into another Hector’s apartment; walls to hide behind.
Mavi sat down, pulled a length of knobby yarn out of her basket and wound it around her fingers. “Fresh air would be good for you, but no adventures.” She pointed a long hook at Chango. “Stay in the neighborhood, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” said Chango.
“What are you doing?” asked Helix as Mavi worked the yarn with her hook.
“Crocheting. My mother taught me, but you just can’t find yarn anymore.”
“What’s that, then?” Helix pointed at the blue-green-red-yellow length of ropy stuff in her hands.
“Oh, they save it up at vat 9. Every month or so Benny brings me a bag of it. The bodies aren’t good for much of anything-”
“Except bouncing balls,” said Chango
“-but I tie the tendrils together and make stuff with them. Pele sells them for me at the Eastern Market. I used to do a lot of afghans, but lately I’m doing hats.” She had begun working the yarn into a round.
“The hats sell better.”
Helix’s eyebrows rose of their own volition. “They’re — they’re that stuff you fish out -”
“Agules,” said Chango, “Mavi’s a recycler.”
“Since you’re making the rounds Chango, you want to drop some of these off for me?”
“Sure, but it wouldn’t kill you to let sunlight strike your face either, you know, instead of just sitting around in here all the time, smoking and knitting.”
“Crocheting. Besides, I’ve got things to do. Xenia sprained her ankle and needs a sassafras poultice, and Harvey is still trying to come off Blast. He needs more goldenseal tincture. Oh, and stop by Hyper’s while you’re out, see if he needs more valerian.”
“Sure,” said Chango, getting up and taking her bowl to the sink. “Helix, will you join me?”
Helix gnawed at her lower lip with one fang. “I don’t know. Actually, I should start looking for a job somewhere. Do you know anyplace around that’s hiring?”
Chango and Mavi laughed. “Not hardly,” said Chango, her smile narrowing to a smirk. “Besides, come with me and you won’t need a job.”
oOo
Helix followed Chango across the street to her motor car, a yellow behemoth covered with patches of red polybond. It was a warm, cloudy, humid day; the air dense and full of a strange, yeasty smell. It felt soft and damp against her skin, soothing. “Wow, it’s nice out,” she said. Chango looked at her incredulously. “Nice out? You must be joking. Days like this GeneSys should issue everyone in Vattown a divesuit. Smell that? It’s growth medium, and it’s probably morphing us as we stand.” She opened the door for Helix. “You have to get in on this side, the door on the passenger’s side doesn’t work.”
Helix slid into the spacious seat, cracked and shiny with spots of bioadhesive. They pulled out and rumbled down the street, and Helix leaned back and watched the sky pass above them.
After innumerable turns down narrow streets pitted with erosion and lined with vacant lots and houses in varying stages of disrepair, Chango pulled over in front of a vast field of brick and metal rubble. “All that’s left of the Russell Industrial Center,” she said and got out of the car. Helix watched as she ducked under the half-hearted barricade and picked among the dust and stones. She returned with a fragment of concrete. The brief but intense heat of the disintegration process had melted a crescent wrench into its surface like an instant chrome fossil.
“What’s that?” asked Helix.
Chango looked at her and then heaved it into the back seat. “It’s art,” she said, and got back into the car.
oOo
“Hey Hyper!” called Chango opening the screen door. “Why don’t you lock your door, fool?”
At one of several metal worktables, a scrawny young black man was busily removing solder from a circuit board. He glanced up at them, “Because then I’d have to get up to let you in. I'll be done here in just a sec.”
Helix looked up in wonderment
Mavi sat down, pulled a length of knobby yarn out of her basket and wound it around her fingers. “Fresh air would be good for you, but no adventures.” She pointed a long hook at Chango. “Stay in the neighborhood, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” said Chango.
“What are you doing?” asked Helix as Mavi worked the yarn with her hook.
“Crocheting. My mother taught me, but you just can’t find yarn anymore.”
“What’s that, then?” Helix pointed at the blue-green-red-yellow length of ropy stuff in her hands.
“Oh, they save it up at vat 9. Every month or so Benny brings me a bag of it. The bodies aren’t good for much of anything-”
“Except bouncing balls,” said Chango
“-but I tie the tendrils together and make stuff with them. Pele sells them for me at the Eastern Market. I used to do a lot of afghans, but lately I’m doing hats.” She had begun working the yarn into a round.
“The hats sell better.”
Helix’s eyebrows rose of their own volition. “They’re — they’re that stuff you fish out -”
“Agules,” said Chango, “Mavi’s a recycler.”
“Since you’re making the rounds Chango, you want to drop some of these off for me?”
“Sure, but it wouldn’t kill you to let sunlight strike your face either, you know, instead of just sitting around in here all the time, smoking and knitting.”
“Crocheting. Besides, I’ve got things to do. Xenia sprained her ankle and needs a sassafras poultice, and Harvey is still trying to come off Blast. He needs more goldenseal tincture. Oh, and stop by Hyper’s while you’re out, see if he needs more valerian.”
“Sure,” said Chango, getting up and taking her bowl to the sink. “Helix, will you join me?”
Helix gnawed at her lower lip with one fang. “I don’t know. Actually, I should start looking for a job somewhere. Do you know anyplace around that’s hiring?”
Chango and Mavi laughed. “Not hardly,” said Chango, her smile narrowing to a smirk. “Besides, come with me and you won’t need a job.”
oOo
Helix followed Chango across the street to her motor car, a yellow behemoth covered with patches of red polybond. It was a warm, cloudy, humid day; the air dense and full of a strange, yeasty smell. It felt soft and damp against her skin, soothing. “Wow, it’s nice out,” she said. Chango looked at her incredulously. “Nice out? You must be joking. Days like this GeneSys should issue everyone in Vattown a divesuit. Smell that? It’s growth medium, and it’s probably morphing us as we stand.” She opened the door for Helix. “You have to get in on this side, the door on the passenger’s side doesn’t work.”
Helix slid into the spacious seat, cracked and shiny with spots of bioadhesive. They pulled out and rumbled down the street, and Helix leaned back and watched the sky pass above them.
After innumerable turns down narrow streets pitted with erosion and lined with vacant lots and houses in varying stages of disrepair, Chango pulled over in front of a vast field of brick and metal rubble. “All that’s left of the Russell Industrial Center,” she said and got out of the car. Helix watched as she ducked under the half-hearted barricade and picked among the dust and stones. She returned with a fragment of concrete. The brief but intense heat of the disintegration process had melted a crescent wrench into its surface like an instant chrome fossil.
“What’s that?” asked Helix.
Chango looked at her and then heaved it into the back seat. “It’s art,” she said, and got back into the car.
oOo
“Hey Hyper!” called Chango opening the screen door. “Why don’t you lock your door, fool?”
At one of several metal worktables, a scrawny young black man was busily removing solder from a circuit board. He glanced up at them, “Because then I’d have to get up to let you in. I'll be done here in just a sec.”
Helix looked up in wonderment
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