The bag weighed Conrad down, bumping against his leg as he ran. The alley he was hurtling down was dark, recycling bins lined the walls of the alley waiting for collection and their bulk hid all manner of hazard in their shadows. A shaft of light appeared to his left and someone stepped out as he barrelled past them. There was a shout of agitated surprise before something crashed into a bin. When he glanced over his shoulder a dozen paces later the door set into the wall had closed, cutting off the light. His momentary glance away left him stumbling in the darkness. He came crashing to the ground, bag thumping down beside him. Pain blossomed in his hand and he pushed himself up to his knees, catching the bag’s handle once more, he lifted it, the weight pulling at his fingers as he stood. He looked down at what had tripped him, a body lay slumped against a wall, beside it a broken bottle lay, it had the marking of a off-world distilling company but the liquid had a strange iridescent glow to it that he had not seen in liquor before. His hand throbbed and he looked down at his palm. It was bloody, a red rivulet running down fingers and dripping to the floor, a small sliver of glass still lodged in his flesh, dirt stuck around the cut, it glowed like the liquid that clung to the shattered bottle on the ground.
He pulled the glass out, sucking air sharply through his teeth as he did, and pressed a thumb against the open wound. Blood soaked into the handle of the bag he was holding but he ignored it, instead focusing on applying enough pressure to keep the wound closed and let the warm blood on his palm start to congeal. He glanced back at the woman’s body, she was thin with dark rings under her eyes, a slack jaw let him see into her mouth where the iridescent drink lingered in her saliva, giving her mouth a strange glowing aura. He paused for a moment before hurrying on, he knew he should call someone about the dead woman, but he needed to get to the hotel, they were still chasing him. At the end of the alley he came out on a brightly lit street and hurried across it into the next alley, the roadway was clear, no maglev cars were gliding around at this time of night, but in a few hours the streets would be busy once more. He made it through the next two blocks without incident but pulled himself up short across the street from the hotel. Footsteps echoed in the empty street as he crouched low in the shadows and waited, chewing his tongue nervously. The footsteps grew closer and his heart thumped in his ears, but then the half-asleep worker appeared, a bag slung lazily over his back, hair still wet from the shower they had obviously just come out of. He did not look into the alleyway, too busy stifling a yawn with his free hand before rubbing the tears that beaded in the corners of his eyes away. He disappeared, continuing down the street unaware of the man crouched in the alley. The bag pulled at Conrad’s fingers as he straightened up, glancing nervously around the street before walking out into the open. He maintained quiet, collected footsteps that belied the panicked nervousness that was swimming around inside him and before long he found himself stepping into the hotel foyer, glancing back through the glass doors he could see the yawning worker disappearing around a corner. He walked up to the night-desk, there was a sign with an apology stating that there was no concierge service after midnight so he crossed to the electronic key system and punched in the keycode the hotel had provided when he had made the booking a few hours earlier. It flashed up a welcome message and deposited a receipt into the receptacle at its base, it had a room number listed and the time he was required to checkout. He collected it with his least-bloody fingers and stuffed it into the pockets of his jeans before moving to the elevator which he summoned it with a tap from his elbow and stepped inside.
“Floor?” asked the automated system.
“Twelfth.” he responded simply and waited a moment for the doors to glide shut.
The elevator surged upwards and he felt the bag’s weight tugging at his hand, for a moment it threatened to peel his thumb from the wound, breaking the seal of drying blood. He tightened his grip so it could not and when the elevator finally chimed and the doors rolled open he gave the white faux-marble floor of the elevator car a quiet glance over to ensure no stray drops of blood had escaped him before stepping out into the hall.
