Tis Much When Sceptres Are In Children’s Hands
Tis Much When Sceptres Are In Children’s Hands
Agroup of restless-looking teens lounged around outside her modest high rise. Filthy snow piled up against the corners that rarely, if ever saw the sun. Like the buds of early spring, discarded food wrappers and Chem RDCs poked through to bask in the meagre light.
She nodded unsteadily to the group, all of them sporting something prosthetic and most of them missing parts. They nodded back and moved to allow them to pass.
In the flickering light, ads for Chem, guns and penis enhancers played through a film of graffiti and streaks of excrement. Lusa covered her nose as discreetly as she could, but even through the fog of alcohol, Kerr noticed. Where did she live where this sort of human detritus didn’t exist?
Kerr unlocked the door, though not without apprehension. Caring what other girls thought of her place wasn’t something she did. One more reason why she shouldn’t be entertaining those sorts of thoughts about Lusa. “It’s not much, but no-one will bother us. This area is our turf.”
Kerr allowed Lusa to go first and then did a quick scan.
Her room smelled considerably better than the hallway – artificial vanilla and disinfectants.
She thanked her past self for cleaning the lav and making the bed.
The only thing to be concerned about was the worn sofa, but if Lusa noticed, she didn’t show any sign of it.
“You can take the bed, I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“Are you sure?” Lusa asked.
Surely, she was joking. Lusa would require limb removal to fit on the sofa. Kerr raised an eyebrow that almost knocked her off balance.
Lusa appeared to understand that politeness couldn’t overcome physics. She changed the subject. “I should wash first. I smell like a laundry bag.”
Kerr leaned forward to check before her brain reminded her that smelling her would be creepy. Her blood filters must be working overtime. “Lav’s over there.” Kerr pointed, blinking the remaining haze from her vision.
While her back was turned, Kerr quickly darted around the room, searching for anything else out of place. A stray protein bar wrapper. A discarded Stim container. She re-straightened the covers on her bed. Fluffed the pillows.
But with the last drops of alcohol filtered, Kerr’s thoughts still refused to behave. Lusa was naked, right now, in her flat. Balling her fists, Kerr tried to push the facts aside. Why was she still aching for permission to stare for a few seconds?
The tap shut. Kerr heard the curtain pull aside. Drops fell and splashed against the tile. Shuffling. Objects being moved.
Kerr deposited herself on the sofa and closed her eyes in the hopes that indulging her imagination would be enough to satiate her.
Her thin towel wrapping around Lusa’s body.
What would it feel like to run a finger across those arms, from finger to collarbone without touching scrap of cyberware?
How soft was the skin at her throat? If she asked, would Lusa let her find out or kill her immediately?
Kerr swallowed thickly, straining her ears.
The clink of something against the steel sink.
A rustle of fabric. What did she see through the condensation on the mirror?
Was she wrapped in a towel, or standing nude?
Did she see the same terrifying goddess as Kerr?
Or did she hate a curve? Wish she could reshape a line?
Kerr’s forehead hurt. Inviting her here was a terrible, drunken idea, but it was too late.
“What are you doing?
“Just resting my eyes.” Kerr snapped to attention. “The shots took a toll,” she quickly added.
“Ah.” Lusa nodded like she understood. “I thought it might be some cyberware thing.” She shrugged, a bit flustered. “I don’t really understand what that’s like.”
Her mind raced to come up with a cyberware-based reason she might be sitting, hunched slightly forward with her eyes closed. “I mean,” Kerr’s face screwed up in thought. “Optis can record and replay things you’ve seen. But you still need to have your eyes open to see anything.”
“Like my monocle, then.” Lusa said.
“Yeah.” Kerr sat up straighter. “I built that, you know.”
Lusa held the towel close to her body so it wouldn’t fall. “It’s very good.” She pulled the other towel from her hair and shook it out. “Nicer than my mom’s visor.”
Kerr flushed a little too hotly at the compliment.
“How did you know we didn’t use cyberware?” Lusa finger combed the tangles from her hair.
Kerr reminded herself not to stare. “Everyone knows Adlets don’t use the same cyberware we do.” Pausing for a moment, she added, “It’s not a religious thing, is it?”
Lusa’s frown looked painful.
“Sorry, I don’t want to be offensive or anything.” Kerr raised her hands apologetically.
“No, it’s okay.” Lusa said. “Not all of us are like that. Two of my moms use the same cyberware you do.”
Kerr took a minute to process. “How many mums do you have?”
Lusa raised three fingers. Her eyes widening, Kerr quickly rearranged her expression, nodding, as if she knew dozens of people with three mums.
“It’s okay,” Lusa blew Kerr’s flimsy ruse away with a tight breath. “Even in the Adlets, it’s kind of strange.”
Kerr wanted to know everything about her family. She stretched out along the sofa, hoping Lusa would read her mind and volunteer the information. She did not. Kerr caved and asked. “Will you tell me about them? Or is that top secret?”
