Timecaster (16 page)

“That’s great, buddy. But what’s that over there?”

I pointed up. He looked. I made a fist and belted him in the solar plexus. He doubled over and puked pills all over his shoes.

“Shit, Talon! WTF? Oh, look. Someone dropped morphine.”

He tried to pick up the slimy pills, but he was using his bad hand, and all he was doing was sweeping them back and forth across the floor. I helped him to his feet, and together we staggered out of the P&P.

“You’re hurt!”

I glanced in the direction of the voice. It was Yummi. She ran over, but I was pretty sure I didn’t hold the same sex appeal with a missing ear and a hand squirting blood, so I didn’t get on my guard.

“What happened? Where’s your ear?”

“In my pocket.”

“I got something in my pocket, too, baby,” McGlade said. He absently reached for his fly with his broken arm, and thankfully wasn’t able to grab his zipper.

“I live nearby,” Yummi said. Her cheeks were still flushed from our previous encounter.

“We need to get to a hospital,” I told her. “And I don’t think I’m up for sex right now.”

“I am,” McGlade said. “I’m up for it.”

“He took some morphine,” I explained.

McGlade smiled. “My arm is broken.” He waved it at her, and it flopped back and forth.

“I can see that. I have a medical doctorate.”

“Can you fix his arm?”

“Yes. And reattach your ear. Is anything else hurt?”

“My balls,” McGlade said. “I need you to take special care of my balls.”

“How much morphine did he take?” Yummi asked.

“All of it,” McGlade said. He grinned, his smile as wide as a zebra’s ass.

“I’m four blocks away from dissytown. Can you both make it?”

I looked at my knuckles, then thought about my ear. I needed a hospital. Health care was free, even to dissys, but it still meant a report. I may not have had a chip anymore, but it was likely someone could recognize me.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” I said. “Thanks.”

“You’ll pay me back.” She smiled, her eyes flashing challenge. “And I know the perfect way how.”

TWENTY-SIX

The Mastermind is awed by his own power.

He didn’t expect it to feel like this.

Is it possible for God to amaze Himself?

Unequivocally: yes.

But he plays it cool. Aloof.

The recognition will come later. Or maybe it won’t. That depends on the mouse.

In the meantime, he plays the game and wears his mask.

He’s actually a good actor. The role of the concerned friend. The shocked utopeon. The interested scientist. The outraged citizen.

People play so many roles in their lives. Most of the fools stick with the part they were given, never even considering something greater.

The Mastermind is sickened by mankind’s predictability. A species should have some concern for its own evolution. Bacteria don’t get complacent. There are no fat and lazy fungi.

What began as tech and discovery has become too good for the human race. Pure science has been replaced by vendetta.

Yes, it is amusing. Why did God create life if not to be amused by death?

But now it is so much more than mere amusement.

Humanity needs a wake-up call.

It just got a big one.

And by the time the Mastermind is finished, there won’t be anyone left to wake up.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Like most BHVs, Yummi was a communist. Not in the political sense of opposing democracy or capitalism, but in the literal sense that she was part of a commune. The same urge to help others often lent itself to living with a like-minded group of people who shared the workload and ownership of everything within their community. In Yummi’s case, it was a parking farm called Eden.

“Fifteen men and fifteen women live there,” she said. Earlier she’d called ahead, and told them to prep the infirmary for our arrival. “We’re very discriminating on who we allow to join. They have to meet our high ideological and physical standards. The sex is fab. I’m bi, and so are the other girls. We swap partners all the time. I’m highly orgasmic, so it’s a perfect lifestyle for me.”

“I love you,” McGlade said. “I’ve never loved anyone more.”

We’d exited dissytown without anyone else trying to kill us, leaving McGlade’s bike chained to the fence, and eventually arrived at her building. It was multilevel parking garage, retrofitted for foliage farming.

“We sit on an acre of land, but we have nine floors, so we can harvest nine acres, eighteen if we include the vines on the ceilings. It’s mostly fruits and veggies. We only eat a small portion of it. The rest is donated to the dissys, or sold to the local supermarket.”

“Do you make enough to support yourselves?”

She snorted. “Of course not. Everyone in Eden is an SLP.”

