“So? You can’t bootleg a copy?”
“Sure. But your devices will report you. The toilets. The specs. Everything. There’s random scans everywhere. And then, boom, a C-and-D and a big fine.” He leaned back in his chair. “Besides, it’s bad for you. Serial replication error. A copy of a copy of a copy. You want a shitty knockoff unclogging your arteries from the inside? I don’t think so.”
Hwa chose not to comment on the irony of Dixon Sandro making this particular argument. “Well, do you recognize them?”
“The machines? No. I can try running a match, though. It would take a while.” Sandro kept squeezing. Blood bubbled up between his fingers. He didn’t notice. “Could I try building with them? I’d know more if I got my hands dirty.”
“Aye.” Hwa frowned. It had not occurred to her until now to ask this question, but it made sense to, here. “Do you know where I could find some good camouflage? Like real poltergeist shit. Army grade.”
“Lázló,” Sandro said, without hesitation. “He lives in this tower. Moves around, though, unit to unit. Paranoid.” Sandro spun a finger beside is temple.
“You know for sure he has a suit? Or a line on one?”
Sandro nodded. “I’ve bumped into him, wearing it.”
“Bumped into? Like you walked into him?”
Again, Sandro nodded. “He wears it all the time, see? Says he feels better with it on.”
“So how do you know he’s there?”
“You don’t.”
The hairs on Hwa’s arms rose. “What if I wanted to talk to him?”
“Then you go to the elevator in the nine o’clock position, with a bunch of fresh chips and vinegar,” Sandro said. “And you wait.”
*
In the elevator court, she ran into Eileen. She was with Sabrina and two other women whose names Hwa couldn’t remember. By the looks of things they were just getting started: the four men they were with were laughing and wrestling each other and making bets about who could flip who fastest.
They had no bodyguard.
Hwa missed her elevator and jogged over to the party. The men ignored her—filters, probably, or maybe they were just high—and Hwa sidled up to Eileen as casually as she could. “Everything okay here?”
Eileen startled. She started to smile, and then it fell from her face. She put it away like a summer dress after the first fall rain. “What do you care?”
Hwa frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t you have another job to get back to? One that pays better?”
Hwa’s mouth worked. “What?”
“You said you were quitting,” Eileen hissed. “You told me, at Calliope’s funeral, that you were quitting.”
“Well, yeah, but…” Hwa didn’t know how to explain. She watched the elevator’s display. It would be there soon, to take Eileen and her party away. “It’s complicated.”
“No, it’s not. It’s not complicated at all. You’ve always wanted to leave this town, and now you’re going to. Congratulations.”
“It’s not like that,” Hwa said. “Really. It’s not. I’m doing something important.”
“Oh, yeah, going to homeroom with Richie Rich. That’s real important.”
Hwa looked down at the floor. The carpet had an odd pattern that ripped in her vision the longer she stared at it. Orange and pink and brown. It was astoundingly ugly, now that she really looked at it. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re doing what’s best for you.”
Hwa swallowed. Her lips felt hot. Her eyes felt hot. “Youse don’t have an escort.”
“Short notice. No other bodyguards on shift.”
Hwa nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
The elevator continued its journey downward. The guys in front of it—the clients, Hwa reminded herself—were doing leg-wrestling moves on the floor. Lifting their legs straight up in the air and entwining them and trying to flip each other over and insisting that they had no interest in fucking each other.
“We have to take what work we can get,” Eileen said. “They shut down another one of the pumps today. The riggers are leaving. We’re losing clients.”
“The reactor will have workers,” Hwa said.
“Scientists. With families. Lunch-time Larrys. Not all-nighters.”
Fewer hours. Less pay. Less service. Lower fees. Eileen didn’t have to say it. Hwa heard it just fine. The elevator chimed, and Sabrina jumped in to hold it open while the guys on the floor struggled to stand. Eileen adjusted her hair. Smoothed her dress. Inspected her nails.
“Anyway. It looks like you made the smart decision.”
And with that, she walked away. She was the last in the elevator, and one of the men looped his arm around her waist. She smiled at him, and kept her smile up when she turned back to Hwa. It was still plastered on her face when the elevator doors slid shut.
10
Viridian/Angel from Montgomery/ Nine o’Clock Elevator