Lusa pulled the towel tighter and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Not top secret, no.” She paused, thinking.
“Sesi runs the Adlets. When I was a kid, she would always be the one who played rough with us. Let us get away with things and be there with a big hug when we needed it.” Lusa scratched at her wrist. “I once saw her gut someone who tried to pull something and she carried on the rest of the trade deal like nothing happened.” Lusa chose her words carefully.
Kerr could tell she was trying very hard not to say too much.
“Callie played with us a lot when we were kids. She’s sweet and kind and always ready to smother you with love.
Her and Grandma Cat always listened when we told them stories that went nowhere or brought them a bouquet of weeds.
” A smile slowly spread across her face, but she didn’t look at Kerr.
“She’s still Pinga’s favourite. I don’t think it’s possible to give Pinga enough attention. ”
“But not your favourite?” Kerr settled deeper into the sofa.
“Favourite might not be the best word.” Lusa’s eyes went to the ceiling, like the best words might be hiding up there. “I’m most comfortable with Talia.”
Kerr waited a beat. “What’s she like?”
Lusa took several breaths before responding. “I can’t really describe her with words that make sense. She always seemed to be in the background when we were kids. She was there, but didn’t really engage, you know?” Kerr did not know, but she kept her mouth shut this time.
Lusa swallowed thickly, like she might cry. “My teens were confusing. She got me in a way the other two couldn’t. She’s easier for me to talk with.” Lusa picked at her fingernail. “She had a hard time growing up, too.”
Kerr couldn’t understand how this woman who wore jackets and cut people’s fingers off and looked the way she did could possibly have a hard time growing up. She nodded sympathetically anyway, desperately hoping she would continue.
Lusa switched gears. “What about your mom? Moms? I don’t know.”
Kerr inhaled sharply. “My mum was called Solder, formerly, Saoirse.” She sniffed. “I never met my father.”
“Formerly?” Lusa asked.
Kerr flapped her hands as if that could accurately communicate anything.
“There’s an initiation you do when you pledge to the Chargers.
You get a new name,” She could say more, but that seemed unimportant at the moment.
“My mum read to me a lot. Kept me from getting into too much trouble. Even though most of them got hooked through corpo jobs, you can still get Chem from RDCs. None of us newer gens have the cyberware to handle the shite they were on.”
“RDCs?”
“Rapid Dispersal Canisters.” Kerr thought everyone knew what those were.
“Oh, yeah.” Lusa nodded a little too rapidly. “She sounds nice.” She added, “I’m sorry.”
Unsure how to respond, Kerr nodded back. The weight of death and injury and blame lay over the room like a suffocating fog.
“Why… nevermind.” Lusa lay on the bed. “I should get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
“Why what?” Kerr propped herself up on her elbows.
Lusa rolled over on her side. “Why are you trying to act like my friend after what I did?” Lusa had never apologised for causing Kerr to lose her arm and now she was feeling sorry for it?
Kerr flexed her ceramic composite fingers.
She hated her, but the feeling lacked conviction.
Lusa was just a person, treating her better than everyone else around here.
“It’s not all bad. I got used to her, right?
” Words Piston had said just before the trade deal went bad.
Blinded by hate and then attraction, the light from the ads outside highlighted a melancholy she hadn’t noticed before. “Sorry for taking your sister.”
Lusa didn’t move but Kerr thought she saw something in her eyes shift.
The silence that followed felt like it needed to be filled. Kerr massaged the fingers on her good hand. “Feels like we have something in common maybe? Like we’re both rushing to defend people that don’t really deserve it, yeah?”
Lusa nodded, but changed the subject. “Thanks for putting me up.” Clearly, she didn’t want to dig that deeply into it right now.
She slipped under the thin blanket, discarding the towel as discreetly as she could. “Sorry, I didn’t bring any sleepwear. I wasn’t really expecting this.” Lusa adjusted the pillow. “Maybe we’re both fucked up.”
Kerr bit her lips in an effort not to drool. Tuning her Opti to sleep mode, Kerr dimmed her light sensitivity. Probably a good thing, or she would be staring all night.
Why was she doing this? Putting Lusa up? Acting like her friend? Common ground and attraction couldn’t be the whole reason, could it? “Why are you being so nice to me?” Kerr still couldn’t understand why Lusa had helped her with the doorstopper.
A pause. “I didn’t think I was.” Lusa’s voice sounded too intimate coming from the dark.
Kerr tried not to dwell on how depressing that was. “Are you this nice to everyone?”
More silence. “I guess not,” Lusa admitted.
“Is it because you like me?” Kerr tilted her head coyly. Not that Lusa could see.
“Good night.” Lusa turned toward the wall. Kerr was only playing the fool, but it pleased her that Lusa hadn’t responded with malice or exasperation.
“Good night,” she whispered back.