From: cs92jgo@brunel.ac.uk (Jus T. Ego)
Subject: Measured Dose...
Date: Fri, 22 Oct 1993 11:12:11 GMT


Comments appreciated.

Setting: In a Gibsonian Future, half a year after Magpie's Nest.

Copyright 1993 J.G. Otto


Measured Dose...
----------------

Summer heat burned the city at night. The stench created by the detrius of Chiba
City was nauseating. The air was heavy, a storm was about to break. In the
streets below, the sleeze hustled other sleeze, and the flies buzzed where the
rats crawled.

The sheets were soaked, and salt stained them in white circles. The room spun
around him, patchy white walls and water marked ceiling blurring unrecognised in
his panic.

The screams died in his ears.

As he clutched the bed clothes to him, he saw his hands shaking. The dream had
come again. Torn him out of his world, and into the nightmare. Plunging him so
deep he fought to break the surface like a drowning man.

His back itched where the creatures had been crawling in his dream, he scratched
at it and shuddered.

"You ill?", Del's voice carried through his dark room.

"Lights", he rasped, his mouth tacky, his lips cracked.

The lights faded up from darkness, filling his studio apartment and pushing the
darkness outside. He coughed, the dusty smell of rotting food choking the breath
from him.

"You don't look good at all", Del noted. "I'll get a doctor."

"No", he whispered. Reaching for a glass of water by his bed. "I'm ok now."

The hologram of his apartment computer looked unconvinced, but couldn't override
the express wish of it's master.

"You should eat a little maybe?", it asked him, concern synthesized into its
electronic voice.

"No, Del. I'm ok now."

Del flickered briefly, and then rezzed out.

"Sulking", Justin thought.

He swung himself out of bed, dropping the clinging sheets on the floor. Tonight
was the hottest night of the summer, so far, but he was shivering.

The dream washed back through his mind, and he tried to block it from his
memory. But the recollection was too strong, and the hissed words spat out at
him. "Parasite!"

The face was her's. The voice was not.

Painfully memories came back to him, triggered by the dream. She was with him
again. It was a warm night, and they were walking down towards the Bridge.

No. He had met her in the Autumn, and then again in Winter. The memory was a
cruel trick of his mind. Trying to force him to think of her again. He knew what
would happen if he did.

The thoughts flooded back. The way she moved her hair. The grace of her step,
the mocking smile. They hurt like arrows in his chest, and yet he couldn't stop
them. The tilt of her head as she laughed out loud. The smooth line of her leg
as she wound the bandage on her thigh.

"No! Stop!"

"What was that?", Del asked.

He had shouted out loud, and the images had vanished. "Er..nothing Del. Thanks,
but really it's nothing."

They would return. They circled like vultures on the edge of his consciousness.
Soon they would be back, and he would finish the job he attempted last week.

He ran his fingers along the scars on his wrist.

Soon, they whispered, soon.

--

He had to get out. To clear his head, he needed the life of the streets.

The Chatsubo bar was filling up with the regulars. A constant stream of people
poured in and out of the open doorway. Most entered alone, and left with
company.

He circled the crowd and sat at the bar. As he waited for the bartender, his
train of thought swung back to the scar on his wrist. It tingled as he touched
it, rubbing it up and down. The jagged edge of the slash showed the shaking of
his hand.

"Want to talk about it?"

The voice drifted from the stool next to him. The tone of compassion was forced
and still lined with the greasy nature of the speaker.

"I don't want any", he snapped.

The man on the other stool shrugged, his leather jacket creaking with the
gesture. "Ok man, your loss. But I tell ya..."

"I don't want any." The unspoken threat surfaced in his voice. In the last year
he had gained a presence in the bar. No respect, but a prescence. He was a data
fence. Quite a good one. Which meant he knew people.

"Parasite!" The words from the dream floated just below his hearing. The voice,
that of the virus they had struggled against. Together. No!

Don't think of her.

He watched the man on the stool beside himself. The dealer was also a user, and
his scabbed arm told of the demands of his habit.

He chose a clear spot on a vein and pushed the derm slowly through the skin. His
expression immediately softened. The expectation of the coming reaction.

As Justin watched, he grew more irritable. He glanced down at the derm patch and
then at the others sat on the bar. The twitch began under his eye. It spread
like ink in water, through his body, gaining strength.

