Low, and nightclubs were what he knew, where he felt comfortable.
At the door, the greeter looked him up and down, eyed his old handheld, shook her head before he could open his mouth.
“I’m not looking to get in,” Rob said. “I’m looking for a job. Can I talk to the manager?”
The greeter shook her head again. She was perilously thin and absurdly tall, though part of that was her heels, which she boosted an additional inch as she shook her head. “They don’t hire unknowns.”
“I used to come here pretty often, with Lorelei Van Kampen.”
That sparked her interest. “If you get Lorelei to pop over, I’m sure she can get you an introduction to the manager.”
Rob folded his arms, wishing he hadn’t brought up Lorelei. “I can’t do that. Can’t you help me out?”
“Sorry, no,” the greeter said, and immediately turned to the couple behind Rob. Rob turned back toward the door, doing his best to ignore the glances from people in line who’d overheard the exchange.
Outside, he spotted a woman who looked familiar. She was small, with Anglo-Asian features, peering down the street as if looking for someone. Hadn’t he met her at some point? She’d been with a guy Lorelei knew. He needed an in, a connection. There was no way he was going to ask anyoneclosely associated with Lorelei, but maybe he could capitalize on a loose connection.
His stomach twisting, Rob approached the woman. “Hi.”
The woman looked him up and down. “Do I know you?”
“I think so. Didn’t we meet in Pelicula a while back? I was with Lorelei Van Kampen.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “I seriously doubt that.” She went back to looking down the street.
It had been a very long night, and Rob was sick of being treated like shit just because he wasn’t wearing a system and was dressed for an interview instead of a night of doing bugs and dancing. “You doubt we’ve met before, or you doubt I was with Lorelei Van Kampen?”
The woman sighed heavily, but otherwise ignored him.
“You know, despite your staggering beauty and obvious charm, I really wasn’t trying to pick you up. I was just saying hello. We did meet before, and from what I remember, you were just about licking Lorelei’s boots clean to get her attention and approval.”
The woman whipped around to face him. Something scurried out of the black bag hooked to her belt, and before Rob could even identify it as a portable bodyguard, it had climbed up his pants and positioned itself right over his crotch. “What did you say?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Rob said. The synthetic bodyguard resembled a black, hairless rat with a silent, rotating blade in its mouth instead of teeth. Its little claws had a death grip on the fabric of his jeans.
“Correct answer.” She pressed her face close to his, her eyes blazing. “Get. Lost.”
As soon as the bodyguard was off, Rob scurried away, heading for the elevator to Low Town.
Maybe he should have worn his system, although it was now nothing but a dead sheath of synthetic skin. He could have told people it had malfunctioned and he had no idea why. It would have been comforting to have it on.
The elevator let him off on Forty-Second Street, and he was met by the blandness, the deadness of the city unenhanced by a system. It hurt, being without one. It physically hurt. Without the Esthetic Visual Enhancement the steel-and-glass of Pipkin Tower was a flat, featureless obelisk. The sidewalks were a gum-stained mess, the gutters caked with crud. When he got to the suburbs, the contrast between system and no system would get even starker as the landscape got grimier.
“Excuse me.” The screen of a pretty, fully-shaven woman was floating alongside him. “How are you today? Nifty?”
“Seminifty at best,” Rob said, smiling wanly, wondering if she could possibly be hitting on him. That would be nice in a way, though he couldn’t afford to go out with someone, even if he’d felt like it.
“I’m trying to
At the door, the greeter looked him up and down, eyed his old handheld, shook her head before he could open his mouth.
“I’m not looking to get in,” Rob said. “I’m looking for a job. Can I talk to the manager?”
The greeter shook her head again. She was perilously thin and absurdly tall, though part of that was her heels, which she boosted an additional inch as she shook her head. “They don’t hire unknowns.”
“I used to come here pretty often, with Lorelei Van Kampen.”
That sparked her interest. “If you get Lorelei to pop over, I’m sure she can get you an introduction to the manager.”
Rob folded his arms, wishing he hadn’t brought up Lorelei. “I can’t do that. Can’t you help me out?”
“Sorry, no,” the greeter said, and immediately turned to the couple behind Rob. Rob turned back toward the door, doing his best to ignore the glances from people in line who’d overheard the exchange.
Outside, he spotted a woman who looked familiar. She was small, with Anglo-Asian features, peering down the street as if looking for someone. Hadn’t he met her at some point? She’d been with a guy Lorelei knew. He needed an in, a connection. There was no way he was going to ask anyoneclosely associated with Lorelei, but maybe he could capitalize on a loose connection.
His stomach twisting, Rob approached the woman. “Hi.”
The woman looked him up and down. “Do I know you?”
“I think so. Didn’t we meet in Pelicula a while back? I was with Lorelei Van Kampen.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “I seriously doubt that.” She went back to looking down the street.
It had been a very long night, and Rob was sick of being treated like shit just because he wasn’t wearing a system and was dressed for an interview instead of a night of doing bugs and dancing. “You doubt we’ve met before, or you doubt I was with Lorelei Van Kampen?”
The woman sighed heavily, but otherwise ignored him.
“You know, despite your staggering beauty and obvious charm, I really wasn’t trying to pick you up. I was just saying hello. We did meet before, and from what I remember, you were just about licking Lorelei’s boots clean to get her attention and approval.”
The woman whipped around to face him. Something scurried out of the black bag hooked to her belt, and before Rob could even identify it as a portable bodyguard, it had climbed up his pants and positioned itself right over his crotch. “What did you say?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Rob said. The synthetic bodyguard resembled a black, hairless rat with a silent, rotating blade in its mouth instead of teeth. Its little claws had a death grip on the fabric of his jeans.
“Correct answer.” She pressed her face close to his, her eyes blazing. “Get. Lost.”
As soon as the bodyguard was off, Rob scurried away, heading for the elevator to Low Town.
Maybe he should have worn his system, although it was now nothing but a dead sheath of synthetic skin. He could have told people it had malfunctioned and he had no idea why. It would have been comforting to have it on.
The elevator let him off on Forty-Second Street, and he was met by the blandness, the deadness of the city unenhanced by a system. It hurt, being without one. It physically hurt. Without the Esthetic Visual Enhancement the steel-and-glass of Pipkin Tower was a flat, featureless obelisk. The sidewalks were a gum-stained mess, the gutters caked with crud. When he got to the suburbs, the contrast between system and no system would get even starker as the landscape got grimier.
“Excuse me.” The screen of a pretty, fully-shaven woman was floating alongside him. “How are you today? Nifty?”
“Seminifty at best,” Rob said, smiling wanly, wondering if she could possibly be hitting on him. That would be nice in a way, though he couldn’t afford to go out with someone, even if he’d felt like it.
“I’m trying to
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