I ran into her in a automat at Mhiessan High Port. I was looking for a little Caf while waiting for a flight to Betelgeuse; She was staring morosly at the stasis-locked food-like substances behind the glass doors.
She was wearing a PokéBall on a silver chain around her neck.
"I didn't know they allowed those off-world," I said, pointing with my chin to her necklace. There are too many places, these days, where someone'll take offense to pointing with your fingers.
She looked at me blankly for a moment, then shrugged. "It's empty," she answered. "And the tech's freely available. It's only the monsters they don't let off-world."
I nodded, and got my caf. "You've been there, then?"
She snorted. "Yeah; you might say that." She sounded bitter, and I heard a Story.
"I'm with Voyages Illustrated," I said, digging my press card out of my pocket. "You want to tell me about it?"
She looked at the press card, and looked at me. "It's not the kind of story you'd publish," she said, and decided on one of the sandwiches.
As she punched in the code, I smiled my biggest charming bastard smile, the one that always seems to get me the interview. Or punched in the teeth. "Why don't you let me judge that?" I asked. "Look, why don't you just come sit over here with me, and tell me about it. Maybe I can't use it... maybe I can."
She collected her sandwich, and looked at me. "All right," she said. "I suppose it's no skin off my nose if the Tourism Board gets bent over it."
We sat. She lit a cigarette, took a hit from the breath mask full of smoke. I raised an eyebrow, and she coughed, smiled. "No worse than hanging around with a Wheezing for a day or two," she commented, and then took a bite of her sandwich.
She chewed for a moment, looking thoughtful, and I thought I was going to have to prod her. She started talking though, after that bite. "You've seen the stuff released by the Tourism Board, I'm sure. The PokéMaster and his little red-head fuck-buddy travelling around while the Poor Little Rich Kids try to steal his Pikachu?"
I nodded.
"It's crap, of course."
I raised an eyebrow. "Crap?"
She took another bite out of the sandwhich. "Yeah. The kid on eternal summer; everyone helping him out... the wonderful classless society." She grabbed my caf, took a swig, and put the caf back in front of me. "They don't tell you how expensive those PokéBalls are; don't tell you about the expert-system tutors those kids are carrying around in their backpacks; don't tell you how expensive those are, or what the law does to kids who are found wandering around without one. They don't tell you that those PokéCenters are supported by subscriptions purchased by those kids' parents, or that if you don't have a subscription, care for Monsters costs more than medical care for people. They don't tell you about how all the public-service positions... police, medical, and so on... are filled by specially-designed clones. They don't tell you...." She scowled, shrugged, and took a bite of her sandwich. Through the mouthfull, she finished, "a lot of things."
I nodded, and took the cigarette from her, taking a hit from the mask myself. I hate smoke, but if we were going to establish a working relationship, I needed to demonstrate some camaradarie. I managed to take it in and exhale it again without coughing. "So how do you know this?"
"I'm from there," she said. "I'm an exile. That's what they do with us criminals... they send us away."
"Oh?" I asked. "What'd you do?"
"I killed a man."
She took another drag on her cigarette, and shrugged. "The bastard had it coming," she said, and took another bite of her sandwich. "Of course, I imagine that a lot of murderers say that. Killing someone is a hard thing, so unless you're a pretty hard person, you think you have a reason... a damn good reason."
She smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. "He took my Arbok while I was sleeping," she said, mimicking a teenage girl's voice, "so I had my Beedrill sting him to death, and my Sandslash burried the pieces where no one will ever find them."
I nodded, and sipped my caf. "Is that what happened?"
"No," she said, shooting me a look of scorn. "I was being sarcastic."
"Ah. Of course."
She was wearing a PokéBall on a silver chain around her neck.
"I didn't know they allowed those off-world," I said, pointing with my chin to her necklace. There are too many places, these days, where someone'll take offense to pointing with your fingers.
She looked at me blankly for a moment, then shrugged. "It's empty," she answered. "And the tech's freely available. It's only the monsters they don't let off-world."
I nodded, and got my caf. "You've been there, then?"
She snorted. "Yeah; you might say that." She sounded bitter, and I heard a Story.
"I'm with Voyages Illustrated," I said, digging my press card out of my pocket. "You want to tell me about it?"
She looked at the press card, and looked at me. "It's not the kind of story you'd publish," she said, and decided on one of the sandwiches.
As she punched in the code, I smiled my biggest charming bastard smile, the one that always seems to get me the interview. Or punched in the teeth. "Why don't you let me judge that?" I asked. "Look, why don't you just come sit over here with me, and tell me about it. Maybe I can't use it... maybe I can."
She collected her sandwich, and looked at me. "All right," she said. "I suppose it's no skin off my nose if the Tourism Board gets bent over it."
We sat. She lit a cigarette, took a hit from the breath mask full of smoke. I raised an eyebrow, and she coughed, smiled. "No worse than hanging around with a Wheezing for a day or two," she commented, and then took a bite of her sandwich.
She chewed for a moment, looking thoughtful, and I thought I was going to have to prod her. She started talking though, after that bite. "You've seen the stuff released by the Tourism Board, I'm sure. The PokéMaster and his little red-head fuck-buddy travelling around while the Poor Little Rich Kids try to steal his Pikachu?"
I nodded.
"It's crap, of course."
I raised an eyebrow. "Crap?"
She took another bite out of the sandwhich. "Yeah. The kid on eternal summer; everyone helping him out... the wonderful classless society." She grabbed my caf, took a swig, and put the caf back in front of me. "They don't tell you how expensive those PokéBalls are; don't tell you about the expert-system tutors those kids are carrying around in their backpacks; don't tell you how expensive those are, or what the law does to kids who are found wandering around without one. They don't tell you that those PokéCenters are supported by subscriptions purchased by those kids' parents, or that if you don't have a subscription, care for Monsters costs more than medical care for people. They don't tell you about how all the public-service positions... police, medical, and so on... are filled by specially-designed clones. They don't tell you...." She scowled, shrugged, and took a bite of her sandwich. Through the mouthfull, she finished, "a lot of things."
I nodded, and took the cigarette from her, taking a hit from the mask myself. I hate smoke, but if we were going to establish a working relationship, I needed to demonstrate some camaradarie. I managed to take it in and exhale it again without coughing. "So how do you know this?"
"I'm from there," she said. "I'm an exile. That's what they do with us criminals... they send us away."
"Oh?" I asked. "What'd you do?"
"I killed a man."
She took another drag on her cigarette, and shrugged. "The bastard had it coming," she said, and took another bite of her sandwich. "Of course, I imagine that a lot of murderers say that. Killing someone is a hard thing, so unless you're a pretty hard person, you think you have a reason... a damn good reason."
She smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. "He took my Arbok while I was sleeping," she said, mimicking a teenage girl's voice, "so I had my Beedrill sting him to death, and my Sandslash burried the pieces where no one will ever find them."
I nodded, and sipped my caf. "Is that what happened?"
"No," she said, shooting me a look of scorn. "I was being sarcastic."
"Ah. Of course."