Abdications of Flesh
[ With Symbiotic Self-Indulgence, 1. ] [ The Uptake (table of contents) ]
Man, “Maze” and “Vital Ones” need a hard overhaul after this, I swear. Establish ALL the foreshadowing Sorry in advance for how heavy this is, uh
Disconnection became the peristaltic pulse of Tri-City in the wake of the permanent quarantine. The ghosts of the Stalkers’ Quarter reached out and up from the imposing hundred-yard walls which confined it, a glaring neon Wolfram concrete warning to anyone who might wonder what might lay within an entryless barrier. In mere months, the supersaturation of public guilt left citizens complacent to a shared commiseration that it had to be done, that there was no other way; and in the wake of dispassionate transgressions, came a vast and opportunistic multitude of nepenthe. City laws evolved rapidly to meet the needs--and demands--of the masses. Everyone nursed their own personal set of vices. 24-hour liquor stores and bars bloomed up overnight, and over time other more creative maladaptive indulgences became equally commonplace.
Suddenly, more than any other point in the history of their lives, everyone wanted to be anyone but themselves. Industry could adapt. Industry could provide.
'Choly and Cecil walked down a Level 12 street in the commercial district, the smooth and simplistic concrete facades along the entire strip swathed in advertisements projected upon their every surface. Romantic strands of Valentine’s Day decor still lingered in places. ‘Choly wore a salmon dress shirt under an oversize mint green sweater with black pants and mint green creepers, with large green gauge tunnels and his bangtails loose to either side of his bespectacled face. Cecil seemed to have tried to coordinate this, with a pale pink button-up shirt and dark grey pants both with cuffs rolled, thin black suspenders, and two-tone oxford boots.
“It’s not too dissimilar to our great city’s thriving cannabinoid market.” ‘Choly’s cane gait punctuated his wry lyric. “There’s fewer and fewer plants every day, but I guess agriculture knows the ones that’re most important to hold onto.”
“It’s not really a plant, though.” Cecil was the first to catch sight of where they were headed, and went ahead a bit to get to the neon pink door first. “It’s more of a fungus, I think. Made from fungus, anyway?”
“From what I hear...” ‘Choly came along far more slowly, and only continued once he’d closed the distance between him and his boyfriend. “...From what I hear, it’s made from a lot of things. Augen tells me this might just be what breaks the ban on Vekarix, that nobody will admit that’s what made Confec possible. The designer drug market is havin’ a hey day over genetically engineering hybrid magic mushrooms an’ shit. Swear, next thing we’ll hear, they’ll have put every known psychoactive living thing together in one organism, an’ we’ll be begging to take turns licking it.”
“Maybe they’ll finally come around to letting people continue splicing legally.” Cecil shot him a sarcastic grin as he held the door to a shop open for him. “If he’s right about the Vekarix, we might eventually see more and more diverse hybrids.”
‘Choly sniffed and side-eyed him as he stepped inside the small shop.
“People are... bound to do a lot of things in this desperate climate, whether or not it’s legal. Legality dilutes innovation, but definitely makes it easier access.”
Three other customers browsed as the pair entered. Glass display counters ran the entire track of the long narrow space, filled with racks of colorful shapes in a presentation not unlike a pastry shop. The wolf hybrid shopkeeper had her long electric blue hair pulled back over the crown of her head and braided tight. Her claws matched, and she wore a wide-strapped and very low-cut tailored white jumpsuit. ‘Choly barely kept himself from making comment on the coincidence.
“They make me think of chocolates.” ‘Choly stooped a bit just to admire the molded things. Many of the ones in that particular case had been marbled with several colors in one. He caught sight of the price tags and his face drooped.
“It’s more like soap, if you want to be honest.” The shopkeeper approached them and ran a paw over her hair. The door buzzed shut again, and suddenly it was just the three of them. “I take it you gentlemen are gloss virgins? You’ve made a great choice to pop in here for your first time. We grow and refine our product ourselves. Everything on display is hand crafted.”
Stiffly, Cecil put his hands in his pockets and tried not to make eye contact.
“With neither of us really having experience with it, can you... recommend anything?”
“Well, if you’re just looking for glossy, the best place to start is one of our truffles. They’re not too bitter, and the high is pretty mellow and smooth-transitioning.” She gestured to the case with trays of milky white spheres, then next to it at the case ‘Choly had been eyeing, filled with little rainbow colored cube shapes. “And bonbons have a sharper flavor, but they take faster.”
‘Choly hemmed a bit.
“...An’ what about the hardest thing you’ve got?”
She held a breath against the roof of her mouth and let it out of her snout with a grin. She motioned for them to follow her to the back counter, where she rounded it to lean her elbows on it.
