To Market

Today my sister is finally human.

I bought Kelly's permit just a few hours ago, and she's awed: wide eyes, mouth open, hand trembling. Of course, now I'm broke. Hell, it's almost worth it, seeing her hold the plastic card in front of her face. Almost. The craving's stronger, a sharp pang under my tongue, in my gut. I struggle to hide the twitching. Don't want to spoil her moment.

"Happy?" I wipe my palms on my pants.

Kelly nods. She looks at me, taking her gaze off her permit for the first time. "Thanks, Tyler."

I force a grin. "Guess I can't call you 'chubs' anymore, huh?"

Kelly sticks her tongue out at me. "Or a mindless blob of flesh."

"Yep."

Until now, it was true. Now she's official, like me. But I've always been easy on her, making light about her non-human status. Took me three years to save up the cash for her humanity permit, and it took a hell of a lot more discipline than I'd ever imagined. Harder than applying for an upgraded work permit. I cut back on hits the whole time; took just enough to get by.

Promise kept, sis.

My gut twinges, hard. I lean against the complex wall before I double over. Damn. I'm such an idiot. Thinking I could wean off, save the money. It'll be torture until I scrape together some cash. Why do I do this? Keep thinking I can break the habit. Moron.

"Tyler?" Kelly's voice startles me.

"Yeah?"

"Can we celebrate?" She clutches the permit against her chest. She's only ten; clumsy and cute. She'll have to grow up fast now.

I run a hand over my face. I need a shave. "Like how? I don't have enough in pocket to afford a partying permit."

She grins — I got to admit, she has really cute dimples. "I just want to see the town," she says. "Just take a walk."

Oh, right. She's been out of the flat maybe twice, and only to the curb. Not much to see in here; bare walls with a vid screen and a few framed mantras and used specialty permits. A few basic chairs and a shelf of vid disks. I keep forgetting she's lived in a cage most of her life. I didn't have a license to take her anywhere, and it's not like I have an abundance of free time — or cash — to indulge her.

Mom got an offer to work in one of the brothels when Kelly was a toddler. I didn't see her after that; heard she got picked up as a private organ donor for some rich, permitted socialite.

Dad? Stuck around as a sanitation worker before he couldn't take it anymore and bought a suicide permit. That was four years ago. Kelly and me have been on our own since.

I sigh and look at my sister. Why not? I need the distraction. A mini-incinerator has kicked to life under my ribs. Sweat drips into my eyes. Distraction. Yeah. I sure as hell need a plan before the craving drives me psycho.

"I'll take you around the block," I say, "so we'll be back before curfew."

Kelly bounces and squeals. "Tyler, you're the best!"

My smile is less forced this time. "Course I am. Come on."

I shrug on my coat. I don't like showing the needle scars on my arms. Not that anyone who sees cares. Kelly doesn't mention them anymore.

It was a dumbass idea to try insin — insanity — but what with a dare and my buds chipping in for the substance permit, I couldn't back down. Dad had just shot himself in the head and I didn't know what to do with Kelly. I wanted a momentary escape. So I took a hit. Instant addiction.

I need another. Soon.

That's the part no one tells you—once you're on insin, you don't stop. More than can't. You don't, not if you want to live. Too long between hits and you go wacko. Animalistic. I've heard guys have killed everyone around them, then started cannibalizing the bodies before they're caught and sent to the Row.

I take Kelly's hand. She quivers, excited. Heh. I remember when Dad handed me my humanity permit. I didn't feel any different, physically, but I was. So I understand Kelly. The elation, the humbled awe.

Unlike Dad, I'll take care of her.

The city pulses with noise and stagnant life, but what's new? Kelly winces. I grin at her.

Basso music rumbles from public vid-screens, which re-run the recordings of the weekend executions. Kelly stops to watch. The laser finishes with the current bastard — cuts his head free of his neck and the field releases, dumping the body parts in a recycle cart. I turn away and tug Kelly's hand. I don't know why that fascinates her so much. She loves watching the re-runs, and until I renew the cable permit, we don't get much else at the flat.

