Slow River

But even as her gorge rose again, her skin flushed with remembered heat. She wept.

Sometimes all Spa

By November, they were tricking six nights out of seven, and sometimes more than once a night. They usually took it in turns: one to perform, one to guard. On the nights or afternoons when she was the one watching Spa

She was the one who made sure there were latex and antivirals; she was the one who pulled Spa

This might not be love, but she was not being lied to. They earned a great deal of money, but they always seemed to need more. The holiday season came again. Lore wandered the streets, ending up by the medieval gate that had been excavated thirty years before. She stared at it, then out at what had once been a dock, long ago. A huge shopping mall, tawdry with age, floated there now. She wondered why modern creations became uglier faster. It was raining. Something about the gray sky and the sturdy shoes splashing through puddles reminded her of Den Haag, of her hand in her father’s as they ran, laughing, from the chauffeured car to the brightly lit store. She had bought Tok an art program for his slate that year.

Her father had helped her choose presents for everyone.

And she had felt so lucky.

Her father was a busy man, with meetings to run and schedules to keep, but here he was, ru

Lore smiled to herself, caught sight of that smile in a storefront window, and faltered. It was all a lie, because he was all a lie. All her memories of him were tainted, soiled by what he had done to Stella. How could someone do that to another, and smile and smile and pretend love?

She found herself huddling against the cold armored glass of a clothing store. She could not think of a single thing to buy Spa

I don’t know why I went to the Polar Bear—to exorcise some ghosts, maybe; maybe I just wanted some beer; maybe I couldn’t face being on my own—but I did not expect to see Spa

She was holding court at one of the center tables, gesturing with one hand, laughing, pausing to drink.

Just go, she had said last time I saw her. She would rather have suffered that terrible pain than have me in her flat. Yet here she was, waving me over. And here I was, sliding into a seat, nodding pleasantly at the woman and two men I didn’t recognize at the table.

“Lore!” She twisted her head over her shoulder and shouted at the bar, “Bring Lore a beer.”

Judging by the smears on the table and the flush on their cheeks, they had been there a few hours. Spa

After a few how-are-yous which meant nothing, I was left out of the conversation while Spa

“The weekend? No problem. Yes, it was good to talk to you. No, no, I’ll stay and have a chat with Lore here.”

Then it was just us.

“What are you doing out of bed?”

“I’m fine.”

I let it pass. If Spa

“Is your video ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then we’ll go tomorrow night. Four-thirty.”

“I can’t.” I cast about for an excuse. “I’m working until four.”

“How long does it take you to walk half a mile?”

“But the equipment-”

“It’s ready.”

“-and the information…”

“I’ve got it. I’ve looked at it. We’re ready. And tomorrow, at four-thirty, at a switching station here in the city, is our hole.”

“No.” The idea was ridiculous. “Look at you. You couldn’t even lift that pint without a shot.”

“So? The fact is, I can lift it.”

“And how sharp will you be, full of drugs? No. We’ll wait.”

“We can’t wait.” She pushed her beer away. “I can’t wait. The information and equipment cost money and favors. I owe several people. By now they’ll have heard…”

She spread her fingers in a fan, indicating her body, the way it had been injured. I could see the faint glimmer of powder under her eyes where she had covered dark circles. She had already owed money before all this. Now, to get the equipment, she had pulled in favors. The people she owed would be getting worried: it was why she was out and about, counteracting the rumor that she was finished.

In the game Spa

I hesitated. There was a lot at stake. If Spa

“Can you do it?” Tell me the truth. Just for once. Can you do this with all those drugs coursing through you?

“Yes.”

She could have left me that night in the rain, just pretended not to hear me, and walked away. I could have died.

“All right, then. Tomorrow.”

We didn’t shake hands.

It was raining, but I didn’t feel it. I was wrapped in plasthene hood, long coat, booties over my boots, hands sprayed with a transparent layer of plaskin. I crouched on the pavement, shielding the open pack with the waterproof coat. Spa

The station was ten feet square and low-roofed. Digital relays switched soundlessly, lightlessly. It was cold. There was one chair on casters. The floor was smoothed concrete. We shook ourselves to get rid of the worst of the rain, but didn’t dare take off the coats. We were clean for this job: no stray skin or hair for the security snoops to read for DNA.

“Do you want the chair?” I asked.

Spa

The stillness and silence were u

Spa

I unfastened my own pack and began handing Spa