LITTLE SCULPTURES

1560 4D

We’re at the stat baths, a large industrial complex run by one of Rask‘s front companies, set in deep thick-pillared halls low down in the City‘s darker layers. Nadienne and I stand, drenched in slimy white prep fluid, on a large round steel plate. The grey steel hemisphere of the stat sprayer hulks overhead, ready to freeze us into immobility. Ma looks at me and pats my shoulder. I can’t read her face. “Tomy, at least you’ll still be alive.”

“Yeah, Ma, thanks,” I say. I look over at Nadienne.

Rask sees, and the corner of her long mouth turns upward. “Lovers. This inspires me. Arrange yourselves accordingly. No, clothes off first. We’ll have some real art here, something with a touch of erotic class.” She smiles at my mader. “Would you like to add to your statuary collection, Tamarr?”

My ma says, “It’s the best choice I get, isn’t it?” He voice is as flat as the stone floor.

“Just kill us both,” Nadienne says in this heavy voice.

The Argaz smirk.

Desperate, I look at Ma, and she looks down for a second to hide her face. “No,” I start, and Rask slides over to me.

“No? I could just plant the little eaters inside you,” and she goes on, getting more elaborately sadistic. No failure of character here. The eaters are the City‘s garbage disposal protozoa, fast and efficient, and Rask has her own mutant strains. They’re slow.

“Tomy, just do as she says,” Ma tells me. “I’ll manage somehow. At least you won’t be dead.” She steps back. Her eyes glisten.

Fumbling all the way, I strip, and take the naked Nadienne in my arms.

“Not like that,” Rask says, “Hold her thigh with yours.”

Nadienne starts shivering, tears running down her face. As the first spray hits the prep slime, and my limbs stiffen, I remember the little sculptures of lovers my mader keeps in her richly-upholstered sitting room.