His room sat partway down the hall, the door chirping softly as he entered the randomly generated passcode from the receipt. Inside it was dark and carried an odour he was having trouble identifying through the scent of the cleaning product that had been used by the housekeepers earlier that day. Closing the door behind him, he tested the handle three times in quick succession to assure himself that it was indeed locked. He crossed the room, pausing at the small dining area set against the wall, eyeing the waist-height recessed bench with metal runners across its surface, the designated spot for carry-bags and suitcases. The weight of the bag he carried though pulled at his fingers as he made to drop it there and instead he turned and moved into the bathroom, searching the wall with the back of his cleaner hand until he could find the switch and flick it on with his knuckle. The room’s bright grey-white colours bit at his eyes for a moment before they could adjust. He closed the door behind him and flicked the latch into place. He tugged at the door and, when he was happy it was secure he weighed the bag in his hand again. His head swam a little as he blinked in the brightness of the room and moved to the small washing unit. He popped it open, tricked the sensor with a bit of wadded up lint from his pocket, lest the machine start-up inadvertently, and deposited the bag inside. He tossed a spare towel over it and tousled it until he was satisfied it looked like a towel that had just been laundered and closed the door. Finally, the weight gone from his hand he stripped and turned on the shower to the hottest setting his elbow could bear and stepped in. He watched the water mix with the still-damp blood and swirl it into the drain, soon enough he had to scrub at the caked on blood, carefully working around his palm so as not to pull the wound apart again. As he cleaned he thought, or tried to, his blood was pounding in his ears and he felt nauseous, a tingling in the pit of his stomach that he did not want to deal with but could not avoid. Eventually, with his skin prickling and itching from the steaming water he got out and dried himself. He tied the towel around his waist and, after emptying his pockets, pulled a tube of liquid bandage from the first aid kit and ran a neat bead across the gash in his hand. The liquid spread out slightly before setting into a flexible covering, he was thankful the wound had at least stayed closed, pulling the wound together and applying the liquid bandage would have been a mess. He poked it to be sure it had set before returning the first aid kit to its place and setting about hand-washing his clothes in the sink. He should have had the machine do it, that he knew, but he was not getting the bag back out. He wanted nothing more to do with it until he could hand it off to his colleague in a few days. When the water stopped going pink and the soap was no longer making the, now faint, stains less noticeable he wrung them out as best he could and turned the heater on its maximum setting, hanging the clothes over the towel rack set above the heating vent. That done he sat on the tiles and watched the clothes rippling in the airflow. His stomach growled but the nausea cautioned him against eating, instead he sat there with his stomach complaining, letting the room get slowly warmer and rolled his options over in his head, partly to try and make a decisions but partly because he was content not moving. He was content to not do anything really, he had been through enough tension and excitement for one night.
Thump-thump-thump
His heart was still racing, breathing still quick as though he had been running, despite the fact he had been showering and cleaning for almost an hour. He needed something to help him relax otherwise his heart was going to explode. He left the shower and collapsed onto the bed in the main room. He wanted to sleep, but even as he closed his eyes he knew it was a fruitless endeavour. Regardless he lay there for ten minutes, listening to the hasty beating of his heart and his rapid breathing before he forced himself up. He went to the bathroom once more and collected his jacket, digging around in the inner pockets until he could produce the vacuum-sealed sachet strip. The silver packaging was stamped with the name of a generic drug company and in finer print the name of the sleeping pill itself. He was becoming reliant on them lately, that much he knew, unfortunately the backwater station he had just come from only stocked the generic variants, not his favoured brand. They worked largely identically, the same drugs were present inside, but these did not meet his usual brands touted ‘three-minute activation’ period, instead these took an hour or so, their only benefit was that they did not make him drowsy for six hours afterwards like the name-brand. He tore two sachets off the strip, shoved the silver tape-worm of tablets back into his jacket pocket and went to the sink. The tablets tasted of powder and he had to bite them in his teeth whilst he collected water in his mouth, having already mentally decided that it was not worth dirtying a glass for. Mouth now full of water he swallowed and then repressed a cough. He got the water and tablets down and then proceeded to wheeze and cough from the trickle of liquid that had somehow gone down his windpipe. After two minutes of hacking he returned to the bedroom and lay down, swallowing his own spit experimentally as he tried to test if the coughing had made his throat sore or if he was just imagining it. He pulled a pillow under his head, stretched his arms out above him and closed his eyes, focussing on slowing down his breathing. He drifted out of consciousness fifteen minutes later. But as he lay there unconscious his body twitched uncannily.
Waking up took a little time, Conrad blinked at the lights he had not bothered to turn off before lying down. But now they were blinding, and more yellow than he remembered, looking at them made him feel warm but hurt his eyes at the same time. He rubbed at his face with his uninjured hand. He could taste something in his mouth, groggily he expected it to be the foul taste of unclean teeth and whatever he ate the previous night, of which his memory was hazy, but instead the taste was sickly sweet and it made his mouth feel fuzzy. He dragged himself to the sink in the bathroom and rinsed his mouth, forcing his mind back, as best he could, to the previous evening’s meal. But he failed to recall what the dark shape on the white ceramic plate had been. Even the woman he remember having dinner with was fractured, he could recall features, high cheek bones, almost gaunt, and brilliant jade lipstick that surrounded a smile that had gone off like a flash whenever her teeth caught the light. Conrad returned to the bed and rubbed at his eyes, trying to remember which restaurant they had been to, and more importantly who his dinner companion had been. It was somewhere in the recesses of his memory, but no matter how he tried to push through the haze he could not grasp it. Perhaps the sleeping pills had more side-effects than he remembered, he could have gotten one of the other generics by mistake, they all looked the same anyway. Even so they would not last much longer, if they had side effects outside of drowsiness that lasted longer than a few hours they would have been taken off the market anyway.
