the design room."
She led me through a hidden door into a room piled with boxes, cloth, notions, and half a dozen complicated machines. It was silent, and the smell was of cloth and concentration.
She folded her arms. "Fill the air with your reasons."
"I remembered you," I said with a shrug. "I liked your kitting."
Her mouth was twisted to one side sourly. "You are not a scout, nor customer… I say you're not a tourist either."
I was much worse. I was a yarn ripping, paperless slubber who had run after some ghost-killed drap-de-Berry. "You told me to come by to learn about knitting." Her expression didn't change. She had laughed so easily at the knitting machine store.
"I do not recognize the slippery edge of your tongue." She narrowed her eyes. "Where are you from?"
While I tried to think of anything but the truth, I just came out with it. "The slubs."
Her eyes widened in horror. "Cut me," she muttered. "I thought I tasted the slur of a flat man… of a prisoner from the thirsty wormholes of the impoverished."
"I'm not a prisoner!" I told her. "I'm from the slubs."
" Slubs ," she said, with a laugh. "A prosthetic word. Prisoner carries the moral and repentant weight of the dead lives lived. And yet, I understand your indignation as you surely can't be blamed for the devastation of that wide and sad monoculture." Pursing her mouth, she folded her arms. "And your presence… Why are you before me?"
"I'll do anything for food and a place to stay."
She scowled. "Python Duck Weapon requires no warriors of design, credit, or transaction."
My heart sank. She showed me to the front door. I muttered awkward thanks as I stepped out into the shopway. For a while I just stood thinking. I couldn't return to the slubber ghetto. I couldn't go to Withor. Casper Union was out. Could I live on cuisine court samples and sleep in some hallway? Pressing my thumb gently against the sharp of the yarn pull glued to my middle finger, I wondered if I could rip yarn and sell them to the t'ups in the hallways. A woman in a see-through gown and furry black mask strolled by. Would you like me to steal a yarn for you? I imagined myself saying. I knew that was foolish.
I started down the hallway looking for a cuisine court where I might get some samples. The only other thing that came to mind was to try to find my way back to the infofighter to get more coupons. I figured I could last for several days like this, but after that, I didn't know. Nearby, I found another information booth, but just stood near and watched the screens for anything about drap-de-Berry. All I saw were commercials for clothes, cosmetics, and costumes.
"Man of dirt!" Kira Shibui stopped and looked me over.
Had she heard about drap-de-Berry? Was she about to turn me in? I thought about running, but she didn't seem like she was about to accuse me of anything. She pushed my shoulder as if testing my weight and then poked at my bicep with an index finger.
"Python Duck Corporate requires a Friday Officer. It's not a prestigious title, but one of muscle and bone."
I was so happy, I laughed. "Thank you! I had a good feeling about you. And I was really impressed how you knit." Her expression was serious. I nodded like I might have to an M-Bunny rep and said, "I'm happy to help."
Now her expression turned dark. " Help?" She shook her head slowly. "We are in fashion battles for our lives and we will only survive with true and extreme LoveEffort! Nothing will be required but everything ." She glanced up and down the hallway anxiously. Then she glared at my TearDrop suit with disgust. "We must shop immediately."
AN UNEATEN TWO-POUND FLUFFY BURGER AND AN UN-DRUNK KITTY PINK KOLA
How close had I just come to dying on the Loop? Once I blacked out near the top, the Chang-P's safety intervention logic had kept the car on the road. But if I had lost consciousness a few moments before and maybe twisted the wheel to one side as the g-forces began to pull, I might have flown off the
She led me through a hidden door into a room piled with boxes, cloth, notions, and half a dozen complicated machines. It was silent, and the smell was of cloth and concentration.
She folded her arms. "Fill the air with your reasons."
"I remembered you," I said with a shrug. "I liked your kitting."
Her mouth was twisted to one side sourly. "You are not a scout, nor customer… I say you're not a tourist either."
I was much worse. I was a yarn ripping, paperless slubber who had run after some ghost-killed drap-de-Berry. "You told me to come by to learn about knitting." Her expression didn't change. She had laughed so easily at the knitting machine store.
"I do not recognize the slippery edge of your tongue." She narrowed her eyes. "Where are you from?"
While I tried to think of anything but the truth, I just came out with it. "The slubs."
Her eyes widened in horror. "Cut me," she muttered. "I thought I tasted the slur of a flat man… of a prisoner from the thirsty wormholes of the impoverished."
"I'm not a prisoner!" I told her. "I'm from the slubs."
" Slubs ," she said, with a laugh. "A prosthetic word. Prisoner carries the moral and repentant weight of the dead lives lived. And yet, I understand your indignation as you surely can't be blamed for the devastation of that wide and sad monoculture." Pursing her mouth, she folded her arms. "And your presence… Why are you before me?"
"I'll do anything for food and a place to stay."
She scowled. "Python Duck Weapon requires no warriors of design, credit, or transaction."
My heart sank. She showed me to the front door. I muttered awkward thanks as I stepped out into the shopway. For a while I just stood thinking. I couldn't return to the slubber ghetto. I couldn't go to Withor. Casper Union was out. Could I live on cuisine court samples and sleep in some hallway? Pressing my thumb gently against the sharp of the yarn pull glued to my middle finger, I wondered if I could rip yarn and sell them to the t'ups in the hallways. A woman in a see-through gown and furry black mask strolled by. Would you like me to steal a yarn for you? I imagined myself saying. I knew that was foolish.
I started down the hallway looking for a cuisine court where I might get some samples. The only other thing that came to mind was to try to find my way back to the infofighter to get more coupons. I figured I could last for several days like this, but after that, I didn't know. Nearby, I found another information booth, but just stood near and watched the screens for anything about drap-de-Berry. All I saw were commercials for clothes, cosmetics, and costumes.
"Man of dirt!" Kira Shibui stopped and looked me over.
Had she heard about drap-de-Berry? Was she about to turn me in? I thought about running, but she didn't seem like she was about to accuse me of anything. She pushed my shoulder as if testing my weight and then poked at my bicep with an index finger.
"Python Duck Corporate requires a Friday Officer. It's not a prestigious title, but one of muscle and bone."
I was so happy, I laughed. "Thank you! I had a good feeling about you. And I was really impressed how you knit." Her expression was serious. I nodded like I might have to an M-Bunny rep and said, "I'm happy to help."
Now her expression turned dark. " Help?" She shook her head slowly. "We are in fashion battles for our lives and we will only survive with true and extreme LoveEffort! Nothing will be required but everything ." She glanced up and down the hallway anxiously. Then she glared at my TearDrop suit with disgust. "We must shop immediately."
AN UNEATEN TWO-POUND FLUFFY BURGER AND AN UN-DRUNK KITTY PINK KOLA
How close had I just come to dying on the Loop? Once I blacked out near the top, the Chang-P's safety intervention logic had kept the car on the road. But if I had lost consciousness a few moments before and maybe twisted the wheel to one side as the g-forces began to pull, I might have flown off the
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