From: blkangel@utxvms.cc.utexas.edu
Subject: Sahara 1/??
Date: 17 Nov 93 23:50:25 CST

	Well, after opening up a can of worms, I figure it would be the better
part of valor to put my writing where my mouth is.  So, here's my first story.
Responses (good, bad, and ugly) to the usual address.  This is only the
beginning, and I have absolutely no idea how long it'll wind up being.  You've
been warned.
	P.S. Thanks to Jus T. Ego for editorial comments and support.

	Rebecca A. Sims
	"The Apocalypse will be postponed
	 due to a lack of interest."



				SAHARA 1/??



	Sahara sighed into her glass of HappyHappyBrainGlo.  She wondered
how long the buzz would last; the way her life was going, she'd *swim* in
the crap if it would cheer her up.
	She shivered.  No, not oblivion.  Not even a joyous one.  She'd be
dead in a week.  Even if the rumble-boys didn't roll her while she was
blissed out, her personality and thoughts and everything that was *her*
would be drowned out.  Grimacing, she pushed the glass away.
	There was a tug on her holobreaker, which had a 'gram of "The
Thinker" on the back.
	"Man o man, S'ra, you look dead-and-gone bad."
	"Worse than that jammer on your jacket."  Two voices,
almost identical except for the slight warp of coming from two different
places.  The Crowboys.
	The occupants of the stools on either side of her simultaneously
decided they had safer places to be.  The Crowboys sat, and she turned to
acknowledge the greetings.
	Two tall, bulky young men, six feet each.  Black hair, black
clothes, black eyes.  Crowboy Blue and Crowboy Green.  Amerind somewhere
in the family, you could tell from the face.  That was all most of the
street knew; Sahara, as a friend, knew a *little* more.  Their father had
whomped them on a regular basis.  When he died, his property'd gone to them by
default; they'd sold everything and used the money to pay for ocular
implants, hyper-eyes the color of ravens, or crows.  Iridescent black, one
pair with a shimmer of blue, the other green.
	Blue ordered for them while Green talked to her.
	"What's up, S'ra?  We've never seen you look this down.  And we've
never seen you touch that stuff," with a gesture towards the HappyHappy.
	"Maybe you need those eyes adjusted again.  I've been depresed
before.  You just weren't around."
	"Our eyes are fine," Blue joined in, "and we've still never seen you
like this.  It worries us."
	She sighed.  "I was fired.  Again."
	"Ohhh...this place want you to tumble, too?"
	"Yeah, the lying bastards.  'Oh, no, we don't run *that* sort of place,
Ms. Sahara.  Of *course* we would *never* ask you to compromise your
honor....'"
	"Can't you just go somewhere else?"
	"Dammit, there *isn't* anywhere else!  I've been tossed ass-over-kettle
out of every damned massage parlor in the friggin' Metch!  This was the last
place, and now I'm out of a job, Jules is gonna throw me out once I can't come
up with the rent, not to mention there's food to get and bills to pay."
	"You can come stay with us, you know that."
	"I know, but what about the job?  I can't live off of you two the rest
of my life.  I hate being a leech like that.  It's just not right--all I want
outta life is to have a nice job, be able to feed myself, have some good
friends, be a decent person, but nooo, the world won't let you do that, you
have to play the games and to hell with morals....  Bastards."  She hunched
over her drink.  "Maybe I can call my parents."
	"You hate them."
	"Yeah, well, they don't know that.  And they'd feed me.  All they'd
ask is that I change the way I dress, my hair, maybe not associate with my
friends from here anymore...."  She turned her head to see their reactions
(she'd only been kidding--sorta), but they weren't there.  "The hell?"
She looked around until she saw them at a table in the corner by the window.
They were talking to Snowwhite.  At that moment Green gestured in Sahara's
direction; following the gesture, Snow met Sahara's gaze and grinned at her.
She nodded at Blue, who came over and took Sahara's arm.
	"Come on, S'ra, Snow's agreed to look for a job for you!"  He plopped
her down in a chair across from the information broker.  Sahara squinted a
little against the glare of the sun off of Snow's white cloak.  One of the
hundreds of people in the city who were allergic to sunlight, Snow refused to
let the allergy keep her cooped up in an apartment all day.  Heavy white
clothing and 190 sunblock were the only concessions she made.  While Sahara
had to admire the attitude, the outfit was hard on the eyes.  "You shouldn't
be sitting in the light like that, should you?"
	Blue-gray eyes crinkled a little underneath the hood.  "I like the
warmth.  So.  Tweedledum and Tweedledee here--" the Boys rolled their eyesat
each other over Snow's head "--say you need a job.  You realize you'll owe me
for this."  Sahara nodded.  "Right, then."  Snow reached into some pocket
hidden in the arcane depths of her cloak, and pulled out an ASA Palmtop
computer.  Pinky-nail-sized plugs spun lazily on their cord; she stuck them
into the jacks just below and behind her ears.  A slight tic jumped across her
face as the output hit her brain.  She started striking keys.  Sahara looked
over at the Crowboys.
	"Now what?"
	Blue shrugged.  "We amuse ourselves.  She may be in for a while."
	"Think she'll be able to find something?"
	Snow twitched her head as if smelling something.
	They snorted.  "C'mon, S'ra, we're talking about *Snow* here.  If it
exists, she'll find it.  If it doesn't, she'll create it."
	Sahara glanced over at Snow; her eyes were moving, but not flickering
as if skimming something.  She was reading.  She frowned.
	"Think it'll be legal?"
	Snow was skimming again.  Stopped.  Read.  The corners of her mouth
pulled in, in annoyance.  Or frustration.
	They looked at each other.  "Oh.  That.  Well...you didn't say you
wanted something *legal*."
	Snow wasn't skimming or reading.  Now she just sat, thinking about
something.
	Sahara grinned.  "Relax, I'm just yanking.  Doesn't much matter at this
point, does it?"
	Snow hit a few more keys, then reached up and popped the plugs out.
Sahara felt nauseously anxious.  "Well?" she said quietly.
	Snow looked at her.  "How badly do you want a job?"
	"Did you find something?"
	"Yeah, I found something.  Answer the question."
	"Bad, real bad.  My life's gonna be shot to hell if I don't get one."
	Snow drummed her fingers on the ASA for a few moments.
	"Talk to me, Snow."
	"Would it be worth your soul?"