Kinji Hall sat on the balcony of her eighth-floor flat in London and wrapped her hands around a cup of hot tea. The morning was warm, springtime just winding its way into the year. This might be the last time for the turtleneck she was wearing. This year, anyway.
She enjoyed watching the city flow. It was like a giant heart, its streets pumping people to and from everywhere so that the whole living thing that people called a city stayed alive. She liked that she could come here at any time of the day and watch it, the flow. It made her feel a connection to something she could never quite manage to describe correctly, though she never stopped trying.
She smiled at the cooing of pigeons on the roof across the alleyway.
The smells of rain and concrete wafted from below, mixing with the hydrangea plant she’d potted in the corner of the balcony.
The cup she held had been designed by an artisan from the mountains in Chile. She had requested six of them a year ago, but one had broken when Jordan threw it off this very balcony last month. He hadn’t really understood her, and their story had ended shortly thereafter. She could ask for another cup, but she liked how it felt to have a hole in the set.
Warmth from the cup felt wonderful against her fingers.
The tea’s aroma was a mix of orchid and ginger, light, but gritty against the back of her throat. Its earthiness made her feel grounded.
She sipped, feeling the heat flow down to her stomach, and stared at the horizon as the sun made its way into the sky. The tea had been cultured in Lilith Station, and was one of the newer luxury items that couldn’t be obtained through standard requests, yet.
Kinji had a full day planned.
She wanted to finish additions to the soup line design and send new parameters to the manufacturing printers. Requests for new installations were already arriving, so she was certain it would be made as soon as she was finished. But this moment was for getting her head on straight. She wanted to enjoy the peace of the morning.
Her pager toned inside her head.
So much for that.
Irked, Kinji twisted the corner of her lip down.
Her body chemistry altered at the sight of the avatar when she accepted the page — Tania.
She tweaked the corner of her lip twice more and Tania’s full essence appeared.
“Hey, hey-o,” Kinji said.
“Hey, hey-o, girl,” came Tania’s reply.
They had been friends since meeting on a dance floor in Mozambique ten years ago.
“What can I do for you, Tania?” she asked.
“Well, you could hop on a flier and join me for dinner and a party tonight. It’s been too long.”
“Or you could come to London.”
“I hate London.”
Kinji shrugged. “Your loss.”
“Fish and chips. Who wants to eat that all day?”
“Now you’re just being mean.”
Tania laughed. “Sorry. Just having fun.”
“Seriously, babe,” Kinji said. “What can I do for you? I’ve got to get going soon.”
“You’ve got a request.”
“A request?”
“Yeah, and a bit of a strange one at that. A Waker has asked to see you.”
“A Waker?”
“You know, a person they brought back from the past. Dude froze himself or loaded himself. Whatever.” Tania sent a linkpad. “Follow that for the last few reports.”
“What does he want with me?”
Tania gave her a sideways glance that had naughty and mischievous slathered all over it.
“Don’t you think of anything but sex, Tania?”
“Sex is art, remember?”
Yes, Kinji remembered that all too well.
“Seriously, what could a Waker possibly want with me? And why’d they contact you first?”
“I think it has to do with your soup stand design. Says he heard about it from a newsfeed and wants to talk about it. The medical center couldn’t get to your node but found mine through free associations.” Tania paused to fan herself in an over-the-top piece of drama. “Imagine that, little ol’ me attached to important ol’ you in a free association. It’s enough to make a heart go pitter-patter, isn’t it?”
“Sorry about that.”
“No reason to be sorry, sweetie. Just make it up to me.”
“I’ll do that.”
Kinji had locked her node to the general public a few years ago when it became obvious that most people just wanted to feed off her creativity. It had cost her because deep down she had a hard time saying no to any project that seemed interesting — and because even when people didn’t know what they were talking about they often had lots of interesting ideas.
“Anyway, I thought you would be interested in this guy because, well, there aren’t that many Wakers, you know? And how many of them are going to be into soup stands?”
“Not many,” Kinji said. “Where is he?”
“California. San Francisco.”
Tania sent the connection information.
“That’s not far from Acapulco, is it?”
“Nope,” Tania replied with a playful tone to her voice that made Kinji’s body expand. “Not far at all.”
From her balcony, Kinji scanned London. The city would be fine without her for a few days. It could still all work out, too. She could plug into the design space on the flier, and if she ran into troubles it wouldn’t be the end of the world if she didn’t finish the updates for another few days. Besides, the idea of a Waker being somehow interested in the soup stand idea could create interest in places she’d never considered.
An artist should always be adding, right?
That was all she knew for certain, the idea that fueled her existence — all she had ever needed.
“All right,” Kinji said. “I’ll check the flier schedules.”
“Already done, babe.”
Tania sent a fresh data stream. The next flier left London in three hours. She could make it if she packed light.
Kinji sipped more tea, and her smile grew wider as she felt its warmth in places she hadn’t earlier. “You really want to see me, eh?”
“More than anything I can think of.”
“All right,” Kinji said, unable to hold back her smile. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”