At least, that was what his recollection of medication law said. It had been years since he had done anything directly with pharmaceutical companies or the laws that governed them. Sure enough, as he sat, he could feel the weigh that seemed to hang in his shoulders and arms lift, he rubbed his eyes once more and twisted his shoulders left and right, pulling hard until the soft click-click of his shoulders signalled their return to nature’s intended position. Finally he went to the balcony door, drew it open and stepped out into the sunset. He had been out longer than intended, but that was good, his alternative was to stay cooped up for the day, there was nothing else he needed to do, he was just waiting now. The wind carried a coolness, the remnants of winter, the night would cool further yet, but for now it was just a hint of the chill that was to come. He ignored it and instead closed his eyes, basking in what little sunlight there was left in the day and listening to the wind as it carried conversations from the open windows and balconies around him.
There was a woman nearby complaining about someone leaving in a hurry, she sounded agitated, a boyfriend perhaps, her voice had a melodic tone to it even as frustrated as her words seemed. His therapist had said more than once that he had a concerning preoccupation, but they were not here and he breathed deeply, wondering if he would meet the agitated woman over the next few days whilst he waited for his contact to arrive. There was always the possibility, and his mind was already entertaining the notion. Something about the evening had him optimistic, his concerns from the previous night had all but gone. His wounded hand itched but he rubbed his palm against his pants and ignored it. Stepping back inside he pulled up the hotel’s smart menu on the coffee table and flicked across to the restaurants tab, there was one in the hotel itself and one next door marked as an affiliate, the affiliate looked much nicer, but the hotel’s own would be fine for the time being. He showered quickly before collecting his suit from the briefcase, thankful he had gotten it pressed and cleaned before leaving his last stop. He pulled it on, brushed his hair and teeth and then pulled on his jacket, deciding he would walk past the hotel restaurant first, just to see, if it looked bad he would go to the affiliate place, there was a couple of nights before his associate was meant to show up so he could always try the other the next night. Or perhaps for lunch or breakfast if they were open early enough. Feeling clean and fresh he pulled on his socks and shoes, mentally noting that these socks were probably a day old and needed a wash, but they would be serviceable for a few hours at least, and that was all he needed.
He stepped out into the hall and could hear a door closing sharply in one of the nearby rooms, a door shut in anger. He lingered in the hall for a moment, mostly out of the door but holding the handle just open as he double checked his pockets with deliberate slowness. Then the door two down from his popped open and a woman stepped out, she was immediately striking with a polished silver face and thick mohawk of green. Whilst she was metallic on the surface she didn’t have the hard edges of the most frequent of mechanical beings, the Prae, with their armoured forms and rigid demeanour. She turned to face him and her iridescent blue-green eyes found him, still standing in his doorway. Lips the colour of copper were polished to the same mirror sheen as the rest of her body, a body now clad in a tight red dress that hugged her form. She walked towards him and he could feel something was off, her walk was stiff and straight and that made her feel off-kilter.
“Evening.” she said, walking past with a deliberate slowness, as she approached he realised just how tall her chrome form was, she was a head or more taller than he was, but her stature fitted her perfectly.
“Evening,” he said nodding politely as she passed, forcing himself not to let his gaze follow her down the corridor.
From the corner of his eye he saw something blue hanging from her shoulder. It was a rich navy blue with something printed on it. When he turned though he saw nothing except for a pale blue shawl that hung from her shoulders. He rubbed at his eyes and looked again, he couldn’t recall her wearing that a moment ago. He pushed the thought from his head, chalking it up to his inability to pay attention, pulled his door closed and followed her to the elevator, he was still a few steps away when the doors pinged and began to close.
“Hold the doors.” she said and the computer in the elevator responded with an affirmative.
He stepped in and smiled, “Thanks.”
Copper lips curled into a smile, “You’re welcome.”
He caught himself letting his eyes wander and deliberately looked away. If she had noticed she said nothing, instead, when the elevator came to a halt she stepped out and half-turned to watch him follow.
“Going out for dinner?” she asked in a quiet tone.
He nodded and let himself smile, “Yes, yourself?”
“Not really a need.” she responded, “Just going to see a friend, though I won’t be long,” she glanced him up and down, “If you’re still around later perhaps we can get a drink.”
“Really?” the question was out before he could stop himself and it took her by surprise, her lips tightening, he doubted she was ever questioned when offering to drink with people, “Sorry, I mean, I-uh-I’d like that.”
Her smile returned, “Then I’ll see you later.”
He’d been loitering in the lobby for an hour, deliberately sitting with his back to the glass windows that viewed the street, his fear of the people that had been following him had drained away over the past few hours, the lights of the lobby felt safe and reassuring, and sitting facing away from the windows was his act of rebellion against his paranoia. Where he sat now looked over the elevators, he did not want to accidentally miss chrome-in-red. But he had been waiting long enough for his feet to go numb, so he pushed himself from the chair and walked around the room, getting the circulation in his legs flowing again. He walked to the front-desk clerk, he was a copper-coloured bot with iridescent blue eyes. His motions were janky, they stuttered and jumped as he turned to greet Conrad.
He folded one arm across his chest like and old-timey butler carrying a towel, though he had no towel and spoke, “Good evening, sir, how may I be of assistance?”
