Shibui." She then spat on the floor. "Even the shape of her name acidifies my tongue."
I didn't know what I'd done wrong. "I just wanted to ask a question. She told me her address. It was 609 something… I don't remember the building."
"Kira Shibui will soon be stuck upon the cold metal of my needles. And that will be her final residence!" The saleswarrior pulled out a pair of long, golden, connected knitting needles from a container at her waist.
"I didn't mean anything. Do you know where she is?"
Other saleswarriors gathered around us. One crossed her arms. "Leave now, sorry shopper, or Josephone will knit your intestines."
Josephone jabbed her needles toward my gut with an angry grunt. I had to jump back or she would have stabbed me. Her face was red, her eyes, furious. She was completely rot! Turning, I fled.
I wandered the hallways feeling suffocated by the city and its endless stores, shoppers, and crazy saleswarriors. I passed some shoe boutique and a woman in fluttering red stepped before me. "The destiny of your journey rests in the crotch of my desire."
Reversing my direction, I began to run. My head felt filled with rot. I passed a large group of shoppers all dressed like crying bears. Another group wore black clothes covered with worms.
Frantic to get away, I jogged down a seemingly endless series of staircases and came to a kiosk. The blonde smiled at me. "Hi. I'm your friendly, sultry infofighter, Sheila Top, with tourist, shopping, and fashion fornication information. May I help you in your reality, sir?"
"I'm looking for a woman," I said between breaths. "She's a knitter… Kira Shibui… She said something about 609… I don't remember the building."
"The fashion company you're looking for is Python Duck Weapon Men's Fantasy Skivvé," said the infofighter with a glaring smile. "It's in the lovely and practical Velour Building." She handed me a stack of cards. "Here's a complimentary Enterpass. Here's a complimentary city map… plus a coupon for a free Sweet and Unpleasant Throat Gusher from Melancholy Mouse Burger." She tilted her head to the side. "Seattlehama is the finest reality fantasy destination on the Rim. Have you gotten off in our city yet, sir?"
I said yes, thanked her, and turned.
From a nearby port, I headed back up a hundred floors in The Flying Drop, exited in the Velour, and soon found Python Duck Weapon. The store wasn't a tenth of the size of Casper Union and sat empty except for a single t'up woman who occasionally jangled the strings of a water-guitar. In the center sat a black table with three headless and armless mannequins in blue skivvé with long, narrow root tubes. Since no one was around and the musician didn't seem to be paying attention, I touched one. The fabric felt incredibly smooth and light.
I felt a presence and stood straight. Kira Shibui was three feet away, dressed in the same orange sailor suit. Around her waist, hanging from a belt with a bow, was a long, open pouch. In her right hand she held a pair of knitting needles at me.
I put up my hands. "We met before."
She peered at me for a long beat. "Ah, yes! I smell it now… the smoke of recollection." She tucked her needles into the pouch and then closed it. "You are the lost consumer from the shopping evening I acquired the Stanton-Bell." Her mouth quirked into a small smile. A scatter of freckles across her nose made me think of the beautiful dotted surface of a fried TakoDrop.
I pointed at the display skivvé. "You knit these?"
"On the legendary Stanton-Bell Tex-knitter 222," she intoned, turning toward the displayed skivvé. "The Stanton is an arrogant and glorious sister in the long war of our lives. A sweet sister, but one later tainted by the echo of spilled love." Whipping around, she glanced toward the front door. A second later, she turned toward the musician. "No percussion! In this crisis, I must hear every loathsome footfall!" She looked me up and down. "Come. We will talk in the safety of
I didn't know what I'd done wrong. "I just wanted to ask a question. She told me her address. It was 609 something… I don't remember the building."
"Kira Shibui will soon be stuck upon the cold metal of my needles. And that will be her final residence!" The saleswarrior pulled out a pair of long, golden, connected knitting needles from a container at her waist.
"I didn't mean anything. Do you know where she is?"
Other saleswarriors gathered around us. One crossed her arms. "Leave now, sorry shopper, or Josephone will knit your intestines."
Josephone jabbed her needles toward my gut with an angry grunt. I had to jump back or she would have stabbed me. Her face was red, her eyes, furious. She was completely rot! Turning, I fled.
I wandered the hallways feeling suffocated by the city and its endless stores, shoppers, and crazy saleswarriors. I passed some shoe boutique and a woman in fluttering red stepped before me. "The destiny of your journey rests in the crotch of my desire."
Reversing my direction, I began to run. My head felt filled with rot. I passed a large group of shoppers all dressed like crying bears. Another group wore black clothes covered with worms.
Frantic to get away, I jogged down a seemingly endless series of staircases and came to a kiosk. The blonde smiled at me. "Hi. I'm your friendly, sultry infofighter, Sheila Top, with tourist, shopping, and fashion fornication information. May I help you in your reality, sir?"
"I'm looking for a woman," I said between breaths. "She's a knitter… Kira Shibui… She said something about 609… I don't remember the building."
"The fashion company you're looking for is Python Duck Weapon Men's Fantasy Skivvé," said the infofighter with a glaring smile. "It's in the lovely and practical Velour Building." She handed me a stack of cards. "Here's a complimentary Enterpass. Here's a complimentary city map… plus a coupon for a free Sweet and Unpleasant Throat Gusher from Melancholy Mouse Burger." She tilted her head to the side. "Seattlehama is the finest reality fantasy destination on the Rim. Have you gotten off in our city yet, sir?"
I said yes, thanked her, and turned.
From a nearby port, I headed back up a hundred floors in The Flying Drop, exited in the Velour, and soon found Python Duck Weapon. The store wasn't a tenth of the size of Casper Union and sat empty except for a single t'up woman who occasionally jangled the strings of a water-guitar. In the center sat a black table with three headless and armless mannequins in blue skivvé with long, narrow root tubes. Since no one was around and the musician didn't seem to be paying attention, I touched one. The fabric felt incredibly smooth and light.
I felt a presence and stood straight. Kira Shibui was three feet away, dressed in the same orange sailor suit. Around her waist, hanging from a belt with a bow, was a long, open pouch. In her right hand she held a pair of knitting needles at me.
I put up my hands. "We met before."
She peered at me for a long beat. "Ah, yes! I smell it now… the smoke of recollection." She tucked her needles into the pouch and then closed it. "You are the lost consumer from the shopping evening I acquired the Stanton-Bell." Her mouth quirked into a small smile. A scatter of freckles across her nose made me think of the beautiful dotted surface of a fried TakoDrop.
I pointed at the display skivvé. "You knit these?"
"On the legendary Stanton-Bell Tex-knitter 222," she intoned, turning toward the displayed skivvé. "The Stanton is an arrogant and glorious sister in the long war of our lives. A sweet sister, but one later tainted by the echo of spilled love." Whipping around, she glanced toward the front door. A second later, she turned toward the musician. "No percussion! In this crisis, I must hear every loathsome footfall!" She looked me up and down. "Come. We will talk in the safety of
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