Story: Hey Friend

Hey Friend

"Listen," he says with that bloodshot gaze of a pollen junkie. "I'll double your coin if you just give me a little more time ... just until the next freighter docks. I've got this tip you know ... something big and easy, just like my third wife." He winks at me, the louse. I knew her and she deserved better. "You're pushing it, Frankie is breathing down my neck and I got problems of my own" I say, menace laced with fear and need in my voice. Pollen isn't the only vice, and not the most expensive. Like I said, my life isn't all peaches and cream. Not even the reconstituted, irradiated and flash-frozen kind that makes do these days. "Okay, okay ... a couple more days, but after that we'll both be looking for the next hop outta here". I should have been nicer to Billy, but hey - who knew?

He begs me for a hit "just to keep me going, please". I sigh and relent, it's my own fault. Pushers shouldn't mix friendship and commerce. Makes it messier later. Still I remember when we were kids, before Mars colony came online. Before the gene splicers figured out how to manipulate the strands within the sunflower seeds just so. Just so they would grow in the rusty sand. Just so they would become little med factories. "Nothing like the pure soil and water of Mars" said the brochures. It wasn't too long before I figured out that retro-virals weren't the only things they could make. All you needed was the proper sequencing AI's loaded to your hybridizer. That and just a little more UV than back at mom-and-pop's homestead. At least you don't have to steal to buy it, unless you really want to. Billy liked to.

"Thanks, I'll net you later", his feverish hands tremble slightly as he mixes the pollen into the solvent and then adds the catalyst. He spreads the mixture into a shallow mold, and in a matter of seconds the T-D patch is ready. You could always spot the buzzers by the patches. No markings on them usually meant they weren't pharma-sourced. The smart ones figured out a way to print official-looking gibberish on them, to make them look like the anti-gamma meds. Billy didn't care. "I owe you pal!” he said as he left the booth. "You better come through", I replied. He paid in full, but I thought I knew better. That was self-loathing talking, punishment for what I'd done to him. Billy had a future once, that's what friends are for I guess.

Back in Boulder, things had been a lot different. I was just slacking through another semester, a free ride guaranteed by the Rodham-Giuliani Bill. All you had to do was spend 2 years in a lunar warehouse crew, teaching inner-city kids, giving shots to third-world kids or chasing down WMD-toting freaks. I liked my chances with the freaks. I got the smallpox scars to prove it. Still worth it, I met Billy there. And Frankie. She I'd rather forget. Kind of hard to do when you crave someone so much. Enough to ruin your own life. Enough to ruin you best friend's life too. Sad part is, he never complained. Not once. Not after he lost his job, his first wife. Not after the second left because he couldn't make babies, after getting buzzed for so long. Not after the third one caught him patching. "Me or the dust!” she screamed finally after years begging him. I would have killed me. Not Billy though.

Orbital Station workers brushed past me, deep in their own misery. If the money wasn't so good no one would take the job. Tedium was the most dangerous part of the job. One slip, forgetting to tether yourself ... and you end up a Popsicle. Not my style, I'd rather get it quick from a cop's stunner. Nice and clean, just fried brains and melted eyeballs afterwards. Now that's classy. Time to go about my rounds.

Every frontier town has them, as far back as the Roman conquests and probably before that. That special part of town where anything goes for a price and putting your back against a wall is the only way to survive. Whores, loan sharks, lackeys, informers … and pushers like me. Then there’s the boss, a lady this time. My Frankie. I’d do anything for her, and have. I can’t help it, don’t understand it. You ever meet someone that has absolute power over your will? Someone that makes you feel complete just by being there? That’s her, at least for me. Most guys tell me “She’s not a looker and treats you like dirt, why her?” I wish I could tell. Back in school I hardly acknowledged her, but then one day all of a sudden she was all I wanted.

I put up with a lot; she sleeps around – even with Billy. She calls me her “shit-zu”. A crappy lapdog is what I am, I admit it. I’ve made her rich, rich enough that the cops tolerate her and let me sell to the drones. It’s a living. I walk into Joe’s Cave, dug into the red rock, a sign beside the door marking it as a “SOLAR EVENT SHELTER”. It’ll be a few years before the atmosphere is thick enough, breathable as it is. The meds keep the cancer rot down to manageable levels, so it’s not so bad. Looks like a good crowd, I might have to go back to get more dust.

