Moxyland - Lauren Beukes [76]
'Tighter than a nun's–' Toby starts to say.
'Okay. Just. I'm sure there's another one.'
'Not in this neighbourhood.'
We're not exactly residential. It seems to be mainly warehouses and stacks of metal containers, which must mean we're near the old docks, not too far removed from the station. It's desolate, apart from a rat, loathsomely huge, perched on a mound of rotten tarpaulins. It stops to look at us, incuriously, and then resumes cleaning its face in little circular motions with both paws.
'We're never going to get a taxi now.'
'Couldn't pay for it anyway,' Toby says.
'What?'
I glance at my phone to check the time, but the screen is unnervingly blank. I hit the power, but the screen doesn't light up reassuringly, my signature tune doesn't kick in. I pop the battery, click it back in and thumb it again. But there's nothing.
'Yeah, they amped up the juice when the defusers weren't working.'
'Fried everything one time,' the kid says with genuine admiration.
'Even my illegit handset got toasted,' Toby says. 'How do you think we ended up here?'
'What do you mean?'
'No phone. No cash. The last taxi kicked us out.'
'Does this mean I'm disconnect?' It's too much. I sink down heavily on the kerb, not even worried about the rat. 'I don't know. We'll have to see.'
'My mom's going to butcher me if I'm disconnect,' the kid says glumly, flicking a stompie at the rat, which only twitches its ropy tail and goes back to cleaning itself.
'Hey, come on, baby girl. Don't cry.'
'I'm not fucking crying.'
The kid looks away embarrassed. Toby checks his watch. 'Look, it's 3.18. My place is nearby. Well, relatively nearby. It's about six kays, we can walk it. And we'll just go chill out until morning, maybe email some people. Persuade someone to make a call on our behalf.'
'I'm going to an immunisation centre,' blurts the kid. 'You can't stop me. Don't even try and stop me.' He's holding a gun, his hand shaking.
'That's fine, Eddie. I don't give a fuck what you do. All the better. Means you're out of my fucking hair,' Toby says.
'There's nothing you can do. I'm going.'
'So fucking go already!'
The kid stands there trembling, his eyes wild, and then, with a little bounce on the balls of his feet, he turns and bolts away down the alley.
Toby shouts after him. 'Oh, and Eddie! The guns aren't real, remember? Fucking moron.'
It occurs to me that he's terribly young to be alone and disconnect in this neighbourhood at night. But then it occurs to me, so are we.
'So what happens after that, Toby?'
He yanks me to my feet. 'We talk to my corporate friend. She might be able to sort us out. Or we go get ourselves a vaccine and we deal with whatever comes up along the way.'
Toby's apartment is surprisingly immaculate. I know that was an unfair assumption. But when I comment on it, feeling awkward and sweaty after the walk, he laughs and drops a crumpled piece of paper onto the floor. Instantly, a VIMbot shoots out from under the couch, scoops it up, and then darts for cover.
'My secret sharer,' he says, collapsing onto the couch and sliding off his boots with his heels. After the tense silence of the long walk for endless kays, surely more than six, to get here, and the mission at the entrance to convince the doorwatcher to let us in without the benefit of Toby's SIM, it's a relief to be inside, to be safe. Although safety is relative.
'Is that a reference to something? Am I supposed to get that?'
'Oh god, how pretentious. Sorry. It's Conrad. I'm still registered for a literature degree. At least as far as my folks are concerned. Don't ask me to recommend him, though. The book was boring as fuck, but all his stuff is. Total wank.'
'I didn't take you for the literati type.'
'Well, between that and bioscience…' he shrugs.
'Or the studying type.'
'There's no reason to be rude. My darling mother's probably stopped paying