“Do you have any messages for me?”
The bot looked him over, head rocking forward with a slow ratcheting motion before shooting back to vertical, “Room number or ID please, sir?”
He gave the bot his room number and waited whilst the bot seemed to consider the newfound information.
“There are no messages for you, sir,” the bot said.
Conrad nodded and turned and thought he heard the bot say something about returning to his room, but when he turned the bot was already arranging flowers at the far end of the reception counter. Conrad shook his head and returned to his chair to wait. It was an hour before a hand came down on his shoulder, making him jump. He turned to find chrome-in-red smiling at him, though she had changed at some point. Her elegant red dress had been swapped for a dress that consisted entirely of ocean-blue sequins, a plunging neckline and a slit in the hem that ran up her thigh.
“Sorry, I was-”
“Sick of waiting?” she offered, raising an eyebrow and running a hand through her green mohawk, it hung down now, less product holding it vertical.
He shook his head, “Not at all, good things coming to those who wait, or so they say.”
She laughed, “What makes you think I’m good?”
“Are you saying you’re bad?”
“Depends on your perspective,” she replied quietly, “either way, I believe I offered you a drink?”
Conrad pushed himself to his feet and nodded, “It’d be rude of me to decline, did you have someplace in mind?”
She smiled, “I know of a little hole-in-the-wall, it’s connected to the restaurant next door, we don’t even have to go outside.”
He flashed his best smile, “Lead on.”
The Hole-in-the-wall was the name of the bar, and true to it’s theme it was set into a faux-brick wall that was in the hall between the hotel and restaurant. The door was part of the wall. It hinged inwards one two “bricks” and was not square but instead designed to look like a selection of the brickwork hinged inwards. Inside the bar was quiet and bathed in red light, save for the bar itself which was backlit it blue. The blue mixed with the red around the edges giving a purple transition at it’s border. She walked confidently down the row of booths. Her sequined dress sparkling and shimmering as every step make the sequins move to reflect a different source of light. He was doing his best not to stare but it was difficult. She sidled up to the bar and waited, leaning on the countertop with one elbow after carefully inspecting it to find a clean spot. She smiled at him as he stood beside her feeling a faint awkwardness from their difference in height.
“What would you like?” Asked the bartender. His voice made Conrad do a double-take.
The butler-like receptionist stood before him, quietly waiting for his response.
“You’re the receptionist.” Conrad said, pointing a finger at the bartender.
The robot looked at him with cold indifference, “What would you like to order, sir?”
“Same model,” his drinking partner offered with an amused smile, “they’re used everywhere in these hotels.”
“Right,” he muttered, inwardly chastising himself, “Just some corn-mash whiskey, and you?”
She had raised an eyebrow at him, “Corn-mash?”
“Sir, we haven’t had that style of distill supplied to us for hundreds of years.”
“Isn’t corn extinct?” She asked, more of the bartender than of Conrad.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll take a brown-distill, the spicier the better,” she handed it a note and smiled.
The bartender nodded and set about working with something out of view, “And, sir?”
Conrad rubbed his eyes, they were right corn wasn’t a thing anymore, “I’ll have the same, please.” He muttered, trying to figure out where he had spontaneously procured a taste for corn-mash whiskey.
She looked across at him, leaning down slightly, “Are you alright?” She asked, though the concern in her voice did not appear in her facial features. The mismatch disturbed him on some level but again he could not place why.
“I’m fine it’s just been a long day.”
“I understand, everybody I’ve talked to recently has been having a hard time,” she paused as the bartender place their drinks in front of them, ice clinking against glass as he did so, “Thank you,” she took her glass and held it up to Conrad, “To shorter days?” she proposed.
He tapped the edge of his glass against hers and nodded, “Shorter days.”
The both took a sip of the liquid and she waited for him to say something, Conrad was too busy dealing with the burning at the back of his throat, attempting to stifle a coughing fit. The liquid was more potent than he was used to, and more potent than he remembered any drink being. He turned his head and coughed into his shoulder as politely as he could.
“A little too strong?” she asked, setting her glass down.
“Just more-so than I’m used to he responded, ” he gestured to her, “So, are you on holiday, checking out the sights of the city?”
She shook her head politely, “No, working, this is my home for the next few months.”
He nodded, “What do you do, if I’m not prying?”
Her response came as someone further down the bar roared with laughter, drowning out her answer he had nodded in response to it, not wanting to make her repeat herself and was still trying to piece together what she had actually said as she continued, “-but it’s not particularly engaging or exciting, how about yourself?”
“I work in logistics.” he said, it was not a lie technically, and he was not going to be telling her what he really did, she looked at him expectantly, “It’s not very glamorous, mostly just paperwork. Until they send you out to clients, then it’s, well, still mostly paperwork but at least you get out of the office.”
She smiled and nodded knowingly, “Of course, what do you do to keep from losing your mind in a job like that, do you have hobbies you can bring along with you, I imagine your trips are fairly long?”