“I have money,” McGlade said.

Yummi flipped her green hair back. “The infirmary is on the second floor.”

Instead of taking the stairs, we walked up the gradual incline. Like its biblical namesake, the garden was expansive and impressive. Plants of all types grew in a seemingly haphazard way, different species intermingling on every square inch of space. Even the pathways were clover.

“Looks natural, doesn’t it? Our horticulturalist, Barry, believes plants grow better when they compete with other species. So instead of having all the tomatoes, or watermelons, grouped together, we plant them in different locations.”

“It’s so pretty,” McGlade said. “Pretty pretty pretty.”

“Do you have any narcotic antagonists?” I asked.

“We have everything. It’s right through here.”

We veered off the path, heading for a door. I touched my head where my ear used to be. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle, but it still stung like crazy.

“We’ll fix you up,” Yummi said, giving me a pat on the ass. “Don’t worry.”

McGlade stopped walking. He was staring at a monarch butterfly, which had landed on his chest.

“Hello, little guy. Aren’t you beautiful?” He tried to pet the insect, and smeared it all over his shirt. Then he picked off a crumpled wing and released it into the air. “Go on. Fly free, little butterfly.”

I took McGlade under the arm and led him into the infirmary. The white room was a stark contrast to all the green outside. We sat McGlade up on one of the three examination tables, and a naked woman walked in.

“Awesome,” McGlade said.

Like Yummi, she also had dyed hair. Hers was pink. And like Yummi, her body was pretty close to being flawless. The two women gave each other a quick French kiss.

“Are these the two you mentioned earlier?” the new arrival asked, winking at me.

“Yes.” Yummi rubbed my shoulder. “And this is the one I told you about.”

“I’m Tasty,” the pinkette said, running her hand over her breast.

“I’ll bet you are,” McGlade said. “I have a butterfly. See?” He pointed to the spot on his shirt.

“Tasty, can you give that one some Narcon?” Yummi said.

“Opiate overdose?”

“Yes. Be ready with the sevo, too.”

“Sure. Can I do his arm?”

Yummi looked at me. “Tasty’s in school, studying for her MD. Is it okay if she works on your friend?”

“I’m sure he’d like that.”

“I love you, Tasty,” McGlade said. “I’ve never loved anyone more.”

Tasty handed McGlade a pill. He swallowed it, then asked, “What was that?”

“A narcotic antagonist. It reverses the effect of opiates.”

McGlade smiled; then his face contorted in agony. “FUCK! MY FUCKING ARM!”

Tasty slapped a gas mask to his face and turned on the sevoflurane. McGlade took a breath and then flopped over. Tasty secured his forehead, chest, and legs to the table, using straps.

Yummi put me on a table as well, and had me lie down.

“You don’t mind if I take this off, do you? In Eden, we all prefer going around naked.”

“If you insist.”

Yummi peeled off her latex outfit, looking as amazing as I’d expected her to look without clothes. She removed something from a drawer. I winced when I saw what it was.
Living skin.
I steeled myself, not willing to scream in front of two beautiful, naked women. But Yummi spared me any such indignity, giving my knuckles a spray of topical anesthetic before applying the skin.

“Take this,” she said, handing me a pill I didn’t recognize.

“What is it?”

“Anticoagulant. It will help with the reattachment. May I have your ear?”

I swallowed the pill and handed her my ear. She had me put my head down, applying more anesthetic. Then she picked up an eyedropper and a different type of living skin—one that was gel-based.

“You can’t move,” she said. “If I don’t get this right, your haircut will look crooked.”

“Well, we don’t want that.”

She put a strap over my forehead, and two more across my chest and legs, securing me to the examination table. I stayed perfectly still while she adjusted my ear. As the bacteria did their work, I felt my ear get hot. The warmth spread to my head, and down my neck, my chest, my stomach, eventually reaching my . . .

“That wasn’t an anticoagulant, was it?” I asked.

“Hypererection pill.” Yummi glanced at my groin. “Seems to be working, I see.”

She lazily trailed her fingers over my belly and then seized me through my pants.

“I’m married,” I told her as she worked her hand up and down.

