Angry Young Spaceman by Jim Munroe

first time that night. Then 9/3 said, “The far table says that Matthew looks like Sean Plynn.”

    “Ask them if they wanna fuck,” slurred Matthew, not looking up from his beer.

    “Ha ha ha. No.”

    Matthew sighed.

    I gave the girls a long look, and was impressed to see that they didn’t bury their heads in their tentacles.

    “Well, that’s a good thing about not having a translator,” I said gamely. “I now have a good excuse for being alone and loveless. Plangyo’s not exactly a fashiontank, either.”

    “They all go to big cities like this for university,” said Matthew. “But have you met your workshop teachers yet? Some of mine are awfully cute...”

    “I’m supposed to get them next week,” I said.

    “Let’s not talk about work,” said Hugh. “I’m drinking to forget.” He looked over at 9/3. “I got stuck with the Armoured.”

    9/3’s arms jerked. They talked about that for a while.

    I looked at Matthew. He was staring right at me with a wicked grin.

    “....I even told them I did a paper on Unarmoured culture, which was embarrassing, because it made me sound like some kind of groupie...” Hugh was saying.

    “Let’s go whoring,” Matthew said to me.

    The conversation stopped. Hugh looked at me, his eyebrows raised.

    Matthew got up and stumbled for the door.

    “I’d better...” I thumbed towards him. “I’ll meet you guys back here?”

    I gave them a handful of beeds for our beer and took off after Matthew. I pointed the suspicious waitress in their direction, and noticed 9/3 patting Hugh’s hand in commiseration, already deep in conversation.

    I pushed the door open (and I really had to push, the liquid atmosphere felt like a stiff wind against it) and Matthew was standing there, hands on hips, looking down the street like he was directing a movie.

    He turned around to look up the street and saw me. “That way looks good to me.”

    I looked up at the sign, and tried to get my beer-addled brain to lock on this location. I took note of the clothing store across the way and the small cart selling dubious-looking food, and we walked off together towards the dark and steamy.

    I had noticed two identical clothing stores and three carts before I had even figured out what I wanted to say. I didn’t want to seem like a sanctimonious jerk.

    “I thought... um... you were pretty dedicated to... your girlfriend.”

    Matthew looked at me, surprised. “I am. What, just ‘cause I’m looking for a whore now doesn’t mean...” He looked at me sharply. “You’re not one of those monogamy freaks, are you?”

    “Well, no,” I said defensively, “not really.” But there was something about the exclusive couple that did have a forbidden fruit appeal, perverse and selfish though it was...

    “Man, I’m hungry. Those snacks just didn’t do it,” Matthew said.

    “Yeah, same here,” I said, a little relieved not to have to talk any more about it. We stopped at one of the carts and got some breaded fried things on sticks with yummy red filling.

    “You know that guy Simms? Who was on our floor during orientation?” asked Matthew, his mouth full.

    I shook my head.

    “The guy with all the back implants,” he said, and I nodded. “Well, he got a Neb outpost planet, and he keeps getting offered flesh to eat.”

    That was shocking. “Has he reported it?”

    “S’hard to enforce the law there, I guess.” He shrugged, throwing the stick in a garbage can. It took a few seconds to float to the bottom.

    We were definitely in a different area — whether or not it was likely to have hookers wasn’t something I could judge. There were more offices, but also a few rowdy bars.

    “Anyway, about the whore thing: I figure, you know, she’s never going to know. So no one gets hurt.” He looked over at me.

    “How would you feel about her doing that?” I said.

    “She wouldn’t. Because she’s Squidollian. But if she did, and I didn’t know...” he shrugged.