Holy Fire - Bruce Sterling [41]
“Are you an illegal, Ulrich?”
“[Not at all, I’m a legal Deutschlander. Twenty-three years old.]” He stretched, putting his arm behind her shoulders. “[I simply enjoy pursuing the life of a petty criminal for reasons of pleasure and ideology. Too much honesty is bad for people.]”
Maya looked inside her handbag. She felt a vague urge to complain further, but she decided to shut up when she saw what a fine haul he’d made. The minibank was useless away from its proper owner, of course, but there were a couple of cashcards in there with pin money already slotted in them. Also a Munchen tubeticket. Sunglasses. Brush and comb set. Hair lacquer. Lipstick (not her color), night cream (hydrolyzer compound), internal pH chalk (peppermint flavored). Mineral tabs for tinctures. A hypo set. Tissues. A handsome little netlink. A scroller. And a camera.
Maya fished out the camera. A little digital tourist job. It fit her hand with lovely smoothness. She peered experimentally through the lens, then turned and framed Ulrich’s face. He flinched away, and quickly shook his head.
Maya examined the camera’s readout and cleared the internal disk of photos. “You really want me to keep all this stuff?”
“I know you need it,” Ulrich said in English.
“Great.” She began carefully polishing the camera with a paper tissue.
“[I happened to look inside your bag,]” Ulrich confided, “[while you were staring up at the steeple at those crazy Catholics. I saw that there was nothing much in your bag except a half-eaten welfare pretzel and some panties spotted with rat dung. This made me very curious.]” Ulrich leaned closer. “[I declined to appropriate your useless purse. I thought it much better that I offer you my protection. I don’t know who you are, little Californian. But you are very unworldly. You won’t last long in Munchen without a friend.]”
She smiled at him sunnily. Perfectly happy and confident. “So you’re my new friend?”
“[Certainly. I’m just the kind of bad company you need.]”
“You’re very generous. With other people’s property.”
“[I’d be generous with my own property if I were allowed to have any.]” He took her hand and squeezed it, very gently. “[Don’t you trust me? You might as well trust me. We’ll have much more fun that way.]” He lifted her fingers, and lightly touched them to his lips.
She pulled her hand free, clapped her palm against the back of his neck, and leaned into him. Their faces collided. Their lips met.
Kissing him was absolute rapture. Heat rose from his sleek young neck inside the woolly collar. The smell of male human flesh in close proximity hit a core of memory within her that lit her up all over. She could feel her whole personality pucker and collapse as if her bare brain had bitten into a lemon. She began to kiss the stuffing out of him.
“[Be careful, little mouse,]” Ulrich said, tearing free with a happy gasp. “[People are watching.]”
“Can’t I kiss a guy on a subway?” she said, wiping her mouth on her coatsleeve. “What’s the harm?”
“[Not much for us,]” he agreed. “[But it might make these people remember us. That’s not smart.]”
She looked up the length of the railway car. A dozen Muncheners were staring at them. Caught out, the Deutschlanders continued to stare, with deep and solemn interest and without one shred of inhibition. Maya frowned, and raised her camera to her face in self-defense. The Deutschlanders merely smiled and waved at her, clowning for the lens. Reluctantly, she put the camera back into her purse. “Where are we going, anyway?”
“[Where do you want to go?]”
“Where can we go lie down?”
Ulrich laughed delightedly. “[It’s just as I thought. You’re a madwoman.]”
She poked his ribs. “Don’t tell me you didn’t like that, you big faker.”
“[Of