Sequela (6 page)

'Great. Just what the world needs you to do with your genius – your genius and your sense of "cool".'

'But Dee, that's the fun part, that's not the whole picture. I can make a start on the screens, maybe even start testing – think of the limitless resources I'll have.'

'You think you'll have the time in between making designer diseases?'

'I'm not stupid, Dee, I've told you, I'm getting private lab time written into my contract.' Kester shook his head.

Dee wobbled in her seat, the drink suddenly catching up with her. They were going round in circles.

'Yeah, but they'll own your research,' she said.

'Better than the research not being done at all.'

'Hm,' Dee grunted in an unladylike fashion that made Kester laugh at her. 'Shut up,' she said.

'Show me someone who's going to fund a piece of research at the Institute that I don't have qualms about and I'll stay. Never mind the screens – anything at all.'

'And what next? Where do you go from there, Kester? Five years' time, seriously, where are you?'

Betta and Sienna sloshed a tray of shots onto the table and slid back into their seats.

'Jesus, leave some in the glass,' John said, the life flicking back into his eyes.

'Come on, Dee, five years' time?' Kester said. 'Christ, this is like going through another interview. I suppose I'm going to have to shag you too?'

'What?' Dee said. 'Don't be disgusting.'

'That's what they do,' John said, though it wasn't clear if he was talking to them as he was staring intently at the table.

'They do not. It's just big City talk. He's just being stupid. He's trying to avoid my question because he can't answer it sensibly – it was a serious question, Kester.'

'I'm telling you,' John said, 'you have to sleep your way in at the bottom before you can sleep your way to the top.'

'Oh shut up,' Dee said. 'Has it ever happened to anyone you know? No. So there. Anyway, he wouldn't have been going in at the bottom, they were going to give him his own lab.'

'
Were
going to?' Kester said. 'They
are
.'

John raised his eyebrows, impressed.

'You knew that already,' Dee reminded John.

He slurped down one of the shots in slow motion.

'Those are for the game.' Sienna tried to grab the glass from him, too late.

Calvin arrived back at the table, sat down quietly and closed his eyes.

'Ah,' replied John, a little behind in the conversation, 'but how many people do we know who've been interviewed at V?' He jabbed his finger on the table in front of Kester. 'Just one, huh? Just Kester. And I know what Kester's been up to!'

'He's right. It's true,' Kester said, and then laughed, eyes on the table. 'She made the others leave the room, she dropped her culottes and we did it right there on the desk. All part of the process.' He laughed again, shaking his head.

'What?' Calvin shrieked, his eyes snapping wide open.

'Stop lying!' Dee slapped Kester hard on the arm. 'You're just trying to shock me.'

'Just telling it like it is,' he said. 'That's how I roll now.'

All of them burst out laughing except for Dee. This wasn't going right. He was making a fool of himself.

'That's how you
roll
?' Sienna scoffed. 'You need to sort out your vocabulary. You need to be using words like Target! Achievable! Succeed! Make sure you say them all with an exclamation mark on the end. Oh, I love this song,' she interrupted herself and started singing along to the music.

Dee narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion at Kester. If she played along, he would stop it.

'Don't be mad,' he said.

She added a pout to her expression. She should be mad. He was glorifying everything she hated with his bogus boasts and the others were hailing him for it.

'You're not mad at me are you?'

'You're the one who's mad,' she replied. At least he knew he was in the wrong. 'You're a pig and you know it.'

'I have a new drinking game!' John announced.

'Oh yeah?' Kester puffed his chest out.

Dee knew that look. He had passed the drunk-awareness barrier and believed that he was perfectly fine. The idea that he'd have a hangover the next day would seem impossible to him.

'Yesss.' John listed to the side for a moment and then seemed to perk back up suddenly, as if he'd briefly switched off. 'It's Drink or Dare!' he announced proudly. 'We dare you to do something and if you don't do it, you have to drink.'

There was a pause while everyone looked at each other, and then Dee burst out laughing.

'A new game John?' she said. 'That's the oldest game in the book.'

A deflated looked flitted across John's face, but he brightened again instantly.

'Aha! But it's new to this table.'

'OK, John, since you suggested it, you have to show us how it's done.'

'Nono,' John slurred, pointing at Kester, 'the birthday boy has to do it.' His finger jerked in the air as he pointed to Kester, as if he was riding a train. Kester hawked with laughter.

'My god he's drunk,' Dee said. John failed even to register that she was talking about him.

'Okayokay,' John said, 'here's my dare, birthday boy.'

'Leaving boy,' Kester corrected him.

'You're leaving! Oh oh I know, I knew that.' John smiled slyly to himself as if he had a drunken secret. 'Here's your dare. Kiss! Or drink!'

'What, are you five years old?' Dee asked.

'I am…I am thirty-five years old.'

'You are not,' Kester said, shaking his head, 'you just don't remember your thirty-sixth birthday.'

'Kiss! Or Drink!' John repeated, then began chanting, 'Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!'

'Oh god, shut him up will you,' Betta said.

'OK.' Kester leaned across the table and, pulling John towards him by his tie, kissed him on the lips.