Conrad nodded, “Sometimes, often they’re just to tiny stations out in the middle of nowhere, sometimes I get lucky and get to go somewhere a bit more lively and with an actual hotel and room instead of a bunk in some communal living quarters, so when I do I have to make the most of it.”
“Like right now?” she asked, sipping from her drink.
He smiled, “Well the company here is certainly a step up from where I was last week.”
She raised her eyebrows and laughed quietly, “Where was that, exactly, I have to know whether I have passed a low bar or not.”
“There’s a little station out on the edge of Damoclean and Lanxian space, they sent me out there to handle a problem they had with a parts shipment, apparently we shipped the wrong stuff but that was what was invoiced. It was a mess.”
“You mean Vomisa?” her eyes bored into him for a moment and then she glanced away as if realising what she’d said, “I’ve heard of it before, I thought it was a bit of an outlaw station-”
“No, of course not, wrong sector.” he said, cutting her off, she was right but he could not let her know that, he studied her as she turned her eyes back to him, he was still doing the mental calculus on how many normal people really knew anything about Vomisa when she smiled and nodded.
“Right, sorry I jumped to conclusions, you’ve been so vague about your job, I just thought-” she turned away again, “-I was just a little excited by the prospect of meeting someone who is, well, let’s say a bit closer to the grey areas of the law.”
He laughed as casually as he could, and her eyes returned to him, “Well, unfortunately not-”, something in her face changed and she seemed disinterested in him suddenly, his mind scrambled, “I mean, if you’re able to keep a bit of a secret-?”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, “Go on?”
Leaning in conspiratorially he smiled, “I have been to Vomisa before,” he had been a dozen times, there were no laws prohibiting visiting the station but nobody ever said they had, that was how you ended up with a lot more scrutiny of your activities than anyone wanted, especially those who had been to Vomisa.
Her eyes widened, “Business or pleasure?” she whispered back, lips curling into a smile.
“Pleasure,” he said quietly, trying desperately to think up a story that would fit, keep her interested, and not get him arrested, “A friend of mine convinced me to go, they had certain needs that were hard to get fulfilled in most places.”
Her eyes went wider still and he could almost see within them her mentally running through what needs could possibly only be met on the outlaw station, “I won’t pry, but colour me curious.”
“I won’t get into it, it’s their personal business, though it certainly opened my eyes to some possibilities, if you get my meaning.”
She leant forward smiling, and he fought an urge to glance down towards her dress’ neckline, she noticed his resistance too, “Well that’s good to know, opening your eyes to possibilities is always a positive, new experiences expand your perspective.” she leant further forward still, “I don’t suppose by any chance that you and your friend partook in anything more mind altering than just some new experiences?”
Conrad smirked, “Well I can’t speak for my friend but I only did things that were fully within the law on Vomisa.”
She watched him for a moment, considering his emphasis before flashing a smile, “Of course, following the letter of the law is very important.”
Something brushed against his leg and her eyes narrowed fractionally. Then in an instant her face changed and she let out a sigh, “Sorry, I’ve got a call coming in that I have to take, will you excuse me a minute?”
“Of course.” he said, feeling her foot brush against his leg again.
She pushed herself up and walked away from him with a nod of thanks, he watched her walk away, the sequins of her dress dazzling him as she walked under one of the bar’s spotlights. He nursed his drink quietly, waiting for her to return, taking steady sips from it. Minutes passed, then what felt like an hour, he could see her pacing up and down in a far corner of the bar, away from the noise of those at the bar and tables. He didn’t check his watch, then he found his glass empty and ordered a second. It was only when that glass too came up empty that she returned.
She stopped next to him and he turned, she held up a hand and smiled, but stayed silent, then her eyes focused on him fully, “I’m really sorry, this is taking longer than I thought it would.”
It took a moment than it should have for him to recognise she was obviously still on the call and just didn’t need an external device to take it, but she was talking to him, “It’s okay.”
She shook her head, “No, I don’t think I’m going to get out of it for a while yet, can we take a rain check?”
Conrad’s smile faltered slightly, “Of course, you remember which room I’m in?”
She nodded, “I’ll drop by when I’m done if it isn’t too late, how about that?”
“Sounds wonderful.” he smiled and got up, “I’ll leave you to your work then.”
She gave a thankful nod and wave and retreated to the far side of the bar again, he paid for another drink and asked the bartender to deliver it to her before he slid off his stool and headed back through to the hotel.
Conrad spent the night tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable in the bed regardless of how he lay or which way he turned the pillow. Eventually he gave up and lay there staring at the ceiling in the darkened room.
