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The bell over the door rang out to herald my entrance as I walked into Rosie’s diner in Sanrita. The usual evening crowd was there: tired office drones slumped over tepid coffee, gangbangers with an eye for a fresh mark, and pushers taking time from their busy routine to satiate the base need of sustenance.
Rosie cocked her head to the side as I walked up to the counter, an eye still twitching from faulty wiring. The damaged hand from her run-in with the local street toughs was wrapped in duct tape, covering the singed wiring beneath.
I sat down at the counter and scanned my wrist over the barcode reader set into it. Rosie blinked as the diner’s network sent my payment information directly to her robotic brain. She looked at me, smiled, and winked with her twitchy eye as she said, “Nice to see you again, Jasper. What’ll it be?”
“Two coffees,” I said as I took the fedora off my head and set it on the counter. I pulled my cigarettes out of the long trench coat pocket and lit one. The smoke felt good going down, the coarse warmth burning my throat and reminding me for one more moment that I was still alive.
The door chimed again.
“Two?” Rosie asked.
“You heard the man,” Magdela said as she sidled up to the counter and took the stool next to me. She took the cigarette from my fingers and placed it between her ruby lips. The cherry lit up her face in the dim lighting of the diner as she drew on it, and smoke framed the curls at her temples. Her black outfit contrasted with her ivory skin, making it seem as if it were glowing. The leather jacket’s high collar helped hide the implant in the back of her skull, but the tight pants did little to hide the curves of her hips.
Rosie smiled in a way that was both genuine and artificial, the way only a sentient machine could. “Two coffees, coming right up.”
I took the steaming cup and nodded my thanks. The robot moved on along the counter, and I turned around to survey the crowd. The coffee went down hot and scalding, black and strong. Again, a little reminder that I was still alive. I recognized a lot of the faces in the diner. Stitch and Razor, two local gangbangers who were almost always found in the booth by the front door, were there as usual. They were the two which had fucked up Rosie’s hand a few weeks ago, but she had insisted I not get involved. They were enforcers for a local outfit called the Chimeras who claimed this area as their territory, and Rosie had to pay into their protection racket. I could bump the two off, but more would come to replace them. No... I had bigger fish to fry.
“So,” Magdela said at my elbow. “What’s on the agenda for tonight?”
I took another sip of coffee and turned towards her. “Recruiting,” I said, then stood and walked towards the door. She downed the rest of her java and followed me.
I stopped beside the booth where Stitch and Razor sat. Leather and shining steel spikes covered them. The backs of their jackets had the image of their gang’s namesake, a mythological creature blending the features of a lion, goat, and serpent in bright green, purple, and blue. Brightly colored hair stood up in fans and spikes over the shaved sides of their heads. Steel chains adorned their necks and wrists. Stitch looked up at me and grinned. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face in public, detective.”
“It’s not detective anymore. Just Jasper,” I said as I lit another cigarette to replace the one Magdela took.
“Nice name, where’d you buy it?” Razor asked, laughing at what he thought was a clever jab at my expense.
“The Glen.”
The two looked at each other and nodded in approval, surprise washing over their faces as they realized I wasn’t on the other side of the law from them anymore. “Okay,” Stitch said, “what do you want?”
“Come with me,” I said. “I’ve got a job for you two.”
Fog rolled through the alleys of New Angeles as the four of us padded into the night. Neon light cut through the mist, the constant buzzing of the chemical signs seeming to hum a melody accompanied by the steady rhythm of rain falling on the city. No matter how much rain fell, the filth would not wash from those streets.
But if enough people stand up and say they won’t take it anymore—if the sheep shed their wool and reveal the wolves within—perhaps things will change.