Dark Fiction - Golden Glow
By Casey Douglass
Zep watched the
sunlight bloom over the megalopolis that passed as London these days.
‘Eighty-seven floors
up and I can still only see about a mile!’ he muttered, trying to
ignore the loops his heart was tracing in his chest. He squinted into
the murky golden smog that sparkled between the scrapers. He looked
down over the edge of his balcony, letting his gaze slide down the
smooth walls to the thicker fog below. He wondered what it would feel
like to jump, to feel his stomach lurch as he plummeted into the
dirty yellow marshmallow cloud below. He almost felt ready to try.
The doorbell farted
behind him, the batteries on their last legs.
‘Shit! Who’s this
now?’ Zep hissed. He twisted away from the balcony rail in a most
unusual movement. His upper body was facing back into the flat a good
second or more before his groin and legs followed suit. His spine
augment buzzed like an angry insect against his lower vertebrae. He
blew out a gust of charged particles from his mouth, golden fireflies
dancing in the air.
‘Fucking thing!’
He knew he shouldn't
put pressure on it like that, but in a few days, he’d cease caring.
The doorbell sounded again as he plodded through his small apartment.
He stared through the peep-hole in the door and gaped. He unlocked
the door and threw his arms around the man waiting outside, yelling
‘Mo!’
‘Hiya Zep! Long time
and all that!’
‘I thought you were
down for some prison time?’
‘I was and I did!
They let me out early when I cut a deal for some experimental therapy
shit. Anyway, you going to let me in or not?’
‘Sorry, come in!’
Zep watched Mo swagger
into the room, his trademark holographic tats sliding over his bald
head, changing from a Roman helmet to Medusa snakes and onto other
more abstract, sometimes pornographic designs.
‘They let you keep
the tats then?’
‘Yeah, but I had to
turn them off inside. Even now I have to keep to a list of
pre-approved images.’
‘The one that just
passed, with the woman grinding her crotch along your nose... was
approved?’
‘I didn’t say I’d
stick to it! You know me, always the agent provoker!’
‘Provocateur?’
‘Same diff. So what
have you been up to? Looks like you still haven't been out of here
for awhile?’
Zep threw himself onto
the sofa and waved for Mo to sit too. ‘No, I still can’t get
out.’
‘The phobia stuff?’
‘Yes, and other
crap.’
‘That's partly why
I’m here. That therapy thing I had, I thought of you, that it might
be worth a shot for you!’
‘Oh? What is it?’
‘Re-Attribution.’
‘Fuck Mo! The
brainwashing thing? Why’d you let them do that to you!’
‘It’s not
brainwashing, that’s just the snowflake media’s slant mate!’
‘It’s left people
vegetables!’
‘Tell me a treatment
that hasn’t. Real life leaves some people like vegetables too, if
you stop to think about it!’
‘They curdle your
brain!’
‘They change the
attribution of stuff. Don’t be hysterical! Don’t tell me you
wouldn’t wanna try something if you thought it’d cure your mental
stuff!’
Zep studied Mo,
wondering if he could see any sign of things being “not-Mo”.
‘So what did they
tackle with you Mo?’
‘They chose to
Re-Attribute the thrill I get from thieving... to eating veg!’
‘You what?’
‘I fucking hated veg
mate. Loathed it. Now I gorge on carrots and peas like a fatty on
doughnuts. If I even think about lifting a new implant from the
shops, I feel like I’m going to throw up!’
‘Sounds like
Clockwork Orange to me... You know, the film where the guy is treated
to overcome his violent tendencies? With his eyes propped open
staring at shit on a cinema screen?’
‘Oh yeah, good film!
No, it was nothing like that, and it isn’t. Get that out of your
brain mate!’
‘Is that all they
changed?’
‘Yeah!’
‘You sure?’
‘As sure as I can
be!’
Zep watched Mo fidget.
‘You don’t look that sure to me!’
‘Oh I’m pretty sure
about them not poking around where they shouldn't have, it’s
just... there is the risk of a hole.’
‘A
hole?’
‘Yeah. You know how
Re-Attribution works right?’
