Moxyland - Lauren Beukes [8]
'Do you know what that shit even does? You're a fucking lab rat. A corporate bitchmonkey! You make me sick!' Tendeka vaults over the table towards her. She grabs the cue and swipes it at him, more warning than weapon. I'd intervene, but where's the fun in that?
With all the shouting, no one notices the bartender reaching under the counter to activate the panic button, or barely more than a minute later, the tromp of big police boots and padded paws mounting the stairs at pace.
The girl turns her head to the door, almost as if she's anticipating it, as the cop and the Aito come ploughing into the room. She drops the cue and raises her hands in a neat physical dissociation from the scene. The cue rolls scuddering across the floorboards and comes to a stop by the stairs, where the dog sniffs at it once, and dismisses it with a whuff.
'Oh, and is this your private fucking sponsorbaby security force?' Tendeka says, whirling on the cop, who is already aiming his scanner at him. He couldn't be more off. The poor schmuck is obviously just a garden-variety citicop, unlucky enough to draw the Long Street patrol.
'Come to protect the technology? Cos that's all you are, baby. A freakshow prototype.'
The Aito barks in warning, echoed by a bleep from Ten's cellphone as the cop isolates his SIM from all the others in the room with the scanner.
'Yeah, fuck off! Don't you fucking log a warning on me. I have the constitutional right to express my fucking opinion. Ever heard of fucking freedom of expres–'
The cop doesn't bother to register a second warning. He goes straight for the defuser. Higher voltage than necessary, but when did the cops ever play nice? Tendeka drops straight away, jerking epileptic and setting off the damn
dog with excited yipping. I'm reckoning that's
170 to 180 volts right there. Anything over 200 requires extra paperwork to justify the use of potentially lethal force, but that doesn't mean the cops don't push the limits.
Some wasters I know set off their own phone's defuser, on low settings for those dark and hectic beats. Even rhythm can be induced, kids. But it's not easy. You have to hack the hardware, and if you don't know what you're doing, it'll crisp you KFC. Or worse. It's a disconnect offence to tamper with a defuser. You can't play nice by society's rules? Then you don't get to play at all. No phone. No service. No life.
Tendeka judders and spasms at the cop's feet, his phone seething and crackling, while the damn dog yelps an over-excited accompaniment, like it's really getting off on this. Not even Ash dares to intervene. Eventually, the citiprick takes mercy and hits endcall, and it's all done for the day, baby.
'Anybody else?' he asks, snapping his fingers at the modified dog, so that it shuts up instantly. Ten manages to raise himself to his knees, pale and heaving for breath.
'How about you? You want some more, boy?'
Ten shakes his head breathing heavy and a little too desperate. Ashraf kneels next to him and slowly, very obviously, hands him his pump. Ten takes a gulping greedy hit. Really, he should have his asthma registered on his SIM. Medical pre-conditions mean they have to go easier on you.
'Yeah, thought so. Just remember, I've logged your SIM. You even think about causing any more shit, it's disconnect, china.' The citicop steps neatly out of the way as a horde of VIMbots scoot out from under the bar, scrambling to sop up the blood and glass and spilled liquor.
'And here I was so hoping for a quiet day.' He tucks his scanner into his belt and rattles his chem mace cheerfully at the bartender. 'You let me know if this guy gives you any more trouble. I'll be happy to sic /379 here on him.' The bartender grunts and raises a hand. Playing it cool, as if he weren't the guy who 911-ed the citiprick in the first place. The cop whistles, two notes, and the Aito snaps to attention and pads out down the stairs after him.
Ashraf hefts Tendeka to his feet, cursing soft and furious in between wheezing breaths as his asthma