“Of course, we have more potent preps, too. You’re in luck to come in now, really. We just got in some new stuff, if you want to be cutting edge with your first time.” She pointed down to the finger-size amber screw-top ampules lined up to one side of the display. “Distilled Confec. The confectioner calls it resin, and I can say from personal experience you won’t regret it. It’s a composite-gloss, a cultivar custom-crafted by him.” She winked at Cecil, who swallowed hard and stood straighter. “My ears piqued when you mentioned Vek on your way in. Confec is great and all, but resin? It’s absolutely a food of the gods. The hardest entheogen I’ve ever had, and believe me when I call myself a connoisseur from personal experience.”
‘Choly eyed the counter, then looked up to the shopkeep.
“How much?”
“One vial’s forty-five. About twenty hits. It’s potent stuff. Only takes a drop or two, really.” She sneer-flinched and laughed. “Recommend the trope take for it, soaking it into a sugar cube. It’s real bitter.”
“You sure you need it?” Quietly, Cecil chewed at his spider bites. “As opposed to the Confec, I mean? We came here to get a handle on your anxiety, not go crazy.”
When Cecil continued to skirt the shopkeeper’s attempts at eye contact, she crossed her arms at him.
“Resin’s totally safe, if that’s your worry. But anxiety, though? If that’s what you’re here for, you’re more likely gonna want burfee. It’s got a veneer more than a gloss.” She pointed to the counter to their right, full of chalky pastel balls. “Cultivar’s got borrowed cannabis sequences. Takes the edge off everything, without inducing a full trip.”
“We can start with Confec,” ‘Choly resigned, gaze tracing the items in that case. “I was expecting a high price tag, but the resin’s a bit rich for my ah,” he leaned in nearer, “my Level Zero upbringing, if you get my meaning.”
After a moment she also leaned in even closer, and barked a laugh.
“I understand now why you need a little escapism, dreg. You got moxie keepin’ the ‘do. I know just looking at him that he’s not, though, so what’s his story? He weird around all hybrids? I’ve been tagged and documented, as if it matters.”
“You’ve got extraction scars.” Cecil tried his best not to fluster as he pointed tersely at his own ear for emphasis, keeping to a near-whisper. “Tagged, past tense. Talk about moxie.”
Her shoulders froze up when he called her out on it.
“Hum, I didn’t notice,” ‘Choly commented in a thoughtful detachment. His head tilted askew as he inspected the wolf girl’s right ear. Near the lower base, it crumpled in on itself a bit. “No wonder he’s crushing on you.”
“Tch!” Cecil removed his glasses and rubbed at his face.
“He likes hybrids,” ‘Choly continued, enjoying embarrassing him. “We both think you’re pretty cute, any rate.”
“Oh really now?” Her ears piqued and her eyelids drooped.
“...Very,” Cecil admitted. He put his glasses back on and fished out his wallet, stuffing down his social misery. “How much is the, uh, the burfee?”
“It’s twenty-five for half a dozen of one cultivar, but we’ve got a special this month, for a variety half-dozen for nineteen. Since you’re having trouble making up your minds, perhaps a sampler would help you feel out what’s up your alley. And...” She held a lyric to her tone when the pair of them looked in agreement finally. “I suppose I could toss in an amp of Resin if you give me a kiss on the cheek.”
The flush that washed across Cecil’s face lit up every faint freckle in a constellation of awkwardness, and he smirked before leaning across the counter and complying. He sneaked a brief rub of her cauliflower ear while he was at it, then pulled back to admire her, still holding out a cred. She blepped pleasantly at him as she took the cred to run it on the register screen.
“I totally didn’t think he’d do it,” ‘Choly mumbled, trying not to laugh.
“Me either.” She handed the cred back and lolled her pierced tongue in full at Cecil. “You’re not, like, a hybrid chaser or something, are you? Most normies can’t tell that my ear’s not just, like, a piercing deformity.” Her muzzle slacked. “Sorry, that was in poor taste of me. I forget some people went through with the therapy.”
Cecil’s only response, after a pause, was to wink at her. She shuffled over to unlock the display case and prepare the small cardstock box with what they’d purchased.
“Name’s Dee, by the way.” She popped the earned trinket in the corner of the box and twined it up, then handed the parcel to Cecil. “Maybe you’ll come see me again sometime.”
“Cecil. Dee, it’s been a pleasure.”
“Seconded,” ‘Choly chirped. His awkward flashing of a rigid, short hand wave and interjection of his own name got a chuckle from Dee.
“Hope it’s the escape you came in for.”
Once the two had exited the confectionery shop, Cecil continued carrying the purchase.
“Why’d you technically lie to Dee, anyway?” ‘Choly smiled at his boyfriend. “You never had any work done to have reversed.”
“Chalk it up to the stress of being ribbed over thinking she had spunk.”
The dreg choke-laughed at this, and ran a few free fingers over Cecil’s hand, eliciting a sly withdrawn smile.