“I didn’t ask her name.” his voice startled him, the thought had come to him so quickly it had not gone through the right channels. Pushing himself up he wandered from the small bedroom into the kitchenette and collected a glass of water. He drank half before setting it back down on the benchtop and stepping into the bathroom, when the light came on he froze, the washer had come open and stepped square-spiralled crystals hung from the opening. The glistened in the light, metallic, shifting between colours as he moved closer to them. Swearing he gripped them and pulled, they were sharper than they looked and bit into this hands as he grasped at them. They broke away from the surface of the wall easily enough and as he pulled away more layers the crystals seemed to go soft in his hands. No longer breaking cleanly they peeled off like adhesive rubber, flexing between his fingers but returning to their original shape. He’d never seen them behave like this, swallowing he shook his head, if anyone asked, he’d never seen them, period. Inside the washer the crystals had engulfed the bag completely and the shimmering spirals had managed to grow into the perforation of the washer’s inner cavity. He was pulling at them when the doorbell chimed.
He froze, a gash on his hand had a small bead of blood forming on it, he pulled his hands back and looked at them. The chime came again and he hastily wiped them onto the towel before stumbling to his feet and stepping out into the kitchenette again, pulling the bathroom door closed behind him.
He put his hand on the door handle and tried to push a hurried, panicked thought from his mind, it’s defective product.
When the door swung inward a familiar smile met his eye, it faltered a moment later when it noticed the darkened room, “Sorry, am I too late?” she asked, the sequins on her shoulder glittering as she moved under the hall’s lights.
“No, I, uh-” he glanced down at his pants and frowned, “Well truth be told I had tried to get some sleep-”
“Oh, I’ll come back-”
“But,” he stopped her before she could continue, “I haven’t really been able to sleep anyway, do you want to come in, have a drink of something, if you don’t mind me getting changed quickly, of course?”
Her smiled returned, “I’d like that,” and he pulled the door to one side and gestured for her to come in, he flicked the lightswitch as he did so and closed the door again.
“Give me two minutes.” he said, ducking into the bedroom, swinging the door closed with his foot as he hunted for a respectable pair of pants.
“I was almost expecting you to have a larger room.” she called, he could hear something moving in the kitchenette, and a dull hiss of steaming water.
“Company didn’t want to pay for anything more extravagant.” he called, tossing his sleeping garments into a pile atop his suitcase and hurrying back into the kitchenette. He found himself being presented a cup of coffee.
“I hope I’m not being presumptuous, but, if you’re having trouble sleeping maybe staying up a little longer will help exhaust you.”
He took the offered mug and smiled, “Planning on staying for a while to keep me company then?”
“If the conversation is interesting enough.” she responded smiling as she sat down at the table, crossing her glossy silver legs.
Sitting opposite her he smiled, “I’ll do my best to please-” he faltered, “I’m really sorry, I just realised I never asked your name.”
“Call me Helena.”
“Conrad,” he smiled, “So why the interest in Vomisa?”
She shrugged, “Just curiosity, haven’t had much to do with criminal elements.” her voice brought a tilt to the word, making it sound intriguing in a way Conrad knew it was not, but he said nothing to dissuade her, a silence stretched between them as Conrad’s mind raced, trying to think of something to say that would lean into her interests without accidentally making her consider going to the police. She seemed uncomfortable with the silence because she continued, “I’m just intrigued, that’s all. I mean, I don’t want to meet any mass murderers, I just want to experience a bit of excitement, hear people’s stories.”
“Have you heard of liquid silver?” he asked, lowering his voice fractionally.
Her eyes snapped to meet his, “I assume you’re not talking about actual molten silver, or mercury?”
Conrad smirked, “No.” he shifted in his seat and leant towards her, “But I may have had some stories to share about it, the stories come from an acquaintance, naturally.”
Her eyes narrowed and she grinned, “Naturally.” she breathed back, leaning in closer.
He felt a foot rub against his leg and he smiled, “Of course, it’s all highly illegal, so nobody really has much to do with it.”
“But your friend just happened to have some?” she asked, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
“He’d spent a little too much money, taken a loan from a friend who wasn’t really trustworthy. Ended up with a bag of it he had to take across a few stations to deliver to someone.”
Her eyes widened, “A mule?” she asked quietly.
Conrad’s lips tightened, he didn’t like that term, he never had, but his bit his tongue and nodded, “Yeah. Indebted to the wrong people so what could he do?”
“Where did they make him take it?”
“Initially they didn’t tell him, they stuffed him in a hotel and had him wait for them to call. He spent a few days there, holed up in the room. He was too terrified to order room service so he bought a pile of cheap pre-prepared meals,” Conrad licked his lips, he could remember the taste of those meals, he’d had them enough, “He spent three days in the room, jumping every time a door slammed or a floorboard creaked. He was a mess by the end of it.”
She raised her eyebrows, “And they came to collect it after three days?”
He shook his head, “No, somebody came and gave him an address, he had to travel there and drop off the materials himself, they didn’t want to touch the stuff he was carrying,” Conrad shifted in his seat, “turns out some of the reagents they use to make the stuff are more reactive than they let on, didn’t want to risk their own people.”
