Descending Road - ERASERS by Dana W. Paxson

ERASERS

2380 CE

JJ glared at Pico. “Come on,” he urged. “Where’s your old fire?” His voice was a lover’s, but his eyes were dark and sharp, alert, hostile. The feed indicator on the grabber pulsed fast, flickering green.

“Be gentle with me,” she said softly, trying to keep up the auditory illusion they needed. Tears came. She damned them silently and shook her head. The Movement needed this data. There was something big going on, bigger than all their plans and actions and protests. The Sinese guarded their data fanatically, and Pico was one of the only people with Movement connections in Shanghai.

The Movement was her secret life. The giant firms had almost destroyed the planet, and the Movement was beginning to bite into them: research sabotage, employees recruited as agents in place, network damage and disinformation, even assassinations. But assassinations were paid back. That was how Enrico…

Anger flared in Pico. She wanted to stamp all of the blood out of her mind, forget all of it, drown herself in the moment and wallow in nothingness. She got off the bed and went to JJ. The grabber was done, and he folded it back into its boxy disguise as a working cam. Tension exploded in her, making her grin down at JJ as he finished packing the cam. “Come here,” she said. “Let’s make this real.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

She took his arm as he stood, and leaned to whisper to him, “I need some stuff erased. I need your eraser.” Her heart volleyed — what was she doing? She stiffened against her own impulse, then willed her body to relax.

He leaned close to her, hissing, “Are you crazy? This is professional. It’s too dangerous for us both.” He turned his back and snatched up the cam/datagrabber.

“You can’t leave so soon,” she whispered to him. “It won’t look right.”

“I know. Look, let’s just sit on the bed, apart. Bounce the springs a little. That’s good enough.” He sat down, and she sat beside him. “Pico, listen. You don’t want to be with me. Trust me on that. I like you just enough to tell you this. If you ever get mixed up with me, you’ll wish you were dead.”

I already do. She patted his hand. “All right. Let’s at least make some of the right noises.”

They began simulating the sounds of lovemaking, looking away from each other, jostling the bed, their moans increasing in volume and intensity until Pico raised her voice in a loud cry, and stopped moving, still staring straight ahead at the ornately-patterned wallpaper. JJ ended with an “Aahh! Aah!” without looking at her. The blues on the soundbox rolled pulsing onwards. They sat for several minutes, saying nothing. When Enrico came, it had always been with a long, single sighing, not like the sounds JJ made. An involuntary stab of guilt made Pico glance at JJ, but a knife was in his hand, and he was paring away a long, dark scab from his forearm, his face impassive.

“What’s that?” she whispered.

“The Rot,” he breathed. He dug the blade deeper, gouging into the flesh, but his face didn’t change, and his eyes glinted. “Fucker at GenCo tried to kill me with it. I sliced him up and left him blind, deaf, and spineless.” A slice of dark-green and olive-brown muscle, necrotic, came up on the knife-tip. JJ wrapped it in a piece of paper and took it to the toilet.

“No, Pico, you don’t want to know me. Let’s put on those smiles and go out ass to ass.”

Ass to ass — You don’t know me, I don’t know you. The old Russian expression seemed funny to her in the midst of the gruesome moment, and she giggled. “Ass to ass.” She stood up and carefully arranged her tight dress as if she had just shrugged it on drunkenly. Now she’d get a hover back into Shanghai, back to her own bed and the picture of Enrico smiling in the Naples sun, wearing that idiotic hat of his, and Nonna Tiziana‘s old parrot on his shoulder. Then she could sob all night.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	ERASERS 2380 CE JJ glared at Pico. “Come on,” he urged. “Where’s your old fire?” His voice was a lover’s, but his eyes were dark and sharp, alert, hostile. The feed indicator on the grabber pulsed fast, flickering green. “Be gentle with me,” she said softly, trying to keep up the auditory illusion they needed. Tears came. She damned them silently and shook her head. The Movement needed this data. There was something big going on, bigger than all their plans and actions and protests. The Sinese guarded their data fanatically, and Pico was one of the only people with Movement connections in Shanghai. The Movement was her secret life. The giant firms had almost destroyed the planet, and the Movement was beginning to bite into them: research sabotage, employees recruited as agents in place, network damage and disinformation, even assassinations. But assassinations were paid back. That was how Enrico… Anger flared in Pico. She wanted to stamp all of the blood out of her mind, forget all of it, drown herself in the moment and wallow in nothingness. She got off the bed and went to JJ. The grabber was done, and he folded it back into its boxy disguise as a working cam. Tension exploded in her, making her grin down at JJ as he finished packing the cam. “Come here,” she said. “Let’s make this real.” He blinked. “Huh?” She took his arm as he stood, and leaned to whisper to him, “I need some stuff erased. I need your eraser.” Her heart volleyed — what was she doing? She stiffened against her own impulse, then willed her body to relax. He leaned close to her, hissing, “Are you crazy? This is professional. It’s too dangerous for us both.” He turned his back and snatched up the cam/datagrabber. “You can’t leave so soon,” she whispered to him. “It won’t look right.” “I know. Look, let’s just sit on the bed, apart. Bounce the springs a little. That’s good enough.” He sat down, and she sat beside him. “Pico, listen. You don’t want to be with me. Trust me on that. I like you just enough to tell you this. If you ever get mixed up with me, you’ll wish you were dead.” I already do. She patted his hand. “All right. Let’s at least make some of the right noises.” They began simulating the sounds of lovemaking, looking away from each other, jostling the bed, their moans increasing in volume and intensity until Pico raised her voice in a loud cry, and stopped moving, still staring straight ahead at the ornately-patterned wallpaper. JJ ended with an “Aahh! Aah!” without looking at her. The blues on the soundbox rolled pulsing onwards. They sat for several minutes, saying nothing. When Enrico came, it had always been with a long, single sighing, not like the sounds JJ made. An involuntary stab of guilt made Pico glance at JJ, but a knife was in his hand, and he was paring away a long, dark scab from his forearm, his face impassive. “What’s that?” she whispered. “The Rot,” he breathed. He dug the blade deeper, gouging into the flesh, but his face didn’t change, and his eyes glinted. “Fucker at GenCo tried to kill me with it. I sliced him up and left him blind, deaf, and spineless.” A slice of dark-green and olive-brown muscle, necrotic, came up on the knife-tip. JJ wrapped it in a piece of paper and took it to the toilet. “No, Pico, you don’t want to know me. Let’s put on those smiles and go out ass to ass.” Ass to ass — You don’t know me, I don’t know you. The old Russian expression seemed funny to her in the midst of the gruesome moment, and she giggled. “Ass to ass.” She stood up and carefully arranged her tight dress as if she had just shrugged it on drunkenly. Now she’d get a hover back into Shanghai, back to her own bed and the picture of Enrico smiling in the Naples sun, wearing that idiotic hat of his, and Nonna Tiziana‘s old parrot on his shoulder. Then she could sob all night.