the shoddy wares that they were displaying.
“Clive is what my name is, but most people call me Rat. How about you?” Rat asked as they turned once again and left their shortcut through the mall.
There were people now, and the streets were no longer shrouded in shadow. All around them people bustled, bathed in multi-colored neon light, some hurrying through the rain in search of shelter, but most moved about unconcerned. Wet trash smell filled the air, but a more pungent, flowery smell was pushing the offending odor away. Chris had no clue where it was coming from. There were PolCorp officers milling with the crowd, carrying riot shields and assault rifles like the one the guard at the hospital had. They eyed the milling throng with arrogance, but ignored Chris and Rat who were sticking to the shadows on the sides of the street.
“I’m Chris. Chris Nost.” He looked around. “What is this place? Why are there people all around when everywhere else has been deserted at ground level?”
Rat moved on, a gleam in his eyes. “You ever want any action, this is the place to come. Heh.” He trailed off into another coughing fit. “This is a Ped Mall. Special parts of the city are turned into these places and patrolled by PolCorp so that the upper levels can come down and slum.”
Chris stopped for a second, taken aback at seeing Rat’s eyes, then picked his pace back up. Now that they were in decent light he could see that Rat’s eyes were yellow. “I see. Action. Do you mean prostitution?”
“You got it, boss. Of course, there’s plenty of action in South, but there’s plenty of the wrong kind of action down there, too, if you know what I mean.”
“So I’ve heard,” he smiled at Rat. “I was warned that PolCorp doesn’t even patrol down there anymore.”
“It ain’t PolCorp not patrolling that’s bad. In my opinion that’s actually a plus.”
Chris eyed the crowed with curiosity, filing away the tidbit about PolCorp, but focused on the streets around them. There were no obvious sex shops or hookers or girls behind glass. “So where’s the action you were talking about? I don’t see anything.”
“Oh, well officially GeoCorp has outlawed all that, but trust me, you can get some ass in almost any one of these places. Shit, man, they can make more of a profit on it if it’s illegal. Then when shop keepers don’t pay the squeeze, they fine the piss out of them.”
Chris saw mostly clothing boutiques, but there were also a few clubs advertising that they were open ‘twenty-four-seven’, and two gun stores. “What about the gun stores? They seem kind of out of place.”
“Shit, man, trust me—they got the finest ass on the block. All the weapons they carry are a front for having really high-end security to protect the image of the Corpies that don’t want their faces seen. They still sell, of course, but this way there’s a good reason for them to be loaded up on the firepower.”
“Interesting. Do they let just anyone buy a gun?”
Rat stopped walking and looked Chris in the eye. “For fuck’s sake, man, where the hell you been? Yeah, anyone can buy a gun. As long as you got your papers. Shit, you want one; we can go right now.…”
“No, no. That won’t be necessary. My apologies. I … I’ve been in a coma for quite some time. I just got released from the hospital and I’m having to learn everything as we go along. Please be patient with my questions.”
Rat looked at Chris again, laughed, and shook his head. “Shit, boss. Are you serious? Sorry about that. You look pretty good for a guy who just got out of a coma. Hey, it’s time to eat—follow me.” He led Chris into an unmarked door in the side of a building, where a few derelicts like Rat sat around bowls of steaming, unidentifiable gruel.
“I told you not to come in here, Rat,” the lady behind the bar said as she reached for something under the counter.
“It’s okay, Roberta,” Rat croaked. “I got cash
“Clive is what my name is, but most people call me Rat. How about you?” Rat asked as they turned once again and left their shortcut through the mall.
There were people now, and the streets were no longer shrouded in shadow. All around them people bustled, bathed in multi-colored neon light, some hurrying through the rain in search of shelter, but most moved about unconcerned. Wet trash smell filled the air, but a more pungent, flowery smell was pushing the offending odor away. Chris had no clue where it was coming from. There were PolCorp officers milling with the crowd, carrying riot shields and assault rifles like the one the guard at the hospital had. They eyed the milling throng with arrogance, but ignored Chris and Rat who were sticking to the shadows on the sides of the street.
“I’m Chris. Chris Nost.” He looked around. “What is this place? Why are there people all around when everywhere else has been deserted at ground level?”
Rat moved on, a gleam in his eyes. “You ever want any action, this is the place to come. Heh.” He trailed off into another coughing fit. “This is a Ped Mall. Special parts of the city are turned into these places and patrolled by PolCorp so that the upper levels can come down and slum.”
Chris stopped for a second, taken aback at seeing Rat’s eyes, then picked his pace back up. Now that they were in decent light he could see that Rat’s eyes were yellow. “I see. Action. Do you mean prostitution?”
“You got it, boss. Of course, there’s plenty of action in South, but there’s plenty of the wrong kind of action down there, too, if you know what I mean.”
“So I’ve heard,” he smiled at Rat. “I was warned that PolCorp doesn’t even patrol down there anymore.”
“It ain’t PolCorp not patrolling that’s bad. In my opinion that’s actually a plus.”
Chris eyed the crowed with curiosity, filing away the tidbit about PolCorp, but focused on the streets around them. There were no obvious sex shops or hookers or girls behind glass. “So where’s the action you were talking about? I don’t see anything.”
“Oh, well officially GeoCorp has outlawed all that, but trust me, you can get some ass in almost any one of these places. Shit, man, they can make more of a profit on it if it’s illegal. Then when shop keepers don’t pay the squeeze, they fine the piss out of them.”
Chris saw mostly clothing boutiques, but there were also a few clubs advertising that they were open ‘twenty-four-seven’, and two gun stores. “What about the gun stores? They seem kind of out of place.”
“Shit, man, trust me—they got the finest ass on the block. All the weapons they carry are a front for having really high-end security to protect the image of the Corpies that don’t want their faces seen. They still sell, of course, but this way there’s a good reason for them to be loaded up on the firepower.”
“Interesting. Do they let just anyone buy a gun?”
Rat stopped walking and looked Chris in the eye. “For fuck’s sake, man, where the hell you been? Yeah, anyone can buy a gun. As long as you got your papers. Shit, you want one; we can go right now.…”
“No, no. That won’t be necessary. My apologies. I … I’ve been in a coma for quite some time. I just got released from the hospital and I’m having to learn everything as we go along. Please be patient with my questions.”
Rat looked at Chris again, laughed, and shook his head. “Shit, boss. Are you serious? Sorry about that. You look pretty good for a guy who just got out of a coma. Hey, it’s time to eat—follow me.” He led Chris into an unmarked door in the side of a building, where a few derelicts like Rat sat around bowls of steaming, unidentifiable gruel.
“I told you not to come in here, Rat,” the lady behind the bar said as she reached for something under the counter.
“It’s okay, Roberta,” Rat croaked. “I got cash
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