Slow River

Ruth nodded. “Though it’s not a full set of fingers. The corpse was missing thumb and index from her right hand, but then I remembered you were left-handed, so it shouldn’t matter too much.”

She hesitated. “Lore, this has to be the last time.”

I understood, of course. Between us, Spa

“We’re managing. I go back on days soon. I’ll be glad when I’ve finished with nights. I feel as though I haven’t seen Ellen for weeks. She’s just leaving as I get home.”

I envied them even that. “When you’re back on the day shift it would be nice if you both came over for an evening.”

“If you like.” Ruth was too tired to hide her indifference. She turned to go.

“Ruth…” Maybe it was something in my voice, but Ruth stopped. “I mean it. I’d really like you to come. Just to talk. No favors. That other thing, the film. It’s not… it won’t…” I took a deep breath. “Things are different now. I’m not with Spa

For the first time since she had walked out of the morgue gates, Ruth looked at me, really looked at me. I don’t know what she saw, but she nodded. “We’ll come. I’ll call you.”

At the river-taxi wharf, it was too early for the usual tourist hubbub so I took my coffee to a private corner table. The sun was coming up behind me, slicking the black-paned privacy windows and newly pointed brickwork of renovated dockside buildings bloody orange, like overripe fruit. Copters buzzed and alighted like wasps.

I slid open the box and took out the neatly printed flimsy.

Bird, Sal. Female. Caucasian. Blood type A positive. DOB… Twenty-five. Four years older than me. It could have been worse. And all the other details could be fixed. In time.

The tiny black PIDA was in a sealed bag with a note attached in Ruth’s handwriting. Already sterile. Next to it was a plaskin pouch the size of a pink cockroach. Frozen blood for DNA tests. It did not feel cold. I slid the box open further, wondering if Ruth had forgotten the print molds, and then smiled.

“Bless you, Ruth.” Inside, instead of the print molds I had expected, there were eight glistening plaskin finger gloves. Ready to wear. I could get started today. If Spa

Spa

I had to walk through the tiny kitchenette to get to the bathroom. I almost banged my head on the rafter over the tub. As usual, I felt dislocated. It was odd, to wake up alone and nameless.

Not for much longer.

It was midafternoon by the time I got out to look for Spa

Springbank, the road that had once groaned under a thousand rubber tires a minute, was now bobbled with gray vehicle ID sensors and laced with silvery slider rails that glistened like snail tracks in the late September sunshine. It was the first day in two weeks I had not had to wear a coat. Foot traffic was heavy, and sliders hissed to a stop at almost every pole to pick up or drop off passengers. The occasional smaller, private car hummed and dodged impatiently around the tubelike sliders.

The building, old and massive, was built of sandstone. The sign over the entrance was a picture of a polar bear. Inside, it was the same as all bars.

Spa

Spa

“Yes,” It felt like a year, or an hour. It had been just over four months. I beckoned the bartender and nodded at the glass Spa

“Tonic for me.”

There had to be a reason she wasn’t drinking. People changed, but not that much. I tried to keep the tone light. “Waiting for anyone in particular?”

“Just sitting.”

She knew I knew she was lying, but I had gone past the stage of being angry, of facing her with it. It was Spa

In here, the bright sunshine was filtered by old beveled glass and well-polished mahogany to a rich, dim glow, but it was enough to see the glitter in Spa

She sipped at hers. “How have you been?” She sounded as though she did not really care about the answer.

“Well enough.” I hesitated. “Spa

She finally dragged her attention away from the mirror and looked at me. “What happened to all your noble ideas about an honest living?” There was no mistaking the edge of contempt in her voice.

I had not expected this to be easy. “This is the last time. I want a new ID, a permanent one. I want to work, get an honest job.”

“Ah. You need my dishonest help so you can make an honest living.”

I looked at Spa

“I’ve found a PIDA that might make a match. I need help with it.”

“Well, as you always said, I’ll do anything for money.”

“Spa

“Let me think about it awhile.”

We both knew what she would ask, eventually. “Fine, you do that, but I need the preliminary work completed now, within the next couple of days.”

Spa

“I have an interview today,” I pressed. “I should be starting work tomorrow, or the day after.”

“Fine, fine. Come by the flat tomorrow.” Her attention was begi

I sighed and stood. “Your flat, then, tomorrow.” But she wasn’t listening anymore.

When I reached the street door, a couple were just coming in. They were laughing, wore expensive clothes, good jewelry. I glanced back. Spa

Outside, adjusting to the bright afternoon after the dim warmth of the bar, I hesitated. Those two were trouble. Maybe Spa

I waited outside for nearly ten minutes before I realized I could do nothing to help. I left reluctantly, wondering why—after all she had done—I still cared.