came up to us, dragging another andro body, the woman, by one leg of her coverall.

The tall one spoke, his voice ragged with exhaustion. “Sharr, is that the last of them?”

“Should be.” The other cop took a long uneven breath, and looked at me. He grinned, teeth flashing in a dark face. “You see, jio? Girls like you shouldn’t be here. You’re lucky you’re alive.”

“But andros aren’t supposed to be down here, they can’t…" I looked down at the bodies, lying side by side, the man’s blood pooling around their heads in a dark-red halo. The woman’s chest had a burned hole where the beam had gone in. Both had carried knives, and the woman had a sling for a ballistic gun. Their pale violet-pink skins turned paler as death spread through them.

“Why don’t you tell us what they can’t do?” the taller cop said to me, crowding closer. “Little bitch. What were you doing with them? Helping them? We’ll take you in and wring you out.”

“Rubid, no.” The cop who had stopped me came close and took the tall one’s arm. “She’s just a kid from Brownhollow, trying to get home.” He turned and started reciting details into his comm, calling for help.

The tall one wasn’t finished with me. He kicked the head of the male andro by way of emphasis. “This one cost me two partners, little monkey girl. That’s what andros can’t do. Three years down here in hell, and two to go, and you better not get in my way again. Look like a little andro yourself, with that hair. Get out of here.” He raised a hand to swat me like a beetle.

I backed away and ran, until I was out of sight on Grand Bend.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	ON GRAND BEND STREET 1560 4D The big solid bluecop stuck a shock stick across my path. I backed off to keep the stick away from my breasts. He pulled it back, not like some of them, poke and smirk. “You can’t go that way, jio,” he said. “Investigation in progress.” Flexarmor ribs showed through his dark-blue suit. Warm oily water leaked from the street ceiling down onto my shoulder. “But I just came down,” I said. Maybe he’d bend and let me through. You don’t say ‘jio' to a girl on the street unless she’s your own kid. “I had to get my father’s meds. He’s got the mine heaves. We live up on Brownhollow Score. He might have another seizure while I’m out.” I looked too young, chewing my bit of cinnaroot. I wanted to spit it out. “Doesn’t matter. You can’t go through. Take the Slope, but don’t slow down.” He turned and walked away along Barrow Arc. His heavy ballistic in its hanger whacked against his leg. The City slogo on his uniform flashed, DEPEND ON US. Sure. I was zagged. It was past halflight in the stone-ceilinged City understreets, and Teshill Slope was the worst place for a girl alone. Even a street poet like me. This was Grand Bend Street, and it curved, making its big circle around the center of the City. If it hadn’t been blocked off, I could have been at Brownhollow Score easily, up through the best stairs about ten minutes’ walk away. Not now. Try a fade move, I thought, get past him. I knew the closets and the utility tunnels here. Back into this side street, try the narrow steel door, try the next one, yes. Inside and read the codes. Two shafts with rungs led upward, lit only by tiny optical fiber sparks every few feet. I took the left one, squeezing between layers of electrical and optical conduits. The shafts were dirty, but they’d been my hiding place more than once. I reached up, and a weight hit me from above and knocked me to the stone floor. Pale skin: an andro woman, her breath chuffing. She leaped over me, shoved open the closet door, and sprinted off down the street. I got up and peeked out, but a second weight slammed into me from behind, and an arm grabbed me. I tried to turn, but he gripped so tight I couldn’t breathe. The arm holding me was white, its muscles deeply corded with effort. Another andro. Sweet acrid hot breath burned at me. Andros couldn’t do this. They couldn’t touch humans without consent and encouragement. It was bred into them in the vats, where the big corps made them from human genes into supercreatures. But they were still slaves and servants, and sterile too. Or they were supposed to be. Explosions from down the street, and a blaze from a beam gun flicked past us. I stamped blindly behind me, trying to hit a foot. Something crunched like breaking stone, and then we fell forward out of the closet. The arm around me relaxed as its owner landed on top of me, squashing the wind from my body. I fought free, and scrambled away and up to my feet. The smell of shit and blood hit me, and I stared down at a dead man, a white andro, the back of his head beaten in, thick muscled arms gone soft. A tall, thin, broad-faced bluecop stood over him, panting, clutching a bangbilly with dark andro blood on its end. The bluecop who had stopped me earlier came up to us, dragging another andro body, the woman, by one leg of her coverall. The tall one spoke, his voice ragged with exhaustion. “Sharr, is that the last of them?” “Should be.” The other cop took a long uneven breath, and looked at me. He grinned, teeth flashing in a dark face. “You see, jio? Girls like you shouldn’t be here. You’re lucky you’re alive.” “But andros aren’t supposed to be down here, they can’t…" I looked down at the bodies, lying side by side, the man’s blood pooling around their heads in a dark-red halo. The woman’s chest had a burned hole where the beam had gone in. Both had carried knives, and the woman had a sling for a ballistic gun. Their pale violet-pink skins turned paler as death spread through them. “Why don’t you tell us what they can’t do?” the taller cop said to me, crowding closer. “Little bitch. What were you doing with them? Helping them? We’ll take you in and wring you out.” “Rubid, no.” The cop who had stopped me came close and took the tall one’s arm. “She’s just a kid from Brownhollow, trying to get home.” He turned and started reciting details into his comm, calling for help. The tall one wasn’t finished with me. He kicked the head of the male andro by way of emphasis. “This one cost me two partners, little monkey girl. That’s what andros can’t do. Three years down here in hell, and two to go, and you better not get in my way again. Look like a little andro yourself, with that hair. Get out of here.” He raised a hand to swat me like a beetle. I backed away and ran, until I was out of sight on Grand Bend.