“I thought he was moving liquid silver?”
Conrad nodded slowly, “So did he, turns out they were just getting him to move ingredients for the stuff, they’re just as heavily regulated in their pure forms, but it’s also more space effective to have them in pure forms, and I guess with mules they just write the people off if they get caught, or worse,” he made an explosive gesture with his hand and then shrugged slowly, “Like I said, not my stories.”
Something plopped onto the floor beneath the table and he felt her foot brush against his leg again, this time without the accompanying shoe. Conrad smiled as best he could, he was not used to people being so forward. Especially when he had expected her not to be interested in the slightest given she was ninety-nine percent synthetic.
“You were expecting us Merchantilis not to be into this sort of thing?” she asked softly, as though she’d just read his mind, uncrossing her legs and kicking off her other shoe.
He shook his head slowly, “To be honest, no, I didn’t think your species was into any of this.”
“It’s an experience, just like everything else,” she said smiling, “What’s the point in being alive without experiences, right?”
Conrad started awake in the bed, the lighting was turned down to it’s lowest setting. He lay there for a moment, trying to remember, then he caught sight of the silvery legs peeking from beneath the covers. He couldn’t remember how the conversation had continued, let along, going to bed. He felt exhausted, and sweaty. The door into the main room was still open, everything beyond a few metres away was hazy though and hard to look at. He rubbed at his eyes and pushed himself up, turning to look at Helena. Her eye was open, staring up at him from where she lay on the pillow. But it was motionless, crystals spilled from her mouth onto the bed, square spirals of chromatic metal snaking across the bed. It ran from the corner of her mouth, spilling onto the bedsheets where it grew along her shoulder, arm and leg.
Her eye continued to stare and he put a hand on her shoulder, shaking it gently. She was stiff and the movement broke the thin like of crystals that connected her mouth to the bed. He pushed himself backwards, untangling himself from the bedsheets as he scrambled to his feet. The crystals pinned the sheet where it was, these didn’t flex or bend like the others had. He found himself in the opposite corner of the room, heart hammering in his chest, feeling as though it might burst from it at any moment. She was dead, that he was sure of. He pushed himself from the wall and pulled on clothes hurriedly, struggling with his belt and jacket before running through the door. He grunted and staggered as something bit into his skin, making him hobble to the table, leaning against it for support as he inspected the sole of his foot. A thick cut ran along it, blood oozing from it. The crystals had grown across the floor, thick, and apparently sharp, coils of square spirals shimmering in the light, a trail back to the bathroom. He collected a sock from where he’d left them by the door and pressed it into the cut on the sole of his foot to stem the bleeding.
Light had begun to pour through the open curtain and he limped over to pull them closed, their colour gave the whole room an angry red hue as the light outside grew brighter. He made his was to the bathroom, but when he pushed the door it only opened halfway, the inside of the room was a maze of chromatic spirals, shining angry red with the light from the window. He search for the light switch and cursed as his finger came away bleeding. The crystals had made their way up the walls, he followed them up to the hanging metallic stalactites. The showerhead was gone, completely encased in a sharp spike of crystals, there was no evidence of where the washer was now either, completely buried somewhere in the sea of metallic crystals.
He pushed himself away from the door and retreated to the bedroom once more, trying not to look at the dead woman laying half-submerged in crystals. Crystals that were still growing, tendrils of them had made their way up her chest and were now reaching up towards the ceiling. He pulled his bag from the grasp of the crystals on the floor and staggered back into the main room, careful to avoid the razor sharp track that snaked back to the bathroom. He tore a sleeve from a dirty shirt and wrapped it around his foot, pulling a sock on hurriedly to hold it in place. He got his boots on, zipped up the bag and staggered out the door, hurriedly buttoning his shirt as he did so. His heart thumped in his ears as he made his way to the elevator, it seemed belligerently slow, crawling down the floors. It dinged and announced the ground floor, but the doors remained closed so long that he bumped into them in his haste to leave. Finally they rolled open and he made his way across the lobby, hastily dropping the key on the reception desk. The machine behind the desk whirred and clicked as it approached him, head cocked to one side as it appraised him.
“You have additional nights remaining on your room lease, sir.” it intoned, leaning its unnaturally tall form towards him. He stared up at it, he didn’t remember it being so immense, “I want to check out early,” the machine did not seem to respond so he repeated himself, “I would like to check out early.”
“I’m afraid the lease terms are final, there are no refunds.”
“I don’t want a refund, I just want to check out and leave,” Conrad glowered at the machine, wondering if it was designed to be this stupid, probably a gimmick to convince people to stay longer.
“I’m sorry sir but there are no refunds, checking out early-”
He shouted then, “I know, I don’t want a refund you-” a sliver figure moved in the corner of his eye and he span on his heel. But it wasn’t Helena, in fact, there were no Merchantilis in the lobby, just a pair of the red-skinned Lanxians sitting in the corner, they had been in a quiet conversation, but his outburst had drawn their attention, they both sat staring quietly at him now, curious.