Reedy sirens and blaring voices spill from holo-billboards. Hover vehicles and ground trucks zoom by, the sanitation crews in their huge yellow vans grumble past, and enforcer squads in solid black prowl around. I keep my head down; Kelly mimics me.

Still, I know she's trying to absorb everything. I did the same.

"Your jaw's gonna hit the tarmac, sis."

She glances up at me. "It's so...real. Not like the vid-screen, you know?"

"Yeah."

Without a reason to save, the craving kicks me hard. There's no filter of discipline now. Think, Tyler. What can I sell? Our flat's pretty stripped as it is. A used cleaning drone; metal flakes peeling off the different monitors. Not much to hawk. Other than the vid-screen. Kelly loves that, though. Hell, so do I. Need to find something else. My substance permit's still good for one more dose — I just need the money to buy.

Circular thinking. That'll get me nowhere. In my head I go over everything—all the possessions in our flat, the few permits I could possibly hawk if things got desperate. I should fight it, but what's the point? It won't get better. Not until I get some insin.

My head throbs in synch with the billboard music. We're soon back at the flat.

Kelly breathes hard. "Being human is so cool."

I grunt in a noncommittal fashion and palm open the door. I flop down on the floor. Got a headache; it edges from annoyance to dizzying stabs of pain behind my eyes.

Kelly doesn't seem to notice, or care. She stretches out on a reclining chair, broken now so it won't reform around you. The indent it froze in fits her well.

She's always been a little chubby, living all the time in the flat with no exercise, but she's also cute. Good genes. I can't stop staring at her.

Kelly.

Oh, hell, no...not an option. She's my sister.

I don't need insin that bad. Not yet.

I close my eyes and try not to think of how easy it would be to get the cash I need.

Two days. Two fucking days and I've not slept, can't eat...my head's gonna explode. Boom. Brains everywhere.

"Tyler?" Kelly asks from the kitchen. "Water permit's almost expired."

Shut up. I don't want to hurt you.

I try to curl up tighter on the bed. Why the hell am I sweating so much?

"Tyler? Want me to go apply for a new one?"

Go away.

"I can, you know. No problem. Just give me the cash. Tyler?"

Footsteps. She comes into the bedroom.

"You okay? I drank the last of the water, sorry. I'll get a permit for a refill of the tank if you want."

She's my sister.

So? She's a newbie. Better do it now, before she gets use to being human.

I'm not going to fucking do that to her.

"No." I get up. Gov, it hurts to move. My head pounds. Boom boom boom. Going to detonate. "I'll get the permit. Come on."

Kelly lets me lean on her shoulder. "You look bad, Tyler."

"Sick."

"Didn't you get a check-up permit?" She doesn't look at my arms.

Stop playing games. "Must have just caught it when going out."

"Oh. Let's get the water first."

I limp towards the door. Know a dealer. She won't suspect. It's okay. Once I'm stable, I can figure out a way to get her back. Hope I'm in time.

Too much noise, too much light. Evening. Where the hell did the time go? I've missed work. Damn. That's going to hurt.

"Tyler," she says. "This isn't the way to the station."

"Shortcut."

"But—"

I glare down at her. Two of her. "Who's more experienced? I know what I'm doing!"

She looks down. "Sorry."

Alley. Yeah, I recognize it. Dealers Lane, good place.

Kelly shrinks against me. "Um, Tyler? Why's everyone staring at me?"

"It's nothing."

We're deep in the alley now. Booths and doors all around. Dark, loud, smells of sweat and piss and despair. People everywhere who pretend they aren't there.

"Ty-man! You look beat, bro." A voice laughs. "You trying to quit?"

I turn to Tee. He saunters over, out of the shadow. Neon flickers above us, a hoverboard.

"Got a trade," I say.

Tee keeps wavering.

"Man, you are low," he says. "Why you been holding back on me so long?"

"Never mind." My voice slurs. "Where's the meat dealer?"

Kelly's grip tightens on my hand. "Tyler, what's going on?"

"Business."

Tee looks her over.

"New human," I mutter.

"Nice, Ty-man."

Kelly tries to pull her hand free. I hold on.

"Tyler, I want to leave."

"Shut up, Kelly."

