Moxyland (4 page)

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Authors: Lauren Beukes

Tags: #Fantasy, #near future, #sf, #Cyberpunk, #Science Fiction

BOOK: Moxyland
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   Those of you who have been paying close attention may have noticed that I haven't mentioned my streamcast. This is not an accidental omission, kids.
   Down the other side of the bar, one of the oldtimers orders a Ghost. Just to see. Cos maybe, just maybe, it's in the secret ingredients, right?
   'I feel like everyone's watching me,' she confesses.
   'Course they are. You're splinter-new, novelty deluxe. And the burning question on everyone's lips is, what does it feel like?'
   'Like taking drugs?'
   'That's probably the most generic description I've ever heard. I'm not buying that.'
   'Okay, okay.' She laughs, openly, warmly, very hot. 'I'm just… improved. It's like, everything's running better, like I've had a tune-up, you know? The world seems sharper. Or fiercer. As if someone's pulled the focus. Like in photography, hyper-realism?' She catches my blank look. 'Where everything is intensely real. It's super-defined.'
   'Sounds hectic.'
   'Yeah. Although, you know, I'm not entirely convinced I'm not imagining it.'
   'What?'
   'Everything. All of it. That it's some dumb psychology trip they've got us on, to get us to drink the stuff. And all the rest of you.'
   'Hey, don't knock the product. It's not bad, although they could tone down the lime. You should speak to them about adding some flavour variants, if you're gonna be drinking it forever.'
'Yeah.'
   'And you seemed to handle Tendeka pretty well.' I wave away her concerns, cut her off before she can launch into an apology, as if she was the one in the wrong. 'No, don't worry about it, he had it coming. He can be a right sanctimonious dick. And besides, that game was fucking tight.'
   And besides, it's apparent to sundry all that she's rushing off her face. It's definitely physical.
   'But that's the thing. I'm pretty sharp at pool. Maybe not that sharp, and it's been a while, but I reckon I could have taken him on a good day. And maybe this just happened to be… Oh, don't look so sceptical. I used to play league in Durban.'
   'Chill, sweet K. I believe you.' And to prove it, I lean forward and pull into her.
   Initially, she kisses me back. But then she flinches away from me, total panic stations. 'I'm sorry…'
   'Don't be sorry.'
   'No, I have a boyfriend. I, uh, I can't. Okay? I'm flattered and…'
   'It's okay. I was trying my luck. Look, I've backed off. We'll just reset the timer to zero. Sorry if I freaked you out.'
   'It's fine. Thanks for the chat. It's nice getting to talk, to connect, you know?' She's talking too fast, already up, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
   'Yeah, yeah. Okay. I know.' I'm grinning at her fluster, which only makes her more so.
   'And tell your friend, I'm sorry. I didn't mean… He was an asshole, but he didn't deserve that. The cops and–'
   'I'll do that. But don't stress it. Like I said, he had it coming.'
   'And forget what I said about it being psychological. I talk too much sometimes. It's not… I mean, of course it's genuine makoya.'
   'Sure. No worries. And come to Replica next Saturday. That's a free entrance on your phone.'
   'Thanks. And Toby?' She pauses in the doorway, but the camera catches me unawares. It's an oldschool design, clunky and cumbersome, but I'm too preoccupied, caught in the flash, to catch the make.
   'If you wanted me to model, you only had to ask,' I snip, but she's completely composed now, as if it's the camera rather than the nanotech inside that smoothes out her edges.
   'Thanks. I'll see you around.' She winks, which is so cute, it physically hurts. And then she vanishes down the staircase.
**** INCIDENT REPORT ****
 

South African Police Services FILE SAPS-CITI
 
430/77

 
LOG – CTC Public Disruption
Occurrence No: 
94-1678
ACCUSED
_____________________
(surname, first name) 
Mataboge, Tendeka

(alias) 
N/A

 

(sex) 
M

 

(DOB) 
05.06.86

 

(Age) 
32

 

(Place of Birth) 
HARARE

 

(ID number) 
8606050112291

 

(cell SIM ID) 
062-699-1359

 

(prior record?) 
Y

 

(criminal registration) 
#2291-1359-470

 
 

(residential address)

 

Last known: 43 subC, Berlin, Khayelitsha, Cape Town,
 
7948

 

(height) 
1.94m

 

(weight) 
94kg

 

(hair) 
dreadlocks

 

(eyes) 
brown

 

(complexion)
 dark

 
 
(ID status) 
Civilian.
LSM (Living Standards Measure): 6
 
(marital status) 
Married
– Emmie Chinyaka. Malawi national.
  
3/8/2018
 
(identifying marks)
Tattoo on left shoulder, thick black rings or ‘bull’s-eye’
pattern. Black band tattooed on right bicep and wrist

(occupation) 
NGOs, charitable fund-raising/events

 

(employer) 
self-employed

 

(biological verification)
 N

 

(date)
 N/A
  
(time)
 N/A

 
 
(priors) 
> 
23/2/2018 - CC 279 (a) Public disruption.
  
--
 Participating in unlawful, unlicensed protest march.
  
