Chapter 7

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.
—Simon & Garfunkle, “The Sound of Silence”

The restaurant was dimly lit and the atmosphere was smothering. It was busy at this time, packed full of people and the sounds of busy mastication. There was also the babble of many people talking all at once, with the indistinction that comes from talking with your mouth full. There was a large sign on a near wall with that day’s menu on it. Ryan and Josie examined it.

After they had perused it[1] and selected their food, they want and found a seat. Before too long a man, the waiter apparently, came up and asked their orders. They told him; Ryan got the tumblo[2] steak and Josie had a desert salad[3]. After the waiter left, they made uneasy small talk until he returned with their meals.

After the initial rush to get as much food in their mouths as quickly as possible and they had settled into the rhythm of fork to plate to mouth, Ryan attempted conversation.

“How did you know I was heading to Calamity City?”

Josie stopped, fork halfway to her mouth.

“Deduction,” she said.

Ryan nodded. Of course.

“What are you heading there for?” asked Josie in between bites.

“I have some business there.”

She glanced up from her plate.

“Business? Mercenary business?”

Ryan smiled uneasily.

“I suppose you could say that. I have a job to do there.”

Josie gave him a hard look, the severity of which was only slightly detracted from by the fork sticking out of her mouth.

“And I suppose you aren’t going to tell me what?”

Ryan shook his head. “Sorry.”

They continued eating in silence.

“What are you going to be doing there?” he asked eventually.

Josie shrugged attractively.

“Whatever there is to do,” she said vaguely.

Silence descended again.

Eventually dinner reached the stage where each person is just poking the detritus of the meal around their plate, pondering whether they could eat another bite without exploding.

After a while Ryan realized Josie was staring at him.

“What,” he asked.

“What are you? You move like an assassin, but I know you aren’t one; you don’t have the style. You fight like a soldier, but you’ve been flashing too much money for one of them. You talk and think like you’ve been to taught how to, but you don’t look like one and you aren’t as snotty.” Josie leaned back in her seat, having said her piece.

Ryan was stunned.

“Er… Thank you. For most of that, anyway. I think. Really, though, it’s easiest just to think of me as a mercenary.”

Josie narrowed her eyes.

“You’re looking awfully shifty, mister.”

Ryan coughed.

“Well, the truth is more… Complicated. However, things may become clearer to you. And is that not the hope of mankind?”

“No,” said Josie flatly. “It’s not.”

“I’m sorry, but I cannot tell you…everything. Not now.”

Josie sighed, and shifted in her seat.

“I suppose I’ll have to settle for that.”

After dinner they made their way back to the inn. Inside, Ryan was told a man was waiting for him.

“Where is he?” he asked the messenger. The messenger pointed discreetly[4] to a shadowy shape in the corner. Ryan squinted at it, but it made no difference. The shadow was obviously (or inobviously, depending on how you approach it) an experienced lurker.

Ryan weaved through the various tables to the corner, taking a seemingly random path that coincidentally never left his back exposed. He sidled along the back wall until he came to the obscured table.

“Well?” he asked after a while.

There was a flare of light and a smell of sulfur. And there goes my nightvision, thought Ryan. He heard someone taking a pull on a cigarette, and then he heard a gravelly voice.

“It’s time.”

Ryan nodded.

“I’m ready.”

“You know what to do?”

Ryan smiled grimly.

“I was born knowing. In a manner of speaking.”

The figure inclined its head, then waved a hand in Josie’s direction; she was imbibing a drink at the bar.

“Who’s the dish?”

Ryan shrugged.

“Some girl I picked up.”

“She’s a looker.”

Ryan had to agree.

“I hope there won’t be any trouble, like last time. Right?” The shadow seemed to have something on its mind.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“All right.” The figure appeared to refocus. “I have something for you.”

“Really? That’s nice. I’m afraid I don’t have anything at all.”

“Don’t mess me about. I had it delivered to your room, it’ll be waiting for you.” With that the shadow stood up. It looked around, then dissolved into the other shadows. Ryan waited a second, then waved his hand where it had been. It met no other resistance than the cigarette smoke, even now dissipating in the air.

Ryan stood up and made his way to the bar counter. He tapped Josie on the shoulder and stepped back quickly, just in case. She swiveled slowly.

“I’m done,” he said.

“That’sh good. Bed now?” Josie had obviously joined the land of the amiably drunk.

“Yesh, I mean, yes. Time for bed. Looks like you’ll need to sleep this one off.”

Josie nodded, and then grabbed the counter to get her balance back.

“Okay, mishter. Jusht one more drink for the road, eh?” she laughed bubbly.

“I’m afraid not.” With that, Ryan grabbed Josie around the waist. The girl was slim enough that Ryan could get one arm completely around her. He grunted slightly and draped her over a shoulder. Josie started to protest, but apparently decided to start singing instead.

Nobody else even bothered to look. This sort of thing going on was obviously not an uncommon event.

Ryan managed to reach their room before Josie reached verse five of the epic poem[5]. He laid her out on the bed and she began snoring busily. He stared at her for minute, drinking her in with his eyes. Even drunk, sleeping, body sprawled haphazardly on the bed, he loved to just… Look at her.

Ryan sighed, and made himself comfortable in the chair. Before too long, a duet of snores was reverberating in the room.

[1] If the word can be used to describe reading something on a wall.
[2] A kind of lizard known for taking omnivorousness to the extremes. In the desert, of course, there are real extremes; when food was nonexistant, it was known to eat sand.
[3] Cactus, with assorted scrubs and snake chunks.
[4] In the inn at Scrod, it was never wise to extend any of your limbs too far from your body if you were, well, attached to them.
[5] After all, limericks are a form of poetry.