Descending Road - TO TOUCH MY BUDDY ESSA by Dana W. Paxson

TO TOUCH MY BUDDY ESSA

1560 4D

The smell of good roast bird, basted in wine, and the sound of paraviol sonatas wake me, and I’m stark naked and I’ve slept straight through the dark hours, belly down and belly empty. The bird’s a lot better meal than Zill‘s can serve, and I struggle up and go piss and come out to find the grill fan running and the bird on its platter and a note that says,

We went out. See you at midlight. A. & N.

Isn’t that sweet. I stuff most of the bird pieces in my mouth in rapid order and get my bodysuit on while I eat, juicy bird going in and nasty words coming out, and I burrow through Armana‘s utility space and find his big beamshooter and a feeder full of cartridges, and I’ll travel hot. Come midlight, Rask‘s cocks and gacks will unwind my guts and tie me in them. I’ve got five hours.

Armana talks his way around everybody. I had to like him, until I found out how much he could make me hate him. I’d ransack his place, but I owe Rask a lot more than I can find here. No. I want Armana to give me the number that will unlock what I owe Rask, plus costs.

I tuck the shooter into my inner thighliner, and it looks like I’ve been a long time without any. Truth it is. On the way out, I pocket a lovely little crystal globe filled with silver seedfish, and I dropkick the cooked bird’s remains at the lace wall hanging.

On the way, who do I see but big Jackie B the Tunnel Plugger coming up toward Armana‘s from the Tyrae crossing. Jackie B‘s a huge boy, that’s the Tunnel Plugger part, thick and hard like a tree with orange bark, but pyro‘s got his noose and I’ve got his pyro. “Jay Bee Tee Pee I want to see,” I lie at him.

He grins picket rows of gray teeth at me, and rumbles, “Tomasss. Hey, now, Wire Man, see you tonight at Garnsey‘s. New steel, need that feel.”

“Armana pass today? With Nadienne?”

His big brows get dark and come down like thunder. “Armana? That runtcock? With Nadienne? Aah haa haa.” He throws back his head and roars. The tears trickle down his large flat face. “No, Wire Man, so?”

“No, see, he owes me.” And here I pull the thigh tight for a second and Jackie B can see the beamer‘s outline on my leg.

He snickers. “It’s a real one. You making it stand up for the little feep?”

“It’s his.” I let the fabric go. “Code me. If you see him, call me and say there’s a lot of dead bugs, and tell me where he is. If Nadienne‘s with him, tell me the bugs laid eggs. Got to let me know at least an hour before midlight.” We do all this code because the blues stick probes everywhere, and filter for the hot stuff off the fiber. That’s how I spent a few years in the Transellas mines, waiting for the pharmas from my loving mader every thirty-five days and coughing grayish-yellow slime. My mader tries to keep an eye over me. Mostly I hope she doesn’t.

He pinches three fingers together, holds them up.

“Two purple,” I say, “and half the third in orange.”

Jackie B grins. He’s just bought two fine hits of pyro for his efforts, with a dash of ‘thellin on top. “Be Garnsey‘s at halflight. Vapor,” he says, and ambles past me humming trance music in that bass of his.

“Garnsey‘s,” I answer, hoping I live that long, and I head for Tyrae, to touch my buddy Essa for a tip on Armana‘s doings. Essa likes to ride me once in a while, when the mood is on her; she serves at Caladrina‘s, early in the day, and she sees a lot of people at the crossing there. It’s just over four hours before midlight, when Rask‘s gacks and her cocks collect their metal each day. They’re always punctual.

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	TO TOUCH MY BUDDY ESSA 1560 4D The smell of good roast bird, basted in wine, and the sound of paraviol sonatas wake me, and I’m stark naked and I’ve slept straight through the dark hours, belly down and belly empty. The bird’s a lot better meal than Zill‘s can serve, and I struggle up and go piss and come out to find the grill fan running and the bird on its platter and a note that says, We went out. See you at midlight. A. & N. Isn’t that sweet. I stuff most of the bird pieces in my mouth in rapid order and get my bodysuit on while I eat, juicy bird going in and nasty words coming out, and I burrow through Armana‘s utility space and find his big beamshooter and a feeder full of cartridges, and I’ll travel hot. Come midlight, Rask‘s cocks and gacks will unwind my guts and tie me in them. I’ve got five hours. Armana talks his way around everybody. I had to like him, until I found out how much he could make me hate him. I’d ransack his place, but I owe Rask a lot more than I can find here. No. I want Armana to give me the number that will unlock what I owe Rask, plus costs. I tuck the shooter into my inner thighliner, and it looks like I’ve been a long time without any. Truth it is. On the way out, I pocket a lovely little crystal globe filled with silver seedfish, and I dropkick the cooked bird’s remains at the lace wall hanging. On the way, who do I see but big Jackie B the Tunnel Plugger coming up toward Armana‘s from the Tyrae crossing. Jackie B‘s a huge boy, that’s the Tunnel Plugger part, thick and hard like a tree with orange bark, but pyro‘s got his noose and I’ve got his pyro. “Jay Bee Tee Pee I want to see,” I lie at him. He grins picket rows of gray teeth at me, and rumbles, “Tomasss. Hey, now, Wire Man, see you tonight at Garnsey‘s. New steel, need that feel.” “Armana pass today? With Nadienne?” His big brows get dark and come down like thunder. “Armana? That runtcock? With Nadienne? Aah haa haa.” He throws back his head and roars. The tears trickle down his large flat face. “No, Wire Man, so?” “No, see, he owes me.” And here I pull the thigh tight for a second and Jackie B can see the beamer‘s outline on my leg. He snickers. “It’s a real one. You making it stand up for the little feep?” “It’s his.” I let the fabric go. “Code me. If you see him, call me and say there’s a lot of dead bugs, and tell me where he is. If Nadienne‘s with him, tell me the bugs laid eggs. Got to let me know at least an hour before midlight.” We do all this code because the blues stick probes everywhere, and filter for the hot stuff off the fiber. That’s how I spent a few years in the Transellas mines, waiting for the pharmas from my loving mader every thirty-five days and coughing grayish-yellow slime. My mader tries to keep an eye over me. Mostly I hope she doesn’t. He pinches three fingers together, holds them up. “Two purple,” I say, “and half the third in orange.” Jackie B grins. He’s just bought two fine hits of pyro for his efforts, with a dash of ‘thellin on top. “Be Garnsey‘s at halflight. Vapor,” he says, and ambles past me humming trance music in that bass of his. “Garnsey‘s,” I answer, hoping I live that long, and I head for Tyrae, to touch my buddy Essa for a tip on Armana‘s doings. Essa likes to ride me once in a while, when the mood is on her; she serves at Caladrina‘s, early in the day, and she sees a lot of people at the crossing there. It’s just over four hours before midlight, when Rask‘s gacks and her cocks collect their metal each day. They’re always punctual.