• light on the android-cyborg banter
• wiped clean with a tissue
• Farming, basically.
• I fantasize about the hospital
• very well-defined chin

Tune in next time part 126                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Fortunately the arms merchants I was suddenly dining with didn’t expect a lot of conversation from me, and had the decorum to at least pretend not to notice the tantric pulsations of my tuxedo jacket. The man with the blueprints began a meticulous explanation of the weird machine depicted in them, then apologized for forgetting to go light on the android-cyborg banter. “For what it’s worth,” he summed up, “this thing’s a little of both and a little something extra.”

Tallulah squealed and shuddered. I thumped my chest, which was actually her back, and said, “Excuse me.” She ground against my lap, and I could hear her panting. I faked a coughing fit to cover both her noises and my own climactic moment. When I regained my composure I felt myself being wiped clean with a tissue. It was consideration I wouldn’t have expected from Tallulah.

The man to my right said, “That’s a nasty case of Contrary Lung you’re working on. God, I hate this country. There’s nothing to do. Everybody spends all their time on subsistence. Farming, basically. It’s depressing!”

As the next blueprint is discussed, I fantasize about the hospital where all of these jerks would end up when their battle-monkeys turn against them. Then dessert arrived, served by a waiter with a very well-defined chin. He gave me a puzzling look, a knowing kind of stare, careful not to let the weapons dealers notice. I felt like I should recognize him, but I was sure I’d never seen him before in my life.

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