'Tuh!' John slumped back down in his seat. 'Not me, chickenboy – one of them.' He swung an arm out towards the bar.

'Well, you're not getting lucky tonight John, not in that state, so take what you can get, eh?' Sienna laughed. She wiped her hands across her face, smearing her spots.

'Your turn John, your turn,' said Calvin.

'OK. What's the dare?'

'I've got one already,' Calvin said. 'You have to get one of these guys' ties off them.'

'Oh no,' Dee said.

'Oh yes,' shouted John. 'I'll have to do it! If I drink any more I shall surely die.'

'Don't do it, John,' Dee said, but he was already half on his feet, holding onto the table while he got his balance.

As John walked out into the bar, it was as if he had a repellent forcefield around him. The crowd seemed to collectively sense how drunk he was and parted around him, forming a two-metre wide circle of disgusted glances which moved as he moved, shifting like a bait ball.

'Hi, oh hi.' John waved to the circle around him. 'Hey, nice tie.'

'Thanks,' replied the object of his concentrated gaze, unsure how else to respond.

'Can I have it?'

'What?' Temper sprung, the man walked towards him, chest puffed out. 'You little prick. You think I'd give you a 300 Euro tie? Coming in here with your stupid costumes – don't think we haven't noticed. What's wrong with you?'

'Nothing,' John said innocently. 'Nothing, but maybe…'

'But maybe what?'

'But maybe I feel a little sick.'

'Sick? Oh god, he's going to puke!' The man put his arms out to the side and stepped back, shepherding his colleagues out of the danger zone and distorting the circle.

'300 euk tie makes me sick.'

'What? That didn't even make sense.'

'You heard me.' John started to pull himself up, to stand straighter.

'Shit,' Dee said, 'we need to get him out of here now.'

'Here.' John was staggering over to the woman next along in the circle, who was wearing sores around her lacquered lips. 'You've got a little something…' He indicated the corner of his mouth. '…just here on your…it's just a bit of…' He leaned forward to wipe at her mouth and her companion smacked his hand out of the way.

Primal instincts kicked in and John launched himself at the man in a bear hug. His target reacted in kind and their shoulders clattered together.

Betta and Calvin leaped into action, grabbing at any bit of John that flailed within reach. Managing to catch the crook of an elbow each, they tried to drag him back, but only succeeded in opening up a target. As the man punched, John's soft stomach collapsed around his fist like a cushion, sending vomit shooting out over his front and punching arm.

'Cameron!' A tall woman who had been making her way across the bar called out above the rabble.

She had no trouble getting through the crowd. A path opened up before her as it had for John, but out of respect, or perhaps even fear. The sick-covered man looked up and the expression of disgust on his face turned to one of guilt.

'Cameron?'

'Davis, sir. Ms.' Davis wiped at the front of his sick-covered shirt with the end of his sick-covered tie.

'You're fired,' the woman said without emotion. 'Go and get your things. I don't want to see you again.'

That voice. Dee saw Kester's outline freeze in what appeared to be fear. The fear spread to her. Her skeleton went cold.

'Mrs Farrell,' Kester said.

'What?' Dee leaned in to him, still keeping an eye on the situation, stepping back out of the way as Calvin and Betta bundled John back into the corner.

'That's Alexis Farrell,' Kester said. 'My new boss.'

'Oh fuck,' Dee whispered, 'sorry.'

'Sorry for what?' Kester asked.

Mrs Farrell's eyes wandered over the group and finally settled on Kester. She took a moment to recognise him. When she did, she stalked straight up to him.

Dee recoiled and stepped behind Kester. She stared at Farrell. She was wearing something in her eyes – metal – gold. Her pupils were wide in the darkness of the bar and the effect was pronounced: a feathery metallic circle round each iris, flecks of blood, rings of eye shrapnel. Dee had never seen anything like it. Those weren't contacts – this was some sick new thing – eye implants. She wouldn't put it past Farrell's type.

'Well, well,' Mrs Farrell said, stretching out her hand, 'if it isn't my newest acquisition.'

Farrell wore a long blood-red wool dress. A strip of colour co-ordinated ads ran straight down from one shoulder to the hem. At first glance it looked quite a demure get-up, until she walked and you could see that it was slit up the side, revealing her long sinewy legs right to where they joined her hips. Easy access, thought Dee. Farrell's her hair fell in exaggerated curls around her face, an attempt perhaps to soften her appearance, but her augmented eyes were hard and intelligent.

Kester reached out and shook Farrell's hand.

'Is this something to do with you?' Farrell glanced over her shoulder at the mess on the floor.

'No,' Dee said quickly.

'Yes,' replied Kester, almost at the same time, 'my leaving party. I'm afraid John can't handle his drink.'

'Being a drunken idiot is one thing; public assault is quite another. So I must apologise for the behaviour of our ex-employee.'

'He asked for it,' Kester said.

Dee shifted her attention to John, who was sitting behind her, grabbing at her knees. She tried hard to stay tuned in to Kester and Farrell's conversation, though the tone was confidential.

'I don't know about you, but if I gave it to everyone who asked for it, things would start to get a little silly,' Farrell said.

Looking back up, Dee bristled. Farrell's smile was charged.