The crack of ice
It was getting colder, the girl knew what cold could do to the meat if it stayed on the street at night. Burns from ice, slow death from sleep, bad skin. Skin breaking to show the body beneath. And then there was sickness. Cold settled in lungs. Cold breeding in the wet places. Cold closing your eyes. These, the girl knew. She saw.
But she had luck. She had clothes. So many clothes. Socks and socks and tights and pants and jeans and shirts and sweaters and a coat. The boy she knew...the...boy...the boy she knew with a name who had the very nice house and the good food and the real bed and the shower and the comm and the...Logan. His name was Logan. Logan's clothes and Logan's smell. He had kept her warm and fed and clean and hidden. Always hidden. Safe from things after things happened. Things she'd all but blanked from her wetworks.
She sat on the steps of the building by the place. The house. Chapterhouse. She was so disoriented and she couldn't concentrate, but her alarm had gone off and she'd pulled the jack from the port to keep from vanishing into the Inside. She was too good to be one of the wasters, jacked in until they starved to death. She had alarms. She had a wireless and a cord in her pocket as she sat, curled up on the step with her hair pulled back from her jack so people could see her for what she was.
The girl was a runner. Best in the system.
She was looking for work.
But she had luck. She had clothes. So many clothes. Socks and socks and tights and pants and jeans and shirts and sweaters and a coat. The boy she knew...the...boy...the boy she knew with a name who had the very nice house and the good food and the real bed and the shower and the comm and the...Logan. His name was Logan. Logan's clothes and Logan's smell. He had kept her warm and fed and clean and hidden. Always hidden. Safe from things after things happened. Things she'd all but blanked from her wetworks.
She sat on the steps of the building by the place. The house. Chapterhouse. She was so disoriented and she couldn't concentrate, but her alarm had gone off and she'd pulled the jack from the port to keep from vanishing into the Inside. She was too good to be one of the wasters, jacked in until they starved to death. She had alarms. She had a wireless and a cord in her pocket as she sat, curled up on the step with her hair pulled back from her jack so people could see her for what she was.
The girl was a runner. Best in the system.
She was looking for work.