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'
Hey
.
Case
,
good
buddy
.
.
.
’
He
looked
up
,
met
gray
eyes
ringed
with
paintstick
.
She
was
wearing
faded
French
orbital
fatigues
and
new
white
sneakers
.
'
I
been
lookin
’
~
for
you
,
man
.
’
She
took
a
seat
opposite
him
,
her
elbows
on
the
table
.
The
sleeves
of
the
blue
zipsuit
had
been
ripped
out
at
the
shoulders
;
he
automatically
checked
her
arms
for
signs
of
derms
or
the
needle
.
'
Want
a
cigarette
?
’
She
dug
a
crumpled
pack
of
Yeheyuan
filters
from
an
ankle
pocket
and
offered
him
one
.
He
took
it
,
let
her
light
it
with
a
red
plastic
tube
.
'
You
sleepin
’
~
okay
,
Case
?
You
look
tired
.
’
Her
accent
put
her
south
along
the
Sprawl
,
toward
Atlanta
.
The
skin
below
her
eyes
was
pale
and
unhealthy
-
looking
,
but
the
flesh
was
still
smooth
and
firm
.
She
was
twenty
.
New
lines
of
pain
were
starting
to
etch
themselves
permanently
at
the
corners
of
her
mouth
.
Her
dark
hair
was
drawn
back
,
held
by
a
band
of
printed
silk
.
The
pattern
might
have
represented
microcircuits
,
or
a
city
map
.
'
Not
if
I
remember
to
take
my
pills
,
’
he
said
,
as
a
tangible
wave
of
longing
hit
him
,
lust
and
loneliness
riding
in
on
the
wavelength
of
amphetamine
.
He
remembered
the
smell
of
her
skin
in
the
overheated
darkness
of
a
coffin
near
the
port
,
her
fingers
locked
across
the
small
of
his
back
.
All
the
meat
,
he
thought
,
and
all
it
wants
.
'
Wage
,
’
she
said
,
narrowing
her
eyes
.
'
He
wants
to
see
you
with
a
hole
in
your
face
.
’
She
lit
her
own
cigarette
.
'
Who
says
?
Ratz
?
You
been
talking
to
Ratz
?
’
'
No
.
Mona
.
Her
new
squeeze
is
one
of
Wage
’
s
boys
.
’
