Whatever, we were off the bus. It was in the past and I’d resolved to buy a scooter or something else I could ride on the sidewalk and never get on a bus again. Assuming I survived whatever cocktail of human disappointment I’d breathed in so far.
My concerns over the early symptoms of tuberculosis sort of fell away as Marine stopped in front of what was clearly a junked electronics yard. That, in and of itself, wouldn’t have been a deep concern for me, but there were at least two dozen heavily tattooed men standing around wearing Hawaiian shirts and cargo shorts. I like to think any reasonable person would have been upset by such a sight, at least outside of any tropical resorts or cruises, but I may have been alone in that one.
All of them turned in unison when Marine stepped into the yard. I heard a quiet beep from the one nearest to us. We must’ve tripped something. He came walking up, not as smiley as I’d have liked. The yard of dismantled robot pieces added to the general feeling of dread surrounding the entire encounter in a way that even the midday sun didn’t diminish.
He looked past Marine to me as soon as he got to us. “Who’s this? You know boss don’t like no strange ones.”
Oh, I’m strange? Me? Sure. Fine.
“He’s with me, that’s all you need to know.” Marine’s tone was not one I’d ever heard her speak in. She took on a gruff sort of air when she was on the phone sometimes, but this was a whole other level. It was cold and distant. “Where’s Darvish?”
“Who says Darvish wants to see you?”
“Look, here’s how I’m going to lay this out for you. You’re clearly programmed to know who I am and I know you are a shitty robot with about three functions. Skip the script. Where’s Darvish?”
I saw the robot guy’s jaw clench for a second as he went bolt upright and was basically ready to defend Marine with my stump, but he straightened after a few seconds, pulling the collar of his shirt to his mouth.
“Sorry.” He looked at Marine. “I have been instructed to tell you that I apologize for delaying you and that Mister Darvish will see you right away.”
I was now more terrified of Marine than I’d ever had reason to be. I considered, on the positive, that she hadn’t had me murdered at any point in spite of my constant mocking. It further occurred to me that I worked for her and that I was, very possibly, an actual henchman at this point. The questions about the nature of our interpersonal relationship were growing fairly quickly and, panicking, I did the only thing I could think of. I poked her butt with my stump as soon as we entered the building. The guy who was guiding us had waited outside and there was no one else around. She spun around, just barely containing a “yip” sound.
She was pissed, looking back past me as she complained in frantic whispers. “What the fuck are you thinking?”
“I got nervous.”
“So you… stumped… you stumped my ass?”
“It made sense at the time.”
“Do you have any fucking clue where we are right now?”
“… I mean…”
“You mean what?”
“No?”
She gritted her teeth. I turned, bracing for a hit, but instead I felt a vice-like pinch on my nipple.
“Ah! Ah! Ah! No! What’s happening? What’s happening?!” I whispered the words in a panic, flailing my hand and stump. “Stop, stop, stop.” She was using fingernails. That’s just crazy. You can’t do that sort of shit. What if my nubbin came off? It’s like she wasn’t even thinking.
She finally let go and I doubled over, rubbing at it with my remaining hand.
She leaned down next to my ear. “No more bullshit, Laze. I’m serious. This is serious.”
I nodded, rubbing my nipple, and stood back up. We walked through the building, which was basically junk from wall to wall. We passed through a pair of hallways, eventually coming out into a large, messy workshop. Sparks were flying away from one of the benches. The man standing in front of it was bone thin and shirtless, unless you counted the thick covering of silver body hair that wrapped his torso. He turned around at the sound of footsteps and raised his arms.
“Mariiine! So good to see you! Oh, how long has it been!”
He spoke in a nasal voice, tossing his welding torch down carelessly before walking over. He put his hands on Marine’s shoulders and rubbed them back and forth, staring with eyes that would have made anyone uncomfortable. He had to be pushing a hundred, skin thin and tan.
“So,” he said, almost salivating. “You’ve come for a favor, haven’t you?”
She pulled back from him, her face stern as ever. I understood the cold voice now.
“I’ve come to collect on a favor, yes. Not ask one.”
“Oh, such a serious face always.” He reached a hand out and she pulled her shoulder away from it. He looked up just after that and then back down to Marine, never once putting eyes on me. “But we shouldn’t talk here.” He pointed up at the ceiling, smiling like a psycho. “Always little birds.”
He took us to a room just off the workshop which had a small table with a teapot and some cups. When I sat next to Marine he frowned, seeming to notice me for the first time, but cheered up when he saw my stump. I failed to find confidence in his delight.
“So how have things been?” He said the words casually as he poured a thick brown liquid from the teapot. “The price of groceries has become unreasonable hasn’t it? And I shudder to think what I’ll do if I can’t get my fruit. It keeps me virile, you know?” He looked up from the cups at Marine’s chest and chuckled through his nose.
Marine’s face, for her part, was as stern