They stopped briefly at a corner store for cheap premade coffee, and ‘Choly held the box while Cecil filled up two cups and paid for them. The dreg plopped down the Confec on the counter of the cramped coffee area of the establishment and took the weight off his legs for a spell against the wall, then pulled out his reader to burn a couple of minutes. He decided to snap a nondescript, contextualized pic of his acquisition and send it to Augen; even though the vampire’s availability was dimmed, he’d see the message later.
ketherphorbia sent a file SDC43011_100-5102.JPG.
ketherphorbia: mission successful
9augen is typing...
ketherphorbia: oh, hi
ketherphorbia: i’ve got good timing. didn’t think you’d be on
9augen has stopped typing.
9augen: please tell me youll be home soon. no one else is responding
ketherphorbia: need to talk?
9augen: its. sensitive. youll be home soon right
ketherphorbia: yeah, the confectioner’s we went to’s only one level up. is five minutes ok?
9augen: Yeah.
“Telling him about our adventure?”
Cecil returned and offered one of the syrofoam cups, and ‘Choly traded him the box for it, so that Cecil carried the Confec and one coffee, and ‘Choly carried the other with his free hand.
“I was about to. He’s being vague. In an urgent way. It bugs me.”
“I’m sure he just wants to trade juicies. Come on, let’s get going.”
The two each waved their public transit passes as they entered the toll lift, and cuddled against the back wall on the way one level down. Although this one cost a third-cred per level to ride one way, the nearest free lift was five blocks further away, and this toll lift let out on the same block as their housing complex. They exited and rounded the corner right into the lobby of the complex, and took the building elevator three floors to their apartment. While Cecil got the door, ‘Choly’s reader began to vibrate from receiving a vid chat, and he nearly dropped his coffee fumbling to double check that it was coming from the expected caller.
“You’re so slaggin’ impatient,” ‘Choly whined as he accepted with hesitation.
The screen was black, but he could hear labored breathing. Once inside their apartment, ‘Choly squinted at the display of his reader to see it indicated ‘no video’ and he sighed with an eye roll, suspecting that his friend had something ridiculous to reveal.
“Sorry,” the other end mustered, strangled and adenoidal. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared right now, ‘Choly.”
The foreign quality of the voice got the dreg’s attention immediately, and with a knitted brow, he quickly toed out of his creepers at the door and took his coffee to the daybed-couch in the back end of the apartment. The confec went to the side table beside the coffee on its coaster. Cecil watched ‘Choly trying to get comfortable, and offered a bold, blocky quilt and a knee-pat, but he wasn’t sure if he was invited to the call, so he took to the front end of the apartment to the confines of his book-nook, assuming he’d be fetched to join in if they so desired it. Either way, he’d hear about it later.
“You certainly don’t sound like yourself.” ‘Choly cleared his throat, hair on end. “What’d you get into, anyway?”
A long, labored pause lingered when the caller couldn’t form the words.
“...Augen...?”
“My coven got hit. They’re doing therapy raids now. Fucking Open Carry Manifesto! Fuck, it hurts so bad to talk. Can’t hardly see straight.” It took ‘Choly a while to understand what Augen had described, and a hand went to the dreg’s mouth as he stared at the blank screen. “You heard about the OCM, right. I’m not just a rambling lunatic right now?”
“I heard it was just civilian access to tranq, ‘cause Levelers are scared of the hybrids that kept their grafting. But fuck, Augen! Are you suggesting there’s a paramilitary force using it to force therapy serum? Since when did the government have the right!” He whipped off his glasses, nearly crying as everything set in. “--Oh fuck. Fuck. Are you all right? Of course you’re not all right. Fuck. --Where are you? Do we need to come get--”
“Shhhhhh. Take it down about fifteen notches. My head’s a thunderstorm right now. ...One question at a time, maybe. Ugh. ...First, no, the government doesn’t have the right. Best I can understand, this is a splinter of police, or army nuts, overstepping laws for sake of upholding moral code. They screamed out something like cleaning out a murderer’s den before they just unloaded on us.”
‘Choly was unaccustomed to hearing his friend talk this much at once, and the context as to why a fish had the breath to do so had his head reeling.
“But you got away, right? You’re not still at the, the coven?”
“I got away, yeah. Christ, this fucking sucks. They overdosed us on that shit, I guarantee you. Therapy’s supposed to be incremental--sessions--not abrupt like... THIS! Where’d they get that much serum? Must have a therapy physician in on their group. Sheisse. I’m the only one who’s got a possibility of springing back from this... Good chance the shock just killed a few of us outright. Grafting’s so goddamn expensive, even just solo-sequence jobs. Getting the procedure that gave people their real identities, for a lot of them it was their life savings. ...Or someone else’s.”
