really.”
Relieved by the doctor’s words, David prepared his instant ramen. While they had dinner, he noted that Shelley seemed much better.
“Honey?” Shelley screwed the cap back onto her empty LXR vial. Apparently, she had gotten used to the formula’s peculiar taste. “Is the holovision still
busted?”
“Yes,” David replied with some uncertainty. “Maybe I’ll just get a new one this Christmas.”
They spent the rest of the evening on the remaining couch. Shelley read aloud E.E. Cummings’ poems and David laid his head on her lap. Sparky snoozed on a nearby rug
where the 21x21 holovision had been before David sold it.
“Sir Dave?” The receptionist looked worried on the holophone projection. “That man from Credit Master is on line three.”
David cussed softly. The calls about his late payments had come more often. And more insistent. They now came with disturbing terms like
collection agency
and
legal action
.
“Please tell him I’m out. Thanks.”
The receptionist managed a faint smile before her projection snapped off.
It was almost time to replenish Shelley’s LXR and David’s Credits were running low. The company’s finance department had informed him they could no longer
extend his loan. Payday was far off.
David stared at the Sucat City skyscrapers outside his window. He felt trapped. Helpless. Exhausted.
Since he’d sold the car, the Automated Metro Rail became the main part of his commute. That evening, David stood at the crowded station waiting for the next northbound
train. From the platform’s edge, he glimpsed the metal tracks below.
A dark thought crossed his mind.
Then, he loathed himself for it.
He would be setting Shelley up for a visit from Mateo.
Then again, perhaps not, David told himself. Mateo knew he’d milked them dry. What would happen is that Shelley would be alone. There’d be no one to get her LXR.
Even with him still around, the LXR was already a problem.
David touched his watch. And realized something.
He sighed.
When he got home, David found a red envelope stuck in their gate’s mail slot. A disconnection notice from the holophone company. As he walked into the house he scratched
Sparky with one hand and hurriedly stuffed the envelope into his pocket with the other.
Shelley was on the couch, a sketchbook on her lap. She tore out a page and crumpled it into a ball. “I don’t understand. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to
draw.”
She hadn’t really painted after her Resurrection. And whatever studies she made were merely flat, muddy reproductions of her past work.
David walked over to hug her. “Hey. Don’t worry. Maybe you just need more time. You’ll soon be painting again.”
“What if I can’t?” Shelly pouted.
“Don’t say that. You know you will.”
Shelley was silent for a while. Finally, she smiled and playfully bit her lip. “Well, you should be glad I didn’t forget how to do… this.”
She languidly unzipped David’s pants.
“I’m very glad you didn’t.” David grinned. Shelley had acquired a new fondness for giving head. She had always been a spitter. These days, she basically
sucked him dry.
David was not one to complain about this particular lust for life. However, for a brief moment just before Shelly went down on him, he worried that she might find the
disconnection notice.
Or the pawnshop receipt for a wristwatch.
Before leaving for work the next day, David found Shelley in the little garden behind the house. She stood before her easel, her palette and a brush in her hands. Her mind as
blank as her canvas.
He cleared his throat. “Shelley?”
Shelley snapped out of her stupor, but a vacant expression remained in her eyes. “Oh. Hi, Honey.”
“What are you painting?”
“I… had an idea. But now, I’m not so sure.” She lifted up the palette with gobs of oil paint to indicate the empty canvas. “I’m afraid I
won’t make it in time for the exhibit.”
David
Relieved by the doctor’s words, David prepared his instant ramen. While they had dinner, he noted that Shelley seemed much better.
“Honey?” Shelley screwed the cap back onto her empty LXR vial. Apparently, she had gotten used to the formula’s peculiar taste. “Is the holovision still
busted?”
“Yes,” David replied with some uncertainty. “Maybe I’ll just get a new one this Christmas.”
They spent the rest of the evening on the remaining couch. Shelley read aloud E.E. Cummings’ poems and David laid his head on her lap. Sparky snoozed on a nearby rug
where the 21x21 holovision had been before David sold it.
“Sir Dave?” The receptionist looked worried on the holophone projection. “That man from Credit Master is on line three.”
David cussed softly. The calls about his late payments had come more often. And more insistent. They now came with disturbing terms like
collection agency
and
legal action
.
“Please tell him I’m out. Thanks.”
The receptionist managed a faint smile before her projection snapped off.
It was almost time to replenish Shelley’s LXR and David’s Credits were running low. The company’s finance department had informed him they could no longer
extend his loan. Payday was far off.
David stared at the Sucat City skyscrapers outside his window. He felt trapped. Helpless. Exhausted.
Since he’d sold the car, the Automated Metro Rail became the main part of his commute. That evening, David stood at the crowded station waiting for the next northbound
train. From the platform’s edge, he glimpsed the metal tracks below.
A dark thought crossed his mind.
Then, he loathed himself for it.
He would be setting Shelley up for a visit from Mateo.
Then again, perhaps not, David told himself. Mateo knew he’d milked them dry. What would happen is that Shelley would be alone. There’d be no one to get her LXR.
Even with him still around, the LXR was already a problem.
David touched his watch. And realized something.
He sighed.
When he got home, David found a red envelope stuck in their gate’s mail slot. A disconnection notice from the holophone company. As he walked into the house he scratched
Sparky with one hand and hurriedly stuffed the envelope into his pocket with the other.
Shelley was on the couch, a sketchbook on her lap. She tore out a page and crumpled it into a ball. “I don’t understand. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to
draw.”
She hadn’t really painted after her Resurrection. And whatever studies she made were merely flat, muddy reproductions of her past work.
David walked over to hug her. “Hey. Don’t worry. Maybe you just need more time. You’ll soon be painting again.”
“What if I can’t?” Shelly pouted.
“Don’t say that. You know you will.”
Shelley was silent for a while. Finally, she smiled and playfully bit her lip. “Well, you should be glad I didn’t forget how to do… this.”
She languidly unzipped David’s pants.
“I’m very glad you didn’t.” David grinned. Shelley had acquired a new fondness for giving head. She had always been a spitter. These days, she basically
sucked him dry.
David was not one to complain about this particular lust for life. However, for a brief moment just before Shelly went down on him, he worried that she might find the
disconnection notice.
Or the pawnshop receipt for a wristwatch.
Before leaving for work the next day, David found Shelley in the little garden behind the house. She stood before her easel, her palette and a brush in her hands. Her mind as
blank as her canvas.
He cleared his throat. “Shelley?”
Shelley snapped out of her stupor, but a vacant expression remained in her eyes. “Oh. Hi, Honey.”
“What are you painting?”
“I… had an idea. But now, I’m not so sure.” She lifted up the palette with gobs of oil paint to indicate the empty canvas. “I’m afraid I
won’t make it in time for the exhibit.”
David
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