One of my regulars, Zoë, saunters over. She doesn’t really need my fix, looks like the government clinic nurses have her nice and calm. Still she says “Got something for the pain?” Her pleading eyes tell me what I need to know, she’s got the craving and I have the cure. Her nostrils dilate in anticipation as I draw out a packet. She digs around in her pack and comes up with what most would consider an indecent amount of dough. Up here, with triple overtime and bonuses for “risk factors”, it’s just the price of a good trick. A couple of years on this rock will set you up, if the boredom doesn’t do you in. I hand over the pollen and she blends into a corner, mixing as she goes.

“Hey Joe”, I signal to the proprietor, a wiry veteran with nothing back on Earth to see. He calls me over, time to settle for the month. The saloon owners don’t mind my business, as long as they get a cut. Working for Frankie makes the cut smaller than usual, but business is steady and my clients just get mellow. Better than the mar-oxide freaks, who end up either killing someone or wrecking the place after one too many hits. Nice and mellow, that’s the ticket. “You got something for me?” he asks. “Sure Joe, here you go”, I hand over a credit token and some packets. Joe doesn’t use, being smart, but Zoë wouldn’t touch him without the dust. Some people are superstitious about mutants that way. He’s not so bad really, an extra couple of arms helps when you’re prospecting asteroids in zero-gee.

I sit at the bar; Joe pours me a cold lager. As I turn around on the stool, a couple of newcomers eye me warily. You can always tell the fresh meat by their wide eyes, and the fact that they avert them when you catch them looking. Six months from now they’ll stare right through me. A shame really, but I got to pay the bills. “Hey kid”, I signal to the dumber one, “come here a minute, I’ll buy you a brew.” He gets up slowly, looks around and then grabs his buddy’s arm. “What a pair of rubes”, I mutter to nobody – easy score. Dummy gets closer, while Spooky – the flighty one – stands back. Good instincts, not good enough. “Joe, a couple of ales for my new friends”, I ask in my nicest drawl. The two of them relax visibly, the Terran Mid-western accent always works like a charm. They grab the stools on both sides of mine and sip at their drinks.

“I’m kinda recent myself”, I assure them, “just getting grounded after the steerage-class hop from Luna-Six”. It helps to identify with your mark; these two didn’t seem to be able to afford any better. They smile sheepishly, Spooky asks “Mister, we uh … do you know where we could score some oxide?” I look at them over my glass, this can’t be that easy. “No, but maybe there’s something else you would like to try …” While the question lingers, I finish my drink. “Something else?” asks Dummy. “Like what?” In my best snake-oil salesman voice, I whisper “Ever heard of buzz-dust?” Christmas, they hook on like a gene-fix bass to a night-crawler.

I pull out a small sample sticker, and grab Dummy’s hand. He meekly lets me put it on, licking his lips. A minute later he starts convulsing. “Shit, anaphylaxic shock!” I swear as I try to keep his airway open. Right then Spooky grabs my pack and runs for the door. “Juice him Joe!” I scream as Joe anticipates my plea. Spooky passes through the front door and the pain of 50,000 volts sears his skin. As Spooky’s hair catches fire, Dummy experiences a miraculous recovery. I grab his neck and retrieve my pack. “Take a good look at your friend moron!” I utter as he sobs. The stench is unbearable and he pukes on his tunic. A couple of Joe’s muscle-men grab the body. “Take him out back”, I say handing over his moaning pal, “give him a good workout”. They make him drag the body to the alley behind the pub. I peer out the door to make sure they are handling it. No matter how many times I hear it, the sound of crushing bones always gives me the creeps.

As I walk back to the bar, the rest of the patrons return to their drinks and their business. I guess nobody told the two jerks who I was. Joe smiles as I fork over another credit chip “for you and the boy’s trouble”. “No sweat pal” he replies as he grabs the chip, “mighty generous of you”. Nothing is as priceless around here as a reputation for being a cold bastard. I walk out into the street trying to let Joe’s place cool off. I’ll be back later for the rest of the regulars as they come off their shifts. Paydays are always good for a few thousand. It’s hard to object on moral grounds when you can make a year’s salary in a day or two. Not that I get to keep it all, but my share is enough. I don’t do it for the money as much as her. She could always get under my skin.