-- 
Loc: Parliament.
-- 
Defuse. R5000 fine. 24H disconnect.
 

> 29/12/2017 - CA 415 Defacement of corporate property.

 
 
-- 
Loc: V&A Mall Christmas display.
 
-- 
Defuse. 24H disconnect. 16 days corporate service.
 
> 18/7/2017 – CC 279 (a) Public disruption.
-- 
Loc: Vanguard Drive, Langa. Defuse.
 
 
> 22/11/2013 CTTD 80 unpaid underway fare fines.
-- 
Amount settled in full.
 
 
 
> 4/2/2008 CSP 121 (Juvenile) Possession of narcotics with intention to distribute.
-- 
150 grams nitra- amaldrine (street name Bliss).
 
-- 
Sentenced to eight months in Boys Town juvenile fa- cility.
 
-- 
Six months probationary surveillance.
 
 
> 17/10/2006 CVC 3A (Juvenile) Breaking and entering.
-- 
Loc: 28 Roberta St, Bonteheuwel.
 
-- 
Suspended sentence.
 

OFFENCE______________________

 
 
CC 279(a) Public disruption
 
 
(offence time)
 
11h23

(offence date) 

 
 

17/9/2018

 
 

(location) 

 
 
 

Stones Pool Hall, 

 
 

181 Long Street

 
 
 
(conjoined with)
 
CC 592 (b) Aggravating behaviour
 

OFFICER’S NOTES:

 

Disruption alert logged 11h20 from Stones Pool Hall (Premises ID 

 
 
33CBD-Long181). Officer and Aito /379 responded.
 
On arrival found subject shouting threats and acting in aggressive
 
manner.

A scan of the subject’s SIM ID register revealed that the subject has
 
recent priors including previous public disruptions and a juvenile
 
record.

 

Subject failed to respond to officer’s verbal warning or warnings
 
uploaded to his phone.

 

Activated a defuse to subject’s phone.
 
Defuse < 200 V. Non-lethal voltage.
 
Defuse lasted approx 2.5 minutes.

 

Subject adequately subdued.

 

Officer left premises without further incident.
 
Subject’s SIM logged on SAPS watch-list for period of twenty-four
 
hours.

 

Temporary disconnect.

 
'Sorry, Ten,' Ashraf says, flicking his screen back to show me. The log is already live on SAPS.co.za, and this is what's so truly fucked up, that government inc. thinks this level of transparency automatically rules out repression. If it's all out in the open, it has to be above board.
   'But what did you expect?' Ash says, like this is the time to be griefing me.
   'Fuck!' He flinches as I slam my foot into a cold-drink can, sending it clattering down the street. At least it's not a Ghost can – that would have been too much. skyward* is going to be seriously pissed.
   The worst is confirmed when we get to the entrance to the D-line underway stop on Wale Street and my phone won't scan. Or, rather, it does scan and blocks me outright in response to the police tag on my SIM, to the tremendous amusement of the leisure-class kids overdressed in their ugly expensive clothes. Bastards. Bastards. Bastards. I suck at my palm, which still stings, even if it's stopped bleeding. At least the fucker didn't mace me, else every biogen dog in the city would be trailing me like I was a bitch in heat.
   We cruise down Adderley towards the station, past the Grand Parade, and the blaring logos and adboards squatting on the façade of the old library like parasites. And what really grinds me is that it was supposed to be ours for Streets Back. We'd rounded up a bunch of kids from the Castle Street shelter with this plan to do graffiti murals. It was a way of letting them make a mark on the city that usually filters them out like spam. It was all legit. We had the permits and everything, with a small development grant Ash set up, from an Italian org complete with our own Italian liaisons. It all got fucked up, though. The Italians came out to make a documentary of the whole spiel, and then got all pissy when it wasn't happening. Like it's my fault we ran out of money.
   First up we had to pay for chatter flyers, because how else are you going to reach illiterate kids who can't read a poster? So the audio chips were crazy expensive, then the freebies we got from the paint company were all reject stock, broken nozzles, dried-out paint, two years past their expiry date. By the time we'd bought our own paint and masks and overalls and food for all the kids who showed up instead of just the ones who worked on the murals, our budget was gone. I tried to tell those Italian amigos that these kids had been let down so often, the one thing that would have a real positive impact on their lives would be an established routine and adults who stick by their promises. They were all, like, terribly sorry to hear about our troubles, very understanding, but we have to understand there are so many other projects just as worthy, all desperate for cash, and they have to support the ones that can show sustainability.
   I sent the hombres a real nasty email afterwards, telling them exactly what neo-colonial cocks they were, coming in here, raping our resources and fucking off again. I thought Ash would appreciate it, but he got in a real mood about him being the money guy, the business manager, and I should stick to being the passionate poster boy, and besides, 'hombres' is Spanish. Whatever. And if he could have handled it, then he should have fucking done it. Pricks. I hate it when people fake being on the level, all global village-ing when they're the ones raking in fat salaries, and we're the ones living hand-to-mouth with a soccer club and Emmie's baby on the way.

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