‘Choly set down his glasses and his cataracted eyes zoned out into the blackness of the vid screen. He’d never seen his friend’s face before the grafting, and his curiosity went haywire. Briefly, he barely kept himself from asking aloud for Augen to show him what he looked like. 'Choly wondered if Augen would ever be comfortable enough to meet in person ever again. But, he trusted ‘Choly enough to voice call him like this, and he’d never done that before his grafting, either. The dreg laid down on the couch on his side, and pulled the quilt over himself.
“What I want to know is how they found where you guys were lying low. It’s not like you were being tasteless about it and lurking a geek bar or some shit. Vampires, your kind’s not stupid. ...Wait, what do you mean, or someone else’s?”
“I fell off the grid after my grafting for a lot of reasons. Linnaeus’s circle works a lot like a cult. They scout for vulnerable people. People already ideologically charged and unlikely to have a change of faith even when tested. And those who either have lots of money, or have access to lots of money. Most of my coven fit that bill three-for-three, to be realistic. They were... most supportive of getting the money through whatever means possible. I sold my car. Sold pretty much everything. But it wasn’t enough. I knew how to get into my parents’ retirement savings, and I knew that money would only go to waste perpetuating their uninspired, horridly humanesque lives. And I knew they’d have nothing to do with me, the real me, so there was only one real resolution to that moral conflict. ...If I got caught like this, where I’m recognizable for what I was before I was myself... I don’t think I’d do well in jail. And that’s just for the theft, what can be accounted to my birth name...”
“You... you said it was an overdose of serum,” ‘Choly reached, desperate to find something that might lift his friend’s spirits. “And you said there’s a chance you’ll spring back? You’re talking about your marine graft, right?”
A pleasant breath was all he heard for a while.
“I’d say it feels like reckless optimism to grapple onto what it is at its core, but Vek is a metagen by definition. Therapy serum is basically a human-DNA graft job, an attempt to flush out the animal grafts. They told me during my follow-up sessions that subsequent grafting jobs would never stick, thanks to the tunicate graft, and not to waste my cred. I was just rambling when I said it, but maybe you’re right. Maybe the tunicate will recognize the... virus, and kick it for me. I’d get to experience becoming myself all over again. ...Thanks. Sometimes, you know just what to say. At the very least, if gives me something pleasant to focus on while this shit wears off.”
“Can I... Can I ask a bad question?” ‘Choly’s words strangled himself.
“Yes, my reader is working fine. Yes, I have vid off on purpose. No, I haven’t had the nerve to do front-facing camera yet, and there’s not a mirror here. If the answer wasn’t one of these, then what were you going to ask me? Otherwise, you know the answer.”
‘Choly swallowed and gave him an exhausted smile.
“Where are you?”
Augen wasn’t sure he’d heard him right and laughed like broken silver.
“I’m not even wholly sure how to tell you where it is. It used to be an automotive repair, going off what’s left in here, and off what it smells like. I think... it specialized in cars from back when it was all by tread. If th-- When things go back to normal, I’m inclined to feel out how secure it is. It strikes me as a good place to make more... permanent than just hiding in.”
“It’ll more than go back to normal,” ‘Choly grinned. “I guarantee it.”
“I just remembered, you sent me a pic of your prize earlier. My moment of weakness has kept you from indulging. You’ve got the right idea, honestly. I’m lucky. I picked up an amp of Resin last night, and I was five minutes from taking a hit before... everything happened. It’s, like, hyper-Confec. I’ll have to let you try some next time we get together. But for now, this amp’s all for me. I... I think I can end call finally. I just can’t be... this right now.”
“You’ve earned it.”
“Enjoy your evening, bug dick.”
“You, too, stinkface. I’ll have my phone near me if you need me, all right?”
The screen flickered a moment before Augen’s face came into focus in a strange fluorescent amber lighting that didn’t match the ambient glow of Wolfram concrete interiors. ‘Choly wasn’t sure what he expected of his friend’s human features, but the juxtaposition of how his long, dark, stringy mess of hair framed his angular, slim pierced features only magnified the haunted sense of atrophy about him, crestfallen yet still forcing a tired smile. Ostensibly, a massive part of his identity had wasted away that day. Augen could tell ‘Choly had tried to take a screencap and ended the call.
9augen: may this vid call be the last you ever see of this pathetic asshole
‘Choly sent him a mushroom emoticon and set down his reader on the arm of the couch with a dopey, self-conscious smile. Augen had been gorgeous even before undergoing the grafting procedure that transfigured him, though the dreg knew better than to ever share such a sentiment. He sat up and glanced over to the box on the side table, seeking vicariousness even in his friend’s vulnerability, and pulled it into his lap. He’d be fine. And Augen would be fine.
But first, some time needed to pass, and the last thing he wanted was to be present for it.