Like I said before, you wouldn’t think she was something special. No one else does, but to each his or her own. I still couldn’t tell you what binds me to her, but I guess it started back in college. Billy convinced me to go with him after our stint as ERT members in the old Homeland Security force. Between the militia zealots and the jihadists we had our share of fun, plus it made for free school and a nice stack of credit chips at the end of the gig. Seeing as I’d had my taste of what properly trained bugs could do, Chemical Biology seemed like a good field. I met her during our junior year.

She was into nature too, but not for the same reasons. Her family came from original tie-dyed hippies back about a hundred years ago. They had a neat little business selling “herbs” from their garden up in the foothills, and their kids grew it to the point that they had enough money to buy a candidate that would legalize it. Eventually they branched out, and made enough to buy a plot in Brazil the size of Rhode Island. NatuPharma stock just doubled again, so I figure Frankie’s share is worth at least a couple of billion cool new credits. Not that she cares; she’s building her nice little empire right here on Mars. It ain’t legal yet, but the pollen is going make the meth epidemics seem like quaint ripples in society’s fabric. Speaking of which, it was time to drum up some more business.

I skip over an open access panel and duck into Linda’s. Nicer clientele than Joe’s, and facial scanners keep put repeat offenders of the randy kind. Pretty good synth-steak too. I grab a booth near the back and set down my pack between me and the wall. No chances this time, not that I should worry here. Still, I’m wired from the action so light up a cigar and order a double Johnny from the first leggy hostess that walks by. Linda’s smart, she knows some good T&A adds to the bill anywhere there’s money to be made by taking risks. She’s a looker too, if Frankie would let me I’d try … but not much of a chance of that, not now. Anyways, she’s good for business and points out the wealthy tourists with more money than sense. Here comes one now.

Gotta love the trust-funders. A few decades of compounded interest can make for a nice cushion to lay your lazy, overfed and under-worked ass on. This guy obviously had it better than most. Trips to Mars still aren’t cheap if you’re paying out-of-pocket. Most folks sign up for a few years of mining or farming to make the trip, this one looks like he could afford the Stellar Lines Expedition Package – complete with complimentary blowjobs. Must be nice. That’s ok, I have exactly what he’s looking for and he’s too full of himself to haggle.

“You Mr. Happy?” he asks with a booze-induced slur. From the reek rising from his beard, he’s wearing half a bottle of some very good hooch. What a waste of good wealth. Might as well get on with it. “That’s me friend, what can I do for you?” I ask as I look for any signs of interest from the rest of the restaurant. None, not that it matters. “I just got here with a few of my closest friends and I want them to have a great time. I hear you’re the man to see.” “Sure,” I reply “what did you have in mind?” “Dust, all you got with you, I’m in a hurry to get back to my … pleasures” he didn’t have to say, I saw the two trollops sharing his booth. “Hundred thousand new credits and you can keep the pack.” “Pocket change Mr. Happy, here you go – keep the change” he hands over a hundred-thirty thousand and walks away with the pack, without checking it. He obviously didn’t earn it, but that’s not my business. I could stop for the day, but Frankie might object. I can afford to eat lunch before I go, the real thing. Real beef is something to savor, I’ll take my time.

By the time I’d finished my steak, rich-boy and his entourage had made a not too discreet exit. Linda stopped by to pick up her cut, we made some small-talk and I made my excuses. Seeing as the night was young and I needed more supplies, I decided to go back to Frankie’s place. I relished the thought of her, lounging there … teasing me. Maybe I’d get lucky, maybe not. Still, I didn’t mind trying, not with her. I grabbed the first crawler that passed by. Frankie’s cave was far from Gibson City, and I had to get there fast. On the ride there, I could see the modest sprawl of the settlement made possible by the extensive landscaping paid for in rare elements. Mars had and was still enjoying a prolonged boom. Once Gibson figured out how to get here from Earth-Orbit fast and cheap, there wasn’t much the UN could do to stop the flood of adventurers, prospectors and ex-cons.

