The Adjacent

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Authors: Christopher Priest
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the block. They reached for their ID tags. Tarent found the slot first and swiped the card. He went through ahead of her, but she slipped in behind him before the door could close against her. Again she walked beside him. The corridor was narrow – sometimes they brushed against each other.
    There was barely room for two people to stand inside his room. He had let her in first, so now she stood on the narrow strip of carpet, her legs pressing against the bed, her back towards him. The room was hot and airless. The bed was as he had left it, with the clothes he was wearing earlier scattered across it. He allowed the door to close behind him.
    She glanced back, turning her head, watching for the tiny scarlet LED that confirmed the door was secure.
    She unzipped her puffer jacket and shrugged it off. She slid the scarf away from her shoulders, shook out her hair. The scarf bunched lightly on the floor. Tarent swept his own clothes from the bed. She still had not turned, still presented her back to him.
    She tilted her chin down, then lifted the hair away from her neck,exposing the implant. His face was a finger’s length away from her. The implant glittered in the light from the overhead bulb. She leaned towards him, pressing her back against him and presenting her bare neck. Tarent leaned into her with his lips parted. He briefly glimpsed a company logo, deeply etched in the metal of the implant shield: it was a tiny letter ‘ a ’, stylized, surrounded by a pentagon. Nothing else. Then the hard shallow dome of the implant was in his mouth, his lips sucking on the skin around it, the metal rough and grainy against his tongue. She yielded, sideways in his arms, as his mouth roamed greedily across her neck, her ear, tasting her, wetting her, feeling the light brushing of her hair against his lips and chin and eyes. In his eagerness his front teeth grated audibly against the hard surface of the implant, and he pulled back from her.
    ‘You can’t damage it,’ she said, her voice sounding deeper, tremulous.
    ‘What about you?’
    ‘I’m beyond damage. You’ll find out.’
9
    IT WAS HALF AN HOUR LATER. CRUSHED AGAINST HER ON THE narrow bed, slimy with sweat, Tarent reached up and switched off the overhead light under the glare of which they had made love. One of the floodlights outside was close to the window and there was a spill of harsh light glancing through the top of the blinds. He reached across to the cord pull, managed to move the blind to block the worst of the light. Her limbs, her body, radiated heat at him.
    She disentangled herself and sat upright, moving away from him along the bed. She faced him with her legs apart. Tarent sat up as well, arranged his own legs so they went around her. The light from outside still pouring in over the top of the blind laid a diagonal line across her, a pale radiance. She too was damp with perspiration – her hair clung wetly to the sides of her face.
    Tarent felt his own sweat running through his hairline, down the sides of his face. He caught a bead of it, then smoothed a line of faint dampness across her left breast. He was short of breath in the stuffy room.
    ‘The window won’t open,’ he said. ‘I tried earlier.’
    ‘They’ve all been sealed. Every window in the building. MoD regulations. Shall we open the door?’
    They had been hearing footsteps and voices outside. ‘Are you out of your mind?’ he said.
    ‘I thought you wanted fresh air.’
    He leaned towards her, put his arms around her and they briefly caressed each other. He said, ‘I wasn’t expecting that. What we did.’
    ‘I was. I thought you knew. I’ve been waiting two days for you to make a move.’
    He shook his head, remembering the hours in the Mebsher, what he had interpreted as the silent cold disdain pouring out of her towards him. Had he totally misunderstood? Well, it no longer mattered.
    Now he could look at her directly he saw that she bore no physical resemblance to Melanie, even

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