“Does your prenup have a fidelity clause?”

“No. But I still prefer to remain faithful.”

Yummi licked her lower lip. “Sex is a normal, healthy biological need.”

“You sound like my wife.”

She freed me through my fly and began to stroke me harder. “It’s selfish not to share something this beautiful with others.”

I cleared my throat, then said, “I’m a selfish guy.”

Yummi took a two-handed grip, provoking a sublime sensation that gave me chills. “Your wife is lucky to have such a devoted husband. What does she do?”

“She’s . . . an SLP.”

“Then as long as I don’t kiss you, she won’t mind.”

“That’s . . . that’s not the point.” I swallowed and closed my eyes. “I mind.”

“So you’d like me to stop?”

Just say it. “Yes.”

“What about if I did this?” Yummi hopped onto the table and straddled me. Staring deep into my eyes, she slowly impaled herself on my cock. Then she worked her pelvic muscles in a way that could only be described as astonishing.

My breath caught in my throat.

“Still want me to stop?” Yummi said.

“Uhhnnnn . . . yes.”

“I’ve never had a man reject me before,” Yummi said. “That makes me horny.”

I doubted there were many things that didn’t make Yummi horny, but I didn’t say anything. No point in being mean to the woman who saved my ear.

She increased her tempo and began to moan. I concentrated on not moving my hips, not matching her thrusts. I reached up to try to unstrap my head, but it was no good—the straps were locked down. Yummi grabbed my hands and placed them on her breasts, grunting as she did. Then she did more than grunt. She began to moan and, ultimately, scream.

I glanced sideways at McGlade. Tasty had straightened out his arm and was injecting nanotubes into his bones. She saw me watching and winked at me.

“I’m almost done here. I’ll be right over, handsome.”

Just what I needed.

I thought about Vicki, wondering if she’d made it to Sata’s. I wanted to call both of them, but I didn’t think anyone would be able to hear me over Yummi’s cries.

After her eighth or ninth orgasm, she eased herself off me. I thought she’d finally had enough. Or perhaps decided to respect my wishes.

I was wrong on both counts. She simply wanted to change positions, and began to ride me backward.

For my own part, I was holding out pretty well. While I didn’t have the size or the endurance to make the Olympic hyperfucking team, I had pretty good staying power. So I was able to control myself, even when confronted with Yummi’s overdeveloped Kegels.

Then Tasty walked over. She ran a finger across my lips and asked, “Is this seat taken?”

Without waiting for an answer, she climbed onto the table, spreading herself open over my mouth. She was already soaking wet.

“Please use your tongue on me,” she breathed.
“Please.”

Not wanting to be rude, I used my tongue on her. When someone sits on your face, it’s impolite not to.

“Aw . . . come on.” McGlade was awake again, looking visibly annoyed. “In what universe is this fair?”

I tried to answer, but couldn’t talk with my mouth full. It didn’t take long before Tasty climaxed, coming very close to breaking my jaw. Whereas some women were very sensitive after an orgasm, Tasty became more aggressive. There was actually a very real possibility of suffocation. And oddly, the lack of air was making Yummi’s movements feel even more incredible.

“All right! This is more like it!” I followed McGlade’s line of sight and saw another naked woman walk into the infirmary. Purple hair, in long pigtails. She too was devastatingly beautiful, but her perfect breasts were a bit larger than I preferred.

“Is this the killer?” she asked.

Tasty writhed on top of my face, then groaned, “Yes. The one on the news.”

“I never fuct a killer before. Is it hot?”

“Real hot!” Yummi screamed.

“You know what else is hot?” McGlade said. “Fucking a killer’s best friend.”

I made noise until Tasty gave me some breathing room. “So you ladies know who I am?”

The purplette gave Tasty a deep kiss, then stroked my hair. “We know. We saw you murder that poor old lady.” Her eyes got wide and she shuddered. “It was horrible.”

“Are you going to turn me in?”

“Of course we’re going to turn you in. You’re a danger to society.” She stuck her finger into her mouth, then began to touch herself. “But first, we’re going to hump you until you’re dry.”

“Come on!” McGlade yelled. “Why can’t you hump me dry and turn me in?”