Many had died in the first years, when enviro-suits where required and storms wiped whole settlements off the face of the planet. Life was easier now, so easy that people had time for leisure. I provided a lot of that leisure. Thanks to Frankie’s weed plot, no one had to be bored or lonely here.

The crawler operator glanced back from his seat, “Coming up on the farm friend, I’ll take some dust instead of cash if you can spare it.” “Sorry pal, tapped out. If you wait I can get some, I’m heading back right away.” He nodded and turned off the fuel cell feed, shouting “Take your time” as I neared the gate. I just might be able to take him up on the offer.

No such luck. She was in a furious mood, probably because of that fat cop sitting across from her in a grav-lounge. His girth was seriously over-loading the drives that kept the whole thing suspended. I greet him with the usual “Hey slim”, his jowls grimacing at the stab. Frankie shoots me a wincing glare, shutting me up. Bob continues with his sleazy banter right then “As I was saying before your boy-toy interrupted, I got bills to pay too lady. The new mayor has been sniffing around and his bitch of a D.A. is looking to get famous. We have to spread some more cash and dust or we’ll all be digging in the slag pile soon.” Frankie considers this and then uses her embedded controls to call a house-bot over. The unit drops off a case next to the groaning lounge and scampers away with a whirr.

Bob picks up the bribes, checks them and smiles, “This should do nicely, thanks Frankie.” “Make sure it gets used properly Bobby, I don’t need hassles right now. Now go on, I need to talk in private.” The grav-lounge and its passenger excuse themselves. As Frankie watches the cop’s sled vanish towards the city in a cloud of dust through one of her view screens, she asks “Any trouble today? You’re back quick”. “None, a tourist bought the whole kit early. Just came back to pick up another load.” I figured she wouldn’t care to hear about the incident with Dummy and Spooky, I wanted her back in a good mood. “Sure, let’s settle up then … want a drink?” Her scent was driving me crazy already. As I handed over the take, she smiled and purred “You’ve been a good boy, come here …” She could be so grateful.

As I got ready to leave, Frankie told me to “Get ready for something big, big enough to cash out and leave this rock.” I didn’t know what that meant, but replied with my usual “See you later babe” as I walked past the airlock and out into the cool evening. I roused the crawler driver “Here’s you fare, let’s get back to town.” He grinned and turned the vehicle around, its balloon tires scuffing the rock beneath them as he put the machine in motion.

The evening crowd was already setting Gibson’s bowels in motion. The streets and alleys were full of off-shift miners and dockworkers looking to spend their overtime. Pack in hand I walked through the main drag, exchanging product for credits with my regulars here and there. A patrolman glides by on his scooter and nods towards me. Looks like Frankie’s money was already working its magic. A little greed goes a long way. From the number of buzzers looking for a fix, it looked like business was good at the trans-ship station. One of the nicer things about being able to send all your pollution-generation off-world is that it allowed folks to make things nice again on Earth. At least I heard it was nice, I never want to see it again.

Anyways, there’s plenty of elbow room if you want it. All you need is a contract and a shuttle ride. Or a sponsor with lots of money, like my Frankie. We got here just in time to ride the first boom-wave; I figure I’ll be dead long before it runs out. So far we’re making out just fine, Frankie and I. I just wish I was free to love her on my own terms. Oh hell, could be worse … I could be in Billy’s shoes. Hooked for life with no escape and no hope of anything better. That must be a miserable experience; I should feel worse about it. She made me do it … no, that’s not true. I wanted to, just to please her. So one day I took the stuff I’d been working on for my thesis, and gave it a little test.

The bad thing about most opiates is the harsh withdrawal. People get addicted to lots of things: other people’s money, depraved sex, setting kittens on fire … all kinds of sick, disgusting shit. With the dust it was easy as can be; you take your hit … and just mellow for a while. No meth-induced thrashing, no hallucinations, no munchies. Just a really nice feeling; and then back to work. Heck, in some stations it was a recommended item, it kept folks from frying their brains with a plasma-torch out of boredom, but the jerk-offs at the DrugConglomerateInc didn’t want the competition, or couldn’t match it. This stuff is perfectly natural, except for the gene-enhanced plants of course. Makes the real bees fly funny too; in fact that’s how I discovered it.