‘Kind of.’
‘It’s like those
old-fashioned pigeon holes that offices used to have. The holes are
our emotions. The labels are our triggering events. They swap them
around, but sometimes it’s like a clumsy idiot has done it, and has
knocked some of the labels off and let them fall to the floor.’
‘Shit!’
‘Yeah. One day you
are doing something you've always done, and you feel a vastly
different emotion than usual. If it’s something mundane like
putting out the rubbish though, who cares... but there’s always the
chance that you'll feel different about your wife, family, job or
whatever. It can change you.’
‘Sounds horrible.’
‘I guess. I don't
know what my hole is yet, if I even have one, so it’s kind of like
waiting for a party balloon to go bang. It might, or it might not.’
‘I hope it’s
nothing important, if you do have one.’
‘Well I don't really
have anyone in my life, and I had a wank straight after they did the
procedure, and it was all good!’ Mo roared with laughter.
Zep smiled and looked
at the sunlight as it tried to pierce his window. It bathed the room
in what he often thought of as a starship glow, a radiance that you
might see on a starship diving into the Sun. He felt his stomach
drop, his smile followed.
‘You thinking it
wouldn't work for you?’ Mo asked.
‘I wasn't thinking to
be honest, just feeling. As far as me giving it a go, I wouldn't be
able to afford it.’
‘You could always
commit a crime! Get it for free then! Bit like the old duffers who
don't have any money left and no pension. Find a crime you can do
that you can live with, get caught, and get free room and board for a
few months, plus a tens of thousands credits procedure, done for
nothing!’
‘I can barely stand
on my own balcony! What crime could I commit here, with no
witnesses!’
‘Network fraud?
Hacking something? All you need is to do enough to be a pest, then
make a mistake and let them catch you. You were always good with the
ol’ gadget stuff. Remember when you hacked the entry pad for the
women’s locker room at college? We went in and had a good rummage
didn’t we!’
‘I remember.’
Mo nodded, his grin
widening. ‘Actually, I have exactly the kind of place in mind where
you could start!’
‘Oh?’
‘One of the places I
turned over, had a back-room off-the-books type business going on,
encryption keys or something.’
‘And?’
‘If I got inside
again, I could patch you in, to do your own rummaging.’
‘I’d want the
police to catch me, not some mobster who wants to knee-cap me!’
‘But that’s just
it! It’s a spook setup!’
‘Jesus! It’ll be
more than a bit secure then!’
‘Not with me inside!’
Zep looked at Mo’s
zeal. The metaphorical penny didn't just drop, it plummeted to the
ground, cleaving a metaphorical businessman who was metaphorically
strolling beneath it in two. Zep eyed Mo. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Great mate!’
‘Hmm. Well it was
nice to see you, but you can fuck off now. Best do it before I punch
you!’
Mo’s face fell.
‘Woah! What’s going on?’
‘This isn't about
helping me is it! It’s just you need me to help you with a job you
have your eyes on. I’m guessing by the fact you aren't puking
everywhere while you’re planning this shit with me, that you never
had Re-Attribution either!’
‘I did!’
Zep watched another
gratuitous tat spasm across Mo’s head.
‘And there’s no way
in hell they would let you keep those porno tats!’
‘I told you that...’
‘Cons get sub-dermal
shit like that fried and blocked from reactivation! I remember now,
I’ve seen enough shitty daytime TV to know what happens.’
Mo stood, his face
turning red. ‘You’re making a mistake!’
‘Well it wouldn't be
my first!’
‘Alright I’m going!
Shit man, just relax!’ In one quick movement, Mo bent, snatched up
Zep’s idling laptop and raced for the door.
Zep flew at Mo but his
fingers only grazed the back of Mo’s shirt as he wiggled out of the
door. It slammed shut inches from his nose. An angry buzz came from
Zep’s spine as his back locked and he fell onto his stomach.
He
coughed, golden particles floated up, his spine augment vibrating and
jolting like a hornet. He managed to roll onto his back and laid
panting, staring at the ceiling.
For the second time
that day, Zep didn't think, he just felt. And it was awful.
THE END