Revolted, Justin looked away. He had been a user. Until her.

The man stood up from his stool, visibly shaking. Justin wondered what kind of
drug could have such an unpleasant effect. Then he saw the dealer's face.

He didn't move fast enough to catch the corpse as it fell.

--

No-one had touched their drinks since the first question had been raised.

"Poison?", someone had asked, nervously.

No-one had answered them yet.

A doctor of some kind, probably fictional, was checking a drop of blood on her
meter. She seemed to be playing for effect, knowing that all eyes were on her.
People got killed. It was a fact of life. But no-one died in the Chatsubo, not
without written permisson from the owner. Ratz stood clenching and unclenching
his fists. Rage barely concealed.

The doctor, if that's what she was, was staring at the readout on the meter.
Justin watched her mouth silently trace out a four letter word.

He glanced over her shoulder and memorised the values he saw on screen. They
were meaningless to him, but he knew a man...

The bar slowly emptied, the filth would soon be arriving. Even in the pit of
Chiba, there were those who asked questions when people disappeared.

Ratz grimaced as he watched his custom for the night drain away.

Justin reached up to the bar and took the handful of derms. They might be
useful. Any information was worth money.

The chilling detachment of that last thought worried him.

--

The clinic of Doctor Phillip Ross was not the kind that Justin often ventured
into. It was empty, for one thing. The beds were tucked away inside private
rooms and the nurses out-numbered the patients.

He sat in the doctor's office. Remembering his time in the clinic. She had
brought him here. Expensive certificates hung around the room. Expensive frames
held pictures of him shaking hands with various people. The desk was made of
oak. The grain was scattered and chaotic, implying that the wood might even be
real.

A leather backed blotter sat upon the desk, scribbled with illegible jottings. A
green painted steel lamp lit an area of desk ahead of him. Smoke hung in the
air. Not visible, yet almost tangible.

The door opened and Philip entered.

"Good evening, Doctor Ross", he said coldly.

Justin knew him, and paid him very well for each service rendered, but that
didn't mean he liked the man. This was mutual.

"What can I do for you?", Philip replied, forcing civility into his voice.

Justin pointed to the dozen or so hyperdermic patches on the desk and the piece
of paper he had written the meter's reading on.

"Spin them through your computer, and tell me about what you find."

The doctor picked up the items and glared once at Justin, before hurrying out.

--

It was only a few minutes later before he came back into the room.

He burst in through the door and almost pulled Justin out of the chair he
lounged upon. He was gripping Justin by the collar as he spat.

"You bastard! I always thought you were a shit but I never would have guessed
you'd start dealing in that stuff."

His breath was hot and smelt of coffee. Philip's eyes glittered with hate. He
was bigger than Justin, but he spent his time holding clipboards and walking
around his clinic. Justin broke his grip and stood up to him.

"Don't you ever do that again", he snapped, frightened at the venom he heard in
his own voice.

The doctor flinched back.

"I'm not dealing anything", Justin continued, "I was offered some of that stuff
tonight, and just watched a user come down with a severe case of the deads."

Philip lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry", he managed. "When I saw the trace of THDs,
I over-reacted."

"THDs?"

The doctor lowered himself into the seat in front of his own desk. He threw a
readout onto the blotter.

Justin scanned the fan-fold briefly, his eyes picking out the bold and
underlined sections. Meaningless values and names to his untrained mind.

"Very pretty, doc. But what does it mean?"

"THDs. Terminal High Drugs. Death by measured dose. The user knows that the drug
will kill him, but he never knows when. The concentration of toxins varies from
fix to fix. He might die on his first use, or use them for a lifetime with no
effects. The drug itself needs to be bonded to a small amount of toxin to
prevent its decay, but the dealers find it cheaper to use more toxin than drug.
The adrenalin rush is supposed to be a boost."

Justin's stomach churned. He felt sick. What kind of scum would circulate a
poisoned drug? And why would anyone buy obviously bad stuff?

"I don't get it. Why would anyone supply these?"

"They sell quick and the users disappear, so there's no evidence. Not so good if
you want to have money into your retirement, but if you move around a lot you
can't beat it. Some people will do anything for fast money."

He paused, looking as sick as Justin felt.

"Come on. There's someone you have to see."

--

When the door opened, he ignored her out of habit.