"So what's the deal?" Tee asks.

"Gimme a hit."

"You got the dough?"

"Will get it."

Tee shakes his head. "Upfront or no insanity."

Kelly tugs against me. "Tyler, the water permit."

"Not getting any fucking water."

She gets it, then. Starts screaming, but no one even glances her way. Nobody cares.

"Come on, T-man," I say. "Just this once, bro. Borrow me the cash for a sell permit and give me the hit. I go to the meat dealer, sell, pay you back. It's clean."

"No!" Kelly shrieks. "No, Tyler, don't!"

I throw her down. Want to kick her, but bruises lower price. She tries to scramble away. I grab her, hold her tight.

"You gotta do it!" I yell at Tee. "I'm gonna fucking lose it!"

"Fine." He's cool. "You double-cross me and it's bad for you, bro."

He pulls a needle from his jacket pocket.

I drop Kelly — she won't get far. I lunge at him.

Tee sidesteps and slams the needle into my arm. No time for finesse.

The high is the best ever. Pleasure. So much — I've never felt this good.

Colors, sounds; all blurred. Doesn't matter. So nice, so free.

My head clears. I'm on my back in the alley, under Tee's booth awning. He leans against the wall, smoking a twist of weed. Everything hurts, but I'm stable. The lingering bliss of insin keeps a dull edge on everything. I wince and pick myself up.

Where's Kelly?

Wait. I just...

She's sitting tied near Tee's feet. Sobbing into the silencer over her mouth and vocal cords.

The pit of my gut drops out.

"Okay, Ty-man." Tee hands me a few chips. "Bo's gonna watch the joint. Let's go."

I'm shaking. No backing out now. Tee has permits to shoot anyone who doesn't pay up. I want to go alone. He's not letting his profit out of sight.

I find a mobile transaction booth and put in the order for a sell permit. Computer processes it and spits out a new card. I sigh in relief. My credit's still good, even with the two days missed at work.

Back in Dealer Lane, Tee grabs Kelly by the arm and we move deeper into the alley. She keeps struggling. Sweaty and stinking of fear.

I feel sick. It's not the drop from insin. Gov, I just want to stay back and let Tee do it. He must see that.

"You got her permit, man. You're coming."

We reach the end of the lane.

The dealer is a thin man; he rents a flat just for sales. Dingy, run-down on the outside, but inside it's spotless, cool, with the most up-to-date storage facilities. I've heard about it. Tee knows him. They do exchanges. The dealer looks and feels Kelly over. She shudders and tries to kick him. He slaps a cheap sedative patch on her neck and she goes quiet.

"She human?" the dealer asks.

"Yeah, two days old." I want to run.

Tee elbows me.

I hand the meat dealer Kelly's humanity permit, then the sell permit so he knows I'm legit.

"Looks good." He hands me back the sell card. "I've got a client who's looking for something fresh and young. I'll give you four hundred."

It's enough to pay back Tee and get myself another drug permit and a hit. He'll get twice that, but he's got to make a living, too.

I look at Kelly. There's got to be a way to find a substitute. Something.

"I dunno..."

Tee has a lase' pistol at the back of my neck before I finish the syllable. "Yes, it's a deal, ain't it, Ty-man?"

My shoulders sag. She's dead either way. Why join her? "Yeah. Deal."

A drone buzzes over and he lays Kelly's limp, chubby body on the padded tray. The drone speeds off to one of the tanks. The correctional facilities — the Row, execution rooms, whatever you want to call them — supply the majority of the meat. But some people, those who can afford it, don't settle for the mass processed flesh. The rich and privileged like their food pedigreed, pampered, and prepared in-home. Gourmet.

At least Kelly will be appreciated.

I keep my attention on the dealer. He pays cash. Cold, hard chips in hundred denominations. Tee takes his share and a little more.

I can't bring myself to care.

I turn and walk out. Don't look back.

Sorry, sis.

Abby "Merc" Rustad lives and writes in Minnesota, and has had fiction published in several other e-zines such as AlienSkin Magazine, Every Day Fiction, and Sorcerous Signals. (She didn't have a permit to write this story, but don't tell anyone.)