I had been playing with the sequencer and some normal, run-of-the-mill Colorado sunflower seeds, like the kind you find anywhere in the rolling plains East of Boulder. Some farmers had been looking at how to get bigger seeds and more oil out of them so they could cash out and sell to the OilCo’s. By then all of the old-style combustion engines that still powered the bigger trucks and equipment ran on bioDiesel, and the Saudis had been told to go pound sand. So these farmers setup a research grant at CU, which is where I came in. I’d dated Frankie a couple of times, and had done a little pipe-smoking with Billy and his first ball-and-chain. One day over some fusion Hindu-BQ, she made a little proposition. We got a hold of some nice Peruvian poppies, and I started playing. That’s when I noticed the bees, and a little later Billy was a junkie.

The nice thing about sunflowers, they’re not picky. The crappiest soil will do and the more sunlight the better they grow. One day Frankie comes in with two tickets to Mars, which were hard to get back then unless you signed your life away. I turned in my thesis, the farmers got their flower seeds – the normal ones – and we were off. I convinced her to buy Billy’s ride, it’s the least we could do and we could use him as a test monkey. Like I said no withdrawal so I figured no addiction. I was wrong about that. It wasn’t until later that we figured out that my little experiment would be a bonanza. By then Billy was on his second wife and for some reason I couldn’t get enough of Frankie. We started selling, ran into some easily-fixed legal tangles and setup our little Martian enterprise.

A couple of years and Gibson City is our playground. It’s not cheap, but having the law on the take sure beats living under armed guard. Most of the folks around the gutter part of town know me, as I usually make some rounds in person to see how the dust is working. I go to the pushers to move most of it, but I keep a few regulars as my guinea pigs. Billy’s my best, although I get plenty of feedback. It’s usually good; I’ve got it nailed down now. Occasionally an allergic reaction pops up, but those folks still take it. It’s that good.

Here comes Billy now, “Hey Friend”, he smiles and waves me over. For some reason he seems a little happier than usual. Maybe he’s taking other kinds of junk too, who knows with Billy. Either that or he’s found his next missus. I don’t know how he does it, but ladies sure put up with a lot of crap from him. He walks over and pulls me into an alley. Then he pulls something out of his pocket and starts talking. “Remember when you met Frankie? She wasn’t that hot still you’ve been putting up with her for what, five standard years?” I look at him and reply, slightly menacing, “Now look Billy, I don’t give you shit about your life, what do you want?” He just smiles, and I want to let Joe’s goons work him over, just like that off-world buffoon.

After a moment he says, “Relax man. Look, you ever wonder why you put up with her, I mean, all her sleeping around and stuff. I’ll tell you why … while you were busy with flowers, she had me working on a little side gig. Pheromones baby!” I look at him, impatient and confused. He just keeps jawing, “She had me cook up a little love-potion, special-like. I use it all the time. She tried it and you fell hard, like a chump. I couldn’t believe it! Anyways, I’ve always felt guilty about that …” “Billy, Billy … please stop”, I replied as tears of relief washed down my face. Now I knew, now I understood. I started babbling “Don’t apologize, I screwed you up good …” “Oh its cool man,” he keeps on smiling, “I knew but what the heck. I can quit anytime, I just love the feeling, you know?” I start nodding, then he hands me a little vial, “This is the package I was telling you about, the big deal. Had it made special for you. Take it.”

I hold the vial in my hand, looking at it suspiciously. “What is it?” I ask him. “The answer to all your troubles. Take it and you can dump her anytime.” “I’m not sure, what …”, I start to mumble. “It’s safe, an antidote to her scent. Just take it regularly”, he replies. “Ok Billy … I … I’ll think about it.” “Whatever … just remember who your friend is … say, you got any dust on you?” “Sure, sure … here take this”, I hand over a few packets and he walks away, whistling a ridiculous tune. “See you later pal!” he waves as he ducks into a bar. I stare back, and then look at the vial. For a moment I think about smashing it. I lift my hand as if to throw it against the concrete wall across the alley. Instead I put in my pocket, “Thanks Billy … I owe you one”, I mutter to the ground as I go look for a ride to her place.