Conrad took a steady breath, “I do not require a refund, I just want to check out early. Please take the key back so I can leave, you bucket of bolts.”
He had muttered the last part under his breath, though he had a feeling the mechanical clerk had heard him regardless, it stared blankly at him for a moment, “I must insist you remain for the duration of your booking, you can leave whenever you like sir, but you cannot checkout prematurely.”
“Then take the damn key so I can leave.”
The machine collected the key and nodded, “Of course.”
It turned away from him and someone laughed. Conrad turned to stare at the Lanxians who were now talking animatedly.
“Sir?”
He turned back to the mechanical clerk and found it offering him something in a closed fist, unconsciously he held out his hand and a key plopped back into it.
He stared at it and frowned, closing his hand around it, “I’m leaving.” he snapped, about to get angry again.
“I’m afraid you have left personal belongings in your room.”
Conrad’s throat tightened, “You’ve been in the room?”
The mechanical clerk stared at him, “Our housekeeping service has informed us that you have left personal belongings in your room, please ensure that you have collected them before checking out.”
Conrad turned and walked away, making for the front door as fast as he could without running. He stepped through the automatic door and, free of the hotel, sprinted down the steps. He turned to glance back at the door and bounced off something hard. He collapsed onto the steps and stared up at a dark figure backed by the sunlight.
“I’m sorry.” the figure called, but Conrad had already closed his eyes.
He started awake again, he needed to go to the bathroom, the ceiling shimmered above him, he recognised the light fixture from the hotel room and tried to push himself up, his arms wouldn’t move. He could see part of a face next to him and as he twisted his head around to see it he could make out Helena’s eye staring at him, the rest of her body had been swallowed by the metallic crystals. They’d grown across her, the bed and the room, the window had been swallowed by them, as had the ceiling, the light fixture was all that had been spared from the spread of the square-spirals, though tendrils of them hung down around it, preparing to engulf it too. He tried to sit up again but as he strained to look down at his body all he could see was the metallic spirals. He could feel pressure on his chest as he tried to twist and move, something was lodged in his throat. The crystals had grown up past his sternum and every time he moved against them they dug into his skin, drawing blood wherever the two met. He coughed, at first it was a light cough, but with each shudder of his body the cough grew deeper and more wracking, as he tried to expel something from within his throat. It burned as it came up, making his eyes water. He hacked and heaved as his chest pressed against the crystals and blood oozed from the deepening cuts he was unintentionally causing. Finally it came out, tumbling from his mouth, a dozen tiny rocks, coated in crimson blood. He blinked back tears, trying to clear his vision as he stared at the expulsions as the blood oozed off them and settled in the corners of the square-spirals of the rocks he had coughed up. Of the crystals he had coughed up. He could feel blood trickling down the back of his now lacerated throat, it made him cough, and fear gripped him as the coughs grew deeper and something moved in his airway, he hacked and wheezed and it moved again, it was larger than before, each cough made it harder to breathe, he could feel himself suffocating. His vision swam, darkening as he stared up at the light fixture that was slowly disappearing beneath a forming crystal stalactite.
She stood beside the bed, silver lips pursed as her iridescent blue-green eyes surveyed the scene. The dead man lay ramrod straight on the bed, arms pinned to his sides. his face was colourless save for the blue around his lips. She had seen him several nights before in the bar next door, he had seemed out of it and she had only barely managed to make contact with him, but the conversations hadn’t gone anywhere, especially when she had been interrupted by a call to report in.
A duffel bag, encased within a plastic bag was placed on the floor next to her, the tag on the bag denoted it as evidence. The sweep had already been conducted, evidence analysed and the hotel room digitised for reference later.
“Pure,” a male voice intoned, “They are becoming more brazen.”
“I assume we’re taking it to the lab if the lab techs aren’t taking that with them?” she asked quietly, the tall armoured being next to her shook his head, golden eyes surveying her quietly.
“Yes,” the Prae said finally.
She could never tell what his species was thinking, his face was hidden behind a armoured mask, though even if it was not there she doubted she would read much in his expression, the Prae were much better at disconnecting emotion from their physicality than the organic species were, they were even far more adept than her own species, despite their inorganic similarities.
He spoke again, “You have no further intel to report?”
“Only what I reported previously, I didn’t make contact after that,” she looked over the body again, “He asphyxiated?”
The Prae nodded slowly, “The his autonomic nervous system shut down, his own body stopped itself from regulating its breathing.”
“I wasn’t aware of that being a side effect of liquid silver.”
“It is not, we identified a new compound in his system, it is a match for that found in the deceased person found in the alley nearby, and the six others found over the past month. The coroner’s team will be here to collect the body momentarily.”
She said nothing as he walked out, instead she collected the evidence bag from the floor, feeling the weight of the crystals inside it and gave the dead man one last quiet glance before turning on her heel.