The room was plain. Some may have called it spartan. The acrid stench of bleach
stung his eyes. The blue-blanketed bed sat by the window. There were faded blue
elephant pictures, painted on a stripe of pink around the walls. Obviously
someone's idea of a room for children.

Then he noticed that she was really there.

"Something?", he gasped.

She had changed so much over the last few months that she was almost
unrecognisable. Almost, but not to him. Her inner peace had all but
disintegrated, and her face displayed pure hatred.

She nodded and turned back to the child who lay in the bed. Something was
holding the hand of the little girl. The girl couldn't have been more than ten
years old, but her arms were laden with scabs and bruises. The sign of heavy
usage, patches and needles.

It wasn't her arms that caught his attention, it was her face. It was almost as
white as the dealer's face had been.

"This is Jenny", Philip intoned quietly. "It was the THDs that put her in that
condition."

"She's still asleep", Something spoke softly. "We can talk outside."

But Justin saw Philip's glance at the machines, and knew that she would never
wake up again.

They filed out into the corridor. Justin found his head throbbing and buzzing
with the sounds from the dream. She was here! Something was here!

Her face was marked with dirt and lined with fatigue. But her beauty was
unchangable. Her long hair was tangled and clotted with what looked like blood.
Her top was torn and the silver bells in her hair was stained with red. Her hand
clasped one of the derm patches he had given Doctor Ross.

"Where did you get these?", she demanded. Quietly but firmly.

"He's dead", Justin replied. "I've got my men looking for his supplier."

She nodded sadly, her immediate anger losing its focus. Instinctively, she
looked back at the girl, Jenny.

"Poor baby, she's been through so much."

A single tear welled from her bottomless eyes and Justin felt his heart break.
In that moment he wanted to find the person who sold the drugs to Jenny and
personally kill him.

He saw the safety catch was off on Something's gun, and knew that he couldn't do
her even this service. The flecks of crimson spotted her top.

"I couldn't help her", she admited, pain clearly audible. Her emotional mask
fell away, and she reached out to him. He cradled her in his arms.

Kept her safe. As she cried away the night.

--

The morning stole in on cat-like paws. He woke to her touch.

"Justin, they've found him."

Behind her, he saw Heppel, part of his network. The man was as cold as he felt,
despite the rising heat.

The warm morning sun shone through the slitted window. It lit her face with a
golden glow. Highlighting the anger that filled her. The clinic was located in
the exclusive area outside of the Dome, where it could witness the true elements
of the Earth.

He drank in her every feature, knowing that each second with her was his last.
Soon she would leave to find the supplier. He almost demanded that he come along
with her.

She smiled for him. With a moment's pause, she let go of his hand.

"Look after Jenny, my love."

--

The room swam in the scent of freshly cut flowers. A fortune in crystal vases
held the dying blooms, as an ironic symbol of life.

Justin watched a petal fall to the floor.

"Damn him. I told Heppel I wanted new flowers every day."

He examined the flower in the vase. A perfectly formed plant, killed by him.
A wasteful gesture to bring life to a clinic room that held only the promise of
death.

Jenny was getting thinner.

The tube-fed life was coming to an end. Soon they would switch the machines off,
to see if she could live on her own. He knew now that he could not bear to be in
the room to watch her vital signs drop away to nothing. They had to switch them
off, to see if she was still alive. He could pay them to power the machines
until his dying day, but it wasn't a matter of money.

He wanted her to live so much. Jenny was his only remaining link to Something.
But he knew that the plans for her funeral had been made earlier that week. He
had made them himself.

Soon the nurses would begin to detach her from the life-giving device.

The door opened, but he found he couldn't bear to see the executioners, let
alone forgive them their grisly duties.

The nurse came up behind him, and rested a hand on his shoulder. No words. Just
the knowledge that the support was there if he wanted it, in one action.

Then she put her arms around him, and he heard the tinkle of the bells in her
hair. Her voice was filled with tears.

"I couldn't say goodbye. Not to both of you. And not like that."

She paused. Gathering herself.

"I've lost too many people in this life. I'm not going to lose you by walking
away", she finished simply.

Then she released him, and walked over to the motionless Jenny.

He watched Something whisper "I love you", in her ear, and kiss her once.

Then they left together.

--

_Jus T. Ego

"Always quote your sources"