“Can we have your office?”
His eyebrows lifted. Then he shrugged and led her back into the office. From behind a glass door, he could watch all the fights as they proceeded. It was still just as much of a disaster as she remembered: posters peeling off the walls, empty canisters of protein, dead aloe plants, greasy boxes of takeout.
“So.” He dropped into a chair held together almost entirely with duct tape. It screeched terribly and he had to adjust himself in it in order to sit normally. It continued squeaking as he leaned back and crossed one ankle over his knee. “What is this about?”
“Say I needed my blood looked at,” Hwa said.
“Then I’d say this fine country of ours has universal healthcare, and you can visit any doctor you want and ask for a test.”
Hwa rocked on her heels. She jammed her hands in her pockets. “Say I wanted something a bit more specialized.”
He crossed his thick, hairy arms over his belly. He was still getting bigger. Hwa blamed the takeout. And the shitty printed protein. The man needed a produce subscription. Come to think of it, so did she. She could afford it, now. It was weird, being able to spend money. She’d spent hours deciding which new pair of shoes to get, before deciding on the ones she always wore. It just seemed safer. Like getting anything better would just be asking for trouble.
“Are you pregnant?” he asked.
“What?” Hwa backed away. “No! That’s insane! Like, completely, certifiably insane. I’m not pregnant, and I’m not going to get pregnant. And even if I were, that wouldn’t be any of your business.”
“Sturge-Weber isn’t hereditary, you know. You could have a perfectly healthy baby, if that’s what you wanted to do.”
“Good Christ, please stop talking.” Hwa found a poster to look at. It was a detailed explanation of the major muscle groups. Latissimus. Pectoralis. Soleus. She found the Latin names for things very calming. “I can’t even look at you, right now. That’s how fucking awkward this conversation is.”
He heaved a deep sigh and leaned forward in his chair. “Okay. Fine. None of my business. I’m sorry.”
Hwa met his gaze. “I’m fine. I just want to know where I can go to get a blood sample looked at.”
“To look for what?”
“Anything. Everything.” She stepped a little closer to him. “Quietly.”
Kripke sucked his teeth. He set his jaw. Then he snapped his fingers at his desk, and the display lit up. It was old and flickery and uneven, but it still worked. He cleared a bunch of things away from it, before lighting on a single list.
“This is a list of people I banned from the gym,” he said. “Most of them were trying to sell my customers on freelance regimens. If you buy into the open-source ones, that’s your choice. But these guys had no approval and they refused to give up the code, or show any testimonials. But their prices were great, and boxing makes you stupid.”
He pointed at one name on the list. “This guy was selling blood-dopers. I kicked him out when he gave one of my guys the bends. I went to his place personally.”
Hwa whistled low. “Damn.”
“Yeah. That’s what he said, after his new jaw went in.” Kripke leaned back in his chair. “Anyway. He had a lot of equipment. And I think he still lives in the same place. In fact, I’m pretty sure he does.”
“Oh aye?” Hwa smiled.
Kripke smiled back. “Aye. You pays him a visit; you tells him I say hello.”
*
His name was Dixon Sandro, and his address was 4-31-24. Tower Four featured two concentric rings of units—the outer, even-numbered ring had windows out to sea, and the inner, odd-numbered units had extra space to compensate for the lack. You could choose storage, or aesthetics. Every day, the inner and outer rings rotated around each other like at a country dance, so that you had a different set of neighbours every day. Each wall in the residential units was modular. You could turn the walls on to get some privacy. Or you could leave all the walls off, and share a bunch of space with friends for a few hours, or all day, or all night.
Hwa used to do a lot of work in Tower Four. It was a party tower.
Dixon Sandro was entertaining. Both his door and his neighbours’ were wide open and completely transparent. Before she entered, Hwa changed the defaults on her halo. Now no one who peeped her would know she worked for Lynch.
Smoke hazed over both units. The people inside were mostly cuddled around pillows that cuddled them back. Their faces were blank. Occasionally they would all giggle at the same moment. They each had the same “huh-huh-huh” stoner laugh. Hwa stepped in and around them, but they didn’t notice. Their cushions inched out of her way as she walked, parting like some soft velour sea.